Such were Madame Dornthal’s thoughts, as she gazed with maternal fondness into her son’s eyes, but she did not give them utterance. She pressed her lips once more to his brow, and placed her hand on his head as if in benediction. Clement in return kissed her hand with grave and tender respect. Then he rose and left the garden at once, and, soon after, the house. He remained absent several hours. It was nearly nine o’clock when he returned. His mother was waiting in the entry for him, and opened the door when he rang. He was very pale, and held a pile of papers in his hand. “Well,” said Madame Dornthal, “is everything arranged?” “Yes, mother, everything! These papers only lack my father’s signature. He is willing to give it, is he not?” “You cannot doubt it, I think.” “No, but my poor father was so far from supposing--” “Yes, that was it, I did not fear any hesitation on his part, but only the complete illusion he was under. I only dreaded the effect of surprise and the shock. O Clement! I know not what terror came over me from the frightful remembrance of the other day! My poor Ludwig!” Madame Dornthal stopped a moment to brush away her tears, then smiled as she continued: “But be easy, he knows everything now. He comprehends the state of affairs, and feels as we do. It is better, however, that I alone should see him this evening. Give me those papers. And you, my boy, see after your brother and sister. I have not had time to think of them. Ah! and Gabrielle, poor child, perhaps it would be well to look for her also and tell her all. We have nothing to conceal from any one, above all from her.” Without awaiting a reply, Madame Dornthal abruptly left her son to rejoin her husband in the library, where she remained the rest of the evening. THE LAST DAYS OF OISIN, THE BARD. BY AUBREY DE VERE. IV. OISIN’S QUESTION. “O Patrick! taught by him, the Unknown, These questions answer ere I die:-- Why, when the trees at evening moan, Why must an old man sigh? “No kinsmen of my stock are they, Though reared was I in sylvan cell: Love-whispers once they breathed: this day They mutter but ‘farewell.’ “What mean the floods? Of old they said, ‘Thus, thus, ye chiefs, ye clans, sweep on!’ They whiten still their rocky bed: Those chiefs and clans are gone. “What Power is that which daily heaves O’er earth’s dark verge the rising sun, As large, the Druid, Alph, believes, As Tork or Maugerton? “A woman once, in youthful flower, An infant laid upon my knee: What was it shook my heart that hour? I live--Where now is he? “What thing is youth, which speeds so fast? What thing is life, which lags so long? Trapped, trapped we are by age at last, In a net of fraud and wrong! “I cheated am by Eld--or cheat-- Heart-young as leaves in sun that bask: Is that fresh heart a counterfeit, Or this gray shape a mask?