Fear not, my counsellor, that I will forsake my virgin vows, or bow my unbroken spirit to that stern despot, whose only object is power and command."
As Calantha spoke, Lord Avondale approached, and joined them. The deep blush that crimsoned over her cheek was a truer answer to her friend's accusation than the one she had just uttered.—"Heremon and Inis Tara have charms for both of you," he said, smiling:—"you are always wandering either to or from thence."
"They are our own native mountains," said Calantha, timidly;—"the landmarks we have been taught to reverence from our earliest youth." "And could you not admire the black mountains of Morne as well," he said, fixing his eyes on Calantha,—"my native mountains?"—they are higher far than these, and soar above the clouds that would obscure them."
"They are too lofty and too rugged for such as we are," said Calantha. "We may gaze at their height and wonder; but
