'That you will love me as of old.'
'Dearest Allan, my heart never wavered in its love for you; though my affections were forced upon another, my soul was ever with you. Take courage, Allan, you will soon recover, and all will yet be well.'
'I have no wish to recover!' I exclaimed, with a sudden burst of renewed bitterness.
'Allan!'
'None. I wish that Zahroun's shot had pierced my heart; I can never win you, for your father hates me, and will never consent to our marriage!'
'He does not hate you, my dear boy,' exclaimed the hearty voice of old Sir Horace, as he started forward from a corner of the cabin, where he had been for some time an unknown observer of this scene; 'he does not hate you—but he loves and regards you, as you deserve to be loved and regarded, for he owes you a debt of eternal gratitude; he owes you life and more than life—the safety and honour of his dear little Laura. Take her, Allan Mac Innon, and with her take your old ancestral glen, wood and water, rock and mountain—and may God bless you both, and make you happy as you deserve to be!'
CHAPTER XL.
FAREWELL.
After the interesting tableau with which the last chapter concludes, the reader may consider that to say more were a useless task; but there are others in this narrative for whom I trust he—or she—may have conceived a little affection as well as for myself.
My friend, Jack Belton, was excellent at all manner of flirtation, and had an inimitable way of hanging sentimentally over a believing young lady's chair, and quoting Byron, or even Shelly, and giving her to know with all point and tenderness how, if