Morning.--The clouds of last evening are all blown over. A load has
been taken from the Squire's heart, and every face is once more in
smiles. The gamekeeper made his appearance at an early hour,
completely shamefaced and crestfallen. Starlight Tom had made his
escape in the night; how he had got out of the loft, no one could
tell: the Devil, they think, must have assisted him. Old Christy was
so mortified that he would not show his face, but had shut himself up
in his stronghold at the dog-kennel, and would not be spoken with.
What has particularly relieved the Squire, is, that there is very
little likelihood of the culprit's being retaken, having gone off on
one of the old gentleman's best hunters.
FAMILY MISFORTUNES.
The night has been unruly; where we lay,
The chimneys were blown down.
--_Macbeth_.
We have for a day or two past had a flow of unruly weather, which has
intruded itself into this fair and flowery month, and for a time has
quite marred the beauty of the landscape. Last night, the storm
attained its crisis; the rain beat in torrents against the casements,
and the wind piped and blustered about the old Hall with quite a
wintry vehemence. The morning, however, dawned clear and serene; the
face of the heavens seemed as if newly washed, and the sun shone with
a brightness that was undimmed by a single vapour.
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