The Sun.
London, England, 1863-10-23 00:00:00

A GATHERING STORM.

Long before this, intelligence of the baby's birth had
reached Ireland, and it affected both Milly and Mattie Ryan
even more than the marriage, which they had never quite
believed till the birth of this child. But the news, as might
have been foreseen, operated in entirely different ways upon
these two women. Mattie gave herself up to despair, kissed
and embraced her own chili with frantic exclamations and
tears, declaring she had been p3sitiv.ely asbured her child
should succeed to the disentailed Kilsorrel property, though
of course without the title. In fact, she had some grounds
for this belief. Lord Kilsorrel at one time almost intended
it, until his visit to England, when he met with Miss Shel-
burne. As to Milly Ryan, not a tear nor a sigh escaped
her when the news of the young heir's birth arrived. On
the following evening there was a general expression of
rejoicing on the part of the tenantry and inhabitants of Kul-
sorrel. Bonfires blazed, and the cheering rang through all
the village, and was heard for miles round. Most of the people
knowing nothing of Mattie's story, had always naturally
concluded that at his lordship's death they would pass at
once under the authority of some distant relative they had
never seen or known, and great and sincere was the general
rejoicing and exultation.

On that same evening, poor Mattie, having cried and
sobbed herself to sleep, Milly Ryan, taking little Lindsay
in her arms, sallied forth to the top of a heathy hill near
their house, which commanded an entire view both of the
town and estate of Kilsorrel. She sat down on the heath,
and pointing to where the flames of the bonfires rose awl
the shouts were heard, held him up in her arms, exclaim-
ing, "Look, darlin' I D'ye see the fire and hear the noise ?
Ylind this another day, will ye now, and never forget it while
yer in life." The child turned its large, attentive eyes in
the direction indicated, and, trembling violently, his hot
tears rolled down, some over the grandmother's hand. Milly
Ryan wiped his eyes carefully, more carefully than fondly,
with something almost defereLtial manifested in her manner
even to the chid, and again clasping him in her arms, re-
turned home. The evening became wet and stormy, and the
wind howled in gusts round the house; Milly Ryan, lead-
ing the child by the hand, opened the door of a poor small
bedroom, and there on a low coarse bed lay Mattie, half
asleep, but sobbing convulsively, and with frequent gasps
for breath. "There, darlin' child I" said the grandmother,
looking down on the child's eyes, that met her sullen
frown in their upward gaze. " There, pride of my
heart, that ye are I Mind, this wild, stormy night, the
flames of fire, the cheering of the people, and yer mother
lying in the grief she is this minute; mind this day, ye
darlin', ye, for as long as yet in life I"

Under such auspices the young Lindsay grows up
of a melancholy, morbid, revengeful temperament.
His mother marries and dies, leaving a second
orphan grandson to the unpropitious guardianship
of the austere Milly. This grandson Jarmy and
Daniel Lynch, the serving man, with Milly Ryan
and her beloved Lindsay, constitute the under-men-
tioned model specimen of