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CONCLUSION.
Our chronicle is ended, and we cannot detain the reader longer, listening to those honest kindly voices, which have, perhaps, spoken quite as much as he is willing to give ear to. Let us hope, that in consideration of their kindness and simplicity, he may pardon what appeared frivolous--seeing that humanity beat under all, and kindness--like the gentle word of the poet--is always gain.
The history is therefore done, and all ends here upon the bourne of comedy. Redbud, with all her purity and tenderness--Verty, with his forest instincts and simplicity--the lawyer, and poet, and the rest, must go again into silence, from which they came. They are gone away now, and their voices sound no more; their eyes beam no longer; all their merry quips and sighs, their griefs and laughter, die away--the comedy is ended. Do not think harshly of the poor writer, who regrets to part with them--who feels that he must miss their silent company in the long hours of the coming autumn nights. Poor puppets of the imagination! some may say, what's all this mock regret? No, no! not only of the imagination: of the heart as well!
This said, all is said; but, perhaps, a few words of the after fate of Verty, and the rest, may not be inappropriate.
The two kind hearts which loved each other so--Verty and Redbud--were married in due course of time: and Ralph and f.a.n.n.y too. Miss Lavinia and the poet of chancery--Mistress O'Calligan and the knight of the shears--Miss Sallianna and the unfortunate Jinks--all these pairs, ere long, were united. Mr. Jinks perfected his revenge upon Miss Sallianna, as he thought, by marrying her--but, we believe, the result of his revenge was misery. Mistress O'Calligan accepted the hand of Mr. O'Brallaghan, upon hearing of this base desertion; and so, the desires of all were accomplished--for weal or woe.
Be sure, _ma mere_ lived, with Verty and Redbud all her days thereafter; and our honest Verty often mounted Cloud, and went away, on bright October mornings, to the hills, and visited the old hunting lodge: and smoothing, thoughtfully, the ancient head of Longears, pondered on that strange, wild dream of the far past, which slowly developed itself under the hand of Him, the Author and Life, indeed, who brought the light!
And one day, standing there beside the old hunting lodge, with Redbud, Verty, as we still would call him, pointed to the skies, and pressing, with his encircling arm, the young form, said, simply:
"How good and merciful He was--to give me all this happiness--and you!"
THE END.
