THE EVIL EYE;

OR, THE BLACK SPECTOR

By William Carleton

PREFACE. 

There is very little to be said about this book in the shape of apreface. The superstition of the Evil Eye is, and has been, one of themost general that ever existed among men. It may puzzle philosophers toask why it prevails wherever mankind exists. There is not a country onthe face of the earth where a belief in the influence of the Evil Eyedoes not prevail. In my own young days it was a settled dogma of belief. I have reason to know, however, that, like other superstitions, it isfast fading out of the public mind. Education and knowledge will soonbanish those idle and senseless superstitions: indeed, it is a verydifficult thing to account for their existence at all. I think some ofthem have come down to us from the times of the Druids, --a class of menwhom, excepting what is called their human sacrifices, I respect. Myown opinion is, that what we term human sacrifices was nothing but theirhabitual mode of executing criminals. Toland has written on the subjectand left us very little the wiser. Who could, after all, give usinformation upon a subject which to us is only like a dream?

What first suggested the story of the Evil Eye to me was this: A mannamed Case, who lives within a distance of about three or four hundredyards of my residence, keeps a large dairy; he is the possessor of fiveor six and twenty of the finest cows I ever saw, and he told me thata man who was an enemy of his killed three of them by his overlookingthem, --that is to say, by the influence of the Evil Eye. 

The opinion in Ireland of the Evil Eye is this: that a man or womanpossessing it may hold it harmless, unless there is some selfish designor some spirit of vengeance to call it into operation. I was aware ofthis, and I accordingly constructed my story upon that principle. I havenothing further to add: the story itself will detail the rest. 

CHAPTER I. Short and Preliminary. 

In a certain part of Ireland, inside the borders of the county ofWaterford, lived two respectable families, named Lindsay and Goodwin, the former being of Scotch descent. Their respective residences were notmore than three miles distant; and the intimacy that subsisted betweenthem was founded, for many years, upon mutual good-will and esteem, with two exceptions only in one of the families, which the reader willunderstand in the course of our narrative. Each ranked in the classknown as that of the middle gentry. These two neighbors--one of whom, Mr. Lindsay, was a magistrate--were contented with their lot in life, which was sufficiently respectable and independent to secure to themthat true happiness which is most frequently annexed to the middlestation. Lindsay was a man of a kind and liberal heart, easy and passivein his nature, but with a good deal of sarcastic humor, yet neithersevere nor prejudiced, and, consequently, a popular magistrate aswell as a popular man. Goodwin might be said to possess a similardisposition; but he was of a more quiet and unobtrusive character thanhis cheerful neighbor. His mood of mind was placid and serene, and hisheart as tender and affectionate as ever beat in a human bosom. Hisprincipal enjoyment lay in domestic life--in the society, in fact, ofhis wife and one beautiful daughter, his only child, a girl of nineteenwhen our tale opens. Lindsay's family consisted of one son and twodaughters; but his wife, who was a widow when he married her, hadanother son by her first husband, who had been abroad almost since hischildhood, with a grand-uncle, whose intention was to provide for him, being a man of great wealth and a bachelor. 

We have already said that the two families were upon the most intimateand friendly terms; but to this there was one exception in the person ofMrs. Lindsay, whose natural disposition was impetuous, implacable, andoverbearing; equally destitute of domestic tenderness and good temper. She was, in fact, a woman whom not even her own children, gifted as theywere with the best and most affectionate dispositions, could love aschildren ought to love a parent. Utterly devoid of charity, she wasnever known to bestow a kind act upon the poor or distressed, or akind word upon the absent. Vituperation and calumny were her constantweapons; and one would imagine, by the frequency and bitterness withwhich she wielded them, that she was in a state of perpetual warfarewith society. Such, indeed, was the case; but the evils which resultedfrom her wanton and indefensible aggressions upon private characteralmost uniformly recoiled upon her own head; for, as far as her namewas known, she was not only unpopular, but odious. Her husband was a mannaturally fond of peace and quietness in his own house and family and, rather than occasion anything in the shape of domestic disturbance, he continued to treat her intemperate authority sometimes withindifference, sometimes with some sarcastic observation or other, andoccasionally with open and undisguised contempt. In some instances, however, he departed from this apathetic line of conduct, and turnedupon her with a degree of asperity and violence that was as impetuous asit was decisive. His reproaches were then general, broad, fearful; butthese were seldom resorted to unless when her temper had gone beyondall reasonable limits of endurance, or in defence of the absent orinoffensive. It mattered not, however, what the reason may have been, they never failed to gain their object at the time; for the woman, though mischievous and wicked, ultimately quailed, yet not withoutresistance, before the exasperated resentment of her husband. Thoseoccasional victories, however, which he gained over her with reluctance, never prevented her from treating him, in the ordinary business of life, with a systematic exhibition of abuse and scorn. Much of this he bore, as we have said; but whenever he chose to retort upon her with her ownweapons in their common and minor skirmishes, she found his sarcasm toocool and biting for a temper so violent as hers, and the consequencewas, that nothing enraged her more than to see him amuse himself at herexpense. 

This woman had a brother, who also lived in the same neighborhood, andwho, although so closely related to her by blood, was, nevertheless, asdifferent from her in both character and temper as good could be fromevil. He was wealthy and generous, free from everything like a worldlyspirit, and a warm but unostentatious benefactor to the poor, andto such individuals as upon inquiry he found to be entitled to hisbeneficence. His wife had, some years before, died of decline, which, it seems, was hereditary in her family. He felt her death as a calamitywhich depressed his heart to the uttermost depths of affliction, andfrom which, indeed, he never recovered. All that remained to him afterher demise was a beautiful little girl, around whom his affectionsgathered with a degree of tenderness that was rendered almost painfulby the apprehension of her loss. Agnes, from her eighth or ninth year, began to manifest slight symptoms of the same fatal malady which hadcarried away her mother. These attacks filled his heart with thosefearful forebodings, which, whilst they threw him into a state of terrorand alarm, at the same time rendered the love he bore her such as maybe imagined, but cannot be expressed. It is only when we feel theprobability of losing a beloved object that the heart awakens to a moreexquisite perception of its affections for it, and wonders, when thepainful symptoms of disease appear, why it was heretofore unconsciousof the full extent of its love. Such was the nature of Mr. Hamilton'sfeelings for his daughter, whenever the short cough or hectic cheekhappened to make their appearance from time to time, and foreshadow, as it were, the certainty of an early death; and then he should bechildless--a lonely man in the world, possessing a heart overflowingwith affection, and yet without an object on which he could lavish it, as now, with happiness and delight. He looked, therefore, upon declineas upon an approaching foe, and the father's heart became sentinelfor the welfare of his child, and watched every symptom of the dreadeddisease that threatened her, with a vigilance that never slept. Undersuch circumstances we need not again assure our readers that hisparental tenderness for this beautiful girl--now his "only one, " ashe used to call her--was such as is rare even in the most affectionatefamilies; but in this case the slight and doubtful tenure which hisapprehensions told him he had of her existence raised his love of heralmost to idolatry. Still she improved in person, grace, and intellect;and although an occasional shadow, as transient as that which passesover and makes dim the flowery fields of May or April, darkened herfather's heart for a time, yet it passed away, and she danced on in thelight of youthful happiness, without a single trace of anxiety or care. Her father's affection for her was not, however, confined to herself;on the contrary, it passed to and embraced every object that was dearto her--her favorite books, her favorite playthings, and her favoritecompanions. Among the latter, without a single rival, stood her youngfriend, Alice Goodwin, who was then about her own age. Never was thelove of sisters greater or more beautiful than that which knit theinnocent hearts of those two girls together. Their affections, in short, were so dependent upon each other that separation and absence became asource of anxiety and uneasiness to each. Neither of them had a sister, and in the fervor of their attachment, they entered into a solemnengagement that each of them should consider herself the sister of theother. This innocent experiment of the heart--for such we must considerit in these two sisterless girls--was at least rewarded by completesuccess. A new affinity was superadded to friendship, and the force ofimagination completed what the heart begun. 

Next to Agnes was Alice Goodwin awarded a place in Mr. Hamilton'sheart. 'Tis true he had nieces; but in consequence of the bitter andexasperating temper of their mother, who was neither more nor less thanan incendiary among her relations, he had not spoken to her foryears; and this fast occasioned a comparative estrangement betweenthe families. Sometimes, however, her nieces and she visited, and werealways upon good terms; but Agnes's heart had been preoccupied; and evenif it had not, the heartless predictions of her aunt, who entertainedher with the cheering and consoling information that "she had death inher face, " and that "she knew from the high color of her cheek thatshe would soon follow her mother, " would have naturally estrangedthe families. Now, of this apprehension, above all others, it was thefather's wish that Agnes should remain ignorant; and when she repeatedto him, with tears in her eyes, the merciless purport of her aunt'sobservations, he replied, with a degree of calm resentment which wasunusual to him, "Agnes, my love, let not anything your aunt may sayalarm you in the least; she is no prophetess, my dear child. Your life, as is that of all his creatures, is in the hands of God who gave it. Iknow her avaricious and acrimonious disposition--her love of wealth, andher anxiety to aggrandize her family. As it is, she will live to regretthe day she ever uttered those cruel words to you, my child. You shallvisit at your uncle's no more. Whenever the other members of herfamily may please to come here, we shall receive them with kindness andaffection; but I will not suffer you to run the risk of listening tosuch unfeeling prognostications in future. "

In the meantime her health continued in a state sufficientlysatisfactory to her father. It is true an occasional alarm was felt fromtime to time, as a slight cold, accompanied with its hard and unusualcough, happened to supervene; but in general it soon disappeared, andin a brief space she became perfectly recovered, and free from everysymptom of the dreadful malady. 

In this way the tenor of her pure and innocent life went on, until shereached her sixteenth year. Never did a happier young creature enjoyexistence--never lived a being more worthy of happiness. Her inseparableand bosom friend was Alice Goodwin, now her sister according to theirartless compact of love. They spent weeks and months alternately witheach other; but her father never permitted a day to pass withoutseeing her, and every visit filled his happy spirit with more hopefulanticipations. 

At this period it occurred to him to have their portraits drawn, andon hearing him mention this intention, their young hearts were ecstaticwith delight. 

"But, papa, " said Agnes, "if you do I have a favor to ask of you. "

"Granted, Agnes, if it be possible. "

"O, quite possible, papa; it is to get both our portraits painted inthe same frame, for, do you know, I don't think I could feel happy ifAlice's portrait was separated from mine. "

"It shall be done, darling--it shall be done. "

And it was done, accordingly; for what father could refuse a requestfounded upon an affection so tender and beautiful as theirs?

Agnes has now entered her seventeenth year--but how is this? Why doesher cheek begin to get alternately pale and red? And why does thehorizon of the father's heart begin to darken? Alas! it is so--thespoiler is upon her at last. Appetite is gone--her spirits are gone, unless in these occasional ebullitions of vivacity which resemble thelightnings which flash from the cloud that is gathering over her. Itwould be painful to dwell minutely upon the history of her illness--uponher angelic patience and submission to the will of God, and upon theaffection, now consecrated by approaching death into something sacred, which she exhibited to her father and Alice. The latter was never fromher during the progress of that mournful decline. The poor dying girlfound all the tenderest offices of love and friendship anticipated. Except heaven she had scarcely anything to wish for. But who can evenimagine the hopeless agony of her father's soul? She had been the singleremaining plank which bore him through a troubled ocean to a calm anddelightful harbor; but now she is going down, leaving him to struggle, weak and exhausted for a little, and then the same dark waves will coverthem both. 

At length the dreadful hour arrived--the last slight spasm of death wasover, and her spotless soul passed into heaven from the bereaved armsof her hopeless and distracted father, who was reduced by the depth andwildness of despair to a state of agony which might wring compassionfrom a demon. 

On the morning of her interment, Alice, completely prostrated by excessof grief and watching, was assisted to bed, being unable to accomplisheven the short distance to her father's house, and for nearly afortnight serious doubts were entertained of her recovery. Herconstitution, however, though not naturally strong, enabled her torally, and in three weeks' time she was barely able to go home to herfamily. On the day following Mr. Hamilton called to see her--a task towhich, under the dreadful weight of his sorrow, he was scarcely equal. He said he considered it, however, his duty, and he accordingly went. His visit, too, was very short, nor had he much to say, and it waswell he had not; for he could by no exertion have summoned sufficientfortitude for a lengthened conversation on a subject arising from theloss of a child so deeply beloved. 

"Alice, " said he, "I know the arrangement entered into betweenyou--and--and--"

Here he was overcome, and could not for a few minutes maintainsufficient calmness to proceed, and poor Alice was almost as deeplyaffected as himself. At last he strove to go on. 

"You know, " he resumed, "the agreement I allude to. You were to besisters, and you were sisters. Well, my dear Alice, for her sake, aswell as for your own, and as she looked upon you in that affectionatelight, the contract between you, as far as it now can be done, shall bemaintained. Henceforth you are my daughter. I adopt you. All thatshe was to have shall be yours, reverting, however, should youdie without-issue, to my nephew, Henry Woodward; and should he diechildless, to his brother, Charles Lindsay; and should he die withoutoffspring, then to my niece Maria. I have arranged it so, and have tosay that, except the hope of meeting my child in death, it is now theonly consolation left me. I am, I know, fulfilling her wishes; and, mydear Alice, you will relieve my heart--my broken heart--by acceptingit. "

"O, would to God, " replied Alice, sobbing bitterly, "that I could give athousand times as much to have our beloved Agnes back again! I have nowno sister! Alas! alas! I have now no sister!"

"Ah, my child, " he replied, "for now I will call you so, your grief, though deep and poignant, will pass away in time, but mine will abidewith me whilst I stay here. That period, however, will not be long; theprop of my existence, the source of my happiness, is gone; and I willnever know what happiness is until I rejoin her and her blessed mother. Good-by, my daughter; I will have neither reply nor remonstrance, norwill I be moved by any argument from this my resolution. "

He then passed out of the house, entered his carriage with somedifficulty, and proceeded home with a heart considerably relieved bywhat he had done. 

It was in vain that Alice and her father did subsequently remonstratewith him upon the subject. He refused to listen to them, and said, hisdetermination was immovable. 

"But, " he added, "if it be any satisfaction to you to know it, I havenot forgotten my relations, to whom I have left the legacies originallyintended for them. I would have left it directly to Henry Woodward, wereit not that his grasping mother sent him to another relation, from whomshe calculated that he might have larger expectations; and I hope hemay realize them. At all events, my relatives will find themselves inexactly the same position as if our beloved Agnes had lived. "

Mr. Hamilton, then advanced in years--for Agnes might be termed thechild of his old age--did not survive her death twelve months. Thatafflicting event fairly broke him down. Death, however, to him had noterrors, because he had nothing to detain him here. On the contrary, he looked to it only as a release from sorrow; an event that would soonwipe away all tears from his eyes, draw the sting of affliction fromhis heart, and restore him once more to his beloved Agnes and her dearmother. He looked forward only to close his eyes against the world andsleep with them--and so he did. 

When his will was opened, the astonishment and dismay of hisrelations may be! easily imagined, as well as the bitterness oftheir disappointment. The bequeathal of the bulk of his property toa stranger, who I could urge no claim of consanguinity upon him, absolutely astonished them; and their resentment at his caprice--orrather what they termed his dotage--was not only deep, but loud. To saythe truth, such an unexpected demise of property was strongly calculatedto try their temper. After the death of Agnes--an event which filled theunfeeling and worldly heart of her aunt with delight--they made many adomestic calculation, and held many a family council as to the mode inwhich their uncle's property might be distributed among them, and manyanticipations were the result, because there was none in the usualdescent of property to inherit it but themselves. Now, in all this, theyacted very naturally--just, perhaps, as you or I, gentle reader, wouldact if placed in similar circumstances, and sustained by the sameexpectations. 

In the meantime matters were not likely to rest in quiet. Murmurs wentabroad, hints were given, and broader assertions advanced, that the oldman had not been capable of making a will, and that his mind had been socompletely disordered and prostrated by excessive grief for the loss ofhis daughter, that he became the dupe and victim of undue influence inthe person of a selfish and artful girl--that artful girl being no otherthan Alice Goodwin, aided and abetted by her family. Every circumstance, no matter how trivial, that could be raked up and collected, was nowbrought together, and stamped with a character of significance, in orderto establish his dotage and their fraud. It is not necessary to dwellupon this. In due time the matter came to a trial, for the will hadbeen disputed, and, after a patient hearing, its validity was completelyestablished, and all the hopes and expectations of the Lindsays blowninto air. 

In the meantime, and while the suit was pending, the conduct of Alicewas both generous and disinterested. She pressed her parents to allowher, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, to renounce thebequest, inasmuch as she thought that Mr. Hamilton's relatives had astronger and prior claim. This, however, they peremptorily refused todo. 

"I care not for money, " said her father, "nor have I much to spare;but you must consider, my dear Alice, that the act upon the part of Mr. Hamilton was a spontaneous demise of his own property, as a reward toyou on behalf of his daughter, for the affection which you bore her, andwhich subsisted between you. You were her nurse, her friend, her sister;you tended her night and day during her long illness, even to the injuryof your health, and almost at the risk of your very life. Suppose, for instance, that Mr. Hamilton had had male heirs; in that case, theLindsays would have been just as they are, perhaps not so well; for hemight not have left them even a legacy. Then, they unjustly tax us withfraud, circumvention, and the practice of undue influence; and, indeed, have endeavored to stamp an indelible stain upon your character andhonor. Every man, my dear, as the proverb has it, is at liberty todo what he pleases with his own, according to his free will, and areasonable disposition. Let me hear no more of this, then, but enjoywith gratitude that which God and your kind friend have bestowed uponyou. "

We need not assure our readers that the Lindsays henceforth wereinfluenced by an unfriendly feeling toward the Goodwins, and thatall intercourse between the families terminated. On the part of Mrs. Lindsay, this degenerated into a spirit of the most intense hatred andmalignity. To this enmity, however, there were exceptions in the family, and strong ones, too, as the reader will perceive in the course of thestory. 

Old Lindsay himself, although he mentioned the Goodwins with moderation, could not help feeling strongly and bitterly the loss of property whichhis children had sustained, owing to this unexpected disposition of itby their uncle. Here, then, were two families who had lived in mutualgood-will and intimacy, now placed fronting each other in a spirit ofhostility. The Goodwins felt indignant that their motives shouldbe misinterpreted by what they considered deliberate falsehood andmisrepresentation; and the Lindsays could not look in silence uponthe property which they thought ought to be theirs, transferred to thepossession of strangers, who had wheedled a dotard to make a willin their favor. Such, however, in thousands of instances, are theconsequences of the

 _"Opes irritamenta malorum. "_

The above facts, in connection with these two families, and the futureincidents of our narrative, we have deemed it necessary, for I thebetter understanding of what follows, to place in a preliminary sketchbefore our readers. 

CHAPTER II. A Murderer's Wake and the Arrival of a Stranger

It is the month of June, and the sun has gone down amidst a mass ofthose red and angry clouds which prognosticate a night of storm andtempest. The air is felt to be oppressive and sultry, and the wholesky is overshadowed with gloom. On such a night the spirit sinks, cheerfulness abandons the heart, and an indefinable anxiety depressesit. This impression is not peculiar to man, who, on such occasions, is only subject to the same instinctive apprehension which is knownto influence the irrational animals. The clouds are gathering in blackmasses; but there is, nevertheless, no opening between them throughwhich the sky is visible. The gloom is unbroken, and so is the silence;and a person might imagine that the great operations of Nature had beensuspended and stood still. The outlying cattle betake them to shelter, and the very dogs, with a subdued and timid bark, seek the hearth, and, with ears and tail hanging in terror, lay themselves down upon it as ifto ask protection from man. On such a night as this we will request thereader to follow us toward a district that trenches upon the foot ofa dark mountain, from whose precipitous sides masses of gray rock, apparently embedded in heath and fern, protrude themselves in uncouthand gigantic shapes. 'Tis true they were not then visible; but we wishthe reader to understand the character of the whole scenery throughwhich we pass. We diverge from the highway into a mountain road, whichresembles the body of a serpent when in motion, going literally up oneelevation, and down another. To the right, deep glens, gullies, andravines; but the darkness with which they are now filled is thick andimpervious to the eye, and nothing breaks the silence about us but therush of the mountain torrent over some jutting precipice below us. Tothe left all is gloom, as it would be even were there light to guide thesight, because on that side spreads a black, interminable moor. As it iswe can see nothing; yet as we get along we find that we are not alone. Voices reach our ears; but they are not, as usual, the voices of mirthand laughter. These which we hear--and they are not far from us--aregrave and serious; the utterance thick and low, as if those from whomthey proceed were expressing a sense of sympathy or horror. We have nowadvanced up this rugged path about half a mile from the highway wehave mentioned, and discovered a light which will guide us to ourdestination. As we approach the house the people are increasing in pointof numbers; but still their conversation is marked by the same strangeand peculiar character. Perhaps the solemn depth of their voices gainssomething by the ominous aspect of the sky; but, be this as it may, thefeeling which it occasions fills one with a different and distinct senseof discomfort. 

We ourselves feel it, and it is not surprising; for, along this wild andrugged path of darkness, we are conducting the reader to the wake of amurderer. We have now arrived within fifty yards of the house, which, however, we cannot see, for nothing but a solitary light is visible. But, lo! a flash of lightning! and there for a moment is the wholerugged and savage scenery revealed. The huge, pointed mountains, thedreary wastes, the wild, still glens, the naked hills of granite, andthe tremendous piles of rocks, ready, one would think, to crash downfrom the positions where they seem to hang, if only assailed by a stronggale of wind--these objects, we say, were fearful and startling inthemselves; but the sensations which they produced were nothing incomparison with the sight of an unpainted deal coffin which stoodnear the door, against the side wall of the house. The appearance of acoffin, but especially at night, is one that casts a deep shadow overthe spirits, because it is associated with death, of which it is themelancholy and depressing exponent; but to look upon it by such an awfulthough transient light as that which proceeds from the angry fires ofheaven, and to reflect upon the terrible associations of blood andcrime which mingle themselves with that of a murderer, is a dreadful butwholesome homily to the heart. We now enter the house of death, wherethe reader must suppose himself to be present, and shall go on todescribe the scene which presents itself. 

On entering, we found the house nearly crowded; but we could observethat there were very few of the young and light-hearted present, andscarcely any females, unless those who were related to the family of thedeceased, or to himself. The house was low and long, and the kitchenin which they had laid him out was spacious, but badly furnished. Altogether its destitution was calculated to deepen the sense of awewhich impressed those who had come to spend the night with the miserablewidow and wailing orphans of the murderer. 

The unfortunate man had been executed that morning after havingacknowledged his crime, and, as the laws of that period with respect tothe interment of the convicted dead were not so strict as they are atpresent, the body was restored to his friends, in order that they mightbury it when and where they wished. The crime of the unhappy man wasdeep, and so was that which occasioned it. His daughter, a young andbeautiful girl, had been seduced by a gentleman in the neighborhood whowas unmarried; and that act of guilt and weakness on her part was thefirst act that ever brought shame upon the family. All the terriblepassions of the father's heart leaped into action at the rain of hischild, and the disgrace which it entailed upon his name. The fury ofdomestic affection stimulated his heart, and blazed in his brain evento madness. His daughter was obliged to fly with her infant andconceal herself from his vengeance, though the unhappy girl, until theoccurrence of that woful calamity, had been the solace and the sunshineof his life. The guilty seducer, however, was not doomed to escape thepenalty of his crime. Morrissey--for that was the poor man's name--carednot for law; whether it was to recompense him for the degradation ofhis daughter, or to punish him for inflicting the vengeance of outragednature upon the author of her ruin. What compensation could satisfy hisheart for the infamy entailed upon her and him? what paltry damages froma jury could efface her shame or restore her innocence? Then, the manwas poor, and to the poor, under such circumstances, there exists nolaw, and, consequently, no redress. He strove to picture to himself hisbeautiful and innocent child; but he could not bear to bring the imageof her early and guiltless life near him. The injury was irreparable, and could only be atoned for by the blood of the destroyer. He couldhave seen her borne shameless and unpolluted to the grave, with thedeep, but natural, sorrow of a father; he could have lived with her indestitution and misery; he could have begged with her through a hard andharsh world; he could have seen her pine in want; moan upon the bed ofsickness; nay, more, he could have seen her spirit pass, as it were, to the God who gave it, so long as that spirit was guiltless, and herhumble name without spot or stain; yes, he could have witnessed andborne all this, and the blessed memory of her virtues would haveconsoled him in his bereavement and his sorrow. But to reflect that shewas trampled down into guilt and infamy by the foot of the licentiouslibertine, was an event that cried for blood; and blood he had, for hemurdered the seducer, and that with an insatiable rapacity of revengethat was terrible. He literally battered the head of his victim out ofall shape, and left him a dead and worthless mass of inanimate matter. The crime, though desperate, was openly committed, and there weresufficient witnesses at his trial to make it a short one. On thatmorning, neither arrest, nor friar, nor chaplain, nor jailer, norsheriff could wring from him one single expression of regret orrepentance for what he had done. The only reply he made them wasthis--"Don't trouble me; I knew what my fate was to be, and will diewith satisfaction. "

After cutting him down, his body, as we have said, was delivered to hisfriends, who, having wrapped it in a quilt, conveyed it on a common carto his own house, where he received the usual ablutions and offices ofdeath, and was composed upon his own bed into that attitude of the gravewhich will never change. 

The house was nearly filled with grave and aged people, whoseconversation was low, and impressed with solemnity, that originated fromthe painful and melancholy spirit of the event that had that morningtaken place. A deal table was set lengthwise on the floor; on this werecandles, pipes, and plates of cut tobacco. In the usual cases of deathamong the poor, the bed on which the corpse is stretched is festoonedwith white sheets, borrowed for the occasion from the wealthierneighbors. Here, however, there was nothing of the kind. Theassociations connected with murder were too appalling and terribleto place the rites required, either for the wake or funeral of themurderer, within the ordinary claims of humanity for these officesof civility to which we have alluded. In this instance none of theneighbors would lend sheets for what they considered an unholy purpose;the bed, therefore, on which the body lay had nothing to ornament it. Aplain drugget quilt was his only covering, but he did not feel the wantof a better. 

It was not the first time I had ever seen a corpse, but it was thefirst time I had ever seen that of a murderer. I looked upon it with animpression which it is difficult, if not impossible, to describe. I feltmy nerves tingle, and my heart palpitate. To a young man, fresh, andfilled with the light-hearted humanity of youth, approximation to suchan object as then lay before me is a singular trial of feeling, and apainful test of moral courage. The sight, however, and the reflectionsconnected with it, rendered a long contemplation of it impossible, and, besides, I had other objects to engage my attention. I now began toobserve the friends and immediate connections of the deceased. In all, there were only seven or eight women, including his wife. There werefour boys and no daughters; for, alas! I forgot to inform the readerthat his fallen daughter was his only one; a fact which, notwithstandinghis guilt, must surely stir up the elements of our humanity inmitigation of his madness. 

This house of mourning was, indeed, a strange, a solemn, and a peculiarone. The women sat near the bed upon stools, and such other seats asthey had prepared. The wife and his two sisters were rocking themselvesto and fro, as is the custom when manifesting profound sorrow inIrish wake-houses; the other women talked to each other in a low tone, amounting almost to a whisper. Their conduct was marked, in fact, by agrave and mysterious monotony; but after a little reflection, it soonbecame painfully intelligible. Here was shame, as well as guilt andsorrow--here was shame endeavoring to restrain sorrow; and hence thesilence, and the struggle between them which it occasioned. The wifefrom time to time turned her heavy eyes upon the countenance of thecorpse; and after the first sensations of awe had departed from me, Iventured to look upon it with a purpose of discovering in its featuresthe lineaments of guilt. Owing to the nature of his death, that collapsewhich causes the flesh to shrink almost immediately after the spirit hasdeparted was not visible here. The face was rather full and livid, butthe expression was not such as penitence or a conviction of crimecould be supposed to have left behind it. On the contrary, the wholecountenance had somewhat of a placid look, and the general contour wasunquestionably that of affection and benevolence. 

It was easy, however, to perceive that this agonizing restraint uponthe feelings of that loving wife could not last long, and that the taskwhich the poor woman was endeavoring to perform in deference to theconventional opinions of society was beyond her strength. Hers, indeed, was not a common nor an undivided sorrow; for, alas, she had not onlythe loss of her kind husband and his ignominious death to distract her, but the shame and degradation of their only daughter which occasionedit; and what a trial was that for a single heart! From time to time adeep back-drawing sob would proceed from her lips, and the eye was againfixed upon the still and unconscious features of her husband. At lengththe chord was touched, and the heart of the wife and mother couldrestrain itself no longer. The children had been for some timewhispering together, evidently endeavoring to keep the youngest of themstill; but they found it impossible--he must go to awaken his daddy. This was too much for them, and the poor things burst out into anuncontrollable wail of sorrow. The conversation among the spectators wasimmediately hushed; but the mother started to her feet, and turning tothe bed, bent over it, and raised a cry of agony such as I never heardnor hope ever to hear again. She clapped her hands, and rocking herselfup and down over him, gave vent to her accumulated grief, which nowrushed like a torrent that had been dammed up and overcome its barriers, from her heart. 

"O Harry, " said she in Irish--but we translate it--"O Harry, the husbandof the kind heart, the loving father, and the good man! O Harry, Harry, and is it come to this with you and me and our childre! They may saywhat they will, but you're not a murderer. It was your love for ourunfortunate Nannie that made you do what you did. O, what was the worldto you without her! Wasn't she the light of your eyes, and the sweetpulse of your loving heart! And did ever a girl love a father as sheloved you, till the destroyer came across her--ay, the destroyer thatleft us as we now are, sunk in sorrow and misery that will never end inthis world more! And now, what is she, and what has the destroyer madeher? O, when I think of how you sought after her you loved as you did, to take her life, and when I think of how she that loved you as shedid was forced to fly from the hand that would pluck out your own heartsooner than injure a hair of her head--so long as she was innocent--O, when I think of all this, and look upon you lying there now, and all forthe love you bore her, how can my heart bear it, and how can I live. O, the destroyer, the villain! the devil! what has he wrought upon us!But, thank God, he is punished--the father's love punished him. They areliars! you are no murderer. The mother's heart within me tells me thatyou did what was right--you acted like a man, my husband. God blessyou, and make your soul happy for its love to Nannie. I'll kiss you, Harry--I'll kiss you, my heart's treasure, for your noble deed--but OHarry, you don't know the lips of sorrow that kiss! you now. Sure theyare the lips of your own Rose, that gave her young heart to you, and washappy for it. Don't feel ashamed, Harry; it's a good man's case to diethe death you did, and be at rest, as I hope you are, for you are not amurderer; and if you are, it is only in the eye of the law, and it wasyour love for Nannie that did it. "

This woeful dirge of the mother's heart, and the wife's sorrow, hadalmost every eye in tears; and, indeed, it was impossible that thesympathy for her should not be deep and general. They all knew theexcellence and mildness of her husband's character, and that every wordshe uttered concerning him was truth. 

In Irish wakehouses, it is to be observed, the door is never closed. Theheat of the house, and the crowding of the neighbors to it, render itnecessary that it should be open; but independently of this, we believeit a general custom, as it is also to keep it so during meals. This lastarises from the spirit of hospitality peculiar to the Irish people. 

When his wife had uttered the words "you are no murderer, " a young andbeautiful girl entered the house in sufficient time to have heard themdistinctly. She was tall, her shape was of the finest symmetry, herfeatures, in spite of the distraction which, at first glance, waslegible in them, were absolutely fascinating. They all knew her well;but the moment she made her appearance, the conversation, and thoseexpressions of sympathy which were passing from one to another, wereinstantly checked; and nothing now was felt but compassion for theterrible ordeal that they knew was before her mother. She rushed up towhere her mother had sat down, her eyes flashing, and her long brownhair floating about her white shoulders, which were but scantilycovered. 

"You talk of a murderer, mother, " she exclaimed. "You talk of amurderer, do you? But if murder has been committed, as it has, I am themurderer. Keep back now, let me look upon my innocent father--upon thatfather that I have murdered. "

She approached the bed on which he lay, her eyes still flashing, and herbosom panting, and there she stood gazing upon his features for abouttwo minutes. 

The silence of the corpse before them was not deeper than that which herunexpected presence occasioned. There she stood gazing on the dead bodyof her father, evidently torn by the pangs of agony and remorse, herhands clenching and opening by turns, her wild and unwinking eyesriveted upon those moveless features, which his love for her had sooften lit up with happiness and pride. Her mother, who was alarmed, shocked, stunned, gazed upon her, but could not speak. At length sheherself broke the silence. 

"Mother, " said she, "I came to see my father, for I know he won't strikeme now, and he never did. O, no, because I ran away from him and fromall of you, but not till after I had deserved it; before that I wassafe. Mother, didn't my father love me once better than his own life?I think he did. O, yes, and I returned it by murdering him--by sendinghim--that father there that loved me so well--by--by sending him to thehangman--to a death of disgrace and shame. That's what his own Nannie, as he used to call me, did for him. But no shame---no guilt to you, father; the shame and the guilt are your own Nannie's, and that's theonly comfort I have; for you're happy, what I will never be, either inthis world or the next. You are now in heaven; but you will never seeyour own Nannie there. "

The recollections caused by her appearance, and the heart-rendinglanguage she used, touched her mother's heart, now softened by hersufferings into pity for her affliction, if not into a portion of theformer affection which she bore her. 

"O Nannie, Nannie!" said she, now weeping bitterly upon a fresh sorrow, "don't talk that way--don't, don't; you have repentance to turn to; andfor what you've done, God will yet forgive you, and so will your mother. It was a great crime in you; but God can forgive the greatest, if hisown creatures will turn to him with sorrow for what they've done. "

She never once turned her eyes upon her mother, nor raised them for amoment from her father's face. In fact, she did not seem to have hearda single syllable she said, and this was evident from the wild butaffecting abstractedness of her manner. 

"Mother!" she exclaimed, "that man they say is a murderer, and yet I amnot worthy to touch him. Ah! I'm alone now--altogether alone, and he--hethat loved me, too, was taken away from me by a cruel death--ay, a crueldeath; for it was barbarous to kill him as if he was a wild beast--ay, and without one moment's notice, with all his sins upon his head. Heis gone--he is gone; and there lies the man that murdered him--therehe lies, the sinner; curse upon his hand of blood that took him I lovedfrom me! O, my heart's breakin' and my brain is boilin'! What will I do?Where will I go? Am I mad? Father, my curse upon you for your deed ofblood! I never thought I'd live to curse you; but you don't hear me, nor know what I suffer. Shame! disgrace--ay, and I'd bear it all for hissake that you plunged, like a murderer, as you were, into eternity. Howdoes any of you know what it is to love as I did? or what it is to losethe man you love by a death so cruel? And this hair that he praised somuch, who will praise it or admire it now, when he is gone? Let it go, too, then. I'll not keep it on me--I'll tear it off--off!"

Her paroxysm had now risen to a degree of fury that fell little, ifanything, short of insanity--temporary insanity it certainly was. She tore her beautiful hair from her head in handfuls, and would haveproceeded to still greater lengths, when she was seized by some of thosepresent, in order to restrain her violence. On finding that she was heldfast, she looked at them with blazing eyes, and struggled to set herselffree; but on finding her efforts vain, she panted deeply three or fourtimes, threw back her head, and fell into a fit that, from its violence, resembled epilepsy. After a lapse of ten minutes or so, the spasmodicaction, having probably wasted her physical strength, ceased, and shelay in a quiet trance; so quiet, indeed, that it might have passed fordeath, were it not for the deep expression of pain and suffering whichlay upon her face, and betrayed the fury of the moral tempest whichswept through her heart and brain. All the mother's grief now washushed--all the faculties of her soul were now concentrated on herdaughter, and absorbed by the intense anxiety she felt for her recovery. She sat behind the poor girl, and drew her body back so that her headrested on her bosom, to which she pressed her, kissing her passive lipswith streaming eyes. 

"O, darling Nannie!" she exclaimed, "strive and rouse yourself; it isyour loving mother that asks you. Waken up, poor misled and heart-brokengirl, waken up; I forgive you all your errors. O, avillish machree(sweetness of my heart), don't you hear that it is your mother's voicethat's spakin' to you!"

She was still, however, insensible; and her little brothers were all intears about her. 

"O mother!" said the oldest, sobbing, "is Nannie dead too? When she wentaway from us you bid us not to cry, that she would soon come back; andnow she has only come back to die. Nannie, I'm your own little Frank;won't you hear me I Nannie, will you never wash my face of a Sundaymorning more? will you never comb down my hair, put the pin in my shirtcollar, and kiss me, as you used to do before we went to Mass together?"

The poor mother was so much overcome by this artless allusion to herinnocent life, involving, as it did, such a manifestation of affection, that she wept until fairly exhausted, after which she turned her eyes upto heaven and exclaimed, whilst her daughter's inanimate body still layin her arms, "O Lord of mercy, will you not look down with pity and compassion on methis night!"

In the course of about ten minutes after this her daughter's eyes beganto fill with those involuntary tears which betoken in females recoveryfrom a fit; they streamed quietly, but in torrents, down her cheek. She gave a deep sigh, opened her eyes, looked around her, first withastonishment, and then toward the bed with a start of horror. 

"Where am I?" said she. 

"You are with me, darlin', " replied the mother, kissing her lips, andwhispering, "Nannie, I forgive you--I forgive you; and whisper, yourfather did before he went to death. "

She smiled faintly and sorrowfully in her mother's face, and said, "Mother, I didn't know that. " After which she got up, and proceeding tothe bed, she fell upon his body, kissed his lips, and indulged in a wildand heart-breaking wail of grief. This evidently afforded her relief, for she now became more calm and collected. 

"Mother, " said she, "I must go. "

"Why, sure you won't leave us, Nannie?" replied the other withaffectionate alarm. 

"O, I must go, " she repeated; "bring me the children till I see themonce--Frank first. "

The mother accordingly brought them to her, one by one, when she stoopeddown and kissed them in turn, not without bitter tears, whilst they, poor things, were all in an uproar of sorrow. She then approached hermother, threw herself in her arms, and again wept wildly for a time, asdid that afflicted mother along with her. 

"Mother, farewell, " said she at length--"farewell; think of me when I amfar away--think of your unfortunate Nannie, and let every one that hearsof my misfortune think of all the misery and all the crime that may comefrom one false and unguarded step. "

"O, Nannie darling, " replied her mother, "don't desert us now; sure youwouldn't desert your mother now, Nannie?"

"If my life could make you easy or happy, mother, I could give it foryour sake, worthless now and unhappy as it is; but I am going to a farcountry, where my shame and the misfortunes I have caused will neverbe known. I must go, for if I lived here, my disgrace would always bebefore you and myself; then I would soon die, and I am not yet fit fordeath. "

With these words the unhappy girl passed out of the house, and wasnever after that night seen or heard of, but once, in that part of thecountry. 

In the meantime that most pitiable mother, whose afflicted heart couldonly alternate from one piercing sorrow to another, sat down once more, and poured forth a torrent of grief for her unhappy daughter, whom shefeared, she would never see again. 

Those who were present, now that the distressing scene which we haveattempted to describe was over, began to chat together with morefreedom. 

"Tom Kennedy, " said one of them, accosting a good-natured young fellow, with a clear, pleasant eye, "how are all your family at Beech Grove?Ould Goodwin and his pretty daughter ought to feel themselves in goodspirits after gaining the lawsuit in the case of Mr. Hamilton's will. They bate the Lindsays all to sticks. "

"And why not, " replied Kennedy; "who had a betther right to dispose ofhis property than the man that owned it? and, indeed, if any one livin'desarved it from another, Miss Alice did from him. She nearly broughtherself to death's door, in attending upon and nursing her sister, asshe called poor Miss Agnes; and, as for her grief at her death, I neversaw anything like it, except "--he added, looking at the unfortunatewidow--"where there was blood relationship. "

"Well, upon my sowl, " observed another, "I can't blame the Lindsays forfeeling so bittherly about it as they do. May I never see yestherday, ifa brother of mine had property, and left it to a stranger instead of tohis own--that is to say, my childre--I'd take it for granted that he wasfizzen down stairs for the same. It was a shame for the ould sinner toscorn his own relations for a stranger. "

"Well, " said another, "one thing is clear--that since he did blink themabout the property, it couldn't get into betther hands. Your master, Tom, is the crame of a good landlord, as far as his property goes, andmuch good may it do him and his! I'll go bail that, as far as Miss Aliceherself is consarned, many a hungry mouth, will be filled many a nakedback covered, and many a heavy heart made light through the manes ofit. "

"Faith, " said a third spokesman, "and that wouldn't be the case if thatskinflint barge of Lindsay's had got it in her clutches. At any rate, it's a shame for her and them to abuse the Goodwins as they do. If ouldHamilton left it to them surely it wasn't their fault. "

"Never mind, " said another, "I'll lay a wager that Mrs. Lindsay's son--Imane the step-son that's now abroad with the uncle---will be sent for, and a marriage will follow between him and Miss Goodwin. "

"It maybe so, " replied Tom, "but it's not very probable. I know the manthat's likely to walk into the property, and well worthy he is of it. "

"Come, Tom, let us hear who is the lucky youth?"

"Family saicrets, " replied Tom, "is not to be rovaled. All I can say is, that he is a true gentleman. Give me another blast o' the pipe, for Imust go home. "

Tom, who was servant to Mr. Goodwin, having now taken his "blast, "wished them good-night; but before he went he took the sorrowing widow'scold and passive hand in his, and said, whilst the tears stood in hiseyes, "May God in heaven pity you and support your heart, for you are thesorely tried woman this miserable night!"

He then bent his steps to Beech Grove, his master's residence, the hourbeing between twelve and one o'clock. 

The night, as we have already said, had been calm, but gloomy andoppressive. Now, however, the wind had sprung up, and, by the timeKennedy commenced his journey home, it was not only tempestuous butincreasing in strength and fury every moment. This, however, was notall;--the rain came down in torrents, and was battered against hisperson with such force that in a few moments he was drenched to theskin. So far, it was wind and rain--dreadful and tempestuous as theywere. The storm, however, was only half opened. Distant flashes oflightning and sullen growls of thunder proceeded from the cloud massesto the right, but it was obvious that the thunderings above them wereonly commencing their deep and terrible pealings. In a short time theyincreased in violence and fury, and resembled, in fact, a West Indianhurricane more than those storms which are peculiar to our milderclimates. The tempest-voice of the wind was now in dreadful accordance!with its power. Poor Kennedy, who fortunately knew every step of therugged road along which he struggled and staggered, was frequentlyobliged to crouch himself and hold by the projecting crags about him, lest the strength of the blast might hurl him over the rocky precipicesby the edges of which the road went. With great difficulty, however, andnot less danger, he succeeded in getting into the open highway below, and into a thickly inhabited country. Here a new scene of terror andconfusion awaited him. The whole neighborhood around him were up and inalarm. The shoutings of men, the screams of women and children, all ina state of the utmost dread and consternation, pierced his ears, eventhrough the united rage and roaring of the wind and thunder. Thepeople had left their houses, as they usually do in such cases, from anapprehension that if they remained in them they might be buried in theirruins. Some had got ladders, and attempted, at the risk of their lives, to secure the thatch upon the roofs by placing flat stones, sods, andsuch other materials, as by their weight, might keep it from being borneoff like dust upon the wings of the tempest. Their voices, and! screams, and lamentations, in accordance, as they were, with the uproar of theelements, added a new feature of terror to this dreadful tumult. Thelightnings now became more vivid and frequent, and the pealing of thethunder so loud and near, that he felt his very ears stunned by it. Every cloud, as the lightnings flashed from it, seemed to open, and todisclose, as it were, a furnace of blazing fire within its blackand awful shroud. The whole country around, with all its terrifiedpopulation running about in confusion and dismay, were for the momentmade as clear and distinct to the eye as if it were noonday, with thisdifference, that the scene borrowed from the red and sheeted flashes awild and spectral character which the light of day never gives. In fact, the human figures, as they ran hurriedly to and fro, resembled thoseimages which present themselves to the imagination in some frightfuldream. Nay, the very cattle in the fields could be seen, in thoseflashing glimpses, huddled up together in some sheltered corner, andcowering with terror at this awful uproar of the elements. It is a verystrange, but still a well-known fact, that neither man nor beast wishesto be alone during a thunder-storm. Contiguity to one's fellow creaturesseems, by some unaccountable instinct, to lessen the apprehension ofdanger to one individual when it is likely to be shared by many, a feeling which makes the coward in the field of battle fight ascourageously as the man who is naturally brave. 

The tempest had not yet diminished any of its power; so far from that, it seemed as if a night-battle of artillery was going on, and ragingstill with more violence in the clouds. Thatch, doors of houses, glass, and almost everything light that the winds could seize upon, were flyingin different directions through the air; and as Kennedy now staggeredalong the main road, he had to pass through a grove of oaks, beeches, and immense ash trees that stretched on each side for a considerabledistance. The noises here were new to him, and on that account the morefrightful. The groanings of the huge trees, and the shrieking of theirhuge branches as they were crushed against each other, sounded inhis ears like the supernatural voices of demons, exulting at theirparticipation in the terrors of the storm. His impression now was thatsome guilty sorcerer had raised the author of evil, and being unable tolay him, the latter was careering in vengeance over the earth until heshould be appeased by the life of some devoted victim--for such, when astorm more than usually destructive and powerful arises, is the generalsuperstition of the people--at least it was so among the ignorant in ourearly youth. 

In all thunder-storms there appears to be a regular gradation--abeginning, a middle, and an end. They commence first with a noiseresembling the crackling of a file of musketry where the fire runs alongthe line, man after man; then they increase, and go on deepening theirterrors until one stunning and tremendous burst takes place, which isthe acme of the tempest. After this its power gradually diminishesin the same way as it increased--the peals become less loud and lessfrequent, the lightning feebler and less brilliant, until at length itseems to take another course, and after a few exhausted volleys it diesaway with a hoarse grumble in the distance. 

Still it thundered and thundered terribly; nor had the sweep ofthe wind-tempest yet lost any of its fury. At this moment Kennedydiscovered, by a succession of those flashes that were lighting thecountry around him, a tall young female without cloak or bonnet, herlong hair sometimes streaming in the wind, and sometimes blown up inconfusion over her head. She was proceeding at a tottering but eagerpace, evidently under the influence of wildness and distraction, orrather as if she felt there was something either mortal or spectral inpursuit of her. He hailed her by her name as she passed him, for he knewher, but received no reply. To Tom, who had, as the reader knows, beena witness of the scene we have described, this fearful glimpse of NannieMorrissey's desolation and misery, under the pelting of the pitilessstorm and the angry roar of the I elements, was distressing in thehighest degree, and filled his honest heart with compassion for hersufferings. 

He was now making his way home at his utmost speed, when he heard thetrampling of a horse's feet coming on at a rapid pace behind him, and onlooking back he saw a horseman making his way in the same directionwith himself. As he advanced, the repeated flashes made them distinctlyvisible to each other. 

"I say, " shouted the horseman at the top of his lungs, "can you directme to any kind of a habitation, where I may take shelter?"

"Speak louder, " shouted Tom; "I can't hear you for the wind. "

The other, in a voice still more elevated, repeated the question, "Iwant to get under the roof of some human habitation, if there be oneleft standing. I feel that I have gone astray, and this is no night tobe out in. "

"Faith, sir, " again shouted Tom, "it's pure gospel you're spakin', atany rate. A habitation! Why, upon my credibility, they'd not deserve ahabitation that 'ud refuse to open the door for a dog on such a nightas this, much less to a human creature with a sowl to be saved. Ahabitation! Well, I think I can, and one where you'll be well treated. Isuppose, sir, you're a gentleman?"

"Speak out, " shouted the traveller in his turn; "I can't hear you. "

Tom shaded his mouth with his hand, and shouted again, "I suppose, sir, you're a gentleman?"

"Why, I suppose I am, " replied the stranger, rather haughtily. 

"Becaise, " shouted Tom, "devil a traneen it 'ud signify to them I'mbringing you to whether you are or not. The poorest man in the parishwould be sheltered as well as you, or maybe a betther man. "

"Are we near the house?" said the other. 

"It's just at hand, sir, " replied Tom, "and thanks be to God for it; forif ever the devil was abroad on mischief, he is this night, and may theLord save us! It's a night for a man to tell his grandchildre about, andhe may call it the 'night o' the big storm. '"

A lull had now taken place, and Tom heard a laugh from the strangerwhich he did not much relish; it was contemptuous and sarcastic, andgave him no very good opinion of his companion. They had now arrivedat the entrance-gate, which had been blown open by the violence of thetempest. On proceeding toward the house, they found that their way wasseriously obstructed by the fall of several trees that had been blowndown across it. With some difficulty, however, they succeeded inreaching the house, where, although the hour was late, they found thewhole family up, and greatly alarmed by the violence of the hurricane. Tom went in and found Mr. And Mrs. Goodwin in the parlor, to both ofwhom he stated that a gentleman on horseback, who had lost his way, requested shelter for the night. 

"Certainly, Kennedy, certainly; why did you not bring the gentleman in?Go and desire Tom Stinton to take his horse to the stable, and let himbe rubbed down and fed. In the meantime, bring the gentleman in. "

"Sir, " said Tom, going to the bottom of the hall door-steps, "willyou have the goodness to walk in; the masther and misthress are in theparlor; for who could sleep on such a night as this?"

On entering he was received with the warmest and most cordialhospitality. 

"Sir, " said Mr. Goodwin, "I speak in the name of myself and my wifewhen I bid you heartily welcome to whatever my roof can afford you, especially on such an awful night as this. Take a seat, sir; you mustwant refreshments before you put off those wet clothes and betakeyourself to bed, after the dreadful severity of such a tempest. "

"I have to apologize, sir, for this trouble, " replied the stranger, "andto thank you most sincerely for the kindness of the reception you andyour lady have given to an utter stranger. "

"Do not mention it, sir, " said Mr. Goodwin; "come, put on a dry coat andwaistcoat, and, in the meantime, refreshments will be on the table in afew minutes. The servants are all up and will attend at once. "

The stranger refused, however, to change his clothes, but in a fewminutes an abundant cold supper, with wine and spirits, were placed uponthe table, to all of which he did such ample justice that it would seemas if he had not dined that day. The table having been cleared, Mr. Goodwin joined him in a glass of hot brandy and water, and succeededin pressing him to take a couple more, whilst his wife, he said, wasgetting a bed and room prepared for him. Their! chat for the nexthalf hour consisted in a discussion of the storm, which, although muchabated, was not yet over. At length, after an intimation that his roomwas ready for him, he withdrew, accompanied by a servant, got into anadmirable bed, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. 

CHAPTER III. Breakfast next morning. 

--Woodward, on his way Home, meets a Stranger. --Their Conversation. 

The next morning he joined the family in the breakfast parlor, where hewas received with much kindness and attention. The stranger was a youngman, probably about twenty-seven, well made, and with features that mustbe pronounced good; but, from whatever cause it proceeded, they werefelt to be by no means agreeable. It was impossible to quarrel with, orfind fault with them; their symmetry was perfect; the lip well defined, but hard and evidently unfeeling; his brows, which joined each other, were black, and, what was very peculiar, were heaviest where theymet--a circumstance which, notwithstanding the regularity of his otherfeatures, gave him, unless when he smiled, a frowning if not a sinisteraspect. That, however, which was most remarkable in his features wasthe extraordinary fact that his eyes were each of a different color, onebeing black and piercing in its gleam, and the other gray; from whichcircumstance he was known from his childhood by the name of _Harry naSuil Gloir_--Suil Gloir being an epithet always bestowed by the Irishupon persons who possessed eyes of that unnatural character. Thiscircumstance, however, was not observed on that occasion by any of thefamily. His general manners, though courteous, were cold, and by nomeans such as were calculated either to bestow or inspire confidence. His language, too, was easy enough when he spoke, but a cold habit ofreserve seemed to permeate his whole being, and to throw a chill uponthe feelings of those to whom he addressed himself. So much was this thecase that when ever he assumed an air of familiarity a dark, strange, and undefinable spirit, which was strongly felt, seemed not only tocontradict his apparent urbanity, but to impress his auditors with asense of uneasiness sometimes amounting to pain--an impression, however, for which they could not at all account. 

"Sir, " said Mr. Goodwin, "I hope you slept well after what you sufferedunder the tempest of last night?"

"I assure you, sir, I never enjoyed a rounder night's sleep in my life, "replied their guest; "and were it not for the seasonable shelter ofyour hospitable roof I know not what would have become of me. I amunacquainted with the country, and having lost my way, I knew not whereto seek shelter, for the night was so dreadfully dark that unless by theflashes of the lightning nothing could be seen. "

"It was certainly an awful--a terrible night, " observed his host;"but come, its severity is now past; let me see you do justice to yourfare;--a little more ham?"

"Thank you, sir, " replied the other; "if you please. Indeed, I cannotcomplain of my appetite, which is at all times excellent"--and hecertainly corroborated the truth of his statement by a sharp andvigorous attack upon the good things before him. 

"Sir, " said Mrs. Goodwin, "we feel happy to have had the satisfactionof opening our doors to you last night; and there is only one othercircumstance which could complete our gratification. "

"The gratification, madam, " he replied, "as well as the gratitude, oughtto be all on my side, although I have no doubt, and can have none, that the consciousness of your kindness and hospitality are equallygratifying on yours. But may I ask to what you allude, madam?"

"You are evidently a gentleman, sir, and a stranger, and we would feelobliged by knowing--"

"O, I beg your pardon, madam, " he replied, interrupting her; "I presumethat you are good enough to flatter me by a wish to know the name ofthe individual whom your kindness and hospitality have placed under suchagreeable obligations. For my part I have reason to bless the tempest Iwhich, I may say, brought me under your roof. 'It is an ill wind, ' saysthe proverb, 'that blows nobody good;' and it is a clear case, my verykind hostess, that at this moment we are mutually ignorant of eachother. I assure you, then, madam, that I am not a knight-erranttravelling in disguise and in quest of adventure, but a plain gentleman, by name Woodward, step-son to a neighbor of yours, Mr. Lindsay, ofRathfillan House. I need scarcely say that I am Mrs. Lindsay's son byher first husband. And now, madam, may I beg to know the name of thefamily to whom I am indebted for so much kindness. "

Mrs. Goodwin and her husband exchanged glances, and something like aslight cloud appeared to overshadow for a moment the expression of theircountenances. At length Mr. Goodwin spoke. 

"My name, sir, " he proceeded, "is Goodwin; and until a recent melancholyevent, your family and mine were upon the best and most cordial terms;but, unfortunately, I must say that we are not so now--a circumstancewhich I and mine deeply regret. You must not imagine, however, thatthe knowledge of your name and connections could make the slightestdifference in our conduct toward you on that account. Your family, Mr. Woodward, threw off our friendship and disclaimed all intimacy with us;but I presume you are not ignorant of the cause of it. "

"I should be uncandid if I were to say so, sir. I am entirely aware ofthe cause of it; but I cannot see that there is any blame whatsoeverto be attached to either you or yours for the act of my poor uncle. Iassure you, sir, I am sorry that my family failed to consider it in itsproper light; and you will permit me to request that you we not identifymy conduct with theirs. So far as I am least am concerned, my uncle'sdisposition of his property shall make no breach nor occasion anycoolness between us. On the contrary, I shall feel honored by beingpermitted to pay my respects to you all, and to make myself worthy ofyour good opinions. "

"That is generously spoken, Mr. Woodward, " replied the old man; "and itwill afford us sincere pleasure to reciprocate the sentiments you havejust expressed. "

"You make me quite happy, sir, " replied Woodward, bowing verycourteously. "This, I presume, is the young lady to whom my cousin Agneswas so much attached?"

"She is, sir, " replied her father. 

"Might I hope for the honor of being presented to her, Mr. Goodwin?"

"With pleasure, sir. Alice, my dear, although you already know who thisgentleman is, yet allow me, nevertheless, to present him to you. "

The formal introduction accordingly took place, after which Woodward, turning to Mrs. Goodwin, said, "I am not surprised, madam, at the predilection which my cousinentertained for Miss Goodwin, even from what I see; but I feel that I amrestrained by her presence from expressing myself at further length. Ihave only to say that I wish her every happiness, long life, and healthto enjoy that of which she seems, and I am certain is, so worthy. "

He accompanied those words with a low bow and a very gracious smile, after which, his horse having been brought to the door, he took hisleave with a great deal of politeness, and rode, according to thedirections received from Mr. Goodwin, toward his father's house. 

After his departure the family began to discuss his character somewhatto the following effect:

"That is a fine young man, " said Mr. Goodwin, "liberal-minded andgenerous, or I am much mistaken. What do you think, Martha, " he added, addressing his wife. 

"Upon my word, " replied that lady, "I am much of your opinion--yet Idon't know either; although polite and courteous, there is somethingrather disagreeable about him. "

"Why, " inquired her husband, "what is there disagreeable about him? Icould perceive nothing of the sort; and when we consider that his uncle, who left this property to Alice, was his mother's brother, and that hewas nephew by blood as well as by law, and that it was the old man'soriginal intention that the property should go directly to him, or indefault of issue, to his brother--I think when we consider this, Martha, that we cannot but entertain a favorable impression of him, consideringwhat he has lost by the unexpected turn given to his prospects inconsequence of his uncle's will. Alice, my dear, what is your opinion ofhim?"

"Indeed, papa, " she replied, "I have had--as we all have had--but a veryslight opportunity to form any opinion of him. As for me, I can judgeonly by the impressions which his conversation and person have left uponme. "

"Well, anything favorable or otherwise?"

"Anything at all but favorable, papa--I experienced something like painduring breakfast, and felt a strong sense of relief the moment he leftthe room. "

"Poor child, impressions are nothing. I have met men of whom firstimpressions were uniformly unfavorable, who, notwithstanding their roughoutsides, were persons of sterling worth and character. "

"Yes, papa, and men of great plausibility and ease of manner, who, onthe contrary, were deep, hypocritical and selfish when discovered andtheir hearts laid open. As regards Mr. Woodward, however, heaven forbidthat I should place the impressions of an ignorant girl like myselfagainst the knowledge and experience of a man who has had suchopportunities of knowing the world as you. All I can say is, thatwhilst he seemed to breathe a very generous spirit, my impressionswere completely at variance with every sentiment he uttered. Perhaps, however, I do him injustice--and I should regret that very much. I willthen, in deference to your opinion, papa, endeavor to control thoseimpressions and think as well of him as I can. "

"You are right, Alice, and I thank you. We should never, if possible, suffer ourselves to be prematurely ungenerous in our estimate ofstrangers, especially when we know that this world is filled with themost absurd and ridiculous prejudices. How do you know, my dear child, that yours is not one of them?"

"Alice, love, " said her mother, "I think, upon reflection, your fatheris right, as he always is; let us not be less generous than this youngman, and you know it would be ungenerous to prejudge him; and this comesthe more strange from you, my love, inasmuch as I never yet heard youexpress a prejudice almost against any person. "

"Because I don't remember, mamma, that I ever felt such animpression--prejudice--call it what you will--against any individual asI do against this man. I absolutely fear him without knowing why. "

"Precisely so, my dear Alice, " replied her father, "precisely so; and, as you say, with-out knowing why. In that one phrase, my child, you havedefined prejudice to the letter. Fie, Alice; have more sense, my dear;have more sense. Dismiss this foolish prejudice against a young man, who, from what he said at breakfast, is entitled to better feelings atyour hands. "

"As I said, papa, I shall certainly strive to do so. "

Alice Goodwin's person and character must, at this stage of ournarrative, be made known to our readers. As to her person, it is onlysufficient to say that she was a tall, beautiful girl, of exceedinggrace and wonderful proportions. There was, however, a softness abouther appearance of constitutional delicacy that seemed to be incompatiblewith a strong mind, or perhaps we should rather say that was identicalwith an excess of feeling. This was exhibited in the tenderness ofher attachment to Agnes Hamilton, and in the agonizing grief which sheexperienced at her death--a grief which had well-nigh become fatal to agirl of her fragile organization. The predominant trait, however, in hercharacter was timidity and a terror of a hundred trifles, which, in thegenerality of her sex, would occasion only indifference or laughter. Onthat very morning, for instance, she had not recovered from her painfulapprehensions of the thunder-storm which had occurred on the precedingnight. Of thunder, but especially of lightning, she was afraid even topusillanimity; indeed so much so, that on such occurrences she wouldbind her eyes, fly down stairs, and take refuge in the cellar until theI hurly-burly in the clouds was over. This, however, was not so muchto be wondered at by those who live in our present and more enlighteneddays; as our readers will admit when they are told that the period ofour narrative is in the reign of that truly religious monarch, Charlesthe Second, who, conscious of his inward and invisible grace, was knownto exhaust himself so liberally of his virtue, when touching for theEvil, that there was very little of it left to regulate that of his ownprivate life. In those days Ireland was a mass of social superstitions, and a vast number of cures in a variety of diseases were said to beperformed by witches, wizards, fairy-men, fairy-women, and a thousandother impostors, who, supported by the gross ignorance of the people, carried that which was first commenced in fraud and cunning into aself-delusion, which, in process of time, led them to become dupes totheir own impostures. It is not to be wondered at, then, that AliceGoodwin, a young creature of a warm imagination and extraordinaryconstitutional timidity, should feel the full force of the superstitionswhich swarmed around her, and impregnated her fancy so strongly thatit teemed with an unhealthy creation, which frequently rendered herexistence painful by a morbid apprehension of wicked and supernaturalinfluences. In other respects she was artlessness itself, could neverunderstand what falsehood meant, and, as to truth, her unspottedmind was transparent as a sunbeam. Our readers are not to understand, however, that though apparently flexible and ductile, she possessedno power of moral resistance. So very far from that, her disposition, wherever she thought herself right, was not only firm and unbending, but sometimes rose almost to obstinacy. This, however, never appeared, unless she considered herself as standing upon the basis of truth. Incases where her judgment was at fault, or when she could not see herway, she was a perfect child, and, like a child, should be taken by thehand and supported. It was, however, when mingling in society that hertimidity and bashfulness were most observable; these, however, wereaccompanied with so much natural grace, and unaffected innocence ofmanner, that the general charm of her whole character was fascinatingand irresistible; nay, her very weaknesses created an atmosphere of loveand sympathy around her that nobody could breathe without feeling herinfluence. Her fear of ghosts and fairies, her dread of wizards andwitches, of wise women and strolling conjurers, with the superstitiousaccounts of whom the country then abounded, were, in the eyes ofher more strong-minded friends, only a source of that caressing andindulgent affection which made its artless and innocent object more dearto them. Every one knows with what natural affection and tenderness welove the object which clings to us for support under the apprehensionof danger, even when we ourselves are satisfied that the apprehensionis groundless. So was it with Alice Goodwin, whose harmless foiblesand weaknesses, associated as they were with so much truth and purity, rendered her the darling of all who knew her. 

Woodward had not proceeded far on his way when he was overtaken byan equestrian, who came up to him at a smart pace, which, however, hechecked on getting beside him. 

"A fine morning, sir, after an awful night, " observed the stranger. 

"It is, sir, " replied Woodward, "and a most awful night it assuredlywas. Have you heard whether there has been destruction to life orproperty to any extent?"

"Not so much to life, " replied his companion, "but seriously, Iunderstand, to property. If you had ridden far you must have observedthe number of dwelling-houses and out-offices that have been unroofed, and some of them altogether blown down. "

"I have not ridden far, " said Woodward; "I was obliged to take shelterin the house of a country gentleman named Goodwin, who lives over in thetrees. "

"You were fortunate in finding shelter anywhere, " replied the stranger, "during such a tempest. I remember nothing like it. "

As they proceeded along, indulging in similar chat, they observed thatfive or six countrymen, who had been walking at a smart pace, about acouple of hundred yards before them, came suddenly to a stand-still, and, after appearing to consult together, they darted off the roadand laid themselves down, as if with a view of concealment, behind thegrassy ditch which ran along it. 

"What can these persons mean?" asked Woodward; "they seem to beconcealing themselves. "

"Unquestionably they do, " replied the stranger; "and yet there appearsto be no pursuit after them. I certainly can give no guess as to theirobject. "

While attempting, as they went along, to account for the conduct of thepeasants, they were met by a female with a head of hair that was nearlyblood-red, and whose features were hideously ugly, or rather, we shouldsay, absolutely revolting. Her brows, which were of the same color asthe hair, were knit into a scowl, such as is occasioned by an intenseexpression of hatred and malignity, yet which was rendered almostfrightful by a squint that would have disfigured the features of ademon. Her coarse hair lay matted together in stiff, wiry waves! on eachside of her head, from whence it streamed down her shoulders, whichit covered like a cape of scarlet. As they approached each other, sheglanced at them with a look from which they could only infer that sheseemed to meditate the murder of each, and yet there was mingled withits malignity a bitter but derisive expression that was perfectlydiabolical. 

"What a frightful hag!" exclaimed Woodward, addressing his companion; "Inever had a perfect conception of the face of an ogress until now!Did you observe her walrus tusks, as they projected over her misshapennether lip? The hag appears to be an impersonation of all that is evil. "

"She may be a very harmless creature for all that, " replied the other;"we are not to judge by appearances. I know a man who had murderdepicted in his countenance, if ever a man had, and yet there lived!not a kinder, more humane, or benevolent creature on earth. He was assimple, too, as a child, and the most affectionate father! and husbandthat ever breathed. These, however, may be exceptions; for mostcertainly I am of opinion that the countenance may be considered, ingeneral, a very certain index to the character and disposition. But whatis this?--here are the men returning from their journey, let us questionthem. "

"Pray, " said Woodward, addressing them, "if it be not impertinent, mayI inquire why you ran in such a hurry off the road just now, and hidyourselves behind the ditch?"

"Certainly, sir, you may, " replied one of them; "we wor on our way tothe fair of, Knockmore, and we didn't wish to meet Pugshy Roe. " (RedPeggy). 

"But why should you not wish to meet her?"

"Bekaise, sir, she's unlucky--unlucky in the three ways--unlucky to man, unlucky to baste, and unlucky to business. She overlooks, sir; she hasthe Evil Eye--the Lord be about us!"

"The Evil Eye, " repeated Woodward, dryly; "and pray, what harm could herevil eye do you?"

"Why, nothing in the World, " replied the man, naively, "barrin' towither us off o' the earth--that's all. "

"Has she been long in this neighborhood?" asked the stranger. 

"Too long, your honor. Sure she overlooked Biddy Nelligan's child, andit never did good afterwards. "

"And I, " said another, "am indebted to the thief o' hell for the loss ofas good a cow as ever filled a piggin. "

"Well, sure, " observed a third, "Father Mullen is goin' to read her outnext Sunday from the althar. She has been banished from every parish inthe counthry. Indeed, I believe he's goin' to drown the candles againsther, so that, plaise the Lord, she'll have to tramp. "

"How does she live and maintain herself?" asked the stranger again. 

"Why, sir, " replied the man, "she tuck possession of a waste cabin anda bit o' garden belongin' to it; and Larry Sullivan, that owns it, wasgoin' to put her out, when, Lord save us, he and his whole family weresaized with sickness, and then he sent word to her that if she'd take itoff o' them and put it on some one else he'd let her stay. "

"And did she do so?"

"She did, sir; every one o' them recovered, and she put it on hisneighbor, poor Harry Commiskey and his family, that used to visit themevery day, and from them it went over the country--and bad luck to her!Devil a man of us would have had luck or grace in the fair to-day if wehad met her. That's another gift she has--to bring bad luck to anyone that meets her first in the mornin'; for if they're goin' uponany business it's sure not to thrive with them. She's worse than Mrs. Lindsay; for Mrs. Lindsay, although she's unlucky to meet, and unluckyto cattle, too, has no power over any one's life; but they say it hasalways been in her family, too. "

The equestrians then proceeded at a rather brisk pace until they had gotclear of the peasants, when they pulled up a little. 

"That is a strange superstition, sir, " said Woodward, musingly. 

"It is a very common one in this country, at all events, " replied theother; "and I believe pretty general in others as well as here. "

"Do you place any faith in it?" asked the other. 

The stranger paused, as if investigating the subject in question, afterwhich he replied, "To a certain extent I do; but it is upon this principle, that I believethe force of imagination on a weak mind constitutes the malady. What isyour own opinion?"

"Why, that it is not a superstition but a fact; a fact, too, which hasbeen frequently proved; and, what is more, it is known, as the man said, to be hereditary in families. "

"I don't give credence to that, " said the stranger. 

"Why not, sir?" replied Woodward; "are not the moral qualitieshereditary? are not the tempers and dispositions hereditary, as well asdecline, insanity, scrofula, and other physical complaints?"

The stranger paused again, and said, "Perhaps so. There is certainlymuch mystery in human nature; more, probably, than we can conceive or beaware of. Time, however, and the progress of science, will develop much. But who was this Mrs. Lindsay that the man spoke of?"

"That lady, sir, " replied the other, "is my mother. "

The stranger, from a feeling of delicacy, made no observation upon this, but proceeded to take another view of the same subject. 

"Suppose, then, " he added, "that we admit the fact that the eye of acertain individual can transfuse, by the force of strong volition, anevil influence into the being or bodily system of another--why should ithappen that an eye or touch charged with beneficence, instead of evil, should fail to affect with a sanative contagion those who labor undermany diseases?"

"The only reply I can make to your question, " said Woodward, "is this:the one has been long and generally known to exist, whereas the latterhas never been heard of, which most assuredly would not have been thecase if it had ever existed; as for the cure of the King's Evil it is aroyal imposture. "

"I believe in the latter, " observed the other calmly. 

"Upon what grounds?" asked his companion. 

"Simply because I know a person who possesses the sanative power I speakof. "

"And I believe in the former, " replied Woodward, "and upon bettergrounds still, because I possess it myself. "

"You will pardon me, " said the other; "but I hesitate to believe that. "

Woodward, who felt this imputation against his veracity with resentment, suddenly pulled up his horse, and, turning himself on the saddle, lookedupon his companion with an expression that was as extraordinary as itwas blighting. The stranger, on the other hand, reining in his horse, and taking exactly the same attitude as Woodward, bent his eye on him inreturn; and there they sat opposite to each other, where we will leavethem until we describe the somewhat extraordinary man who had become thefellow-traveller of the hero of the breakfast table. 

[Illustration: PAGE 631-- The gaze was long and combative]

He was mounted upon a powerful charger; for indeed it was evident ata glance that no other would have been equal to his weight. He waswell-dressed--that is to say, in the garb of a country gentleman of theday. He wore his own hair, however, which fell in long masses over hisshoulders, and a falling collar, which came down over his breast. Hisperson was robust and healthy looking, and, what is not very usual inlarge men, it was remarkable for the most consummate proportion andsymmetry. He wore boots and silver spurs, and his feet were unusuallysmall, considering his size, as were also his hands. That, however, which struck the beholder with amazement, was the manly beauty of hisfeatures. At a first glance this was visible; but on contemplatingthem more closely you began to feel something strange and wonderfulassociated with a feeling of veneration and pleasure. Even this, however, was comparatively little to what a still more deliberateperusal of that face brought to light. There could be read thatextraordinary union of humility and grandeur; but above all, and beyondall other expressions, there proceeded from his eyes, and radiated likea halo from every part of his countenance, a sense of power which wasfelt to be irresistible. His eyes, indeed, were almost transparent withlight--a light so clear, benignant, and strong, that it was impossibleto withstand their glance, radiant with benevolence though it was. Thesurrender to that glance, however, was a willing and a pleasing one. Thespectator submitted to it as an individual would to the eye of a blessedspirit that was known to communicate nothing but good. There, then, theysat contemplating one another, each, as it were, in the exercise of someparticular power, which, in this case, appeared to depend altogetheron the expressions of the eye. The gaze was long and combative in itscharacter, and constituted a trial of that moral strength which each, in the peculiar constitution of his being, seemed to possess. After sometime, however, Woodward's glance seemed to lose its concentrativepower, and gradually to become vague and blank. In a little time he felthimself rapidly losing ground, and could hardly avoid thinking thatthe eyes of his opponent were looking into his very soul: his eyelidsquivered, his eyes assumed a dull and listless appearance, andultimately closed for some moments--he was vanquished, and he felt it. 

"What is the matter with you?" said his companion at length, "and whydid you look at me with such a singular gaze? I hope you do not feelresentment at what I said. I hesitated to believe you only because Ithought you might be mistaken. ". 

"I entertain no resentment against you, " replied Woodward; "but I mustconfess I feel astonished. Pray, allow me to ask, sir, are you a medicalman?"

"Not at all, " replied the other; "I never received a medical education, and yet I perform a great number of cures. "

"Then, sir, " said Woodward, "I take it, with every respect, that youmust be a quack. "

"Did you ever know a quack to work a cure without medicine?" replied theother; "I cure without medicine, and that is more than the quack is ableto do with it; I consequently, cannot be a quack. "

"Then, in the devil's name, what are you?" asked Woodward, who felt thathis extraordinary fellow-traveller was amusing himself at his expense. 

"I reply to no interrogatory urged upon such authority, " said thestranger; "but let me advise you, young man, not to allow thatmysterious and malignant power which you seem to possess to gratifyitself by injury to your fellow-creatures. Let it be the principalpurpose of your life to serve them by every means within your reach, otherwise you will neglect to your cost those great duties for which Godcreated you. Farewell, my friend, and remember my words; for they areuttered in a spirit of kindness and good feeling. "

They had now arrived at cross-roads; the stranger turned to the right, and Woodward proceeded, as directed, toward Rathfillan House, theresidence of his father. 

The building was a tolerably large and comfortable one, without anypretence to architectural beauty. It had a plain porch before thehall-door, with a neat lawn, through which wound a pretty drive up tothe house. On each side of the lawn was a semicircle of fine old trees, that gave an ancient appearance to the whole place. 

Now, one might imagine that Woodward would have felt his heart boundwith affection and delight on his return to all that ought to have beendear to him after so long an absence. So far from that, however, hereturned in disappointment and ill-temper, for he calculated that unlessthere had been some indefensible neglect, or unjustifiable offenceoffered to his uncle Hamilton by his family, that gentleman, who, heknew, had the character of being both affectionate and good-natured, would never have left his property to a stranger. The alienation of thisproperty from himself was, indeed, the bitter reflection which rankledin his heart, and established in it a hatred against the Goodwins whichhe resolved by some means to wreak upon them in a spirit of the blackestvengeance. Independently of this, we feel it necessary to say here, thathe was utterly devoid of domestic affection, and altogether insensibleto the natural claims and feelings of consanguinity. His uncle abroad, for instance, had frequently urged him to pay a visit to his relatives, and, of course, to supply him liberally with the necessary funds for thejourney. To every such suggestion, however, he gave a decided negative. "If they wish to see me, " he would reply, "let them come and see me: asfor me, I have no wish to see them, and I shall not go. "

This unnatural indifference to the claims of blood and affection, notonly startled his uncle, but shook his confidence in the honor andintegrity of his favorite. Some further discoveries of his dishonestyultimately led to his expulsion from the heart of that kind relative, aswell as from the hospitable roof of which he proved himself so unworthy. 

With such a natural disposition, and affected as he must have been by atrain of circumstances so decidedly adverse to his hopes and prospects, our readers need not feel surprised that he should return home inanything but an agreeable mood of mind. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Woodward meets a Guide--His Reception at Home--Preparations for a Fete. 

Woodward rode slowly, as he indulged in those disagreeable reflectionsto which we alluded, until he reached a second crossroads, where hefound himself somewhat at a loss whether to turn or ride straightonward. While pausing for a moment, as to which way he should take, themellow whistle of some person behind him indulging in a light-heartedIrish air, caused him to look back, when he saw a well-made, compact, good-looking young fellow approaching, who, finding his attentionevidently directed to him, concluded his melody and respectfully touchedhia hat. "

"Pray, my good friend, " said Woodward, "can you direct me to Rathfillan, the residence of Mr. Lindsay, the magistrate?"

"Misther Lindsay's, is it?"

"Yes; I said so. "

"Well, I think I can, sir. "

"Yes; but are you sure of it?"

"Well, I think I am, sir. "

"You think! why, d--n it, sir, do you not know whether you are or not?"

"May I ax, sir, " inquired the other in his turn, "if you are a religiouscharacter?"

"WHy, what the devil has that to do with the matter in question?" saidWoodward, beginning to lose his temper. "I ask you to direct me tothe residence of a certain gentleman, and you ask me whether I am areligious character? What do you mean by that?"

"Why, sir, " replied the man, "not much, I'm afeard--only if you had letme speak, which you didn't, God pardon you, I was going to say, thatif you knew the way to heaven as well as I do to Misther Lindsay's youmight call yourself a happy man, and born to luck. "

Woodward looked with something of curiosity at his new companion, andwas a good deal struck with his appearance. His age might be abouttwenty-eight or from that to thirty; his figure stout and well-made;his features were decidedly Milesian, but then they were Milesian ofthe best character; his mouth was firm, but his lips full, red, andhandsome; his clear, merry eyes would puzzle one to determine whetherthey were gray or blue, so equally were the two colors blended in them. After a very brief conversation with him, no one could doubt that humorformed a predominant trait in his disposition. In fact, the spirit ofthe forthcoming jest was visible in his countenance before the jestitself came forth; but although his whole features bore a carelessand buoyant expression, yet there was no mistaking in them theunquestionable evidences of great shrewdness and good sense. He alsoindulged occasionally in an ironical and comic sarcasm, which, however, was never directed against his friends; this he reserved for certainindividuals whose character entitled them to it at his hands. Healso drew the long-bow, when he wished, with great skill and effect. Woodward, after having scrutinized his countenance for some time, wasabout to make some inquiries, as a stranger, concerning his family andthe reputation they bore in the neighborhood, when he found himself, considerably to his surprise, placed in the witness-box for a ratherbrisk fire of cross-examination. 

"You are no stranger in this part of the country, I presume" saidhe, with a view of bringing him out for his own covert and somewhatungenerous purposes. 

"I am no stranger, sure enough, sir, " replied the other, "so far as agood slice of the counthry side goes; but if I am not you are, sir, orI'm out in it. "

"Yes, I am a stranger here. "

"Never mind, sir, don't let that disthress you; it's a good, man's case, sir. Did you thravel far, wid submission? I spake in kindness, sir. "

"Why, yes, a--a--pretty good distance; but about Mr. Lindsay and--"

"Yes, sir; crossed over, sir, I suppose? I mane from the other side?"

"O! you want to know if I crossed the Channel?"

"Had you a pleasant passage, sir?"

"Yes, tolerable. "

"Thank God! I hope you'll make a long stay with us, sir, in this partof the counthry. If you have any business to do with Mr. Lindsay--as ofcoorse you have--why, I don't think you and he will quarrel; and by theway, sir, I know him and the family well, and if I only got a glimpse, Icould throw in a word or two to guide you in dalin' wid him--that is, ifI knew the business. "

"As to that, " replied Woodward, "it is not very particular; I am onlycoming on a pretty long visit to him, and as you say you know thefamily, I would feel glad to hear what you think of them. "

"Misther Lindsay, or rather Misther Charles, and you will have a finetime of it, sir. There's delightful fishin' here, and the best ofshootin' and huntin' in harvest and winter--that is, if you stop solong. "

"What kind of a man is Mr. Lindsay?"

"A fine, clever (*Portly, large, comely) man, sir; six feet in hisstockin' soles, and made in proportion. "

"But I want to know nothing about his figure; is the man reputed good orbad?"

"Why, just good or bad, sir, according as he's treated. "

"Is he well liked, then? I trust you understand me now. "

"By his friends, sir, no man betther--by them that's his enemies, not sowell. "

"You mentioned a son of his, Charles, I think; what kind of a youngfellow is he?"

"Very like his father, sir. "

"I see; well, I thank you, my friend, for the liberality of yourinformation. Has he any daughters?"

"Two, sir; but very unlike their mother. "

"Why, what kind of a woman is their mother?"

"She's a saint, sir, of a sartin class--ever and always at her prayers, "(_sotto voce_, "such as they are--cursing her fellow-cratures frommornin' till night. ")

"Well, at all events, it is a good thing to be religious. "

"Devil a better, sir; but she, as I said, is a saint from--heaven"(_sotto voce_, "and very far from it too. ) But, sir, there's a ladyin this neighborhood--I won't name her--that has a tongue as sharp andpoisonous as if she lived on rattlesnakes; and she has an eye of her ownthat they say is every bit as dangerous. "

"And who is she, my good fellow?"

"Why, a very intimate friend of Mrs. Lindsay's, and seldom out of hercompany. Now, sir, do you see that house wid the tall chimleys, orrather do you see the tall chimleys--for you can't see the house itself?That's where the family we spake of lives, and there you'll see Mrs. Lindsay and the lady I mention. "

Woodward, in fact, knew not what to make of his guide; he found himinscrutable, and deemed it useless to attempt the extortion of anyfurther intelligence from him. The latter was ignorant that Mrs. Lindsay's son was expected home, as was every member of that gentleman'sfamily. He had, in fact, given them no information of his return. The dishonest fraud which he had practised upon his uncle, and theapprehension that that good old man had transmitted an account of hisdelinquency to his relatives, prevented him from writing, lest he might, by subsequent falsehoods, contradict his uncle, and thereby involvehimself in deeper disgrace. His uncle, however, was satisfied withhaving got rid of him, and forbore to render his relations unhappy byany complaint of his conduct. His hope was, that Woodward's expulsionfrom his house, and the withdrawal of his affections from him, might, upon reflection, cause him to turn over a new leaf--an effort whichwould have been difficult, perhaps impracticable, had he transmitted tothem a full explanation of his perfidy and ingratitude. 

A thought now occurred to Woodward with reference to himself. He sawthat his guide, after having pointed out his father's house to him, wasstill keeping him company. 

"Perhaps you are coming out of your way, " said he; "you have beengood enough to show me Mr. Lindsay's residence, and I have no furtheroccasion for your services. I thank you: take this and drink myhealth;", and as he spoke he offered him some silver. 

"Many thanks, sir, " replied the man, in a far different tone of voice, "many thanks; but I never resave or take payment for an act of civility, especially from any gentleman on his way to the family of Mr. Lindsay. And now, sir, I will tell you honestly and openly that there is nota better gentleman alive this day than he is. Himself, his son, anddaughter* are loved and honored by all that know them; and woe betidethe man that 'ud dare to crock (crook) his finger at one of them. "

 * His daughter Jane was with a relation in England, and does not appear in this romance. 

"You seem to know them very well. "

"I have a good right, sir, seein' that I have been in the family eversince I was a gorson. "

"And is Mrs. Lindsay as popular as her husband?"

"She is his wife, sir--the mother of his children, and my misthress;afther that you may judge for yourself. "

"Of course, then, you are aware that they have a son abroad. "

"I am, sir, and a fine young man they say he is. Nothing vexes them somuch as that he won't come to see them. He's never off their tongue; andif he's aquil to what they say of him, upon my credit the sun needn'ttake the trouble of shinin' on him. "

"Have they any expectation of a visit from him, do you know'?"

"Not that I hear, sir; but I know that nothing would rise the cockles oftheir hearts aquil to seein' him among them. Poor fellow! Mr. Hamilton'swill was a bad business for him, as it was thought he'd have danced intothe property. But then, they say, his other uncle will provide for him, especially as he took him from the family, by all accounts, on thatcondition. "

This information--if information it could be called--was nothing morenor less than wormwood and gall to the gentleman on whose ears andinto whose heart it fell. The consciousness of his presentposition--discarded by a kind uncle for dishonesty, and deprived, ashe thought, by the caprice or mental imbecility, of another uncle, of aproperty amounting to upwards of twelve hundred per annum--sank upon hisheart with a feeling which filled it with a deep and almost blasphemousresentment at every person concerned, which he could scarcely repressfrom the observation of his guide. 

"What is your name?" said he abruptly to him; and as he asked thequestion he fixed a glance upon him that startled his companion. 

The latter looked at him, and felt surprised at the fearful expressionof his eye; in the meantime, we must say, that he had not an ounce ofcoward's flesh on his bones. 

"What is my name, sir?" he replied. "Faith, afther that look, if youdon't know my name, I do yours; there was your mother's eye fastened onme to the life. However, take it easy, sir; devil a bit I'm afeared. Ifyou're not her son, Misther Woodward, why, I'm not Barney Casey, that'sall. Don't deny it, sir; you're welcome home, and I'm glad to see you, as they all will be. "

"Harkee, then, " said Woodward, "you are right; but, mark me, keep quiet, and allow me to manage matters in my own way; not a syllable of thediscovery you have made, or it will be worse for you. I am not a personto be trifled with. "

"Troth, and you're right there, sir; it's what I often said, often say, and often will say of myself. Barney Casey is not the boy to be trifledwid. "

On arriving at the house, Barney took round the horse--a hired one, bythe way--to the stable, and Woodward knocked. On the door beingopened, he inquired if Mr. Lindsay was within, and was answered in theaffirmative. 

"Will you let him know a gentleman wishes to see him for a few minutes?"

"What name, sir, shall I say?"

"O, it doesn't matter--say a gentleman. "

"Step into the parlor, sir, and he will be with you immediately. "

He did so, and there was but a very short time when his step-fatherentered. Short, as the time was, however, he could not prevent himselffrom reverting to the strange equestrian he had met on his way, nor tothe extraordinary ascendancy he had gained over him. Another young manplaced in his circumstances would have felt agitated and excited by hisapproaching interview with those who were so nearly related to him, andwhom, besides, he had not seen for such a long period of time. Toevery such emotion, however, he was absolutely insensible; there wasno beating pulse, no heaving of the bosom, not a nerve disturbed by thetremulous vibrations of awakened affection, no tumult of the heart, nostarting tear--no! there was nothing of all this--but, on the contrary, a calm, cold, imperturbable spirit, so dead and ignorant of domesticattachment, that the man could neither feel nor understand what itmeant. 

When his step-father entered, he naturally bowed to the stranger, and motioned him to a seat, which the other accordingly took. Lindsaycertainly was, as Barney Casey had said, a very fine-looking man for hisyears. He was tall, erect, and portly, somewhat inclined to corpulency, of a handsome, but florid countenance, in which might be read a largeexpression of cheerfulness and good humor, together with that peculiartinge which results from conviviality. Indeed, there could scarcelybe witnessed a more striking contrast than that between his open, kind-looking features, and the sharp, disagreeable symmetry which markedthose of his step-son with such a dark and unpleasant character. 

"My servant tells me, " said Lindsay, courteously, "that you wished tosee me. "

"I did, sir, " replied Woodward; "in that, he spoke correctly; I wishedto see you, and I am glad to see you. "

"I thank you, sir, " replied the other, bowing again; "but--ahem--in themeantime, sir, you have the advantage of me. "

"And intend to keep it, sir, for a little, " replied Woodward with one ofhis cold smiles. "I came to speak to you, sir, concerning your son whois abroad, and to ask if you have recently heard from himself or hisuncle. "

"O, then, I presume, sir, " replied Lindsay, "you are an acquaintanceor friend of his; if so, allow me to bid you welcome; nothing, I assureyou, could afford either myself or my family greater pleasure than tomeet and show attention to any friend of his. Unfortunately, we haveheard nothing from him or his uncle for nearly the last year and a half;but, you will be doubly welcome, sir, if you can assure us that they areboth well. His uncle, or rather I should, say his grand-uncle, for inthat relation he stands to him, adopted him, and a kinder man does notlive. "

"I believe Mr. Woodward and his uncle are both well, the former, Ithink, sir, is your step-son only. "

"Don't say only, sir, he is just as much the son of my affection as hisbrother, and now, sir, may I request to know the name of the gentleman Iam addressing?"

"Should you wish to see Henry Woodward himself, sir?"

"Dear sir, nothing would delight me more, and all of us, especially hismother; yet the ungrateful boy would never come near us, although he waspressed and urged to do so a hundred times. "

"Well, then, sir, " replied that gentleman, rising up, "he now standsbefore you; I am Henry Woodward, father. "

A hug that half strangled him was the first acknowledgment of hisidentity. "Zounds, my dear Harry--Harry, my dear boy, you're welcome athousand times, ten thousand times. Stand off a little till I look atyou; fine young fellow, and your mother's image. Gadzooks, I was stupidas a block not to know you; but who would have dreamed of it. There, Isay--hallo, Jenny!--come here, all of you; here is Harry at last. Areyou all deaf, or asleep?"

These words he shouted out at the top of his voice, and in a few minuteshis mother, Charles, and his sister Maria entered the room, the twolatter in a state of transport. 

"Here, Jenny, here he is; you have the first claim; confound it, Charley, Maria, don't strangle the boy; ha, ha, ha!"

In fact, the precaution, so far as the affectionate brother and sisterwere concerned, was anything but needless. His mother, seeing theireagerness to embrace him, which they did with tears of delight, stoodcalmly by until he was disentangled from their arms, when she approachedhim and imprinted two kisses upon his lips, with an indifference ofmanner that, to a stranger, would have been extraordinary, but which, to those who were present, excited no surprise; for she had scarcely, during her life, ever kissed one of her own children. Nothing, indeed, could exceed the tumultuous exultation of spirits with which theyreceived him, nor was honest Lindsay himself less joyously affected. Yetit might be observed that there was a sparkle in the eye of his mother, which was as singular as it was concentrated and intense. Such anexpression might be observed in a menagerie when a tigress, indolentlydallying with one of her cubs, exhibits, even in repose, those fieryscintillations in the eye which startle the beholders. The light of thateye, though intense, was cold, calculating, and disagreeable to lookupon. The frigidity of her manner and reception of him might, to acertain extent, be accounted for from the fact that she had gone to hisuncle's several times for the purpose of seeing him, and watching hisinterests. Let us not, therefore, impute to the coldness of her habitsany want of affection for him; on the contrary, his little finger was athousand times dearer to her than the bodies and souls of all her otherchildren, adding to them her husband himself, put together. Besides, she was perfectly unsusceptible of emotions of tenderness, and, consequently, a woman of powerful will, inflexible determination, andthe most inexorable resentments. She was also ambitious, as far asshe had scope for it, within her sphere of life, and would have beenpainfully penurious in her family, were it not that the fiery resolutionof her husband, when excited by long and intolerable provocation, was atall times able to subdue her--a superiority over her will and authoritywhich she never forgave him. In fact, she neither loved himself, nor anything in common with him; and the natural affection which hedisplayed on the return of her son was one reason why she received himwith such apparent indifference. To all the rest of the family she had aheart of stone. Since her second marriage they had lost three children;but, so far as she was concerned, each of them went down into a tearlessgrave. She had once been handsome; but her beauty, like her son's, wassevere and disagreeable. There is, however, such a class of beauty, andit is principally successful with men who have a penchant for overcomingdifficulties, because it is well known that the fact of conciliating orsubduing it is justly considered no ordinary achievement. A great numberof our old maids may trace their solitude and their celibacy to the veryquestionable gift of such beauty, and the dispositions which usuallyaccompany it. She was tall, and had now grown thin, and her features hadbecome sharpened by ill-temper into those of a flesh-less, angular-facedvixen. Altogether she was a faithful exponent of her own evil andintolerable disposition; and it was said that she had inherited that andthe "unlucky eye" from a family that was said to have I been deservedlyunpopular, and equally unscrupulous in their resentments. 

"Well, Harry, " said she, after the warmhearted ebullition of feelingproduced by his appearance had subsided, "so you have returned to us atlast; but indeed, you return now to a blank and dismal prospect. MissGoodwin's adder tongue has charmed the dotage of your silly old uncle tosome purpose for herself. "

"Confound it, Jenny, " said her husband, "let the young man breathe, atleast, before you bring up that eternal subject. Is not the matter overand decided and where is the use of your making both yourself and usunhappy by discussing it?"

"It may be decided, but it is not over, Lindsay, " she replied; "don'timagine it: I shall pursue the Goodwins, especially that sorceress, Alice, with a vengeance that will annul the will, and circumvent thosewho wheedled him into the making of it. My curse upon them all, as itwill be!"

"Harry, when you become better acquainted with your mother, " said hisstep-father, "you will get sick of this. Have you breakfasted; for thatis more to the point?"

"I have, sir, " replied the other; "and you would scarcely guess where;"and here he smiled and glanced significantly at his mother. 

"Why, I suppose, " said Lindsay, "in whatever inn you stopped at. "

"No, " he replied; "I was obliged to seek shelter from the storm lastnight, and where do you think I found it?"

"Heaven knows. Where?"

"Why, with your friend and neighbor, Mr. Goodwin. "

"No friend, Harry, " said his mother; "don't say that. "

"I slept there last night, " he proceeded, "and breakfasted there thismorning, and nothing could exceed the cordiality and kindness of myreception. "

"Did they know who you were?" asked his mother, with evident interest. 

"Not till this morning, at breakfast. "

"Well, " said she again, "when they heard it?"

"Why, their attention and kindness even redoubled, " replied her son;"and as for Miss Goodwin herself, she's as elegant, as sweet, and aslovely a girl as I ever looked on. Mother, I beg you to entertain noimplacable or inveterate enmity against her. I will stake my existencethat she never stooped to any fraudulent circumvention of my pooruncle. Take my word for it, the intent and execution of the will must beaccounted for otherwise. "

"Well and truly said, Harry, " said his step-father--"well and generouslysaid; give me your hand, --my boy; thank you. Now, madam, " he proceeded, addressing his wife, "what have you to say to the opinion of a man whohas lost so much by the transaction, when you hear that that opinion isgiven in her favor?"

"Indeed, my dear Harry, " observed his sister, "she is all that youhave said of her, and much more, if you knew her as we do; she is alldisinterestedness and truth, and the most unselfish girl that everbreathed. "

Now, there were two persons present who paused upon hearing thisintelligence; one of whom listened to it with unexpected pleasure, andthe other with mingled emotions of pleasure and pain. The first of thesewere Mrs. Lindsay, and the other her son Charles. Mrs. Lindsay, whoseeyes were not for a moment off her son, understood the significantglance he had given her when he launched forth so heartily in the praiseof Alice Goodwin; neither did the same glance escape the observation ofhis brother Charles, who inferred, naturally enough, from the warmth ofthe eulogium that had been passed upon her, that she had made, perhaps, too favorable an impression upon his brother. Of this, however, thereader shall hear more in due time. 

"Well, " said the mother slowly, and in a meditating voice, "perhaps, after all, we may have done her injustice. If so, no person would regretit more than myself; but we shall see. You parted from them, Harry, onfriendly terms?"

"I did, indeed, my dear mother, and am permitted, almost solicited, tomake their further acquaintance, and cultivate a friendly intimacy withthem, which I am determined to do. "

"Bravo, Harry, my fine fellow; and we will be on friendly terms withthem once more. Poor, honest, and honorable old Goodwin! what a pitythat either disunion or enmity should subsist between us. No; thefamilies must be once more cordial and affectionate, as they ought tobe. Bravo, Harry! your return is prophetic of peace and good feeling;and, confound me, but you shall have a bonfire this night for yourgenerosity that will shame the sun. The tar-barrels shall blaze, and thebeer-barrels shall run to celebrate your appearance amongst us. Come, Charley, let us go to Rathfillan, and get the townsfolk to preparefor the fete: we must have fiddlers and pipers, and plenty of dancing. Barney Casey must go among the tenants, too, and order them all into thetown. Mat Mulcahy, the inn-keeper, must give us his best room; and, mylife to yours, we will have a pleasant night of it. "

"George, " exclaimed his wife, in a tone of querulous remonstrance, "youknow how expensive--"

"Confound the expense and your penury both, " exclaimed her husband;"is it to your own son, on his return to us after such an absence, thatyou'd grudge the expense of a blazing bonfire?"

"Not the bonfire, " replied his wife, but--"

"Ay, but the cost of drink to the tenants. Why, upon my soul, Harry, your mother is anything but popular here, you must know; and I thinkif it were not from respect to me and the rest of the family she'dbe indicted for a witch. Gadzooks, Jenny, will I never get senseor liberality into your head? Ay, and if you go on after your usualfashion, it is not unlikely that you may have a tar-barrel of your ownbefore long. Go, you and Harry, and tell your secrets to each otherwhile we prepare for the jubilation. In the meantime, we must get up anextempore dinner to-day--the set dinner will come in due time, and be adifferent affair; but at all events some of the neighbors we must haveto join us in the jovialities--hurroo!"

"Well, George, " said she, with her own peculiar smile, "I see you are inone of your moods to-day. "

"Ay, right enough, the imperative one, my dear. "

"And, so far as I am concerned, it would not certainly become me tostand in the way of any honor bestowed upon my son Harry; so I perceiveyou must only have it your own way--I consent. "

"I don't care a fig whether you do or not. When matters come to a push, I am always master of my own house, and ever will be so--and you knowit. Good-by, Harry, we will be back in time for dinner, with as manyfriends as we can pick up on so short notice--hurroo!"

He and Charles accordingly went forth to make the necessarypreparations, and give due notice of the bonfire, after which theysucceeded in securing the attendance of about a dozen guests to partakeof the festivity. 

Barney, in the meantime, having received his orders for collecting, or, as it was then called, warning in the tenantry to the forthcomingbonfire, proceeded upon his message in high spirits, not on account ofthe honor it was designed to confer on Woodward, against whom he hadalready conceived a strong antipathy, in consequence of the resemblancehe bore to his mother, but for the sake of the fun and amusement whichhe purposed to enjoy at it himself. The first house he went into was asmall country cabin, such as a petty farmer of five or six acres at thattime occupied. The door was not of wood, but of wicker-work woven acrosslong wattles and plastered over with clay mortar. The house had twosmall holes in the front side-walls to admit the light; but duringsevere weather these were filled up with straw or rags to keep out thestorm. On one side of the door stood a large curra, or, "ould man, " forit was occasionally termed both--composed of brambles and wattles tiedup lengthwise together--about the height of a man and as thick as anordinary sack. This was used, as they termed it, "to keep the wind fromthe door. " If the blast came from the right, it was placed on that side, and if from the left, it was changed to the opposite. Chimneys, at thatperiod, were to be found only upon the houses of extensive and wealthyfarmers, the only substitute for them being a simple hole in the roofover the fireplace. The small farmer in question cultivated his acreswith a spade: and after sowing his grain he harrowed it in with a largethorn bush, which he himself, or one of his sons, dragged over it witha heavy stone on the top to keep it close to the surface. When Barneyentered this cabin he found the vanithee, or woman of the house, engagedin the act of grinding oats into meal for their dinner with a quern, consisting of two diminutive millstones turned by the hand; this wasplaced upon a praskeen, or coarse apron, spread under it on the floor toreceive the meal. An old woman, her mother, sat spinning flax with thedistaff--for as yet flax wheels were scarcely known--and a lubberlyyoung fellow about sixteen, with able, well shaped limbs and greatpromise of bodily strength, sat before the fire managing a double task, to wit, roasting, first, a lot of potatoes in the _greeshaugh_, whichconsisted of half embers and half ashes, glowing hot; and, secondly, ata little distance from the larger lighted turf, two duck eggs, which, as well as the potatoes, he turned from time to time, that they mightbe equally done. All this he conducted by the aid of what was termed a_muddha vristha_, or rustic tongs, which was nothing more than a wattle, or stick, broken in the middle, between the ends of which he heldboth his potatoes and his eggs while turning them. Two good-looking, fresh-colored girls were squatted on their hunkers (hams), cuttingpotatoes for seed--late as the season was--with two case knives, which, had been borrowed from a neighboring farmer of some wealth. The dressof the women was similar and simple. It consisted of a long-bodied gownthat had only half skirts; that is to say, instead of encompassing thewhole person, the lower part of it came forward only as far as the hipbones, on each side, leaving the front of the petticoat exposed. Thisposterior part of the gown would, if left to fall to its full length, have formed a train behind them of at least two feet in length. Itwas pinned up, however, to a convenient length, and was not at all anungraceful garment, if we except the sleeves, which went no farther thanthe elbows--a fashion in dress which is always unbecoming, especiallywhen the arms are thin. The hair of the elder woman was doubled back infront, from about the middle of the forehead, and the rest of thehead was covered by a _dowd cap_, the most primitive of all femaleheaddresses, being a plain shell, or skull-cap, as it were, for thehead, pointed behind, and without any fringe or border whatsoever. This turning up of the hair was peculiar only to married life, of whichcondition it was universally a badge. The young females wore theirsfastened behind by a skewer; but on this occasion one of them, theyoungest, allowed it to fall in natural ringlets about her cheeks andshoulders. 

"God save all here, " said Barney, as he entered the house. 

"God save you kindly, Barney, " was the instant reply from all. 

"Ah, Mrs. Davoren, " he proceeded, "ever the same; by this and by that, if there's a woman living ignorant of one thing, and you are thatwoman. "

"Sorrow off you, Barney! well, what is it?"

"Idleness, achora. Now, let me see if you have e'er a finger at all toshow; for upon my honorable word they ought to be worn to the stumpslong ago. Well, and how are you all? But sure I needn't ax. Faith, you're crushin' the _blanter_* anyhow, and that looks well. "

 * Blantur, a well-known description of oats. It was so called from having been originally imported from Blantire in Scotland. 

"We must live, Barney; 'tis a poor shift we'd make 'idout the pratiesand the broghan, " (meal porridge). 

"What news from the big house?"

"News, is it? Come, Corney, come, girls, bounce; news is it? O, faitha', thin it's I that has the news that will make you all shake your feetto-night. "

"Blessed saints, Barney what is it?"

"Bounce, I say, and off wid ye to gather brusna (dried and rottenbrambles) for a bonfire in the great town of Rathfillan. "

"A bonfire, Barney! Arra, why, man alive?"

"Why? Why, bekaise the masther's stepson and the misthress's own pet hascome home to us to set the counthry into a state o' conflagration widhis beauty. There won't be a whole cap in the barony before this dayweek. They're to have fiddlers, and pipers, and dancin', and drinkin'to no end; and the glory of it is that the masther, God bless him, is topay for all. Now!"

The younger of the two girls sprang to her feet with the elasticity andagility of a deer. 

"O, _beetha_, Barney, " she exclaimed, "but that will be the fun! Andthe misthress's son is home? Arra, what is he like, Barney? Is he ashandsome as Masther Charles?"

"I hope he's as good, " said her mother. 

"As good, Bridget? No, but worth a shipload of him; he has a pair ofeyes in his head, _Granua_, " (anglice, Grace, ) addressing the younger, "that 'ud turn _Glendhis_ (the dark glen) to noonday at midnight; divila lie in it; and his hand's never out of his pocket wid generosity. "

"O, mother, " said Grace, "won't we all go?"

"Don't ax your mother anything about it, " replied Barney, "bekaisemother, and father, and sister, and brother, daughter and son, is all tocome. "

"Arra, Barney, " said Bridget Davoren, for such was her name, "is thisgentleman like his _ecald_ of a mother?"

"Hasn't a feature of her purty face, " he replied, "and, to the back o'that, is very much given to religion. Troth, my own opinion is, he'll beone of ourselves yet; for I can tell you a saicret about him. "

"A saicret, Barney, " said Grace; "maybe he's married?"

"Married, no; he tould me himself this momin' that it's not hisintention ever to marry 'till he meets a purty girl to plaise him; he'llkeep a loose foot, he says, and an aisy conscience till then, he says;but the saicret is this, he never aits flesh mate of a Friday--whenhe emit get it. Indeed, I'm afeared he's too good to be long for thisworld; but still, if the Lord was to take him, wouldn't it be a proofthat he had a great regard for him!"

Grace Davoren was flushed and excited with delight. She was abouteighteen, rather tall for her age, but roundly and exquisitely moulded;her glossy ringlets, as they danced about her cheeks and shoulders, wereblack as ebony; but she was no brunette; for her skin was milk white, and that portion of her bosom, which was uncovered by the simple natureof her dress, threw back a polished light like ivory; her figure wasperfection, and her white legs were a finer specimen of symmetrythan ever supported the body of the _Venus de Medicis_. This was allexcellent; but it was the sparkling lustre of her eyes, and the radianceof her whole countenance, that attracted the beholder. If there wasanything to be found fault with, it was in the spirit, not in thephysical perfection, of her beauty. There was, for instance, too muchwarmth of coloring and of constitution visible in her whole exquisiteperson; and sometimes her glances, would puzzle you to determine whetherthey were those of innocence or of challenge. Be this as it may, she wasa rare specimen of rustic beauty and buoyancy of spirit. 

"O, Barney, " said she, "that's the pleasantest news I heard this montho' Sundays--sich dancin' as we'll have! and maybe I won't foot it, andme got my new shoes and drugget gown last week;" and here she lilted agay Irish air, to which she set a-dancing with a lightness of footand vivacity of manner that threw her whole countenance into a mostexquisite glow of mirthful beauty. 

"Granua, " said her mother, reprovingly, "think of yourself and whatyou are about; if you worn't a light-hearted, and, I'm afeard, alight-headed, girl, too, you wouldn't go on as you do, especially whenyou know what you know, and what Barney here, too, knows. "

"Ah, " said Barney, his whole manner immediately changing, "have youheard from him, poor fellow?"

"Torley's gone to the mountains, " she replied, "and--but here he is. Well, Torley, what news, asthore?"

Her husband having passed a friendly greeting to Barney, sat down, andhaving taken off his hat, lifted the skirt of his cothamore (big coat)and wiped the perspiration off his large and manly forehead, on which, however, were the traces of deep care. He did not speak for some time, but at length said:

"Bridget, give me a drink. "

His wife took a wooden noggin, which she dipped into a churn and handedhim. Having finished it at a draught, he wiped his mouth with hisgathered, palm, breathed deeply, but was still silent. 

"Torley, did you hear me? What news of that unfortunate boy?"

"No news, Bridget, at least no good news; the boy's an outlaw, and willbe an outlaw--or rather he won't be an outlaw long; they'll get himsoon. "

"But why would they get him? hasn't he sense enough to keep from them?"

"That's just what he has not, Bridget; he has left the mountains andcome down somewhere to the Infield country; but where, I cannot makeout. "

"Well, asthore, he'll only bring on his own punishment. Troth, I'm not abit sorry that Granua missed him. I never was to say, for the match, but you should have your way, and force the girl there to it, over andabove. Of what use is his land and wealth to him now?"

"God's will be done, " replied her husband, sorrowfully. "As for me, Ican do no more in it, nor I won't. I was doing the best for my child. He'll be guided by no one's advice but his own. "

"That's true, " replied his wife, "you did. But here's Barney Casey, fromthe big house, comin' to warn the tenantry to a bonfire that's to bemade to-night in Rathfillan, out of rejoicin' for the misthress's sonthat's come home to them. "

Here Barney once more repeated the message, with which the reader isalready acquainted. 

"You are all to come, " he proceeded, "ould and young; and to bring everyone a backload of sticks and brusna to help to make the bonfire. "

"Is this message from the masther or misthress, Barney?" asked Davoren. 

"O, straight from himself, " he replied. "I have it from his own lips. Troth he's ready to leap out of his skin wid delight. "

"Bekaise, " added Davoren, "if it came from the misthress, the sorrowfoot either I or any one of my family would set near her; but fromhimself, that's a horse of another color. Tell him, Barney, we'll bethere, and bring what we can to help the bonfire. "

Until this moment the young fellow at the fire never uttered a syllable, nor seemed in the slightest degree conscious that there was anyperson in the house but himself. He was now engaged in masticating thepotatoes, and eggs, the latter of which he ate with a thin splinter ofbog deal, which served as a substitute for an egg-spoon, and which isto-this day used among the poor for the same purpose in the remoterparts of Ireland. At length he spoke:

"This won't be a good night for a bonfire anyhow. "

"Why, Andy, _abouchal?_" (my boy. )

"Bekaise, mudher, _the storm was in the fire_* last night when I wasrakin' it. "

 * This is a singular phenomenon, which, so far as I am aware, has never yet been noticed by any Irish or Scotch writers when describing the habits and usages of the people in either country. When stirring the _greeshaugh_, or red- hot ashes, at night at the settling, or mending, or Taking of the fire, a blue, phosphoric-looking light is distinctly visible in the embers, and the more visible in proportion to the feebleness of the light emitted by the fire. It is only during certain states of the atmosphere that this is seen. It is always considered as as prognostic of severe weather, and its appearance is termed as above. 

"Then we'll have rough weather, " said his father; "no doubt of that. "

"Don't be afeard, " said Barney, laughing; "take my word for it, ifthere's to be rough weather, and that some witch or wizard has brokenbargain with the devil, the misthress has intherest to get it put offtill the bonfire's over. "

He then bade them good-by, and took his departure to fulfil hisagreeable and welcome mission. Indeed, he spent the greater portion ofthe day not only in going among the tenants in person, but in sendingthe purport of the said mission to be borne upon the four winds ofheaven through every quarter of the barony; after which he proceeded tothe little market-town of Rathfillan, where he secured the services oftwo fiddlers and two pipers. This being accomplished, he returned hometo his master's, ripe and ready for both dinner and supper; for, as hehad missed the former meal, he deemed it most judicious to kill, as hesaid, the two birds with one stone, by demolishing them both together. 

CHAPTER V. The Bonfire--The Prodigy. 

Andy Davoren's prognostic, so far as the appearance of the weather went, seemed, at a first glance, to be literally built on ashes. A calm, mild, and glorious serenity lay upon the earth; the atmosphere was clear andgolden; the light of the sun shot in broad, transparent beams acrossthe wooded valleys, and poured its radiance upon the forest tops, whichseemed empurpled with its rich and glowing tones. All the usual signsof change! or rough weather were wanting. Everything was quiet; and ageneral stillness was abroad, which, when a sound did occur, causedit to be heard at an unusual distance. Not a breath of air stirred thetrees, which stood as motionless as if they had been carved of marble. Notwithstanding all these auspicious appearances, there were visible toa clear observer of nature some significant symptoms of a change. Thesurfaces of pools and rivers were covered with large white bubbles, which are always considered as indications of coming rain. The dungheaps, and the pools generally attached to them, emitted a fetid andoffensive smell; and the pigs were seen to carry straw into their sties, or such rude covers as had been constructed for them. 

In the meantime the dinner party in Lindsay's were enjoying themselvesin a spirit quite as genial as his hospitality. It consisted of twoor three country squires, a Captain Dowd--seldom sober--a pair of twinbrothers, named Gumming, with a couple of half sirs--a class of personswho bore the same relation to a gentleman that a salmon-trout does toa salmon. The Protestant clergyman of the parish was there--a jocund, rattling fellow, who loved his glass, his dog, his gun, and, if fame didnot belie him, paid more devotion to his own enjoyments than he did tohis Bible. He dressed in the extreme of fashion, and was a regular dandyparson of that day. There also was! Father Magauran, the parish priest, a rosy-faced, jovial little man, with a humorous! twinkle in his blueeye, and an anterior rotundity of person that betokened a moderaterelish for the convivialities. Altogether it was a merry meeting; and ofthe host himself it might be said that he held as conspicuous a place inthe mirth as he did in the hospitality. 

"Come, gentleman, " said he, after the ladies had retired to thewithdrawing-room, "come, gentlemen, fill high; fill your glasses. "

"Troth, " said the priest, "we'd put a heap on them, if we could. "

"Right, Father Magauran; do put a heap on them, if you can; but, at allevents, let them be brimmers; I'm going to propose a toast. "

"Let it be a lady, Lindsay, if you love me, " said the parson, fillinghis glass. 

"Sorra hair I care if it is, " said the priest, "provided she's dacentand attends her duty; go on, squire; give us her name at once, and don'tkeep the parson's teeth watering. "

"Be quiet, reverend gentlemen, " said Lindsay, laughing; "how can a manspeak when you take the words out of his mouth?"

"The Lord forbid we'd swallow them, though, " subjoined the parson; "ifwe did, we'd not be long in a state of decent sobriety. "

"Talk about something you understand, my worthy friends, and, allow meto proceed, " replied the host; "don't you know that every interruptionkeeps you from your glass? Gentlemen, I have great pleasure in proposingthe health of my excellent and worthy step-son, who has, after a longabsence, made me and all my family happy by his return amongst us. Iam sure you will all like him when you come to know him, and that thelonger you know him, the better you will like him. Come now, let mesee the bottom of every man's glass uppermost. I do not address myselfdirectly to the parson or the priest, because that, I know, would be, asthe latter must admit, a want of confidence in their kindness. 

"Parson, " said the priest, in a whisper, "that last observation isgratifying from Lindsay. "

"Lindsay is a gentleman, " replied the other, in the same voice; "and themost popular magistrate in the barony. Come, then. "

Here the worthy gentleman's health was drank with great enthusiasm, after which he thanked them in very grateful and courteous terms, payingat the same time, some rather handsome compliments to the two clergymenwith respect to the appropriate gravity and exquisite polish of theirmanners. He saw the rapidity with which they had gulped down the wine, and felt their rudeness in interrupting Mr. Lindsay, when about topropose his health, as offensive, and he retorted it upon them withpeculiar irony, that being one of the talents, which, among others, hehad inherited from his mother. 

"I cannot but feel myself happy, " said he, "in returning to the roof ofso hospitable a father; but sensible to the influences of religion, as Ihumbly trust I am, I must express a still higher gratification in havingthe delightful opportunity of making the acquaintance of two reverendgentlemen, whose proper and becoming example will, I am sure, guidemy steps--if I have only grace to follow it--into those serious andprimitive habits which characterize themselves, and are so decent andexemplary in the ministers of religion. They may talk of the light ofthe gospel; but, if I don't mistake, the light of the gospel itselfmight pale its ineffectual fires before that which shines in theirapostolic countenances. "

The mirth occasioned by this covert, but comical, rebuke, fellrather humorously upon the two worthy gentlemen, who, being certainlygood-natured and excellent men, laughed heartily. 

"That's a neat speech, " said the parson, "but not exactly appropriate. Father Tom and I are quite unworthy of the compliment he has paid us. "

"Neat, " said Father Tom; "I don't know whether the gentleman has aprofession or not; but from the tone and spirit in which he spoke, Ithink that if he has taken up any other than that of his church, hehas missed his vocation. My dear parson, he talks of the light of ourcountenances--a light that is lit by hospitality on the one hand, andmoderate social enjoyment on the other. It is a light, however, thatneither of us would exchange for a pale face and an eye that seems tohave something mysterious at the back of it. "

"Come, come, Harry, " said Lindsay, "you mustn't be bantering these twogentlemen; as I said of yourself, the longer you know them the betteryou will relish them. They have both too much sense to carry religionabout with them like a pair of hawkers, crying out 'who'll buy, who'llbuy;' neither do they wear long faces, nor make themselves disagreeableby dragging religion into every subject that becomes the topic ofconversation. On the contrary, they are cheerful, moderately social, andto my own knowledge, with all their pleasantry, are active exponents ofmuch practical benevolence to the poor. Come, man, take your wine, andenjoy good company. "

"Lindsay, " said one of the guests, a magistrate, "how are we to get thecountry quiet? Those rapparees and outlaws will play the devil with usif we don't put them down. That young scoundrel, _Shawn na Middogue_, isat the head of them it is said, and, it would seem, possesses thepower of making himself invisible; for we cannot possibly come at him, although he has been often seen by others. "

"Why, what has been Shawn's last exploit?"

"Nothing that I have heard of since Bingham's robbery; but there is noneof us safe. Have you your house and premises secured?"

"Not I, " replied Lindsay, "unless by good bolts and bars, together withplenty of arms and ammunition. "

"How is it that these fellows are not taken?" asked another. 

"Because the people protect them, " said a third; "and because they havestrength and activity; and thirdly, because we have no adequate force toput them down. "

"All very sound reasons, " replied the querist; but as to _Shawn naMiddogue_, the people are impressed with a belief that he is under theprotection of the fairies, and can't be taken on this account. Even ifthey were willing to give him up, which they are not, they dare notmake the attempt, lest the vengeance of the fairies might come down onthemselves and their cattle, in a thousand shapes. "

"I will tell you what the general opinion upon the subject is, " repliedthe other. "It seems his foster-mother was a midwife, and that she wascalled upon once, about the hour of midnight, to discharge the dutiesof her profession toward a fairyman's wife, and this she refused to dounless they conferred some gift either upon herself personally, orupon some one whom she should name. Young Shawn, it appears, was herfavorite, and she got a solemn promise from them to take him under theirprotection, and to preserve him from danger. This is the opinion of thepeople; but whether it is true or not I won't undertake to determine. "

"Come, gentlemen, " said their host, "push the bottle; remember we mustattend the bonfire. "

"So, " said the magistrate, "you are sending us to blazes, Mr. Lindsay. "

"Well, at all events, my friends, " continued Mr. Lindsay, "we must makehaste, for there's little time to spare. Take your liquor, for we mustsoon be off. The evening is delightful. If you are for coffee, let usadjourn to the ladies; and after the bonfire we will return and make anight of it. "

"Well said, Lindsay, " replied the parson; "and so we will. "

"Here, you young stranger, " said the priest, addressing Woodward, "I'lldrink your health once more in this bumper. You touched us off decentlyenough, but a little too much on the sharp, as you would admit if youknew us. Your health again, sir, and you are welcome among us!"

"Thank you, sir, " replied Woodward; "I am glad to see that you can beara jest from me or my father, even when it is at your own expense--yourhealth. "

"Are you a sportsman?" asked the parson; "because, if you are not, justput yourself under my patronage, and I will teach you something worthknowing. I will let you see what shooting and hunting mean. "

"I am a bit of one, " replied Woodward, "but shall be very happy to putmyself into your hand, notwithstanding. "

"If I don't lengthen your face I shall raise your heart, " proceeded, thedivine. "If I don't make a sportsman of you--"

"Ay, " added the priest, "you will find yourself in excellent hands, Mr. Woodward. "

"If I don't make a sportsman of you:--confound your grinning, FatherTom, what are you at?--I'll make a far better thing of you, that is, agood fellow, always, of course, provided that you have the materials inyou. "

"Not a doubt of it, " added Father Tom; "you'll polish the same youthuntil he shines like yourself or his worthy father here. He'll give youa complexion, my boy--a commodity that you sadly want at present. "

The evening was now too far advanced to think of having coffee--abeverage, by the way, to which scarcely a single soul of them wasaddicted. They accordingly got to their legs, and as darkness wassetting in they set out for the village to witness the rejoicings. YoungWoodward, however, followed his brother to the drawing-room, whither hehad betaken himself at an early hour after dinner. Under their escort, their mother and sister accompanied them to the bonfire. The whole townwas literally alive with animation and delight. The news of the intendedbonfire had gone rapidly abroad, and the country people crowded intothe town in hundreds. Nothing can at any time exceed the enthusiasm withwhich the Irish enter into and enjoy scenes like that to which theynow flocked with such exuberant spirits. Bells were ringing, drums werebeating, fifes were playing in the town, and horns sounding in everydirection, both in town and country. The people were apparelled in theirbest costume, and many of them in that equivocal description of itwhich could scarcely be termed costume at all. Bareheaded and barefootedmultitudes of both sexes were present, regardless of appearances, halfmad with delight, and exhibiting many a frolic and gambol considerablyat variance with the etiquette of fashionable life, although we questionwhether the most fashionable fete, of them all ever produced half somuch happiness. Farmers had come from a distance in the country, mountedupon lank horses ornamented with incrusted hips, and caparisoned withlong-straw back-suggauns that reached from the shoulders to the tail, under which ran a crupper of the same material, designed, in addition toa hay girth, to keep this primitive riding gear firm upon the animal'sback. Behind the farmer, generally sat either a wife or a daughter, remarkable for their scarlet cloaks and blue petticoats; sometimes withshoes and stockings, and very often without them. Among those assembled, we cannot omit to mention a pretty numerous sprinkling of that classof strollers, vagabonds, and impostors with which the country, at theperiod of our tale, was overrun. Fortune-tellers, of both sexes, quacks, cardcutters, herbalists, cow-doctors, whisperers, with a long listof such cheats, were at the time a prevailing nuisance throughout thekingdom; nor was there a fair proportion of them wanting here. That, however, which filled the people with the most especial curiosity, awe, and interest, was the general report that nothing less than a liveconjurer, who had come to town on that very evening, was thenamong them. The town, in fact, was crowded as if it had been for anillumination; but as illuminations, unless they could be conducted withrushlights, were pageants altogether unknown in such small remote townsas Rathfillan, the notion of one had never entered their heads. Allaround the country, however, even for many miles, the bonfires wereblazing, and shone at immense distances from every hill-top. We havesaid before that Lindsay was both a popular landlord and a popularmagistrate; and, on this account alone the disposition to do honorto any member of his family was recognized by the people as an act ofgratitude and duty. 

The town of Rathfillan presented a scene of which we who live in thepresent day can form but a faint conception. Yet, sooth to say, weourselves have, about forty years ago, witnessed in remote glens andmountain fastnesses little clumps of cabins, whose inhabitants stoodstill in the midst even of the snail's progress which civilizationhad made in the rustic parts of Ireland; and who, upon examination, presented almost the same rude personal habits, antiquated socialusages, agricultural ignorance, and ineradicable superstition as theirancestors did in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Lindsay, knowinghow unpopular his wife was, not only among their own tenantry, butthroughout the country at large, and feeling, besides, how well thatunpopularity was merited, very properly left her and Maria to his sonCharles, knowing that as the two last named shared in the good-willwhich the people bore him, their mother would be treated withforbearance and respect so long as she was in their company. He wished, besides, that Harry should seem to partake of the honor and gratitudewhich their enthusiasm would prompt them to pay to himself. 

The whole town was one scene of life, bustle, and enjoyment. It wasstudded with bonfires, which were surrounded by wild groups of bothsexes, some tolerably dressed, some ragged as Lazarus, and others youngurchins with nothing but a slip of rag tied about their loins "to makethem look jinteel and daicent. " The monster bonfire, however--that whichwas piled up into an immense pyramid in honor of the stranger--was notignited until the arrival of the quality. The moment the latter madetheir appearance it was set in a flame, and in a few minutes ablaze issued up from it into the air that not only dimmed the minorexhibitions, but cast its huge glare over the whole town, making everyhouse and hut as distinctly visible as if it were broad daylight. Thencommenced the huzzaing--the bells rang out with double energy--the drumswere beaten more furiously--the large bullocks' horns were sounded untilthose who blew them were black in the face, and every manifestation ofjoy that could be made was resorted to. Fiddles and pipes were in busyrequisition, and "The Boys of Rathfillan, " the favorite local air, resounded in every direction. And now that the master and the qualityhad made their appearance, of course the drink should soon follow, andin a short time the hints to that effect began to thicken. 

"Thunder and turf, Jemmy, but this is dry work; my throat's like alime-burner's wig for want of a drop o' something to help me for thecheerin'. "

Hould your tongue, Paddy; do you think the masther's honor would allowus to lose our voices in his behalf. It's himself that hasn't his heartin a trifle, God bless him. "

"Ah, thin, your honor, " said another fellow, in tatters, "isn't thisdust and hate enough to choke a bishop? O Lord, am I able to spake atall? Upon my sowl, sir, I think there's a bonfire in my throath. "

Everything, however, had been prepared to meet these demands; and inabout a quarter of an hour barrels of beer and kegs of whiskey wereplaced under the management of persons appointed to deal out theircontents to the thirsty crowds. Then commenced the dancing, whilst thehuzzaing, shouting, jingling of bells, squeaking of fifes, blowing ofhorns, and all the other component parts of this wild melody, were oncemore resumed with still greater vigor. The great feat of the night, however, so far as the people were concerned, was now to take place. This was to ascertain, by superior activity, who among the young mencould leap over the bonfire, when burnt down to what was consideredsuch a state as might make the attempt a safe one. The circles about thedifferent fires were consequently widened to leave room for the run, and then commenced those hazardous but comic performances. As may besupposed, they proceeded with various success, and occasioned the mostuproarious mirth whenever any unfortunate devil who had overtasked hispowers in the attempt, happened to fail, and was forced to scamperout of the subsiding flames with scorched limbs that set him a dancingwithout music. In fact, those possessed of activity enough to clear themwere loudly cheered, and rewarded with a glass of whiskey, a temptationwhich had induced so many to try, and so many to fail. When thesehad been concluded about the minor fires, the victors and spectatorsrepaired to the great one, to try their fortune upon a larger and morehazardous scale. It was now nearly half burned down, but was still alarge, glowing mass, at least five feet high, and not less than eighteenin diameter at the base. On arriving there they all looked on insilence, appalled by its great size, and altogether deterred from soformidable an attempt. 

It would be death to try it, they exclaimed; no living man could do it;an opinion which was universally acceded to, with one single exception. A thin man, rather above the middle size, dressed in a long, black coat, black breeches, and black stockings, constituted that exception. Therewas something peculiar, and even strikingly mysterious, in his wholeappearance. His complexion was pale as that of a corpse, his eyes deadand glassy, and the muscles of his face seemed as if they were paralyzedand could not move. His right hand was thrust in his bosom, and! overhis left arm he bore some dark garment of a very funereal cast, almostreminding one of a mortcloth. 

"There is one, " said he, in a hollow and sepulchral voice, "that coulddo it. " Father Magauran, who was present, looked at him with surprise;as indeed did every one who had got an opportunity of seeing him. 

"I know there is, " he replied, "a sartin individual who could do it;ay, in troth, and maybe if he fell into the flames, too, he'd onlyfind himself in his own element; and if it went to that could dance ahornpipe in the middle of it. "

This repartee of the priest's elicited loud laughter from theby-standers, who, on turning round to see how the other bore it, foundthat he had disappeared. This occasioned considerable amazement, notunmixed with a still more extraordinary feeling. Nobody there knew him, nor had ever even seen him before; and in a short time the impressionbegan to gain ground that he must have been no other than the conjurerwho was said to have arrived in the town that day. In the meantime, while this point was under discussion, a clear, loud, but very mellowvoice was heard about twenty yards above them, saying, "Stand aside, andmake way--leave me room for a run. "

The curiosity of the people was at once excited by what they had onlya few minutes before pronounced to be a feat that was impossible to beaccomplished. They accordingly opened a lane for the daring individual, who, they imagined, was about to submit himself to a scorchingthat might cost him his life. No sooner was the lane made, and theby-standers removed back, than a person evidently youthful, tall, elastic, and muscular, approached the burning mass with the speed, andlightness of a deer, and flew over it as if he had wings. A tremendousshout burst forth, which lasted for more than a minute, and the peoplewere about to bring him to receive his reward at the whiskey keg, whenit was found that he also had disappeared. This puzzled them once more, and they began to think that, there were more present at these bonfiresthan had ever received baptism; for they could scarcely shake themselvesfree of the belief that the mysterious stranger either was somethingsupernaturally evil himself, or else the conjurer as aforesaid, who, byall accounts, was not many steps removed from such a personage. Of theyoung person who performed this unprecedented and terrible exploit theyhad little time to take any notice. Torley Davoren, however, who was oneof the spectators, turned round to his wife and whispered, "Unfortunate boy--madman I ought-to say--what devil tempted him to comehere?"

"Was it him?" asked his wife. 

"Whist, whist, " he replied; "let us say no more about it. "

In the meantime, although the youthful performer of this daring feat maybe said to have passed among them like an arrow from a bow, yet it sohappened that the secret of his identity did not rest solely with TorleyDavoren. In a few minutes whisperings began to take place, which spreadgradually through the crowd, until at length the name of _Shawn naMiddogue_ was openly pronounced, and the secret--now one no longer--wasinstantly sent abroad through the people, to whom his fearful leap wasnow no miracle. The impression so long entertained of his connectionwith the fairies was thus confirmed, and the black stranger was noother, perhaps, than the king of the fairies himself. 

At this period of the proceedings Mrs. Lindsay, in consequence of somesignificant whispers which were directly levelled at her character, suggested to Maria that having seen enough of these wild proceedings, it would be more advisable to return home--a suggestion to which Maria, whose presence there at all was in deference to her father's wishes, very gladly consented. They accordingly placed themselves under theescort of the redoubtable and gallant twins, and reached home in safety. 

It was now expected that the quality would go down to the inn, where thelargest room had been fitted up for refreshments and dancing, and intowhich none but the more decent and respectable classes were admitted. There most of the beauties of the town and the adjoining neighborhoodwere assembled, together with their admirers, all of whom entered intothe spirit of the festivity with great relish. When Lindsay and hiscompany were about to retire from the great bonfire, the conductors ofthe pageant, who also acted as spokesmen on the occasion, thus addressedthem:

"It's right, your honors, that you should go and see the dancin' inthe inn, and no harm if you shake a heel yourselves, besides takingsomething to wash the dust out o' your throats; but when you come outagain, if you don't find a fresh and high blaze before you still, thedevil's a witch. "

As they proceeded toward the inn, the consequences of the drink, whichthe crowd had so abundantly received, began, here and there, to manifestmany unequivocal symptoms. In some places high words were going on, inothers blows; and altogether the affair seemed likely to terminate in ageneral conflict. 

"Father, " said his son Charles, "had you not better try and settle theserising disturbances?"

"Not I, " replied the jovial magistrate; "let them thrash one anothertill morning; they like it, and I make it a point never to go betweenthe poor people and their enjoyments. Gadzooks, Charley, don't you knowit would be a tame and discreditable affair without a row?"

"Yes; but now that they've got drunk, they're cheering you, and groaningmy mother. "

"Devil's cure to her, " replied his father; "if she didn't deserve itshe'd not get it. What right had she to send my bailiffs to drive theircattle without my knowledge, and to take duty fowl and duty work fromthem whenever my back is turned, and contrary to my wishes? Come in tillwe have some punch; let them shout and fight away; it wouldn't fee thething, Charley, without it. "

They found an exceedingly lively scene in the large parlor of the inn;but, in fact, every available room in the house was crowded. Then, afterthey had looked on for some time, every eye soon singled out thepride and beauty of the assembly in the person of Grace Davoren, whosefeatures were animated into greater loveliness, and her eyes intogreater brilliancy, by the light-hearted spirit which prevailed. Shewas dressed in her new drugget gown, had on her new shoes and bluestockings, a short striped blue and red petticoat, which displayed asmuch of her exquisite limbs as the pretty liberal fashion of the dayallowed; her bust was perfection; and, as her black, natural ringletsfluttered about her milk-white neck and glowing countenance, she notonly appeared inexpressibly beautiful, but seemed to feel consciousof that beauty, as was evident by a dash of pride--very charming, indeed--which shot from her eye, and mantled on her beautiful cheek. 

"Why, Charles, " exclaimed Woodward, addressing his brother in a whisper, "who is that lovely peasant girl?"

"Her father is one of our tenants, " replied Charles; "and she was aboutto be married some time ago, but it was discovered, fortunately in time, that her intended husband was head and leader of the outlaws that infestthe country. It was he, I believe, that leaped over the bonfire. "

"Was she fond of him?"

"Well, it is not easy to say that; some say she was, and others thatshe was not. Barney Casey says she was very glad to escape him when hebecame an outlaw. "

"By the way, where is Barney? I haven't seen him since I came to look atthis nonsense. "

"Just turn your eye to the farthest corner of the room, and you may seehim in his glory. "

On looking in the prescribed direction, there, sure enough, was Barneydiscovered making love hard and fast to a pretty girl, whom Woodwardremembered to have seen that morning in Mr. Goodwin's, and with whomhe (Barney) had become acquainted when the families were on terms ofintimacy. The girl sat smiling on his knee, whilst Barney who had aglass of punch in his hand, kept applying it to her lips from time totime, and pressing her so lovingly toward him, that she was obligedoccasionally to give him a pat upon the cheek, or to pull his whiskers. Woodward's attention, however, was transferred once more to GraceDavoren, from whom he could not keep his eyes--a fact which she soondiscovered, as was evident by a slight hauteur and affectation of mannertoward many of those with whom she had been previously on an equal andfamiliar footing. 

"Charles, " said he, "I must have a dance with this beautiful girl; doyou think she will dance with me?"

"I cannot tell, " replied his brother, "but you can ask her. "

"By the way, where are my father and the rest? They have left the room. "

"The landlord has got them a small apartment, " replied Charles, "wherethey are now enjoying themselves. If you dance with Grace Davoren, however, be on your good behavior, for if you take any unbecomingliberties with her, you may repent it; don't imagine because you seethese humble girls allowing their sweethearts to kiss them in corners, that either they or their friends will permit you to do so. "

"That's as it may be managed, perhaps, " said Woodward, who immediatelyapproached Grace in imitation of what he had seen, and making her a lowbow, said, "I dance to you, Miss Davoren, if you will favor me. "

She was then sitting, but immediately rose up, with a blushing butgratified face, and replied, "I will, sir, but I'm not worthy to dance with a gentleman like you. "

"You are worthy to dance with a prince, " he replied, as he led her totheir station, fronting the music. 

"Well, my pretty girl, " said he, "what do you wish?"

"Your will, sir, is my pleasure. "

"Very well. Piper, " said he, "play up 'Kiss my lady;'" which wasaccordingly done, and the dance commenced. Woodward thought the mostpopular thing he could do was to affect no superiority over the youngfellows present, but, on the contrary, to imitate their style andmanner of dancing as well as he could; and in this he acted with greatjudgment. They felt flattered and gratified even at his awkward andclumsy imitations of their steps, and received his efforts with muchlaughter and cheering; nor was Grace herself insensible to the mirthhe occasioned. On he went, cutting and capering, until he had them inconvulsions; and when the dance was ended, he seized his partner in hisarms, swung her three times round, and imprinted a kiss upon her lipswith such good humor that he was highly applauded. He then ordered indrink to treat her and her friends, which he distributed to them withhis own hand; and after contriving to gain a few minutes' private chatwith Grace, he amply rewarded the piper. He was now about to takehis leave and proceed with his brother, when two women, one aboutthirty-five, and the other far advanced in years, both accosted himalmost at the same moment. 

"Your honor won't go, " said the less aged of the two, "until you getyour fortune tould. "

"To be sure he won't, Caterine, " they all replied; "we'll engage thegentleman will cross your hand wid silver, like his father before him, his heart's not in the money. "

"Never mind her, sir, " said the aged crone, "she's a schemer, and willtell you nothing but what she knows will plaise you. Show me your hand, sir, and I'll tell you the truth. "

"Never mind the _calliagh_, sir, (old woman, by way of reproach;) she'sdotin', and hasn't remembered her own name these ten years. "

"It doesn't matter, " said Woodward, addressing Caterine, "I shall hearwhat you both have to say--but you first. "

He accordingly crossed her hand with a piece of silver, after which shelooked closely into it--then upon his countenance, and said, "You have two things in your mind, and they'll both succeed. "

"But, my good woman, any one might tell me as much. "

"No, " she replied, with confidence; "examine your own heart and you'llfind the two things there that it is fixed upon; and whisper, " sheadded, putting her lips to his ear, "I know what they are, and can helpyou in both. When you want me, inquire for Caterine Collins. My uncle isSol Donnell, the herb doctor. "

He smiled and nodded, but made no reply. 

"Now, " said he, "my old crone, come and let me hear what you have to sayfor me;" and as he spoke another coin was dropped into her withered andskinny hand. 

"Bring me a candle, " said she, in a voice that whistled with age, and ifone could judge by her hag-like and repulsive features, with a malignitythat was a habit of her life. After having inspected his palm withthe candle, she uttered three eldrich laughs, or rather screams, thatsounded through the room as if they were more than natural. 

"Ha, ha, ha!" she exclaimed; "look here; there's the line of lifestopped by a red instrument; that's not good; I see it, I feel it; yourlife will be short and your death violent; ay, indeed, the purtybonfire of your life, for all so bright as it burns, will be put out widblood--and that soon. "

"You're a d--d old croaker, " said Woodward, "and take delight inpredicting evil. Here, my good woman, " he added, turning to the other, "there's an additional half-crown for you, and I won't forget yourwords. "

He and Charles then joined their friends in the other room, and as itwas getting late they all resolved to stroll once more through the town, in order to take a parting look at the bonfires, to wish the peoplegood-night, and to thank them for the kindness and alacrity with whichthey got them up, and manifested their good feeling upon so short anotice. The large fire was again blazing, having been recruited witha fresh supply of materials. The crowd were looking on; many werestaggering about, uttering a feeble huzza, in a state of completeintoxication, and the fool of the parish was attempting to dance ahornpipe, when large, blob-like drops began to fall, as happens at thecommencement of a heavy shower. Lindsay put his hand to his face, onwhich some few of them had fallen, and, on looking at his fingers, perceived that they were spotted as if with blood!

"Good God!" he exclaimed, "what is this? Am I bleeding?"

They all stared at him, and then at each other, with dismay and horror;for there, unquestionably, was the hideous and terrible fact beforethem, and legible on every! face around them--it was raining blood!

An awe, which we cannot describe, and a silence, deep as that of thegrave, followed this terrible prodigy. The silence did not last long, however, for in a few minutes, during which the blood fell very thickly, making their hands and visages appear as if they had been steepedin gore--in a few moments, we say, the heavens, which had become oneblack and dismal mass, opened, and from the chasm issued a red flash oflightning, which was followed almost immediately by a roar of thunder, so loud and terrific that the whole people became fearfully agitatedas they stood round the blaze. It was extremely difficult, indeed, forignorant persons to account for, or speculate upon, this strange andfrightful phenomenon. As they stood in fear and terror, with their facesapparently bathed in blood, they seemed rather to resemble a group ofhideous murderers, standing as if about to be driven into the! flames ofperdition itself. To compare them to a tribe of red Indians surroundingtheir war fires, would be but a faint and feeble simile when contrastedwith the terror which, notwithstanding the gory hue with which theywere covered from top to toe, might be read in their terrified eyes andvisages. After a few minutes, however, the alarm became more intense, and put itself forth into words. The fearful intelligence now spread. "It is raining blood! it is raining blood!" was shouted from everymouth; those who were in the houses rushed out, and soon found that itwas true; for the red liquid was still descending, and in a few minutesthey soon were as red as the others. The flight home now became one ofpanic; every house was crowded with strangers, who took refuge whereverthey could find shelter; and in the meantime the lightning was flashingand the thunder pealing with stunning depth throughout the heavens. Thebonfires were soon deserted; for even those who were drunk and tipsyhad been aroused by the alarm, and the language in which it was uttered. Nobody, in fact, was left at the great fire except those who composedthe dinner party, with the exception of the two clergymen, who fled anddisappeared along with the mob, urged, too, by the same motives. 

"This will not be believed, " said Lindsay; "it is, beyond all doubtand scepticism, a prodigy from heaven, and must portend some fearfulcalamity. May God in heaven protect us! But who is this?"

As he spoke, a hideous old hag, bent over her staff, approached them;but it did not appear that she was about to pay them any particularattention. She was mumbling and cackling to herself when about to pass, but was addressed by Lindsay. 

"Where are you going, you old hag? They say you are acquainted with morethan you ought to know. Can you account for this blood that's falling?"

"Who are you that axes me?" she squeaked. 

"I'm Mr. Lindsay, the magistrate. "

"Ay, " she screamed again, "it was for your son, Harry, na Suil Gloir, (* Suil Gloir was an epithet bestowed on persons whose eyes were ofdifferent colors) that this bonfire was made to-night. Well he knowswhat I tould him, and let him think of it; but there will be more bloodthan this, and that before long, I can tell you and him. "

So saying, she hobbled on, mumbling and muttering to herself like awitch rehearsing her incantations on her way to join their sabbath. Theynow turned their steps homewards, but had not proceeded far, when therain came down as it might be supposed to have done in the deluge; the, lightnings flashed, the thunder continued! to roar, and by the time theyreached Rathfillan House they were absolutely drenched to the skin. Thenext morning, to the astonishment of the people, there was not visiblea trace or fragment of the bonfires; I every vestige of them haddisappeared; and the general impression now was, that there must havebeen something evil and unhallowed connected with the individual forwhom they had been prepared. 

CHAPTER VI. Shawn-na-Middogue

--Shan-Dhinne-Dhuv, or The Black Spectre. 

The next evening was calm and mild; the sun shone with a serene andmellow light from the evening sky; the trees were green, and still; butthe music of the blackbird and the thrush came sweetly from theirleafy branches. Henry Woodward had been listening to a rather lengthydiscussion upon the subject of the blood-shower, which, indeed, was thetopic of much conversation and great wonder throughout the whole parish. His father, a Protestant gentleman, and with some portion ofeducation, although not much, was, nevertheless, deeply imbued withthe superstitions which prevailed around him, as, in fact, were most ofthose who existed in his day; the very air which he breathed was rifewith them; but what puzzled him and his family most was the difficultywhich they found in shaping the prodigy into significance. Why shouldit take place, and upon such an occasion, they could not for theirlives imagine. The only persons in the family who seemed altogetherindifferent to it were Woodward and his mother, both of whom treated itwith ridicule and contempt. 

"It comes before some calamity, " observed Mr. Lindsay. 

"It comes before a fiddle-stick, Lindsay, " replied his wife. "Calamity!yes; perhaps you may have a headache to-morrow, for which the world mustbe prepared by a storm of thunder and lightning, and a shower of blood. The head that reels over night with an excess of wine and punch willache in the morning without a prodigy to foretell it. "

"Say what you will, " he replied, "I believe the devil had a hand init; and I tell you, " he added, laughing, "that if you be advised by me, you'll begin to prepare yourself--'a stitch in time saves nine, ' youknow--so look sharp, I say. "

"This, Harry, " she said, addressing her son, "is the way your mother hasbeen treated all along; yes, by a brutal and coarse-minded husband, whopays no attention to anything but his own gross and selfish enjoyments;but, thank God, I have now some person to protect me. "

"O, ho!" said her husband, "you are for a battle now. Harry, you don'tknow her. If she lets loose that scurrilous tongue of hers I haveno chance; upon my soul, I'd encounter another half dozen ofthunder-storms, and as many showers of blood, sooner than come under itfor ten minutes; a West India hurricane is a zephyr to it. "

"Ah, God help the unhappy woman that's blistered for life with anignorant sot!--such a woman is to be pitied. --and such a woman am I;--I, you good-for-nothing drunken booby, who made you what you are. "

"O, fie! mamma, " said Maria, "this is too bad to papa, who, you know, seldom replies to you at all. "

"Miss Lindsay, I shall suffer none of your impertinence, " said hermother; "leave the room, madam, this moment--how dare you? but I am notsurprised at it;--leave the room, I say. "

The poor, amiable girl, who was all fearfulness and affection, quietlyleft the room as she was desired, and her father, who saw that hisworthy wife was brimful of a coming squall, put on his hat, and afterhaving given one of his usual sardonic looks, left the apartment also. 

"Mother, " said her son Charles, "I must protest against theunjustifiable violence of temper with which you treat my father. Youknow he was only jesting in what he said to you this moment. "

"Let him carry his jests else were, Mr. Charles, " she replied, "heshan't indulge in them at my expense; nor will I have you abet him inthem as you always do--yes, sir, and laugh at them in my face. All this, however, is very natural; as the old cock crows the young one learns. As for Maria, if she makes as dutiful a wife as she does a daughter, herhusband may thank God for getting his full share of evil in this life. "

"I protest to heaven, Harry, " said Charles, addressing his brother, "ifever there was a meek, sweet-tempered girl living, Maria is. You do notyet know her, but you will, of course, have an opportunity of judgingfor yourself. "

"You perceive, Harry, " said his mother, addressing him in turn, "youperceive how they are banded against me; in fact, they are joined withtheir father in a conspiracy to destroy my peace and happiness. This isthe feeling that prevails against me in the house at large, for which Imay thank my husband and children--I don't include you, Harry. Thereis not a servant in our establishment but could poison me, and probablywould, too, were it not for fear of the gallows. "

Woodward listened to this strange scene with amazement, but was prudentenough to take no part in it whatsoever. On the contrary, he got his hatand proceeded out to take a stroll, as the evening was so fine, and theaspect of the country was so delightful. 

"Harry, " said his brother, "if you're for a walk I'll go with you. "

"Not at present, Charley, " said he, "I am in a thoughtful mood, andgenerally prefer a lonely stroll on such a beautiful evening as this. "

He accordingly went out, and bent his I steps by a long, rude greenlane, which extended upwards of half a mile across a rich! country, undulating with fields and meadows. This was terminated by a clump of, hawthorn trees, then white and fragrant with their lovely blossoms, which lay in rich profusion on the ground. Contiguous to this was asmall but delightful green glen, from the side of which issued one ofthose beautiful spring wells for which the country is so celebrated. Over a verdant little hill, which concealed this glen and the well wemention, from a few humble houses, or rather a decenter kind of cabins, was visible a beaten pathway by which the inhabitants of this smallhamlet came for their water. Upon this, shaded as he was by thetrees, he steadily kept his eye for a considerable time, as if in theexpectation of some person who had made an appointment to meet him. Halfan hour had nearly elapsed--the shades of evening were now beginningto fall, and he had just come to the resolution of retracing his steps, with a curse of disappointment on his lips, when, on taking another, and what he intended to be a last glance at the pathway in question, he espied the individual for whom he waited. This was no other than theyoung beauty of the neighborhood--Grace Davoren. She was tripping alongwith a light and merry step, lilting an Irish air of a very livelycharacter, to which she could scarcely prevent herself from dancing, soelastic and buoyant were her spirits. On coming to the brow of the glenshe paused a moment and cast her eye searchingly around her, but seemedafter the scrutiny to hesitate about proceeding farther. 

Woodward immediately showed himself, and after beckoning to her, proceeded toward the well. She still paused, however, as if irresolute;but after one or two significant gestures on his part, she descendedwith a slow and apparently a timid step, and in a couple of minutesstood beside the well. The immediate purport of their conversationis not essential to this narrative; but, indeed, we presume that ourreaders may give a very good guess at it without any assistance fromus. The beautiful girl was young, and credulous, and innocent, asmight naturally be inferred from the confusion of her manner, and thetremulous tones of her voice, which, indeed, were seductive and full ofnatural melody. Her heart palpitated until its beatings might beheard, and she trembled with that kind of terror which is composed ofapprehension and pleasure. That a gentleman--one of the quality--couldcondescend to feel any interest in a humble girl like her, was what shecould scarcely have dreamed; but when he told her of her beauty, thenatural elegance and symmetry of her figure, and added that he loved herbetter than any girl, either high or low, he had ever seen, she believedthat his words were true, and her brain became almost giddy with wonderand delight. Then she considered what a triumph it was over all herfemale acquaintances, who, if they knew it, would certainly envyher even far more than they did already. After about half an hour'sconversation the darkness set in, and she expressed an apprehensionlest some of her family should come in quest of her--a circumstance, shesaid, which might be dangerous to them both. He then prevailed on herto promise another meeting, which at length she did; but on his takingleave of her she asked him by which way he intended to go home. 

"I came by the old green path, " said he, "but intend to turn down theglen into the common road. "

"O, don't go that way, " said she; "if you do, you'll have to pass thehaunted house, ay, and maybe, might meet the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_. "

"What is that, " said he. 

"O, Lord save us, sir, " said she, "did you never hear of the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv?_ A spirit, sir, that appears about the haunted housein the shape of a black ould man, and they say that nobody lives longafther seein' him three times. "

"Yes; but did he ever take any person's life?"

"They say so, sir. "

"When? How long ago?"

"Indeed, I can't tell that, sir; but sure every one says it. "

"Well, what every one says must be true, " he replied, smiling. "I, however, am not afraid of him, as I never go unarmed; and if I happen tomeet him, trust me I will know what mettle he's made of before we part, or whether he belongs to this world or the other. "

He then went down the glen, by the bottom of which the road went; and ata lonely place in a dark angle of it this far-famed spirit was said toappear. 

This vain, but simple girl, the pride of her honest parents and all hersimple relations and friends, took up her pitcher and proceeded with anelated heart by the pathway house. We say her heart was elated atthe notion of having engaged the affections of a handsome, young, andelegant gentleman, but at the same time she felt a secret sense oferror, if not of guilt, in having given him a clandestine meeting, andkept an appointment which she knew her parents and brothers would haveheard with indignation and shame. She was confident, however, in her ownstrength, and resolved in her mind that Woodward's attachment for hernever should terminate either in her disgrace or "ruin. " There were, however, many foolish and pernicious ballads sung about that periodat the hearths of the peasantry, in which some lord or squire of highdegree was represented to have fallen in love with some beautiful girlof humble life, whom he married in spite of his proud relations, andafter having made her a lady of rank, and dressed her in silks andsatins, gold rings and jewels, brought her home to his castle, wherethey lived in grandeur and happiness for the remainder of their lives. The simple-minded girl began to imagine that some such agreeable destinymight be reserved for herself; and thus endeavored, by the deceitfulsophistry of a credulous heart, and proud of her beauty, to palliate herconduct amidst the accusations of her own conscience, which told her shewas acting wrong. 

She had now got about half way home, when she saw an individual approachher at a rapid pace; and as the moon had just risen, his figure wasdistinctly before her, and she immediately felt a strong impressionof terror and alarm. The individual in question was young, tall, andmuscular; his person had in it every symptom of extraordinary activityand vigor. His features, however, were not at all such as could betermed handsome; so far from that, they were rude and stern, but notwithout a wild and disagreeable dignity. His eyes were at all timesfierce and fiery, and gave unequivocal indications of a fierce and fieryspirit. He wore a pair of rude pantaloons that fitted closely to hisfinely made limbs, a short jacket or Wyliecoat that also fitted closelyto his body, over which he wore the usual cloak of that day, which wasbound about his middle with a belt and buckle, in which was stuck amiddogue, or, as it ought to be written, _meadoige_, and pronounced_maddogay_. He wore a kind of cap or _barrad_, which, as well as hiscloak, could, by being turned inside out, instantly change his wholeappearance, and mislead his pursuers--for he was the outlaw. Such wasthe startling individual who now approached her, and at whose fierceaspect she trembled--not less from her knowledge of the natural violenceof his character than from a consciousness of her interview withWoodward. 

"Well, Granua (Grace), " said he, quickly and with some vehemence, "wherehave you been?"

"At the well, " she replied; "have you eyes in your head? Don't you seemy pitcher?"

"I do; but what kept you there so long? and why is your voice tremblin', as if you wor afeard, or did something wrong? Why is your face pale, too?--it's not often so. "

"The Lord save us, Shawn, " replied Grace, attempting to treat thosepointed interrogatories with a jocular spirit, "how can you expect me toanswer such a catechize as you're puttin' to me at wanst. "

"Answer me, in the mane time, " he replied; "I'll have no doubling, Granua. "

"Has anything vexed you, Shawn?"

"_Chorp an diaoul!_ tell me why you staid so long at the well"--and ashe spoke his eyes flashed with resentment and suspicion. 

"I didn't stay long at it. "

"I say you did. What kept you?"

"Why, bekaise I didn't hurry myself, but took my time. I was oftenlonger. "

"You were spakin' to some one at the well. "

"Ah, thin, Shawn, who would I be spakin' to?"

"Maybe I know--I believe I do--but I want now to know whether you're aliar, as I suspect you to be, or whether you are honest enough to tellthe truth. "

"Do you suspect me, then?"

"I do suspect you; or rather I don't--bekaise I know the truth. Answerme--who were you spakin' with?"

"Troth, " said she, "I was lookin' at your sweetheart in the well, "meaning her own shadow, "and was only asking her how she did. "

"You danced with _Harry-na-Suil Balor_ last night?"

"I did; because the gentleman axed me--and why would I refuse him?"

"You whispered in a corner with him?"

"I did not, " she replied; "how could I when the room was so throng?"

"Ay, betther in a throng room than a thin one; ay, and you promised tomeet him at the well to-night; and you kept your word. "

A woman's courage and determination to persist in falsehood are neverso decided and deliberate as when she feels that the suspicion expressedagainst her is true. She then gets into heroics and attempts to turn thetables upon her opponent, especially when she knows, as Miss Davoren didon this occasion, that he has nothing but suspicion to support him. Sheknew that her lover had been at the bonfire, and that his friends musthave seen her dance with Woodward; and this she did not attempt to deny, because she could not; but as for their tryst at the well, she feltsatisfied, from her knowledge of his jealous and violent character, thatif he had been aware of it, it would not have been by seeking the factthrough the medium of his threats and her fears that he would haveproceeded. Had he seen Woodward, for instance, and herself holding asecret meeting in such a place and at such an hour, she concluded justlythat the _middogue_ or dagger, for the use of which he had been alreadyso celebrated, would have been brought into requisition against eitherone or both. 

"I'll talk no more to you, " she replied, with a flushed face; "for evenif I tould you the truth, you wouldn't believe me. I did meet him, then;are you satisfied now?"

This admission was an able stroke of policy on her part, as the readerwill soon perceive. 

"O, " he exclaimed, with a bitter, or, rather, a furious expression offace, "_dar manim_, if you had, you wouldn't dare to confess as much. But listen to me; if I ever hear or know, to my own satisfaction, thatyou meet him, or keep his company, or put yourself in his power, I'll send six inches of this "--and he pulled out the glitteringweapon--"into your heart and his; so now be warned and avoid him, anddon't bring down my vengeance on you both. "

"I don't see what right you have to bring me over the coals about anyone. My father was forcin' me to marry you; but I now tell you to yourteeth, that I never had the slightest intention of it. No! I wouldn'ttake the wealth of the barony, and be the wife of sich a savagemurdherer. No man wid blood upon his hands and upon his sowl, as youhave--a public robber, a murdherer, an outlaw--will ever be my husband. What right have you to tell me who I'm to spake to, or who I'm not tospake to?"

"Ah, " he replied, "that wasn't your language to me not long ago. "

"But you were a different boy then from what you are now. If you hadkept your name free from disgrace and blood, I might have loved you; butI cannot love a man with such crimes to answer for as you have. "

"You accuse me of shedding blood, " he replied; "that is false. I havenever shed blood nor taken life; but, on the contrary, did all in mypower to prevent those who have placed me at their head from doin' so. Yet, when they did it in my absence, and against my orders, the blameand guilt is charged upon me because I am their leader. As for anythingelse I have done, I do not look upon it as a crime; let it rest upon theoppression that drove me and others to the wild lives we lead. We areforced to live now the best way we can, and that you know; but as tothis gentleman, you mustn't spake to him at any rate, " he proceeded;"why should you? What 'ud make a man so high in life, and so far aboveyou as he is, strive to become acquainted with you, unless to bringabout your ruin to gratify his own bad passions? Think of it, and bringit home to your heart. You have too many examples before your eyes, young as you are, of silly girls that allow themselves to be made foolsof, and desaved and ruined by such scoundrels as this. Look at thatunfortunate girl in the mountains there--Nannie Morrissey; look at herfather hanged only for takin' God's just revenge, as he had a right todo, on the villain that brought destruction upon her and his innocentfamily, and black shame upon their name that never had a spot upon itbefore. After these words you may now act as you like; but remember thatyou have got _Shawn-na-Middogue's_ warning, and you ought to know whatthat is. "

He then started off in the same direction which Woodward had taken, andGrace, having looked after him with considerable indignation on her ownpart and considerable apprehension on behalf of Woodward, took up herpitcher and proceeded home. 

She now felt herself much disturbed, and experienced that state of mindwhich is often occasioned by the enunciation of that which is knownto be truth, but which, at the same time, is productive of pain to theconscience, especially when that conscience begins to abandon the fieldand fly from its duty. 

Woodward, as he had intended, preferred the open and common road home, although it was much longer, rather than return by the old greenlane, which was rugged and uneven, and full of deep ruts, dangerousinequalities, and stumps of old trees, all of which rendered it not onlya disagreeable, but a dangerous, path by night. Having got out uponthe highway, which here, and until he reached near home, was, indeed, solemn-looking and lonely, not a habitation except the haunted housebeing visible for upwards of two miles, he proceeded on his way, thinking of his interview with Grace Davoren. The country on each sideof him was nearly a desert; a gray ruin, some of whose standing andisolated fragments assumed, to the excited imagination of the terrifiedpeasants as they passed it by night, the appearance of supernaturalbeings, stood to the left, in the centre of an antiquated church-yard, in which there had not been a corpse buried for nearly half a century--acircumstance which always invests a graveyard with a more fearfulcharacter. As Woodward gazed at these still and lonely relics of thedead, upon which the faint rays of the moon gleamed with a spectral andmelancholy light, he could not help feeling that the sight itself, andthe associations connected with it, were calculated to fill weak mindswith strong feelings of supernatural terror. His, however, was not amind accessible to any such impressions; but at the same time he couldmake allowance for them among those who had seldom any other notions toguide them on such subjects than those of superstition and ignorance. 

The haunted house, which was not yet in sight, he did not remember, norwas he acquainted with its history, with the exception of Grace'sslight allusion to it. At length he came to a part of the road which wasoverhung, or rather altogether covered with long beech trees, whose hugearms met and intertwined with each other across it, filling the archthey made with a solemn darkness even in the noon of day. At night, however, the obscurity was black and palpable; and such upon thisoccasion was its awful solemnity and stillness, and the sense ofinsecurity occasioned by the almost supernatural gloom about him, thatWoodward could not avoid the idea that it afforded no bad conceptionof the entrance to the world of darkness and of spirits. He had notproceeded far, however, under this dismal canopy, when an incidentoccurred which tested his courage severely. As he went along he imaginedthat he heard the sound of human footsteps near him. This, to be sure, gave him at first no trouble on the score of anything supernatural. Thecountry, however, was, as we have already intimated, very much infestedwith outlaws and robbers, and although Woodward was well armed, as hehad truly said, and was no coward besides, yet it was upon this viewof the matter that he experienced anything like apprehension. Heaccordingly paused, in order to ascertain whether the footsteps he heardmight not have been the echo of his own. When his steps ceased, soalso did the others; and when he advanced again so did they. He coughedaloud, but there was no echo; he shouted out "Is there any one there?"but still there was a dead stillness. At length he said again, "Whoeveryou may be, and especially if your designs be evil and unlawful, you hadbetter beware; I am well armed, and both able and determined to defendmyself; if money is your object, pass on, for I have none about me. "

Again there was the silence, as there was the darkness of the grave. Henow resumed his former pace, and the noise of footsteps, evidently anddistinctly different from his own, were once more heard near him. Thosethat accompanied him fell upon his ear with a light, but strange andchilling sound, that filled him with surprise, and something like awe. In fact, he had never heard anything similar to it before. It was verystrange, he thought, for the sounds, though light, were yet as distinctand well-defined as his own. He still held a pistol in each hand, and ashe had no means of unravelling this mystery so long as he was inwrappedin such Cimmerian gloom, he resolved to accelerate his pace and get intothe light of the moon as soon as he could. He accordingly did so; butthe footsteps, although they fell not now so quickly as his own, stillseemed to maintain the same distance from him as before. This certainlypuzzled him; and he was attempting, if possible, to solve this newdifficulty, when he found himself emerging from the darkness, and ina few moments standing in the light of the moon. He immediately lookedabout him, but except the usual inanimate objects of nature, he couldsee nothing. Whatever it is, thought he, or, rather, whoever it is, hehas thought proper to remain undiscovered in the darkness. I shall nowbid him good-night, and proceed on my way home. He accordingly movedon once more, when, to his utter astonishment, he heard the footstepsagain, precisely within the same distance of him as before. 

"Tut, " said he, "I now perceive what the matter with me is. This is amere hallucination, occasioned by a disordered state of the nerves; andas he spoke he returned his pistols into his breast pockets, wherehe usually wore them, and once more resumed his journey. Therewas, however, something in the sound of the footsteps--something sohollow--so cold, as it were, and so unearthly, that he could not throwoff the unaccountable impression which it made upon him, infidel andsceptic as he was upon all supernatural intimations and appearances. Atlength, he proceeded, or rather they proceeded, onward until he arrivedwithin sight of what he supposed to be the haunted house. He pauseda few moments, and was not now so insensible to its lonely and dismalaspect. It was a two-storied house, and nothing could surpass thespectral appearance of the moon's light as it fell with its pale anddeath-like lustre upon the windows. He stood contemplating it forsome time, when, all at once, he perceived, walking about ten yards inadvance of him, the shape of a man dressed in black from top to toe. Itwas not within the scope of human fortitude to avoid being startled bysuch a sudden and incomprehensible apparition. Woodward was startled;but he soon recovered himself, and after the first shock felt rathersatisfied that he had some visible object with which he could make theexperiment he projected, viz. , to ascertain the nature, whether mortalor otherwise, of the being before him. With this purpose in view, hewalked very quickly after him, and as the other did not seem to quickenhis pace into a corresponding speed, he took it for granted thathe would soon overtake him. In this, however, he was, much to hisastonishment, mistaken. His own walk was quick and rapid, whilst that ofthis incomprehensible figure was slow and solemn, and yet he could notlessen the distance between them a single inch. 

"Stop, sir, " said Woodward, "whoever or whatever you are--stop, I wishto speak with you; be you mortal or spiritual, I fear you not--onlystop. "

The being before him, however, walked on at the same slow and solemnpace, but still persisted in maintaining his distance. Woodward wasresolute, fearless--a sceptic, an infidel, a materialist--but here was awalking proposition in his presence which he could not solve, and which, up to that point, at least, had set all his theories at defiance. Hisblood rose--he became annoyed at the strange silence of the being beforehim, but more still at the mysterious and tardy pace with which itseemed to precede and escape him. 

[Illustration: PAGE 652-- I will follow it until morning]

"I will follow it until morning, " he said to himself, "or else I shalldevelop this startling enigma. "

At this moment his mysterious fellow-traveller, after having advanced asif there had not been such an individual as Woodward in existence, nowstood; he was directly opposite the haunted house, and turning round, faced the tantalized and bewildered mortal. The latter looked on him;his countenance was the countenance of the dead--of the sheeted dead, stretched out in the bloodless pallor which lies upon the face ofvanished life--of existence that is no more, at least in flesh andblood. Woodward approached him--for the thing had stood, as we havesaid, and permitted, him to come within a few yards from him. His eyeswere cold and glassy, and apparently without speculation, like thoseof a dead man open; yet, notwithstanding this, Woodward felt that theylooked at him, if not into him. 

"Speak, " said he, "speak; who or what are you?"

He received no reply; but in a few seconds the apparition, if it weresuch, put his hand into his bosom, and, pulling out a dagger, whichgleamed with a faint and visionary light, he directed it as if to his(Woodward's) heart. Three times he did this, in an attitude more ofwarning than of anger, when, at length, he turned and approached thehaunted house, at the door of which he disappeared. 

Woodward, as the reader must have perceived, was a strong-minded, fearless man, and examined the awful features of this inscrutable beingclosely. 

"This, then, " thought he, "is the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_, or the BlackSpectre; but, be it what it may, I am strongly of opinion that itwas present at the bonfire last night, and as I am well armed, I willunquestionably pursue it into the house. Nay, what is more, Isuspect that it is in some way or I other connected with the outlaw_Shawn-na-Middogue_, who it was, they say, made that amazing leap overthe aforesaid bonfire in my own presence. "

On that very account, however, he reflected that such an intrusion mightbe attended with more danger than that to be apprehended from a ghost. He consequently paused for some time before he could decide on followingup such a perilous resolution. While he thus stood deliberating uponthe prudence of this daring exploit, he heard a variety of noises, andknockings, and rollings, as if of empty barrels, and rattling of chains, all going on inside, whilst the house itself appeared to be dark andstill, without smoke from the chimneys, or light in the windows, or anyother symptom of being inhabited, unless by those who were producing thewild and extraordinary noises he then heard. 

"If I do not see this out, " said he, "my account of it will go to addanother page to the great volume of superstition. I am armed, not a whitafraid, and I will see it out, if human enterprise can effect it. "

He immediately entered the door, which he found, somewhat to hissurprise, was only laid to, and, after listening for a few moments, resolved to examine the premises closely. In deference to the reader, whose nerves may not be so strong as those of Henry Woodward, and whoconsequently may entertain a very decided objection to enter a hauntedhouse, especially one in such a lonely and remote situation, we willonly say that he remained in it for at least an hour and a half; atthe expiration of which time he left it, walked home in a silent andmeditative mood, spoke little to his family, who were a good dealsurprised at his abstracted manner, and, after sipping a tumbler ofpunch with his step-father, went rather gloomily to bed. 

The next morning at breakfast he looked a good deal paler than they hadyet seen him, and for some time his contribution to the family dialoguewas rather scanty. 

"Harry, " said his mother, "what is the matter with you? You are silent, and look pale. Are you unwell?"

"No, ma'am, " he replied, "I cannot say that I am. But, by the way, have you not a haunted house in the neighborhood, and is there not anapparition called the Black Man, or the Black Spectre, seen occasionallyabout the premises?"

"So it is said, " replied Lindsay, "but none of this family has ever seenit, although I believe it has undoubtedly been seen by many persons inthe neighborhood. "

"What is supposed to have been the cause of its appearance?" askedHarry. 

"Faith, Harry, " replied his brother, "I fear there is nobody herecan give you that information. To speak for myself, I never heard itsappearance accounted for at all. Perhaps Barney Casey knows. Do you, father?"

"Not I, " replied his father; "but as you say, Charley, we had better tryBarney. Call him up. "

"Perhaps, " said Mrs. Lindsay, sharply and disdainfully, "it was theBlack Spectre who produced the shower of blood last night?"

"Faith, it's not unlikely, " replied her husband, "if he be, as thepeople think, connected with the devil. "

In a couple of minutes Barney entered to know what was wanted. 

"Barney, " said his master, "can you inform us who or what the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_ is, or why he appears in this neighborhood? Damn thefellow; he has that house of mine on my hands this many a long year, forI cannot get it set. I've had priests and parsons to lay him, and forsome time we thought the country was free of him; but it was all to nopurpose; he was still sure to return, and no earthly habitation shouldserve him but that unlucky house of mine. It is very odd that he neverbegan to appear until after my second marriage. "

"Sir, " replied Barney, "I heard something about it; but I'm not clearon it. To tell you the truth, there's two or three accounts of him; butanyhow, sir, you're in luck for the right one; for if livin' man cangive it to you, Bandy Brack, the peddler, is the man. He's now at hisbreakfast in the kitchen; but I'll have him up. "

"Not in the parlor, " said his mistress; "a strolling knave like him. Who ordered him his breakfast in the kitchen without my knowledge?" sheasked. "The moment I can find out the person that dared to do so, thatmoment they shall leave my family. Must I keep an open house for everystrolling vagabond in the country?"

"If you choose to turn me out, " replied her husband, "you may try yourhand at it. It was I ordered the poor man his breakfast; and, what ismore, I desire you instantly to hold your peace. "

As he spoke, she saw that one of his determined looks settled upon hiscountenance--a pretty certain symptom that she had better be guided byhis advice. 

"Come, Barney, " said he, "throw up that window and send the poor manhere, until he tells us what he knows about this affair. "

The window was accordingly thrown open, and in a few minutes Bandy Brackmade his appearance outside, and, on being interrogated on the subjectin question, took off his hat, and was about to commence his narrative, when Lindsay said, "Put on your hat, Bandy; the sun's too hot to be uncovered. "

"That's more of it, " said his wife; "a fine way to make yourselfrespected, Lindsay. "

"I love to be respected, " he replied sternly, "and to deserve respect:but I have no desire to incur the hatred of the poor by oppression andwant of charity, like some of my female acquaintances. "

"Plase your honor, " said Bandy, "all that I know about the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_, or the Black Spectre, as the larned call him, won'trequire many words to tell you. It's not generally known what I'm goin'to say now. The haunted house, as your honor, maybe, remimbers, wasan inn--a carman's inn chiefly--and one night, it seems, there came astranger to stop in it. He was dressed in black, and when he thought ittime to go to bed he called the landlord, Antony McMurt, and placed inhis hands a big purse o' goold to keep for him till he should start atdaybreak, as he intended, the next morning. Antony--

"Ay, " said Lindsay, interrupting him, "that accounts for the nature ofthe villain's death. I remember him well, Bandy, although I was onlya boy at the time; go on--he was always a dishonest scoundrel it wassaid--proceed. "

"Well it seems, Antony, sir, mistook him for a Protestant parson; andas he had a hankerin' afther the goold, he opened a gusset in the man'sthroat that same night, when the unsuspectin' traveller was sound inthat sleep that he never woke from in this world. When the deed was doneAntony stripped him of his clothes, and in doing so discovered a silvercrucifix upon his breast, and a bravery (breviary) under his head, bywhich he found that he had murdhered a priest of his own religion inmistake. They say he stabbed him in the jigler vein wid a _middoge_. Atall events, the body disappeared, and there never was any inquiry madeabout it--a good proof that the unfortunate man was a stranger. Well andgood, your honor--in the coorse of a short time, it seems, the murdheredpriest began to appear to him, and haunted him almost every night, untilthe unfortunate Antony began to get out of his rason, and, it is said, that when he appeared to him he always pointed the _middoge_ at him, just as if he wished to put it into his heart. Antony then, widouttellin' his own saicret, began to tell everybody that he was doomed todie a bloody death; in short, he became unsettled--got fairly besidehimself, and afther mopin' about for some months in ordher to avoid thebloody death the priest threatened him wid, he went and hanged himselfin the very room where he killed the unfortunate priest before. "

"I remember when he hanged himself, very well, " observed Lindsay, "butd--n the syllable of the robbery and murder of the priest or any bodyelse ever I heard of till the present moment, although there was aninquest held over himself. The man got low-spirited and depressed, because his business failed him, or, rather, because he didn't attendto it; and in one of these moods hanged himself; but by all accounts, Bandy, if he hadn't done the deed for himself the hangman would havedone it for him. He was said, I think, to have been connected with someof the outlaws, and to have been a bad boy altogether. I think it is nownear fifty years ago since he hanged himself. "

"'Tis said, sir, that this account comes from one of his own relations;but there's another account, sir, of the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_ that I don'tbelieve a word of. "

"Another--what is that, Bandy?"

"O, bedad, sir, " replied Bandy, "it's more than I could venture to tellyou here. "

"Come, come--out with it. "

Mrs. Lindsay went over with an inflamed face, and having ordered himto go about his business, slapped down the window with great violence, giving poor Bandy a look of wrath and intimidation that sealed hislips upon the subject of the other tradition he alluded to. He was, consequently, glad to escape from the threatening storm which hesaw brewing in her countenance, and, consequently, made a very hastyretreat. Barney, who met him in the yard returning to fetch his packfrom the kitchen, noticed his perturbation, and asked him what was thematter. 

"May the Lord protect me from that woman's eye!" replied the pedler, "ifyou'd 'a' seen the look she gave me when she thought I was goin' to tellthem the true story of the Shan-dhinne-dhuv. "

"And why should she put a sword in her eye against you for that, Bandy?"asked the other. 

Bandy looked cautiously about him, and said in a whisper:

"Because it's connected with her family, and follows it. "

He then proceeded to the kitchen, and having secured his pack, he madeas rapid a disappearance as possible from about the premises. 

CHAPTER VII. A Council of Two

--Visit to Beech Grove. --The Herbalist

Woodward now amused himself by walking and riding about the countryand viewing its scenery, most of which he had forgotten during his longabsence from home. It was not at all singular in that dark state ofpopular superstition and ignorance, that the shower of blood should, somehow or another, be associated with him and his detested mother. Ofcourse, the association was vague, and the people knew not how to applyit to their circumstances. As they believed, however, that Mrs. Lindsaypossessed the power of overlooking cattle, which was considered an evilgift, and in some mysterious manner connected with the evil spirit, andas they remembered--for superstition, like guilt, always possesses agood memory--that even in his young days, when little more than a child, her son Harry was remarkable for having eyes of a different color, fromwhich circumstance he was even then called _Harry na Suil Gloir_, theynaturally inferred that his appearance in the country boded nothinggood; that, of course, he had the Evil Eye, as every one whose eyesdiffered, as his did, had; and that the thunder and lightning, therain which drowned the bonfires, but, above all, the blood-shower, wereindications that the mother and son were to be feared and avoided asmuch as possible, especially the latter. Others denied that thedevil had anything to do with the shower of blood, or the storm whichextinguished the fires, and stoutly maintained that it was God himselfwho had sent them to warn the country against having any intercoursethat could possibly be avoided, with them. Then there was the BlackSpectre that was said to follow her family; and did not every one knowthat when it appeared three times to any person, it was a certain proofthat that person's coffin might be purchased? We all know how rapidlysuch opinions and colloquies spread, and we need scarcely say that inthe course of a fortnight after the night of the bonfires all thesematters had been discussed over half the barony. Some, in fact, werefor loading him with the heavy burden of his mother's unpopularity;but others, more generous, were for waiting until the people had anopportunity of seeing how he might turn out--whether he would follow inhis mother's footsteps, or be guided by the benevolent principles of hisstep-father and the rest of the family. Owing to these circumstances, need we say, that there was an unusual interest, almost an excitement, felt about him, which nothing could repress. His brother Charles wasas well-beloved and as popular as his father, but, then, he excited noparticular interest, because he was not suspected to possess the EvilEye, nor to have any particular connection with the devil. 

In this case matters stood, when one day Woodward, having dressedhimself with particular care, ordered his horse, saying that he wouldride over to Beech Grove and pay a visit to the Goodwins. There werenone in the room at the time but Charles and his mother. The formerstarted, and seemed uneasy at this intelligence; and his mother, havingconsidered for a time, said: "Charles, I wish to speak to Harry. "Charles took the hint, and left the mother and son to the followingdialogue:--

"Harry, " said she, "you spoke very warmly of that cunning serpent whodefrauded you of your inheritance, and all of us out of our right. MayI ask for what purpose you wish to cultivate an intimacy with such ascheming and dishonest crew as that?"

"Faith, mother, to tell you the truth, you don't detest them, nor feelthe loss of the property more than I do; but the truth is, that the gameI wish to play with them will be a winning one, if I can induce themto hold the cards. I wish to get the property, and as I feel that thatcan't be done without marrying their milk-and-curd of a daughter, why, it is my intention to marry her accordingly. "

"Then you don't marry a wife to be happy with her?"

"In one sense not I--in another I do; I shall make myself happy with herproperty. "

"Indeed, Harry, to tell you the truth, there is very little happiness inmarried life, and they are only fools that expect it. You see how I amtreated by Lindsay and my own children. "

"Well, but you provoke them--why disturb yourself with them? Why notpass through life as quietly as you can? Imitate Lindsay. "

"What! make a sot of myself--become a fool, as he is?"

"Then, why did you marry him?"

"Because I was the fool then, but I have suffered for it. Why, hemanages this property as if it wasn't mine--as if I didn't bring it tohim. Think of a man who is silly enough to forgive a tenant his galeof rent, provided he makes a poor mouth, and says he is not able to payit. "

"But I see no harm in that either; if the man is not able to pay, howcan he? What does Lindsay do but make a virtue of necessity. He cannotskin a flint, can he?"

"That's an ugly comparison, " she replied, "and I can't conceive whyyou make it to me. I am afraid, Harry, you have suffered yourself to beprejudiced against the only friend--the only true friend, you have inthe house. I can tell you, that although they keep fair faces to you, you are not liked here. "

"Very well; if I find that to be true, they will lose more than they'llgain by it. "

"They have been striving to secure your influence against me. I know itby your language. "

"In the devil's name, how can you know it by my language, mother?"

"You talked about skinning a flint; now, you had that from themwith reference to me. It was only the other day that an ill-tonguedhouse-maid of mine, after I had paid her her wages, and 'stopped' forthe articles she injured on me, turned round, and called me a skinflint;they have made it a common nickname on me. I'd have torn her eyes outonly for Lindsay, who had the assurance to tell me that if he had notinterfered I'd have had the worst of it--that I'd come off second best, and such slang; yes, and then added afterwards, that he was sorry heinterfered. That's the kind of a husband he is, and that's the lifeI lead. Now, this property is mine, and I can leave it to any one Iplease; he hasn't even a life interest in it. "

"O, " exclaimed the son, in surprise, "is that the case?"

"It is, " she replied, "and yet you see how I am treated. "

"I was not aware of that, my dear mother, " responded worthy Harry. "Thatalters the case entirely. Why, Lindsay, in these circumstances, ought toput his hands under your feet; so ought they all I think. Well, my dearmother, of one thing I can assure you, no matter how they may treat you, calculate firmly upon my support and protection; make yourself sureof that. But, now, about Miss Milk-and-curds--what do you think of myproject?"

"I have been frequently turning it over in my mind, Harry, since themorning you praised her so violently, and I think, as you cannot get theproperty without the girl, you must only take her with it. The notion ofits going into the hands of strangers would drive me mad. "

"Well, then, we understand each other; I have your sanction for thecourtship. "

"You have; but I tell you again, I loathe her as I do poison. I nevercan forgive her the art with which she wheedled that jotter-headed oldsinner, your uncle, out of twelve hundred a year. Unless it returns tothe family, may my bitter malediction fall upon her and it. "

"Well, never mind, my dear mother, leave her to me--I shall have thegirl and the property--but by hook or crook, the property. I shall rideover there, now, and it will not be my fault, if I don't tip both herand them the saccharine. "

"By the way, though, Harry, now that I think of it, I'm afraid you'llhave opposition. "

"Opposition! How is that?"

"It is said there is a distant relation of theirs, a gentleman namedO'Connor, a Ferdora O'Connor, I think, who, it is supposed, is likelyto be successful there; but, by the way, are you aware that they areCatholics?"

"As to that, my dear mother, I don't care a fig for her religion; myreligion is her property, or rather will be so when I get it. The othermatter, however, is a thing I must look to--I mean the rivalry; but onthat, too, we shall put our heads together, and try what can be done. Iam not very timid; and the proverb says, you know, a faint heart neverwon a fair lady. "

Our readers may perceive, from the spirit of the above conversation, that the son was worthy of the mother, and the mother of the son. Thelatter, however, had, at least, some command over his temper, and agreat deal of dexterity and penetration besides; whilst the mother, though violent, was clumsy in her resentments, and transparent in hermotives. Short as Woodward's residence in the family was, he saw ata glance that the abuse she heaped upon her husband and children wasnothing more nor less than deliberate falsehood. This, however, to himwas a matter of perfect indifference. He was no great advocate of truthhimself, whenever he found that his interests or his passions could bemore effectually promoted by falsehood; although he did not disdain eventruth whenever it equally served his purpose. In such a case it gave hima reputation for candor under which he could, with more safety, availhimself of his disingenuity and prevarication. He knew, as we said, thathis mother's description of the family contained not one atom of truth;and yet he was too dastardly and cunning to defend them against hercalumny. The great basis of his character, in fact, was a selfishness, which kept him perpetually indifferent to anything that was good orgenerous in itself, or outside the circle of his own interests, beyondwhich he never passed. Now, nothing, on the other hand, could be moreadversative to this, than the conduct, temper, and principles of hisbrother and sister. Charles was an amiable, manly, and generous youngfellow, who, with both spirit and independence, was, as a naturalconsequence, loved and respected by all who knew him; and as for hissweet and affectionate sister, Maria, there was not living a girl morecapable of winning attachment, nor more worthy of it when attained; andseverely, indeed, was the patience of this admirable brother and sistertried, by the diabolical temper of their violent and savage mother. Asfor Harry, he had come to the resolution, now that he understood theposition of the property, to cultivate his mother's disposition uponsuch a principle of conduct as would not compromise him with eitherparty. As to their feuds he was perfectly indifferent to them; but nowhis great object was, to study how to promote his own interests in hisown way. 

Having reached Beech Grove, he found that unassuming family at home, as they usually were; for, indeed, all their principal enjoyments laywithin the quiet range of domestic life. Old Goodwin himself saw himthrough the parlor window as he approached, and, with ready and sincerekindness, met him in the hall. 

"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Woodward, " said he. "Allow me to conductyou to the drawing-room, where you will meet Mrs. Goodwin, Alice, and aparticular friend of ours. I cannot myself stop long with you, becauseI am engaged on particular business; but you will not miss an old fellowlike me when you have better company. I hope my old friends are allwell. Step in, sir. Here is Mr. Woodward, ladies; Mr. Woodward, thisgentleman is a friend of ours, Mr. Ferdora O'Connor; Ferdora, this isMr. Woodward; and now I must leave you to entertain each other; but Ishall return, Mr. Woodward, before you go, unless you are in a greatharry. Bridget, see that luncheon is ready; but you must lay it in thefront parlor, because I have these tenants about me in the dining-room, as it is so much larger. "

"I have already given orders for that, " replied his wife. He thenhurried out and left them, evidently much gratified by Woodward's visit. O'Connor and the latter having scanned each other by a glance or two, bowed with that extreme air of politeness which is only another name fora want of cordiality. O'Connor was rather a plain-looking young fellow, as to his person and general appearance; but his Milesian face washandsome, and his eye clear and candid, with a dash of determinationand fire in it. Very different, indeed, was it from the eye that wasscrutinizing him at that moment, with such keenness and penetration. There are such things as antipathies; otherwise why should those twoindividuals entertain, almost in a moment's time, such a secret andunaccountable disrelish towards each other? Woodward did not love Alice, so that the feeling could not proceed from jealousy; and we will so farthrow aside mystery as to say here, that neither did O'Connor; and, we may add still further, that poor, innocent, unassuming Alice wasattached to neither of them. 

"I hope your brother is well, sir, " said O'Connor, anxious to break theice, and try the stuff Woodward was made of. "I have not seen him forsome time. "

"O! then, you are acquaintances?" said Woodward. 

"We are more, sir, " replied O'Connor, "we are friends. "

"I hope you are all well, " interrupted kind-hearted Mrs. Goodwin. 

"Quite well, my dear madam, " he replied. Then turning to O'Connor: "Tobe a friend to my brother, sir, " he said, "next to finding you a friendand favorite in this family, is the warmest recommendation to me. Mylong absence from home prevented me from knowing his value until now;but now that! I do know him, I say it, perhaps, with too much of thepartiality of a brother, I think that any man may feel proud of hisfriendship; and I say so with the less hesitation, because I am surehe would select no man for his friend who was not worthy of it;" and hebowed courteously as he spoke. 

"Faith, sir, " replied O'Connor, "you have hit it; I for one am proudof it; but, upon my conscience, he wouldn't be his father's son if hewasn't what he is. "

Alice was sewing some embroidery, and seemed to take no notice, if onecould judge by her downcast locks, of what they said. At length shesaid, with a smile:

"As you, Ferdora, have inquired for your favorite, I don't see why Ishould not inquire after mine; how is your sister, Mr. Woodward?"

"Indeed, she's the picture of health, Miss Goodwin; but I will not"--headded, with a smile to balance her own--"I will not be answerable forthe health of her heart. "

Alice gave a low laugh, that had the slightest tincture of malice in it, and glanced at O'Connor, who began to tap his boot with his riding whip. 

"She is a good girl as ever lived, " said Mrs. Goodwin, "and I hope willnever have a heartache that may harm her. "

"Heaven knows, madam, " replied Woodward, "it is time only that will tellthat. Love is a strange and sometimes rather a painful malady. "

"Of course you speak from your own experience, Mr. Woodward, " repliedAlice. 

"Then you have had the complaint, sir, " said O'Connor, laughing. "Iwonder is it like small-pox or measles?"

"How is that, sir?" said Woodward, smiling. 

"Why, that if you've had it once you'll never have it a second time. "

"Yes, but if I should be ill of it now?" and he glanced at Alice, whoblushed. 

"Why, in that case, " replied O'Connor, "it's in bed you ought to be; noman with an epidemic on him should be permitted to go abroad among hismajesty's liege subjects. "

"Yes, Ferdora, " said Alice, "but I don't think Mr. Woodward's complaintis catching. "

"God forbid that the gentleman should die of it, though, " repliedFerdora, "for that would be a serious loss to the ladies. "

"You exaggerate that calamity, sir, " replied Woodward, with theslightest imaginable sneer, "and forget that if I die you survive me. "

"Well, certainly, there is consolation in that, " said O'Connor, "especially for the ladies, as I said; isn't there, Alley?"

"Certainly, " replied Alice; "in making love, Ferdora, you have theprowess of ten men. "

"Do you speak from experience, now, Miss Goodwin?" asked Woodward, rather dryly. 

"O! no, " replied Alice, "I have only his own word for it. "

"Only his own word. Miss Goodwin! Do you imply by that, that his ownword requires corroboration?"

Alice blushed again, and felt confused. 

"I assure you, Mr. Woodward, " said O'Connor, "that when my word requirescorroboration, I always corroborate it myself. "

"But, according to Miss Goodwin's account of it, sir, that's not likelyto add much to its authenticity. "

"Well, Mr. Woodward, " said O'Connor, with the greatest suavity ofmanner, "I'll tell you my method under such circumstances; whenever Imeet a gentleman that doubts my word, I always make him eat his onion. 

"There's nothing new or wonderful in that, " replied the other; "it hasbeen my own practice during life. "

"What? to eat your own words!" exclaimed O'Connor, purposely mistakinghim; "very windy feeding, faith. Upon my honor and conscience, in thatcase, your complaint must be nothing else but the colic, and not love atall. Try peppermint wather, Mr. Woodward. "

Alice saw at once, but could not account for the fact, that theworthy gentlemen were cutting at each other, and the timid girl becameinsensibly alarmed at the unaccountable sharpness of their briefencounter. She looked with an anxious countenance, first at one, andthen at the other, but scarcely knew what to say. Woodward, however, whowas better acquainted with the usages of society, and the deference dueto the presence of women, than the brusque, but somewhat fiery Milesian, now said, with a smile and a bow to that gentleman:

"Sir, I submit; I am vanquished. If you are as successful in love as youare in banter, I should not wish to enter the list against you. 

"Faith, sir, " replied O'Connor, with a poor-humored laugh, "if yoursword is as sharp as your wit, you'd be an ugly customer to meet in aquarrel. "

O'Connor, who had been there for some time, now rose to take his leave, at which Alice felt rather satisfied. Indeed, she could not avoidobserving that, whatever the cause of it might be, there seemed to existsome secret feeling of dislike between them, which occasioned her noinconsiderable apprehension. O'Connor she knew was kind-hearted andgenerous, but, at the same time, as quick as gunpowder in taking andresenting an insult. On the other hand, she certainly felt much regretat being subjected to the presence of Woodward, against whom sheentertained, as the reader knows, a strong feeling that amountedabsolutely to aversion. She could not, however, think of treating himwith anything bordering on disrespect, especially in her own house, andshe, consequently, was about to say something merely calculated to passthe time. In this, however, she was anticipated by Woodward, who, as hehad his suspicions of O'Connor, resolved to sound her on the subject. 

"That seems an agreeable young fellow, " said he; "somewhat free and easyin his deportment. "

"Take care, Mr. Woodward, " said her mother, "say nothing harsh againstFerdora, if you wish to keep on good terms with Alley. He's thewhite-headed boy with her. "

"I am not surprised at that, madam, " he replied, "possessed as he is ofsuch a rare and fortunate quality. "

"Pray, what is that, Mr. Woodward?" asked Alice, timidly. 

"Why, the faculty of making love with the power of ten men, " he replied. 

"You must be a very serious man, " she replied. 

"Serious, Miss Goodwin! Why do you think so?"

"I hope you are not in the habit of receiving a jest as a matter offact. "

"Not, " he replied, "if I could satisfy myself that there was no fact inthe jest; but, indeed, in this world, Miss Goodwin, it is very difficultto distinguish jest from earnest. "

"I am a bad reasoner, Mr. Woodward, " she replied. 

"But, perhaps, Miss Goodwin, Mr. O'Connor would say that you make up infeeling what you want in logic. "

"I hope, sir, " replied Alice, with some spirit--for she felt hurt at hislast observation--"that I will never feel on any subject until I havereason as well as inclination to support me. "

"Ah, " said he, "I fear that if you once possess the inclination youwill soon supply the reason. But, by the way, talking of your friend andfavorite, Mr. O'Connor, I must say I like him very much, and I am, notsurprised that you do. "

"I do, indeed, " she replied; "I know of nobody I like better thanhonest, frank, and generous Ferdora. "

"Well, Miss Goodwin, I assure you he shall be a favorite of mine foryour sake. "

"Indeed, Mr. Woodward, if you knew him, he would become one for hisown. "

"Have you known him long, may I ask, Miss Goodwin?"

"O dear, yes, " said Mrs. Goodwin, who now, finding this a fair openingin the conversation, resolved to have her share of it--"O dear! yes;Alley and he know each other ever since her childhood; he's some threeor four years older than she is, to be sure, but that makes littledifference. "

"And, I suppose, Mrs. Goodwin, their intimacy--perhaps I may sayattachment--has the sanction of their respective families?"

"God bless you, sir, to be sure it has--are they not distantly related?"

"That, indeed, is a very usual proceeding among families, " observedWoodward; "the boy and girl are thrown together, and desired to lookupon each other as destined to become husband and wife; they accordinglydo so, fall in love, are married, and soon find themselves--miserable;in fact, these matches seldom turn out well. "

"But there is no risk of that here, " replied Alice. 

"I sincerely hope not, Miss Goodwin. In your case, unless the husbandwas a fool, or a madman, or a villain, there must be happiness. Ofcourse you will be happy with him; need I say, " and here he sighed, "that he at least ought to be so with you?"

"Upon my word, Mr. Woodward, " replied Alice, smiling, "you are a muchcleverer man than I presume your own modesty ever permitted you tosuspect. "

"I don't understand you, " he replied, with a look of embarrassment. 

"Why, " she proceeded, "here have you, in a few minutes, made up a matchbetween two persons who never were intended to be married at all; youhave got the sanction of two families to a union which neither ofthem even for a moment contemplated. Dear me, sir, may not a lady andgentleman become acquainted without necessarily falling in love?"

"Ah, but, in your case, my dear Miss Goodwin, it would bedifficult--impossible I should say--to remain indifferent, if thegentleman had either taste or sentiment; however, I assure you I amsincerely glad to find that I have been mistaken. "

"God bless me, Mr. Woodward, " said Mrs. Goodwin, "did you think theywere sweethearts?"

"Upon my honor, madam, I did--and I was very sorry for it. "

"Mr. Woodward, " replied Alice, "don't mistake me; I am inaccessible toflattery. "

"I am delighted to hear it, " said he, "because I know that for thatreason you are not and will not be insensible to truth. "

"Unless when it borrows the garb of flattery, and thus causes itself tobe suspected. "

"In that case, " said Woodward, "nothing but good sense, Miss Goodwin, can draw the distinction between them--and now I know that you arepossessed of that. "

"I hope so, sir, " she replied, "and that I will ever continue to observethat distinction. Mamma, I want more thread, " she said: "where can I getit?"

"Up stairs, dear, in my work-box. "

She then bowed slightly to Woodward and went up to find her thread, butin fact from a wish to put an end to a conversation that she felt to beexceedingly disagreeable. At this moment old Goodwin came in. 

"You will excuse me, I trust, Mr. Woodward, " said he, "I was down in thedining-room receiving rents for------. " He paused, for, on reflection, he felt that this was a disagreeable topic to allude to; the factbeing that he acted as his daughter's agent, and I had been on that andthe preceding day receiving her rents. "Martha, " said he, "what! aboutluncheon? You'll take luncheon with us, Mr. Woodward?"

Woodward bowed, and Mrs. Goodwin was about to leave the room, when hesaid:

"Perhaps, Mrs. Goodwin, you'd be good enough to remain for a fewminutes. " Mrs. Goodwin sat down, and he proceeded: "I trust that myarrival home will, under Providence, be the means of reconciling andreuniting two families who never should have been at variance. Notbut that I admit, my dear friends, --if you will allow me to callyou so, --that the melancholy event of my poor uncle's death, and theunexpected disposition of so large a property, were calculated to trythe patience of worldly-minded people--and who is not so in a more orless I degree?"

"I don't think any of your family is, " replied Goodwin, bluntly, "withone exception. "

"O! yes, my mother, " replied Woodward, "and I grant it; at least she wasso, and acted upon worldly principles; but I think you will admit, atleast as Christians you must, that the hour of change and regret maycome to every human heart when its errors, and its selfishness, if youwill, have been clearly and mildly pointed out. I do not attribute thechange that has happily taken place in my dear mother to myself, but toa higher power; although I must admit, as I do with all humility, thatI wrought earnestly, in season and out of season, since my return, tobring it about; and, thank heaven, I have succeeded. I come this dayas a messenger of peace, to state that she is willing that the familiesshould be reconciled, and a happier and more lasting union effectedbetween them. "

"I am delighted to hear it, Mr. Woodward, " said Goodwin, much moved;"God knows I am. Blessed be the peace-maker, and you are he; an easyconscience and a light heart must be your reward. "

"They must, " added his wife, wiping her eyes; "they must and they will. "

"Alas!" proceeded Woodward, "how far from Gospel purity is every humanmotive when it comes to be tried by the Word! I will not conceal fromyou the state of my heart, nor deny that in accomplishing this thing itwas influenced by a certain selfish feeling on my part; in one sensea disinterested selfishness I admit, but in another a selfishness thatinvolves my own happiness. However, I will say no more on that subjectat present. It would scarcely be delicate until the reconciliation isfully accomplished; then, indeed, perhaps I may endeavor, with fear andtrembling, to make myself understood. Only until then, I beg of you tothink well of me, and permit me to consider myself as not unworthy of ahumble place in your affections. "

Old Goodwin shook him warmly by the hand, and his wife once more hadrecourse to her pocket-handkerchief. "God bless you, Mr. Woodward!"he exclaimed, "God bless you, I now see your worth, and know it; youalready have our good-will and affections, and, what is more, we feelthat you deserve them. "

"I wish, my dear sir, " said the other, "that Miss Goodwin understood meas well as you and her respected mother. "

"She does, Mr. Woodward, " replied her father; "she does, and she willtoo. "

"I tremble, however, " said Woodward, with a deep sigh; "but I will leavemy fate in your hands, or, I should rather say in the hands of Heaven. "

Lunch was then announced, and they went down to the front parlor, where it was laid out. On entering the room Woodward was a good dealdisappointed to find that Miss Goodwin was not there. 

"Will not Miss Goodwin join us?" he asked. 

"Certainly, " said her father; "Martha, where is she?"

"You know, my dear, she seldom lunches, " replied her mother. 

"Well, but she will now, " said Goodwin; "it is not every day we have Mr. Woodward; let her be sent for. John, find out Miss Goodwin, and say wewish her to join us at luncheon. "

John in a few moments returned to say that she had a slight headache, and could not have the pleasure of coming down. 

"O, I am very sorry to hear she is unwell, " said Woodward, with anappearance of disappointment and chagrin, which he did not wish toconceal; or, to speak the truth, which, in a great measure, he assumed. 

After lunch his horse was ordered, and he set out on his way toRathfillan, meditating upon his visit, and the rather indifferentreception he had got from Alice. 

Miss Goodwin, though timid and nervous, was, nevertheless, in manythings, a girl of spirit, and possessed a great deal of natural wit andpenetration. On that day Woodward exerted himself to the utmost, witha hope of making a favorable impression upon her. He calculated a gooddeal upon her isolated position and necessary ignorance of life and theworld, and in doing so, he calculated, as thousands of self-sufficientlibertines, in their estimate of women, have done both before and since. He did not know that there is an intuitive spirit in the female heartwhich often enables it to discover the true character of the oppositesex; and to discriminate between the real and the assumed with almostinfallible accuracy. But, independently of this, there was in Woodward'smanner a hardness of outline, and in his conversation an unconsciousabsence of all reality and truth, together with a cold, studiedformality, dry, sharp, and presumptuous, that required no extraordinarypenetration to discover; for the worst of it was, that he made himselfdisagreeably felt, and excited those powers of scrutiny and analysisthat are so peculiar to the generality of the other sex. In fact, hesought his way home in anything but an agreeable mood. He thought tohave met Alice an ignorant country girl, whom he might play upon; but hefound himself completely mistaken, because, fortunately for herself, hehad taken her upon one of her strong points. As it was, however, whilsthe could not help admiring the pertinence of her replies, neither couldhe help experiencing something of a bitter feeling against her, becauseshe indulged in them at his own expense; whilst against O'Connor, whobantered him with such spirit and success, and absolutely turnedhim into ridicule in her presence, he almost entertained a personalresentment. His only hope now was in her parents, who seemed as anxiousto entertain his proposals with favor as Alice was to reject them withdisdain. As for Alice herself, her opinion of him is a matter with whichthe reader is already acquainted. 

Our hero was about half way home when he overtook a thin, lank old man, who was a rather important character in the eyes of the ignorant peopleat the period of which we write. He was tall, and so bare of flesh, thatwhen asleep he might pass for the skeleton of a corpse. His eyes werered, cunning, and sinister-looking; his lips thin, and from under theupper one projected a single tooth, long and yellow as saffron. Hisface was of unusual length, and his parchment cheeks formed two inwardcurves, occasioned by the want of his back teeth. His breeches were openat the knees; his polar legs were without stockings; but his old brogueswere foddered, as it is called, with a wisp of straw, to keep his feetwarm. His arms were long, even in proportion to his body, and his bonyfingers resembled claws rather than anything! else we can now remember. They (the claws): were black as ebony, and resembled in length andsharpness those of a cat when she is stretching herself after risingfrom the! hearth. He wore an old _barrad_ of the day, the greasy top ofwhich fell down upon the collar of his old cloak, and over his shoulderwas a bag which, from its appearance, must have contained something notvery weighty, as he walked on without seeming to travel as a man whocarried a burden. He had a huge staff in his right hand, the left havinga hold of his bag. Woodward at first mistook him for a mendicant, butupon looking at him more closely, he perceived nothing of that watchfuland whining cant for alms which marks the character of the professionalbeggar. The old skeleton walked on, apparently indifferent andindependent, and never once put himself into the usual postureof entreaty. This, and the originality of his appearance, excitedWoodward's curiosity, and he resolved to speak to him. 

"Well, my good old man, what may you be carrying in the bag?"

The man looked at him respectfully, and raising his hand and staff, touched his barrad, and replied:

"A few yarribs, your honor. "

"Yarribs? What the deuce is that?"

"Why, the yarribs that grow, sir--to cure the people when they aresick. "

"O, you mean herbs. "

"I do, sir, and I gather them too for the potecars. "

"O, then you are what they call a herbalist. "

"I believe I am, sir, if you put that word against (to) a man thatgethers yarribs. "

"Yes, that's what I mean. You sell them to the apothecaries, I suppose?"

"I do a little, sir, but I use the most of them myself. Sorra much thepotecars knows about the use o' them; they kill more than they cure wid'em, and calls them that understands what they're good for rogues andquacks. May the Lord forgive them this day! _Amin, acheernah!_ (Amen, OLord!)"

"And do you administer these herbs to the sick?"

"I do, sir, to the sick of all kinds--man and baste. There's nothinglike them, sir, bekaise it was to cure diseases of all kinds that theLord, blessed be His name! _amin, acheernah!_ planted them in the earthfor the use of his cratures. Why, sir, will you listen to me now, andmark my words? There never was a complaint that follied either man orbaste, brute or bird, but a yarrib grows that 'ud cure it if it wasknown. When the head's hot wid faver, and the heart low wid care, theyarrib is to be found that will cool the head and rise the heart. "

"Don't you think, now, " said Woodward, imagining that he would catchhim, "that a glass of wine, or, what is better still, a good glass ofpunch, would raise the heart better than all the herbs in the universe?"

"Lord bless me!" he exclaimed, as if in soliloquy; "the ignorance of therich and wealthy, and of great people altogether, is unknown! Wineand punch! And what, will you tell me, does wine and punch come from?Doesn't the wine come from the grapes that grow in forrin parts--sichas we have in our hot-houses--and doesn't the whiskey that you make yourpunch of grow from the honest barley in our own fields? So much for yourknowledge of yarribs. "

"Why, there you are right, my old friend. I forgot that. "

"You forgot it? Tell the truth at once, and say you didn't know it. Butmay be you did forget it, for troth he'd be a poor crature that didn'tknow whiskey was made from barley. "

He here turned his red satirical eye upon Woodward, with a glance thatwas strongly indicative of contempt for his general information. 

"Well, " he proceeded, "the power of yarribs is wondherful, --if it wasknown to many as it is to me. "

"Why, from long practice, I suppose, you must be skilful in theproperties ol herbs?"

"Well, indeed, you needn't only suppose it, but you may be sartin of it. Have you a good appetite?"

"A particularly good one, I assure you. "

"Now, wouldn't you think it strange that I could give you a dose that'ud keep you on half a male a day for the next three months. "

"God forbid, " replied Woodward, who, among his other good qualities, wasan enormous trencherman, --"God forbid that ever such a dose should godown my throat. "

"Would you think, now, " he proceeded, with a sinister grin that sent hisyellow tusk half an inch out of his mouth, "that if a man was jealousof his wife, or a wife of her husband, I couldn't give either o' them adose that 'ud cure them?"

"Faith, I dare say you could, " replied Woodward; "a dose that would freethem from care of all sorts, as well as jealousy. "

"I don't mane that, " said the skeleton; "ha, ha! you're a funnygentleman, and maybe I--but no--I don't mane that; but widout injurin' ahair in either o' their heads. "

"I am not married, " said the other, "but I expect to be soon, and whenI am I will pay you well for the knowledge of that herb--for my wife, Imean. Where do you live?"

"In Rathfillan, sir. I'm a well-known man there, and for many a longmile about it. "

"You must be very useful to the country people hereabouts?"

"Ay, " he exclaimed, "you mane to the poor, I suppose, and you're right;but maybe I'm of sarvice to the rich, too. Many a face I save from--Icould save from shame, I mane--if I liked, and could get well ped forit, too. Some young, extravagant people that have rich ould fathers dobe spakin' to me, too; but thin, you know, I have a sowl to be saved, and am a religious man, I hope, and do my duty as sich, and that everyone that has a sowl to be saved, may! _Amin, acheernah!_

"I am glad to find that your sense of duty preserves you against suchstrong temptations. "

"Then, there's another set of men--these outlaws that do be robbin' richpeople's houses, and they, too, try to tempt me. "

"Why should they tempt you?"

"Bekaise the people, now knowin' that they're abroad, keep watch-dogs, bloodhounds, and sich useful animals, that give the alarm at night, andthe robbers wishin', you see, to get them out of the way, do be temptin'me about wishin' me to pison them. "

"Of course you resist them?"

"Well, I hope I do; but sometimes it's hard to get over them, especiallywhen they plant a _skean_ or a _middogue_ to one's navel, and sweargreat oaths that they'll make a scabbard for it of my poor ould bulg(belly)--I say, when the thieves do the business that way, it requiresa grate dale of the grace o' God to deny them. But what's any Chr'sthen'idout the grace o' God? May we all have it! _Amin, acheernah!_"

"Well, when I marry, as I will soon, I'll call upon you; I dare say mywife will get jealous, for I love the ladies, if that's a fault. "

Another grin was his first reply to this, after which he said:

"Well, sir, if she does, come to me. "

"Where in Rathfillan do you live?"

"O, anybody will tell you; inquire for ould Sol Donnel, the yarrib man, and you'll soon find me out. "

"But 'suppose I shouldn't wish it to be known that I called on you?"

"Eh?" said the old villain, giving him another significant grin thatonce more projected the fang; "well, maybe you wouldn't. If you wantmy sarvices then, come to the cottage that's built agin the church-yardwall, on the north side; and if you don't wish to be seen, why you cancome about midnight, when every one's asleep. "

"What's this you say your name is?"

"Sol Donnel. "

"What do you mean by Sol?"

He turned up his red eyes in astonishment, and exclaimed:

"Well, now, to think that, a larned man as you must be shouldn't knowwhat Sol means! Well, the ignorance of you great people is unknown. Don't you know--but you don't--oughn't you know, then, that Sol meansSolomon, who was the wisest many and the biggest blaggard that everlived! Faith, if I had lived in his day he'd be a poor customer to me, bekaise he had no shame in him; but indeed, the doin's that goes on nowin holes and corners among ourselves was no shame in his time. That's afine bay horse you ride; would you like to have him dappled? A dappledbay, you know, is always a great beauty. "

"And could you dapple him?

"Ay, as sure as you ride him. "

"Well, I'll think about it and let you know; there's some silver foryou, and good-by, honest Solomon. "

Woodward then rode on, reflecting on the novel and extraordinarycharacter of this hypocritical old villain, in whose withered andrepulsive visage he could not discover a single trace of anything thatintimated the existence of sympathy with his kind. As to that, it was a_tabula rasa_, blank of all feelings except those which characterize thehyena and the fox. After he had left him, the old fellow gave a bitterand derisive look after him. 

"There you go, " said he, "and well I knew you, although you didn't thinkso. Weren't you pointed out to me the night o' the divil's bonfire, that your mother, they say, got up for you; and didn't I see you sincespakin' to that skamin' blaggard, Caterine Collins, my niece, that takesmany a penny out o' my hands; and didn't I know that you couldn't betalkin' to her about anything that was good. Troth, you're not yourmother's son or you'll be comin' to me as well as her. Bad luck to her!she was near gettin' me into the stocks when I sowld her the dose ofoak bark for the sarvants, to draw in their stomachs and shortentheir feedin'. My faith, ould Lindsay 'ud have put me in them only forbringin' shame upon his wife. "*

 * Some of our readers may imagine that in the enumeration of the cures which old Sol professed to effect we have drawn too largely upon their credulity, whereas there is scarcely one of them that, is not practised, or attempted, in remote and uneducated parts of Ireland, almost down to the present day. We ourselves in early youth saw a man who professed, and was believed to be able, to cure jealousy in either man or woman by a potion; whilst charms for colics, toothaches, taking motes out of the eye, and for producing love, were common among the ignorant people within our own recollection. 

CHAPTER VIII. A Healing of the Breach. 

--A Proposal for Marriage Accepted. 

On that evening, when the family were assembled at supper, Mrs. Lindsay, who had had a previous consultation with her son Harry, thought properto introduce the subject of the projected marriage between him and AliceGoodwin. 

"Harry has paid a visit to these neighbors of ours, " said she, "theseGoodwins, and I think, now that he has come home, it would be onlyprudent on our part to renew the intimacy that was between us. Not thatI like, or ever will like, a bone in one of their bodies; but it's onlyright that we should foil them at their own weapons, and try to get backthe property into the hands of one of the family at least, if we can, and so prevent it from going to strangers. I am determined to pay them afriendly visit tomorrow. "

"A friendly visit!" exclaimed her husband, with an expression ofsurprise and indignation on his countenance which he could not conceal;"how can you say a friendly visit, after having just told us that youneither like them, nor ever will like them? not that it was at allnecessary for you to assure us of that. It is, however, the hypocrisy ofthe thing on your part that startle? and disgusts me. "

"Call it prudence, if you please, Lindsay, or worldly wisdom, if youlike, after all the best kind of wisdom; and I only wish you had more ofit. "

"That makes no difference in life, " replied her husband, calmly, butseverely; "as it is, you have enough, and more than enough for the wholefamily. "

"But has Harry any hopes of success with Alice Goodwin, " asked Charles, "because everything depends on that?"

"If he had not, you foolish boy, do you think I would be the first tobreak the ice by going to pay them a visit? The girl, I dare say, willmake a very good wife, or if she does not, the property will not be apound less in value on that account; that's one comfort. "

"And is it upon this hollow and treacherous principle that you are aboutto pay them a friendly visit?" asked her husband, with ill-repressedindignation. 

"Lindsay, " she replied, sharply, "I perceive you are rife for aquarrel now; but I beg to tell you, sir, that I will neither seek yourapprobation nor regard your authority. I must manage these people aftermy own fashion. "

"Harry, " said his step-father, turning abruptly, and with increduloussurprise to him, "surely it is not possible that you are a party to sucha shameful imposture upon this excellent family?"

His brother Charles fastened his eyes upon him as if he would read hisheart. 

"I am sorry, sir, " replied that gentleman, "that you should think itnecessary to apply the word imposture to any' proceeding of mine. Youought to know my mother's outspoken way, and that her heart is kinderthan her language. The fact is, from the first moment I saw thatbeautiful girl I felt a warm interest in her, and I feel that interestincreasing every day. I certainly am very anxious to secure her for herown sake, whilst I candidly admit that I am not wholly indifferent tothe property. I am only a common man like others, and not above theworld and its influences--who can be that lives in it? My mother, besides, will come to think better of Alice, and all of them, when sheshall be enabled to call Alice daughter; won't you, mother?"

The mother, who knew by the sentiments which he had expressed to herbefore on this subject, that he was now playing a game with thefamily, did not consider it prudent to contradict him; she consequentlyreplied, --

"I don't know, Harry; I cannot get their trick about the property outof my heart; but, perhaps, if I saw it once more where it ought to be, Imight change. That's all I can say at present. "

"Well, come, Harry, " said Lindsay--adverting to what he had justsaid--"I think you have spoken fairly enough; I do--it's candid; you arenot above this world; why should you be?--come, it is candid. "

"I trust, sir, you will never find me un-candid, either on this or anyother subject. "

"No; I don't think I shall, Harry. Well, be it so--setting your motherout of the question, --proceed with equal candor in your courtship. Itrust you deserve her, and, if so, I hope you may get her. "

"If he does not, " said Maria, "he will never get such a wife. "

"By the way, Harry, " asked Charles, "has she given you an intimation ofanything like encouragement?"

"Well, I rather think I am not exactly a fool, Charles, nor likely toundertake an enterprise without some prospect of success. I hope youdeem me, at least, a candid man. "

"Yes; but there is a class of persons who frequently form too high anestimate of themselves, especially in their intercourse with women; andwho very often mistake civility for encouragement. "

"Very true, Charles--exceedingly just and true; but I hope I am not oneof those either; my knowledge of life and the world will prevent mefrom that, I trust. "

"I hope, " continued Charles, "that if the girl is adverse to such aconnection she will not be harassed or annoyed about it. "

"I hope, Charles, I have too much pride to press any proposal that maybe disagreeable to her; I rather think I have. But have you, Charles, any reason to suppose that she should not like me?"

"Why, from what you have already hinted, Harry, you ought to be the bestjudge of that yourself. "

"Well, I think so, too. I am not in the habit of walking blindfold intoany adventure, especially one so important as this. Trust to my address, my dear fellow, " he added, with a confident smile, "and, believe me, youshall soon see her your sister-in-law. "

"And I shall be delighted at it, Harry, " said his sister; "so go on andprosper. If you get her you will get a treasure, setting her propertyout of the question. "

"Her property!" ejaculated Mrs. Lindsay; "but no matter; we shall see. Ican speak sweetly enough when I wish. "

"I wish to God you would try it oftener, then, " said her husband; "butI trust that during this visit of yours you will not give way to yourprecious temper and insult them at the outset. Don't tie a knot withyour tongue that you can't unravel with your teeth. Be quiet, now;I didn't speak to raise the devil and draw on a tempest--only let ushave a glass of punch, till Charley and I drink success to Harry. "

The next day Mrs. Lindsay ordered the car, and proceeded to pay herintended visit to the Goodwins. She had arrived pretty near the house, when two of Goodwin's men, who were driving his cows to a grazing fieldon the other side of the road by which she was approaching, havingnoticed and recognized her, immediately turned them back and drove theminto a paddock enclosed by trees, where they were completely out of hersight. 

"Devil blow her, east and west!" said one of them. "What brings heracross us now that we have the cattle wid us? and doesn't all the worldknow that she'd lave them sick and sore wid one glance of her unluckyeye. I hope in God she didn't see them, the thief o' the devil that sheis. "

"She can't see them now, the cratures, " replied the other; "and may thedevil knock the light out of her eyes at any rate, " he added, "for sure, they say it's the light of hell that's in them. "

"Well, when she goes there she'll be able to see her way, and surethat'll be one comfort, " replied his companion; "but in the mane time, if anything happens the cows--poor bastes--we'll know the rason of it. "

"She must dale wid the devil, " said the other, "and I hope she'll beburned for a witch yet; but whisht, here she comes, and may the devilroast her on his toastin' iron the first time he wants a male!"

"Troth, an' he'd find her tough feedin', " said his comrade; "and. Barrin' he has strong tusks, as I suppose he has, he'd find it noevery-day male wid him. "

As they spoke, the object of their animadversion appeared, and turnedupon them, so naturally, a sinister and sharp look, that it seemed tothe men as if she had suspected the subject of their conversation. 

"You are Mr. Goodwin's laborers, are you not?"

"We are, ma'am, " replied one of them, without, as usual, touching hishat however. 

"You ill-mannered boor, " she said, "why do you not touch your hat to alady, when she condescends to speak to you?"

"I always touch my hat to a lady, ma'am, " replied the man sharply. 

"Come here, you other man, " said she; "perhaps you are not such aninsolent ruffian as this? Can you tell me if Mr. And Mrs. Goodwin are athome?"

"Are you goin' there?" asked the man, making a low bow. 

"Yes, I am, my good man, " she replied. 

"Well, then, ma'am, " he added, bowing again, "you'll find that outwhen you go to the house;" and he made her another bow to wind up theinformation with all due politeness. 

"Barney, " said she to the servant, her face inflamed with rage, "driveon. I only wish I had those ruffianly scoundrels to deal with; I wouldteach them manners to their betters at all events; and you, sirra, whydid you not use your whip and chastise them?"

"Faith, ma'am, " replied our friend Barney Casey, "it's aisier said thandone wid some of us. Why, ma'am, they're the two hardiest and best menin the parish; however, here's Pugshy Ruah turnin' out o' the gate, andshe'll be able to tell you whether they are at home or not. "

"O, that's the woman they say is unlucky, " observed hismistress--"unlucky to meet, I mean; I have often heard of her; indeed, it may be so, for I believe there are such persons; we shall speak toher, however. My good woman, " she said, addressing Pugshy, "allow me toask, have you been at Mr. Goodwin's?"

Now Pugshy had all the legitimate characteristics of an "unlucky" woman;red-haired, had a game eye--that is to say, she squinted with one ofthem; Pugshy wore a caubeen hat, like a man; had on neither shoe norstocking; her huge, brawny arms, uncovered almost to the shoulders, were brown with freckles, as was her face; so that, altogether, shewould have made a bad substitute either for the Medicean Venus or theApollo Belvidere. 

"My good woman, allow me to ask if you have been at Mr. Goodwin's. "

Pugshy, who knew her well, stood for a moment, and closing the eye withwhich she did not squint, kept the game one fixed upon her very steadilyfor half a minute, and as she wore the caubeen rather rakishly on oneside of her head, her whole figure and expression were something betweenthe frightful and the ludicrous. 

"Was I at Misther Goodwin's, is it? Lord love you, ma'am, (and ye needit, _sotto voce_), an' maybe you'd give us a thrifle for the male'smate; it's hard times wid us this weader. "

"I have no change; I never bring change out with me. "

"You're goin' to Mr. Goodwin's, ma'am?"

"Yes; are he and Mrs. Goodwin at home, can you tell me?"

"They are, ma'am, but you may as well go back again; you'll have no luckthis day. "

"Why so?"

"Why, bekaise you won't; didn't you meet me? Who ever has luck thatmeets me? Nobody ought to know that betther than yourself, for, by allaccounts, you're tarred wid the same stick. "

"Foolish woman, " replied Mrs. Lindsay, "how is it in your power toprevent me?"

"No matther, " replied the woman; "go an; but mark my words, you'll haveyour journey for nuttin', whatever it is. Indeed, if I turned back threesteps wid you it might be otherwise, but you refused to cross my hand, so you must take your luck, " and with a frightful glance from the eyeaforesaid, she passed on. 

As she drove up to Mr. Goodwin's residence she was met on the steps ofthe hall-door by that kind-hearted gentleman and his wife, and receivedwith a feeling of gratification which the good people could notdisguise. 

"I suppose, " said Mrs. Lindsay, after they had got seated in thedrawing-room, "that you are surprised to see me here?"

"We are delighted, say, Mrs. Lindsay, " replied Mr. Goodwin--"delighted. Why should ill-will come between neighbors and friends without any justcause on either side? That property--"

"O, don't talk about that, " replied Mrs. Lindsay; "I didn't come tospeak about it; let everything connected with it be forgotten; andas proof that I wish it should be so, I came here to-day to renew theintimacy that should subsist between us. "

"And, indeed, " replied Mrs. Goodwin, "the interruption of that intimacydistressed us very much--more, perhaps, Mrs. Lindsay, than you mightfeel disposed to give us credit for. "

"Well, my dear madam, " replied the other, "I am sure you will be gladto hear that I have not only my own inclination, but the sanction andwish of my whole family, in making this friendly visit, with the hope ofplacing us all upon our former footing. But, to tell you the truth, thismight not have been so, were it not for the anxiety of my son Henry, whohas returned to us, and whom, I believe, you know. "

"We have that pleasure, " replied Goodwin; "and from what we have seen ofhim, we think you have a right to feel proud of such a son. "

"So I do, indeed, " replied his mother; "he is a good and most amiableyoung man, without either art or cunning, but truthful and honorablein the highest degree. It is to him we shall all be indebted for thisreconciliation; or, perhaps, I might say, " she added, with a smile, "toyour own daughter Alice. "

"Ah! poor Alice, " exclaimed her father; "none of us felt theestrangement of the families with so much regret as she did. "

"Indeed, Mrs. Lindsay, " added his wife, "I can bear witness to that;many a bitter tear it occasioned the poor girl. "

"I believe she is a most amiable creature, " replied Mrs. Lindsay; "andI believe, " she added with a smile, "that there is one particular younggentleman of that opinion as well as myself. "

We believe in our souls that the simplest woman in existence, or thatever lived, becomes a deep and thorough diplomatist when engaged ina conversation that involves in the remotest degree any matrimonialspeculation for a daughter. Now, Mrs. Goodwin knew as well as the readerdoes, that Mrs. Lindsay made allusion to her son Harry, the new-comer;but she felt that it was contrary to the spirit of such negotiationsto make a direct admission of that feeling; she, accordingly, was ofopinion that in order to bring Mrs. Lindsay directly to the point, andto exonerate herself and her husband from ever having entertained thequestion at all, her best plan was to misunderstand her, and seem toproceed upon a false scent. 

"O, indeed, Mrs. Lindsay, " she replied, "I am not surprised at that;Charles and Alice were always great favorites with each other. "

"Charles!" exclaimed Mrs. Lindsay; "Charles! What could induce youto think of associating Charles and Alice? He is unworthy of such anassociation. "

"Bless me, " exclaimed Mrs. Goodwin in her turn; "why, I thought youalluded to Charles. "

"No, " said her neighbor, "I alluded to my eldest son, Harry, to whosegood offices in this matter both families are so much indebted. He isworthy of any girl, and indeed few girls are worthy of him; but as forAlice, you know what a favorite she was with me, and I trust now I shalllike her even better than ever. "

"You are right, Mrs. Lindsay, " said Goodwin, "in saying that few womenare worthy of your eldest son; he is a most gentlemanly, and evidentlya most accomplished young man; his conversation at breakfast here themorning after the storm was so remarkable, both for good sense and goodfeeling, that I am not surprised at your friendly visit today, Mrs. Lindsay. He was sent, I hope, to introduce a spirit of peace and concordbetween us, and God forbid that we should repel it; on the contrary, we hail his mediation with delight, and feel deeply indebted to him forplacing both families in their original position. "

"I trust in a better position, " replied his adroit mother; "I trust in abetter position, Mr. Goodwin, and a still nearer and dearer connection. It is better, however, to speak out; you know me of old, my dearfriends, and that I am blunt and straightforward--as the proverb has it, 'I think what I say, and I say what I think. ' This visit, then, is made, as I said, not only by my own wish, but at the express entreaty of myson Harry, and the great delight of the whole family; there is thereforeno use in concealing the fact--he is deeply attached to your daughter, Alice, and was from the first moment he saw her;--of course you nowunderstand my mission--which is, in fact, to make a proposal of marriagein his name, and to entreat your favorable consideration of it, as wellas your influence in his behalf with Alice herself. "

"Well, I declare, Mrs. Lindsay, " replied Mrs. Goodwin, (God forgiveher!) "you have taken us quite by surprise--you have indeed;--dearme--I'm quite agitated; but he is, indeed, a fine young man--a perfectgentleman in his manners, and if he be as good as he looks--formarriage, God help us, tries us all--"

"I hope it never tried you much, Martha, " replied her husband, smiling. 

"No, my dear, I don't say so. Still, when the happiness of one's childis concerned--and such a child as Alice--"

"But consider, Mrs. Goodwin, " replied the ambassadress, who, infact, was not far from an explosion at what she considered a piece ofcontemptible vacillation on the part of her neighbor--"consider, Mrs. Goodwin, " said she, "that the happiness of my son is concerned. "

"I know it is, " she replied; "but speak to her father, Mrs. Lindsay--he, as such, is the proper person--O, dear me. "

"Well, Mr. Goodwin--you have heard what I have said?"

"I have, madam, " said he; "but thank God I am not so nervous as my goodwife here. I like your son, Harry, very much, from what I have seenof him--and, to be plain with you, I really see no objection to such amatch. On the contrary, it will promote peace and good-will betweenus; and, I have no doubt, will prove a happy event to the parties mostconcerned. "

"O, there is not a doubt of it, " exclaimed Mrs. Goodwin, now chiming inwith her husband; "no, there can be no doubt of it. O, they will be veryhappy together, and that will be so delightful. My darling Alice!"--andhere she became pathetic, and shed tears copiously--"yes, " she added, "we will lose you, my darling, and a lonely house we will have afteryou, for I suppose they will live in the late Mr. Hamilton's residence, on their own property. "

This allusion to the arrangements contemplated in the event of themarriage, redeemed, to a certain degree, the simple-hearted Mrs. Goodwinfrom the strongest possible contempt on the part of a woman who wasnever known to shed a tear upon any earthly subject. 

"Well, then, " proceeded Mrs. Lindsay, "I am to understand that thisproposal on the behalf of my son is accepted?"

"So far as I and Mrs. Goodwin are concerned, " replied Goodwin, "you are, indeed, Mrs. Lindsay, and so far all is smooth and easy; but, on theother hand, there is Alice--she, you know, is to be consulted. "

"O! as for poor Alice, " said her mother, "there will be no difficultywith her; whatever I and her father wish her to do, if it be to pleaseus, that she will do. "

"I trust, " said Mrs. Lindsay, "she has no previous attachment; for thatwould be unfortunate for herself, poor girl. "

"She an attachment!" exclaimed her mother; "no, the poor, timid creaturenever thought of such a thing. "

"It is difficult for parents to know that, " replied Mrs. Lindsay; "butwhere is she?"

"She's gone out, " replied her mother, "to take a pleasant jaunt somewherewith a young friend of ours, a Mr. O'Connor; but, indeed, I'm glad sheis not here, for if she was, we could not, you know, discuss this matterin her presence. "

"That is very true, " observed Mrs. Lindsay, dryly; "but perhaps shedoesn't regret her absence. As it is, I think you ought to impress uponher that, in the article of marriage, a young and inexperienced girllike her ought to have no will but that of her parents, who are bestqualified, from their experience and knowledge of life to form anddirect her principles. "

"I do not think, " said her father, "that there is anything to beapprehended on her part. She is the most unselfish and disinterestedgirl that ever existed, and sooner than give her mother or me a pang, Iam sure she would make any sacrifice; but at the same time, " he added, "if her own happiness were involved in the matter, I should certainlyaccept no such sacrifice at her hands. "

"As to that, Mr. Goodwin, " she replied, "I hope we need calculate uponnothing on her part but a willing consent and obedience. At all events, it is but natural that they should be pretty frequently in each other'ssociety, and that my son should have an opportunity of inspiring herwith good will towards him, if not a still warmer feeling. The matterbeing now understood, of course, that is and will be his exclusiveprivilege. "

"Your observations, my dear madam, are but reasonable and natural, "replied Goodwin. "Why, indeed, should it be otherwise, considering theircontemplated relation to each other? Of course, we shall be delightedto see him here as often as he chooses to come, and so, I am sure, willAlice. "

They then separated upon the most cordial terms; and Mrs. Lindsay, having mounted her vehicle, proceeded on her way home. She was, however, far from satisfied at the success of her interview with the Goodwins. Sofar as the consent of her father and mother went, all was, to be sure, quite as she could have wished it; but then, as to Alice herself, theremight exist an insurmountable difficulty. She did not at all relish thefact of that young lady's taking her amusement with Mr. O'Connor, whoshe knew was of a handsome person and independent circumstances, andvery likely to become a formidable rival to her son. As matters stood, however, she resolved to conceal her apprehensions on this point, and tourge Harry to secure, if possible, the property, which both she herselfand he had solely in view. As for the girl, each of them looked on heras a cipher in the transaction, whose only value was rated by the broadacres which they could not secure without taking her along with them. 

The family were dispersed when she returned home, and she, consequently, reserved the account of her mission until she should meet them in theevening. At length the hour came, and she lost no time in openingthe matter at full length, suppressing, at the same time, her ownapprehensions of Alice's consent, and her dread of the rivalry on thepart of O'Connor. 

"Well, " said she, "I have seen these people; I have called upon them, asyou all know; and, as I said, I have seen them. "

"To very little purpose, I am afraid, " said her husband; "I don't likeyour commencement of the report. "

"I suppose not, " she replied; "but, thank God, it is neither your likingnor disliking that we regard, Lindsay. I have seen them, Harry; and I amglad to say that they are civil people. "

"Is it only now you found that out?" asked her husband; "why, they neverwere anything else, Jenny. "

"Well, really, " said she, "I shall be forced to ask you to leave theroom if you proceed at this rate. Children, will you protect me from theinterruption and the studied insults of this man?"

"Father, " said Charles, "for Heaven's sake will you allow her to statethe result of her visit? We are all very anxious to hear it; none moreso than I. "

"Please except your elder brother, " said Harry, laughing, "whoseinterest you know, Charley, is most concerned. "

"Well, perhaps so, " said Charles; "of course, Harry--but proceed, mother, we shan't interrupt you. "

"O, go on, " said his mother, "go on; discuss the matter among you, I canwait; don't hesitate to interrupt me; your father there has set you thatgentlemanly example. "

"It must surely be good when it comes, " said Harry, with a smile; "but doproceed, my dear mother, and never mind these queer folk; go on at once, and let us know all: we--that is, myself--are prepared for the worst; doproceed, mother. "

"Am I at liberty to speak?" said she, and she looked at them with aglance that expressed a very fierce interrogatory. They all nodded, andshe resumed:

"Well, I have seen these people, I say; I have made a proposal ofmarriage between Harry and Alice, and that proposal is--"

She paused, and looked around her with an air of triumph; but whetherthat look communicated the triumph of success, or that of her inveterateenmity and contempt for them ever since the death of old Hamilton, was as great a secret to them as the Bononian enigma. There was a deadsilence, much to her mortification, for she would have given a greatdeal that her husband had interrupted her just then, and taken her uponthe wrong tack. 

"Well, " she proceeded, "do you all wish to hear it?"

Lindsay put his forefinger on his lips, and nodded to all the rest to dothe same. 

"Ah, Lindsay, " she exclaimed, "you are an ill-minded man; but it mattersnot so far as you are concerned--in three words, Harry, the proposal isaccepted; yes, accepted, and with gratitude and thanksgiving. "

"And you had no quarrel?" said Lindsay, with astonishment; "nor youdidn't let out on them? Well, well!"

"Children, I am addressing myself to you, and especially to Harry here, who is most interested; no, I see nothing to prevent us from having backthe property and the curds-and-whey along with it. "

"Faith, and the curds-and-whey are the best part of it after all, " saidLindsay; "but, in the meantime, you might be a little more particular, and give us a touch of your own eloquence and ability in bringing itabout. "

"What did Alice herself say, mother?" asked Charles; "was she a party tothe consent? because, if she was, your triumph, or rather Harry's here, is complete. "

"It is complete, " replied his mother, having recourse to a dishonestevasion; "the girl and her parents have but one opinion. Indeed, Ialways did the poor thing the credit to believe that she never wascapable of entertaining an opinion of her own, and it now turns out avery fortunate thing for Harry that it is so; but of course he has madean impression upon her. "

"As to that, mamma, " said Maria, "I don't know--he may, or he may not;but of this I am satisfied, that Alice Goodwin is a girl who can forman opinion for herself, and that, whatever that opinion be, she willneither change or abandon it upon slight grounds. I know her well, butif she has consented to marry Harry she will marry him, and that is allthat is to be said about it. "

"I thought she would, " said Harry; "I told you, Charley, that I didn'tthink I was a fool--didn't I?"

"I know you did, Harry, " replied his brother; "but I don't know how--itstrikes me that I would rather have any other man's opinion on thatsubject than your own; however, time will tell. "

"It will tell, of course; and if it proves me a fool, I will giveyou leave to clap the fool's cap on me for life. And now that wehave advanced so far and so well, I may go and take one of my eveningstrolls, in order to meditate on my approaching happiness. " And he didso. 

The family were not at all surprised at this, even although the periodof his walks frequently extended into a protracted hour of the night. Not so the servants, who wondered why Master Harry should walk so muchabroad and remain out so late at night, especially considering theunsettled and alarming state of the country, in consequence of theoutrages and robberies which were of such frequent occurrence. This, it is true, was startling enough to these simple people; but that whichfilled them not only with astonishment, but with something like awe, was the indifference with which he was known to traverse haunted placesalone and unaccompanied, when the whole country around, except thievesand robbers, witches, and evil spirits, were sound asleep. "What, " theyasked each other, "could he mean by it?"

"Barney Casey, you that knows a great deal for an unlarned man, tellus what you think of it, " said the cook; "isn't it the world's wondher, that a man that's out at such hours doesn't see somethin'? There's LantyBawn, and sure they say he saw the _white woman_ beyant the end of thelong _boreen_ on Thursday night last, the Lord save us; eh, Barney?"

Barney immediately assumed the oracle. 

"He did, " said he; "and what is still more fearful, it's said there wasa black man along wid her. They say that Lanty seen them both, and thatthe black man had his arm about the white woman's waist, and was kissin'her at full trot. "

The cook crossed herself, and the whole kitchen turned up its eyes atthis diabolical piece of courtship. 

"Musha, the Lord be about us in the manetime; but bad luck to the ouldboy, (a black man is always considered the devil, or the ould boy, as they call him, ) wasn't it a daisant taste he had, to go to kiss aghost?"

"Why, " replied Barney with a grin, "I suppose the ould chap is hard seton that point; who the devil else would kiss him, barrin' some she ghostor other? Some luckless ould maid, I'll go bail, that gather a beardwhile she was here, and the devil now is kissin' it off to get seein'what kind of a face she has. Well, all I can say, " he proceeded, "is, that I wish him luck of his employment, for in troth it's an honorableone and he has a right to be proud of it. "

"Well, well, " said the housemaid, "it's a wondher how any one can walkby themselves at night; wasn't it near the well at the foot of the longhill that goes up to where the Davorens live that they were seen?"

"It was, " replied Barney; "at laste they say so. "

"And didn't yourself tell me, " she proceeded, "that that same lonesomeboreen is a common walk at night wid Master Harry?"

"And so it is, Nanse, " replied Barney: "but as for Misther Harry, Ibelieve it's party well known, that by night or by day he may walk wherehe likes. "

"Father of heaven!" they exclaimed in a low, earnest voice; "but why, Barney?" they asked in a condensed whisper. 

"Why! Why is he called _Harry na Suil Balor_ for? Can you tell me that?"

"Why, bekaise his two eyes isn't one color. "

"And why aren't they one color? Can you tell me that?"

"O, the sorra step farther I can go in that question. "

"No, " said Barney, full of importance, "I thought not, and what is more, I didn't expect it from you. His mother could tell, though. It's in herfamily, and there's worse than that in her family. "

"Troth, by all accounts, " observed the girl, "there never was anythinggood in her family. But, Barney, achora, will you tell us, if you know, what's the rason of it?"

"If I know?" said Barney, rather offended; "maybe I don't know, andmaybe I do, if it came to that. Any body, then, that has two eyes ofdifferent colors always has the Evil Eye, or the _Suil Balor_, and hasthe power of overlookin'; and, between ourselves, Masther Harry has it. The misthress herself can only overlook cattle, bekaise both her eyes isof the one color; but Masther Harry could overlook either man or womanif he wished. And how do you think that comes?"

"The Lord knows, " replied the cook, crossing herself; "from no good, atany rate. Troth, I'll get a gospel and a scapular, for, to tell you thetruth, I observed that Masther Harry gave me a look the other day thatmade my flesh creep, by rason that he thought the mutton was overdone. "

"O, you needn't be afeard, " replied Barney; "he can overlook or not, ashe plaises; if he does not wish to do so, you're safe enough; but whenany one like him that has the power wishes to do it, they could witheryou by degrees off o' the airth. "

"God be about us! But, Barney, you didn't tell us how it comes, for allthat. "

"It comes from the fairies. Doesn't every one know that the fairiesthemselves has the power of overlookin' both cattle and Christians?"

"That's true enough, " she replied; "every one, indeed, knows that. Sure, my aunt had a child that died o' the fairies. "

"Yes, but Masther Harry can see them. "

"What! is it the fairies?"

"Ay, the fairies, but only wid one eye, that piercin' black one of his. No, no; as I said before, he may walk where he likes, both by night andby day; he's safe from everything of the kind; even a ghost daren't laya finger on him; and as the devil and the fairies are connected, he'ssafe from him, too, in this world at laste; but the Lord pity him whenhe goes to the next; for there he'll suffer _lalty_. "

The truth is, that in those days of witchcraft and apparitions of allkinds, and even in the present, among the ignorant and uneducated of thelower classes, any female seen at night in a lonely place, and supposedto be a spirit, was termed a white woman, no matter what the colorof her dress may have been, provided it was not black. The samesuperstition held good when anything in the shape of a man happened toappear under similar circumstances. Terror, and the force of an excitedimagination, instantly transformed it into a black man, and that blackman, of course, was the devil himself. In the case before us, however, our readers, we have no doubt, can give a better guess at the natureof the black man and white woman in question than either the cook, thehousemaid, or even Barney himself. 

It was late that night when Harry came in. The servants, with whoseterrors and superstitions Casey had taken such liberties, now lookedupon him as something awful, and, as might be naturally expected, felt adreadful curiosity with respect to him and his movements. They layawake on the night in question, with the express purpose of satisfyingthemselves as to the hour of his return, and as that was between twelveand one, they laid it down as a certain fact that there was something"not light, " and beyond the common in his remaining out so late. 

CHAPTER IX. Chase of the White Hare. 

"Hark, forward, forward; holla ho!"

The next morning our friend Harry appeared at the breakfast table ratherpaler than usual, and in one of his most abstracted moods; for it may besaid here that the frequent occurrence of such moods had not escaped theobservation of his family, especially of his step-father, in whose goodgrace, it so happened, that he was not improving. One cause of thiswas his supercilious, or, rather, his contemptuous manner towards hisadmirable and affectionate brother. He refused to associate with himin his sports or diversions; refused him his confidence, and seldomaddressed him, except in that tone of banter which always implies anoffensive impression of inferiority and want of respect towards theobject of it. After breakfast the next morning, his father said toCharles, when the other members of the family had all left the room, --

"Charley, there is something behind that gloom of Harry's which I don'tlike. Indeed, altogether, he has not improved upon me since his return, and you are aware that I knew nothing of him before. I cannot conceivehis object in returning home just now, and, it seems, with no intentionof going back. His uncle was the kindest of men to him, and intended toprovide for him handsomely. It is not for nothing he would leave such anuncle, and it is not for nothing that such an uncle would part with him, unless there was a screw loose somewhere. I don't wish to press him intoan explanation; but he has not offered any, and refuses, of course, toplace any confidence in me. "

"My dear father, " replied the generous brother, "I fear you judge himtoo harshly. As for these fits of gloom, they may be constitutional;you know my mother has them, and won't speak to one of us sometimesfor whole days together. It is possible that some quarrel ormisunderstanding may have taken place between him and his uncle; buthow do you know that his silence on the subject does not proceed fromdelicacy towards that relative?"

"Well, it may be so; and it is a very kind and generous interpretationwhich you give of it, Charley. Let that part of the subject pass, then;but, again, regarding this marriage. The principle upon which he andhis mother are proceeding is selfish, heartless, and perfidious in thehighest degree; and d---- me if I think it would be honorable in me tostand by and see such a villainous game played against so excellent afamily--against so lovely and so admirable a girl as Alice Goodwin. Itis a union between the kite and the dove, Charley, and it would be baseand cowardly in me to see such a union accomplished. "

"Father, " said Charles, "in this matter will you be guided by me?If Alice herself is a consenting party to the match, you have, in myopinion, no right to interfere, at least with her affections. If shemarries him without stress or compulsion, she does it deliberately, andshe shapes her own course and her own fate. In the meantime I adviseyou to hold back for the present, and wait until her own sentiments aredistinctly understood. That can be effected by a private interview withyourself, which you can easily obtain. Let us not be severe on Harry. Irather think he is pressed forward in the matter by my mother, for thesake of the property If his uncle has discarded him, it is not, surely, unreasonable that a young man like him, without a profession orany fixed purpose in life, should wish to secure a wife--and such awife--who will bring back to him the very property which was originallydestined for himself in the first instance. Wait, then, at all events, until Alice's conduct in the matter is known. If there be unjustifiableforce and pressure upon her, act; if not, I think, sir, that, with everyrespect, your interference would be an unjustifiable intrusion. "

"Very well, Charley; I believe you are right; I will be guided by youfor the present; I won't interfere; but in the meantime I shall have aneye to their proceedings. I don't think the Goodwins at all mercenary orselfish, but it is quite possible that they may look upon Harry as theheir of his uncle's wealth; and, after all, Charley, nature is nature;that may influence them even unconsciously, and yet I am not in acondition to undeceive them. "

"Father, " said Charles, "all I would suggest is, as I said before, alittle patience for the present; wait a while until we learn how Aliceherself will act. I am sorry to say that I perceived what I believe tobe an equivocation on the part of my mother in her allusion to Alice. Ithink it will be found by and by that her personal consent has not beengiven; and, what is more, that she was not present at all duringtheir conversation on the subject. If she was, however, and became aconsenting party to the proposal, then I say now, as I said before, youhave no right to interfere in the business. "

"What keeps him out so late at night? I mean occasionally. He is out twoor three nights every week until twelve or one o'clock. Now, youknow, in the present state of the country, that it is not safe. _Shawn-na-Middogue_ and such scoundrels are abroad, and they might put abullet through him some night or other. 

"He is not at all afraid on that score, " replied Charles; "he never goesout in the evening without a case of pistols freshly loaded. "

"Well, but it, is wrong to subject himself to danger. Where is he gonenow?"

"He and Barney Casey have gone out to course; I think they went uptowards the mountains. "

Such was the fact. Harry was quite enamoured of sport, and, findingdogs, guns, and fishing-rods ready to his hand, he became a regularsportsman--a pursuit in which he found Barney a very able andintelligent assistant, inasmuch as he knew the country, and every spotwhere game of every description was to be had. They had traversed aconsiderable portion of rough mountain land, and killed two or threehares, when the heat of the day became so excessive that they consideredit time to rest and take refreshments. 

"The sun, Masther Harry, is d---- hot, " said Barney; "and now that ouldBet Harramount hasn't been in it for many a long year, we may as wellgo to that desolate cabin there above, and shelter ourselves from thehate--not that I'd undhertake to go there by myself; but now that youare wid me I don't care if I take a peep into the inside of it, out ofcuriosity. "

"Why, " said Woodward, "what about that cabin?"

"I'll tell you that, sir, when we get into it. It's consarnin' coorsin'too; but nobody ever lived in it since she left it. "

"Since who left it?"

"Never mind, sir; I'll tell you all about it by and by. "

It was certainly a most desolate and miserable hut, and had such anair of loneliness and desertion about it as was calculated to awakenreflections every whit as deep and melancholy as the contemplation ofa very palace in ruins, especially to those who, like Barney, knew thehistory of its last inhabitant. It was far up in the mountains, and notwithin miles of another human habitation. Its loneliness and desolationalone would not have made it so peculiarly striking and impressivehad it been inhabited; but its want of smoke--its still and lifelessappearance--the silence and the solitude around it--the absence ofall symptoms of human life--its significant aspect of destitution andpoverty, even at the best--all contributed to awaken in the mind thatdreamy reflection that would induce the spectator to think that, apartfrom the strife and bustle of life, it might have existed there for athousand years. Humble and contemptible in appearance as it was, yetthere, as it stood--smokeless, alone, and desolate, as we have said, with no exponent of existence about it--no bird singing, no animalmoving, as a token of contiguous life, no tree waving in the breeze, noshrub, even, stirring, but all still as the grave--there, we say, asit stood, afar and apart from the general uproar of the world, andapparently gray with long antiquity, it was a solemn and a melancholyhomily upon human life in all its aspects, from the cabin to the palace, and from the palace to the grave. Now, its position and appearance mightsuggest to a thinking and romantic mind all the reflections to which v&have alluded, without any additional accessories; but when the reader isinformed that it was supposed to be the abode of crime, the rendezvousof evil spirits, the theatre of unholy incantations, and the temporaryabode of the Great Tempter--and when all these facts are taken inconnection with its desolate character, he will surely admit that it wascalculated to impress the mind of all those who knew the history of itsantecedents with awe and dread. 

"I have never been in it, " said Barney, "and I don't think there's a manor woman in the next three parishes that would enter it alone, even bydaylight; but now that you are wid me, I have a terrible curiosity tosee it inside. "

A curse was thought to hang over it, but that curse, as it happened, wasits preservation in the undilapidated state in which it stood. 

On entering it, which Barney did not do without previously crossinghimself, they were surprised to find it precisely in the same situationin which it had been abandoned. There were one small pot, two stools, anearthen pitcher, a few wooden trenchers lying upon a shelf, an old dustysalt-bag, an ash stick, broken in the middle, and doubled down so as toform a tongs; and gathered up in a corner was a truss of straw, coveredwith a rug and a thin old blanket, which had constituted a wretchedsubstitute for a bed. That, however, which alarmed Barney most, was anold broomstick with a stump of worn broom attached to the end of it, asit stood in an opposite corner. This constituted the whole furniture ofthe hut. 

"Now, Barney, " said Harry, after they had examined it, "out with thebrandy and water and the slices of ham, till we refresh ourselves in thefirst place, and after that I will hear your history of this magnificentmansion. "

"O, it isn't the mansion, sir, " he replied, "but the woman that lived init that I have to spake about. God guard us! There in that corner is thevery broomstick she used to ride through the air upon!"

"Never mind that now, but ransack that immense shooting-pocket, andproduce its contents. "

They accordingly sat down, each upon one of the stools, and helpedthemselves to bread and ham, together with some tolerably copiousdraughts of brandy and water which they had mixed before leavinghome. Woodward, perceiving Barney's anxiety to deliver himself of hisnarrative, made him take an additional draught by way of encouragementto proceed, which, having very willingly finished the bumper offeredhim, he did as follows:

"Well, Masther Harry, in the first place, do you believe in the Bible?"

"In the Bible!--ahem--why--yes--certainly, Barney; do you suppose I'mnot a Christian?"

"God forbid, " replied Barney; "well, the Bible itself isn't thruer thanwhat I'm goin' to tell you--sure all the world for ten miles round knowsit. "

"Well, but, Barney, I would rather you would let me know it in the firstplace. "

"So I will, sir. Well, then, there was a witch-woman, by name one BetHarramount, and on the surface of God's earth, blessed be his name!there was nothin' undher a bonnet and petticoats so ugly. She was pittedwid the small-pox to that degree that you might hide half a peck ofmarrowfat paise (peas) in her face widout their being noticed; then thesanies (seams) that ran across it were five-foot raspers, every one ofthem. She had one of the purtiest gooseberry eyes in Europe; and onlyfor the squint in the other, it would have been the ornament of hercomely face entirely; but as it was, no human bein' was ever able todecide between them. She had two buck teeth in the front of her mouththat nobody could help admirin'; and, indeed, altogether I don't wondherthat the devil fell in consate wid her, for, by all accounts, theysay he carries a sweet tooth himself for comely ould women like BetHarramount. Give the tasty ould chap a wrinkle any day before a dimple, when he promotes them to be witches, as he did her. Sure he was seenkissin' a ghost the other night near Crukanesker well, where theDavorens get their wather from. O, thin, bedad, but Grace Davoren is abeauty all out; and maybe 'tis herself doesn't know it. "

"Go on with your story, " said Woodward, rather dryly; "proceed. "

"Well, sir, there is Bet Harramount's face for you, and the rest of herfigure wasn't sich as to disgrace it. She was half bent wid age, worean ould black bonnet, an ould red cloak, and walked wid a staff that wasbent at the top, as it seems every witch must do. Where she came fromnobody could ever tell, for she was a black stranger in this part of thecountry. At all events, she lived in the town below, but how she livednobody could tell either. Everything about her was a riddle; no wondher, considherin' she hardly was ever known to spake to any one, from thelark to the lamb. At length she began to be subjected by many sensiblepeople to be something not right; which you know, sir, was only natural. Peter O'Figgins, that was cracked--but then it was only wid dhrink andlarnin'--said it; and Katty McTrollop, Lord Bilberry's henwife, was ofthe same opinion, and from them and others the thing grew and spreaduntil it became right well known that she was nothin' else than a witch, and that the big wart on her neck was nothin' more nor less than themark the devil had set upon her, to suckle his babies by. From this out, them that had Christian hearts and loved their religion trated the thiefas she desarved to be trated. She was hissed and hooted, thank God, wherever she showed her face; but still nobody had courage to lay a handupon her by rason of her blasphaimin' and cursin', which, they say, usedto make the hair stand like wattles upon the heads of them that heardher. "

"Had she not a black cat?" asked Woodward; "surely, she ought to have hada familiar. "

"No, " replied Barney; "the cat she had was a white cat, and the mainin'of its color will appear to you by and by; at any rate, out came thetruth. You have heard of the Black Spectre--the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv?_"

"I have, " replied the other; "proceed. "

"Well, sir, as I said, the truth came out at last; in the coorse ofa short time she was watched at night, and seen goin' to the hauntedhouse, where the Spectre lives. "

"Did she walk there, or fly upon her broomstick?" asked Woodward, gravely. 

"I believe she walked, sir, " replied Barney; "but afther that every eyewas upon her, and many a time she was seen goin' to the haunted housewhen she thought no eye was upon her. Afther this, of coorse, shedisappeared, for, to tell you the truth, the town became too hotfor her; and, indeed, this is not surprisin'. Two or three of theneighborin' women miscarried, and several people lost their cattle aftershe came to the town; and to make a long story short, just as it wasmade up to throw her into the parson's pond, she disappeared, as I said, exactly as if she had known their intention: and becoorse she did. "

"And did they ever find out where she went to?"

"Have patience, sir, for patience, they say, is a virtue. About a monthafterwards some of the townspeople came up to the mountains here, tohunt hares, just as we did. Several of them before this had seen awhite hare near the very spot we're sittin' in, but sorra dog of anydescription, either hound, greyhound, or lurcher could blow wind in hertail; even a pair of the Irish bloodhounds were brought, and when theycame on her, she flew from them like the wind, I and laughed at them, becoorse. Well, sir, the whole country was in a terrible state of alarmabout the white hare, for every one knew, of coorse, that she was awitch; and as the cows began, here and there, to fail in their milk, why, it was a clear case that she sucked them in ordher to supply someimp of the devil that sucked herself. At that time there was a priestin this parish, a very pious man by name Father McFeen; and as he liked, now and then, to have a dish of hare soup, he kept a famous greyhound, called Koolawn, that was never said to miss a hare by any chance. As Isaid, some of the townspeople came up here to have a hunt, and as theywished, above all things, to bring the priest's greyhound and the whitehare together, they asked the loan of him from his reverence, tellinghim, at the same time, what they wanted him for. Father McFeen was veryproud of his dog, and good right he had, and tould them they should havehim with pleasure. 

"'But, as he's goin' to try his speed against a witch, ' said he, 'I'llventure to say that you'll have as pretty a run as ever was seen on thehills. '

"Well, sir, at all events, off they set to the mountains; and sureenough, they weren't long there when they had the best of sport, but nowhite hare came in their way. Koolawn, however, was kept in the slip thewhole day, in the hope of their startin' her, for they didn't wish tohave him tired if they should come across her. At last, it was gettin'late, and when they were just on the point of givin' her up, and, goin'home, begad she started, and before you'd say Jack Kobinson, Koolawnand she were at it. Sich a chase, they say, was never seen. They flew atsich a rate that the people could hardly keep their eyes upon them. Thehare went like the wind; but, begad, it was not every evening she hadsich a dog as famous Koolawn at her scut. He turned her, and turned her, and every one thought he had her above a dozen of times, but still sheturned, and was off from him again. At this rate they went on for longenough, until both began to fail, and to appear nearly run down. Atlength the gallaut Koolawn had her; she gave a squeal that was heard, they say, for miles. He had her, I say, hard and fast by the hip, butit was only for a moment; how she escaped; from him nobody knows; but itwas thought that he wasn't able, from want of breath, to keep his hoult. To make a long story short, she got off from him, turned up towards the;cabin we're sittin' in, Koolawn, game as ever, still close to her; atlast she got in, and as the dog was about to spring in afther her, hefound the door shut in his face. There now was the proof of it; butwait till you hear what's comin'. The men all ran up here and openedthe door, for there was only a latch upon it, and if the hare was inexistence, surely they'd find her now. Well, they closed the door atwanst for fraid she'd escape them; but afther sarchin' to no purpose, what do you think they found? No hare, at any rate, but ould BetHarramount pantin' in the straw there, and covered wid a rug, for shehadn't time to get on the blanket--just as if the life was lavin'her. The sweat, savin' your presence, was pourin' from her; and uponexaminin' her more closely, which they did, they found the marks of thedog's teeth in one of her ould hips, which was freshly bleedin'. Theywere now satisfied, I think, and--"

"But why did they not seize and carry her before a magistrate?"

"Aisy, Masther Harry; the white cat, all this time, was sittin' at thefireside there, lookin' on very quietly, when the thought struck the menthat they'd set the dogs upon it, and so they did, or rather, so theytried to do, but the minute the cat was pointed out to them, theydropped their ears and tails, and made out o' the house, and all theart o' man couldn't get them to come in again. When the men looked at itagin it was four times the size it had been at the beginin', and, whatwas still more frightful, it was gettin' bigger and bigger, and fiercerand fiercer lookin', every minute. Begad, the men seein' this took totheir heels for the present, wid an intention of comin' the next momin', wid the priest and the magisthrate, and a strong force to seize uponher, and have her tried and convicted, in ordher that she might beburned. "

"And did they come?"

"They did; but of all the storms that ever fell from the heavens, noneo' them could aquil the one that come on that night. Thundher, and wind, and lightnin', and hail, and rain, were all at work together, and everyone knew at wanst that the devil was riz for somethin'. Well, I'm nearthe end of it. The next mornin' the priest and the magisthrate, and alarge body of people from all quarthers, came to make a prisoner of her;but, indeed, wherever she might be herself, they didn't expect to findthis light, flimsy hut standin', nor stick nor stone of it togetherafther such a storm. What was their surprise, then, to see wid their owneyes that not a straw on the roof of it was disturbed any more than ifit had been the calmest night that ever came on the earth!"

"But about the witch herself?"

"She was gone; neither hilt nor hair of her was there; nor from that dayto this was she ever seen by mortal. It's not hard to guess, however, what became of her. Every one knows that the devil carried her and herimp off in the tempest, either to some safer place, or else to give hera warm corner below stairs. "

"Why, Barney, it must be an awful little house, this. "

"You may say that, sir; there's not a man, woman, or child in the baronywould come into it by themselves. Every one keeps from it; the veryrapparees, and robbers of every description, would take the shelter ofa cleft or cave rather than come into it. Here it is, then, as you see, just as she and the devil and his imp left it; no one has laid a hand onit since, nor ever will. "

"But why was it not pulled down and levelled at the time?"

"Why, Masther Harry? Dear me, I wondher you ask that. Do you think thepeople would be mad enough to bring down her vengeance upon themselvesor their property, or maybe upon both? and for that matther she may bealive yet. "

"Well, then, if she is, " replied Woodward, "here goes to set her atdefiance;" and as he spoke he tossed bed, straw, rug, blanket, and everymiserable article of furniture that the house contained, out at thedoor. 

Barney's hair stood erect upon his head, and he looked aghast. 

"Well, Masther Harry, " said he, "I'm but a poor man, and I wouldn't takethe wealth of the parish and do that. Come away, sir; let us lave it; asI tould you, they say there's a curse upon it, and upon every one thatmakes or meddles wid it. Some people say it's to stand there till theday of judgment. "

Having now refreshed themselves, they left Bet Harramont's cabin, withall its awful associations, behind them, and resumed their sport, whichthey continued until evening, when, having killed as many hares asthey could readily carry, they took a short cut home through the lowerfields. By this way they came upon a long, green hill, covered in someplaces with short furze, and commanding a full view of the hauntedhouse, which lay some four or five hundred yards below them, with itsback door lying, as usual, open. 

"Let us beat these furze, " said Woodward, "and have one run more, if wecan, before getting home; it is just the place for a hare. "

"With all my heart, " replied Barney; "another will complete the halfdozen. "

They accordingly commenced searching the cover, which they did to nopurpose, and were upon the point of giving up all hope of I success, when, from the centre of a low, broad clump of furze, out starts a hare, as white almost as snow. Barney for a moment was struck dumb; but atlength exerting his voice, for he was some distance from Woodward, heshouted out--

"O, for goodness' sake, hould in the dogs, Masther Harry!"

It was too late, however; the gallant, animals, though fatigued by theirprevious exertions, immediately gave noble chase, and by far the mostbeautiful and interesting course they had had that day took place uponthe broad, clear plain that stretched before them. It was, indeed, to the eye of a sportsman, one of intense and surpassing interest--aninterest which, even to Woodward, who only laughed at Barney's storyof the witch, was, nevertheless, deepened tenfold by the coincidencebetween the two circumstances. The swift and mettlesome dogs pushed herhard, and succeeded in turning her several times, when it was observedthat she made a point to manage her running so as to approximate tothe haunted house--a fact which was not unobserved by Barney, who now, having joined Woodward, exclaimed--

"Mark it, Masther Harry, mark my words, she's alive still, and will bewid the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_ in spite o' them! Bravo, Sambo! Well done, Snail; ay, Snail, indeed--hillo! by the sweets o' rosin they haveher--no, no--but it was a beautiful turn, though; and poor Snail, sotired afther his day's work. Now, Masther Harry, thunder and turf! howbeautiful Sambo takes her up. Bravo, Sambo! stretch out, my darlin' thatyou are!--O, blood, Masther Harry, isn't that beautiful? See how they goneck and neck wid their two noses not six inches from her scut; and dangmy buttons but, witch or no witch, she's a thorough bit o' game, too. Come, Bet, don't be asleep, my ould lady; move along, my darlin'--doyou feel the breath of your sweetheart at your bottom? Take to yourbroomstick; you want it. "

As he uttered these words the hare turned, --indeed it was time forher--and both dogs shot forward, by the impetus of their flight, so farbeyond the point of her turn, that she started off towards the hauntedhouse. She had little time to spare, however, for they were once moregaining on her; but still she approached the house, the dogs nearing herfast. She approached the house, we say; she entered the open door, thedogs within a few yards of her, when, almost in an instant, they came toa standstill, looked into it, but did not enter; and when whistled backto where Woodward and Barney stood, they looked in Barney's eye, notonly panting and exhausted, as indeed they were, but terrified also. 

"Well, Masther Harry, " said he, assuming the air of a man who spoke withauthority, "what do you think of that?"

"I think you are right, " replied Woodward; assuming on his part, forreasons which will be subsequently understood, an impression of suddenconviction. "I think you are right, Barney, and that the Black Spectreand the witch are acquaintances. "

"Try her wid a silver bullet, " said Barney; "there is nothing else forit. No dog can kill her--that's a clear case; but souple as she is, asilver bullet is the only messenger that can overtake her. Bad luckto her, the thief! sure, if she'd turn to God and repint, it isn'tcodgerin' wid sich company she'd be, and often in danger, besides, ofhavin' a greyhound's nose at her flank. I hope you're satisfied, MastherHarry?"

"Perfectly, Barney; there can be no doubt about it now. As for my part, I know not what temptation could induce me to enter that haunted house. I see that I was on dangerous ground when I defied the witch in the hut;but I shall take care to be more cautious in future. "

They then bent their steps homewards, each sufficiently fatigued andexhausted after the sports of the day to require both food and rest. Woodward went early to bed, but Barney, who was better accustomed toexercise, having dined heartily in the kitchen, could not, for thesoul of him, contain within his own bosom the awful and supernaturaladventure which had just occurred. He assumed, as before, a very solemnand oracular air; spoke little, however, but that little was deeplyabstracted and mysterious. It was evident to the whole kitchen thathe was brimful of something, and that that something was of more thanordinary importance. 

"Well, Barney, had you and Masther Harry a pleasant day's sport? I seeyou have brought home five hares, " said the cook. 

"Hum!" groaned Barney; "but no matther; it's a quare world, Mrs. Malony, and there's strange things in it. Heaven bless me! Heaven bless me, andHeaven bless us all, if it comes to that! Masther Harry said he'd sendme down a couple o' glasses of------O, here comes Biddy wid them; that'sa girl, Bid--divil sich a kitchen-maid in Europe!"

Biddy handed him a decanter with about half a pint of stout whiskey init, a portion of which passed into a goblet, was diluted with water, anddrunk off, after which he smacked his lips, but with a melancholy air, and then, looking solemnly and meditatively into the fire, relapsed intosilence. 

"Did you meet any fairies on your way?" asked Nanse, the housemaid. Forabout half a minute Barney did not reply; but at length, looking abouthim, he started--

"Eh? What's that? Who spoke to me?"

"Who spoke to you?" replied Nanse. "Why, I think you're beside yoursel'--Idid. "

"What did you say, Nanse? I am beside myself. "

There was now a sudden cessation in all the culinary operations, ageneral pause, and a rapid congregating around Barney, who still satlooking solemnly into the fire. 

"Why, Barney, there's something strange over you, " said the cook. "Heaven help the poor boy; sure, it's a shame to be tormentin' him thisway; but in the name of goodness, Barney, and as you have a sowl to besaved, will you tell us all? Stand back, Nanse, and don't be torturin'the poor lad this way, as I said. "

"Biddy, " said Barney, his mind still wandering, and his eyes still fixedon the fire--"Biddy, darlin', will you hand me that de-canther agin; Ifind I'm not aquil to it. Heaven presarve us! Heaven presarve us! that'sit; now hand me the wather, like an angel out of heaven, as you are, Bid. Ah, glory be to goodness, but that's refreshin', especially afthersich a day--sich a day! O saints above, look down upon us poor sinners, one and all, men and women, wid pity and compassion this night! Here;I'm very wake; let me get to bed; is there any pump wather in thekitchen?"

To describe the pitch to which he had them wound up would be utterlyimpossible. He sat in the cook's arm-chair, leaning a little back, his feet placed upon the fender, and his eyes, as before, immovably, painfully, and abstractedly fixed upon the embers. He was now the centreof a circle, for they were all crowded about him, wrapped up to thehighest possible pitch of curiosity. 

"We were talkin' about Masther Harry, " said he, "the other night, and Ithink I tould you something about him; it's like a dhrame to me that Idid. "

"You did, indeed, Barney, " said the cook, coaxingly, "and I hope thatwhat you tould us wasn't true. "

"Aye, but about to-day, Barney; somthin' has happened to-day that'stroublin' you. "

"Who is it said that?" said he, his eyes now closed, as if he werewrapped up in some distressing mystery. "Was it you, Nanse? It's likeyour voice, achora. "

Now, the reader must know that a deadly jealousy lay between Nanse andthe cook, _quoad_ honest Barney, who, being aware of the fact, keptthe hopes and fears of each in such an exact state of equilibrium, that neither of them could, for the life of her, claim the slightestadvantage over the other. The droll varlet had an appetite like a shark, and a strong relish for drink besides, and what between precioustidbits from the cook and borrowing small sums for liquor from Nanse, hecontrived to play them off one against the other with great tact. 

"I think, " said he, his eyes still closed, "that that is Nanse's voice;is it, acushla?"

"It is, Barney, achora, " replied Nanse; "but there's something wrong widyou. "

"I wish to goodness, Nanse, you'd let the boy alone, " said the cook;"when he chooses to spake, he'll spake to them that can undherstandhim. "

"O, jaminy stars! that's you, I suppose; ha, ha, ha. "

"Keep silence, " said Barney, "and listen. Nanse, you are right in onesinse, and the cook's right in another; you're both right, but atthe present spakin' you're both wrong. Listen--you all know the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv?_"

"Know him! The Lord stand between us and him, " replied Nanse; "I hope inGod we'll never either know or see him. "

"You know, " proceeded Barney, "that he keeps' the haunted house, andappears in the neighborhood of it?"

"Yes, we know that, achora, " replied the cook, sweetly. 

"Well, you can't forget Bet Harramount, the witch, that lived for sometime in Rathfillan? She that was hunted in the shape of a white hare bypious Father McFeen's famous greyhound, Koolawn. "

"Doesn't all the world know it, Barney, avillish?" said Nanse. 

"Divil the word she'll let out o' the poor boy's lips, " said the cook, with a fair portion of venom. Nanse made no reply, but laughed witha certain description of confidence, as she glanced sneeringly at thecook, who, to say the truth, turned her eyes with a fiery and impulsivelook towards the ladle. 

"Well, " proceeded Barney, "you all know that the divil took her and herimp, the white cat, away on the night of the great storm that took placethen?"

"We do! Sure we have heard it a thousand times. "

"Very well--I want to show you that Bet Harramount, the white witch, and the Black Speacthre are sweethearts, and are leadin' a bad lifetogether. "

"Heavenly father! Saints above! Blessed Mother!" were ejaculated by thewhole kitchen. Barney, in fact, was progressing with great effect. 

"O, yez needn't be surprised, " he continued, "for it was well knownthat they had many private meetin's while Bet was livin' in Rathfillan. But it was thought the devil had taken her away from the priest andmagisthrate on the night o' the storm, and so he did; and he best knewwhy. Listen, I say--Masther Harry and I went out this day to coorsehares; we went far up into the mountains, and never pulled bridle tillwe came to the cabin where the witch lived, the same that Koolawnchased her into in the shape of a white hare, after taking a bite outof her--out of the part next her scut. Well, we sat down in the cursedcabin, much against my wishes, but he would rest nowhere else--markthat--so while we were helpin' ourselves to the ham and brandy, I up andtould him the history of Bet Harramount from a to izzard. 'Well, ' saidhe, 'to show you how little I care about her, and that I set her atdefiance, I'll toss every atom of her beggarly furniture out of thedoor;' and so he did--but by dad I thought he done it in a jokin' way, as much as to say, I can take the liberty where another can't. I knew, becoorse, he was wrong; but that makes no maxim--I'll go on wid mystory. On our way home we came to the green fields that lie on this sideof the haunted house; a portion of it, on a risin' ground, is coveredwith furz. Now listen--when we came to it he stood; 'Barney, ' says he, 'there's a hare here; give me the dogs, Sambo and Snail; they'll havesich a hunt as they never had yet, and never will have agin. '

"He then closed his eyes, raised his left foot, and dhrew it backthree times in the divil's name, pronounced some words that I couldn'tunderstand, and then said to me, 'Now, Barney, go down to that witheredfurze, and as you go, always keep your left foot foremost; cough threetimes, then kick the furze with your left foot, and maybe you'll see anold friend o' yours. '

"Well, I did so, and troth I thought there was somethin' over me when Idid it; but--what 'ud you think?--out starts a white hare, and off wentSambo and Snail after her, full butt. I have seen many a hard run, butthe likes o' that I never seen. If they turned her wanst they turned hermore than a dozen times; but where do you think she escaped to at last?"

"The Lord knows, Barney; where?"

"As heaven's above us, into the haunted house; and if the dogs were toget a thousand guineas apiece, one of them couldn't be forced into itafther her. They ran with their noses on her very scut, widin five orsix yards of it, and when she went into it they stood stock still, andneither man nor sword could get them to go farther. But what do youthink Masther Harry said afther he had seen all this? 'Barney, ' said he, 'I'm detarmined to spend a night in the haunted house before I'm muchouldher; only keep that to yourself, and don't make a blowing horn of itthrough the parish. ' And what he said to me, I say to you--never breathea syllable of it to man or mortal. It'll be worse for you if you do. Andnow, do you remember what Lanty Malony saw the other night? Theblack man kissin' the white woman. Is it clear to yez now? The_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_--_the Black Specthre_--kissin' Bet Harramount, thewhite woman. There it is; and now you have it as clear as a, b, c. "

Barney then retired to his bed, leaving the denizens of the kitchen in astate which the reader may very well understand. 

CHAPTER X. True Love Defeated. 

Mr. And Mrs. Goodwin, in the absence of their daughter, held a veryagreeable conversation on the subject of Mrs. Lindsay's visit. NeitherGoodwin nor his wife was in the slightest degree selfish, yet, somehow, there crept into their hearts a certain portion of selfishness, whichcould be traced only to the affection which they felt for Alice. Theycalculated that Henry Woodward, having been reared and educated byhis uncle, would be amply provided for by that wealthy gentleman--who, besides, was childless. This consideration became a strong element intheir deliberations and discussions upon the projected match, andthey accordingly resolved to win over Alice's consent to it as soon aspossible. From the obedience of her disposition, and the natural pliancyof her character with the opinions of others, they concluded the matteras arranged and certain. They forgot, however, that Alice, thougha feeble thinker on matters of superstition and others of a minorimportance, could sometimes exercise a will of her own, but very seldom, if ever, when opposed to theirs. They knew her love and affectionfor them, and that she was capable of making any sacrifice thatmight contribute to their happiness. They had, however, observed oflate--indeed for a considerable time past--that she appeared to be inlow spirits, moved about as if there was a pressure of some descriptionin her mind; and when they asked her if she were at ease--which theyoften did--she only replied by a smile, and asked them in return why sheshould be otherwise. With this reply they were satisfied, for they knewthat upon the general occurrences of life she was almost a mere child, and that, although her health was good, her constitution was naturallydelicate, and liable to be affected by many things indifferent inthemselves, which girls of a stronger mind and constitution wouldneither perceive nor feel. The summing up of all was that theyapprehended no obstruction to the proposed union from any objection onher part, as soon as she should be made acquainted with their wishes. 

In the course of that very evening they introduced the subject toher, with that natural confidence which resulted from their foregoneconclusions upon it. 

"Alley, " said her mother, "I hope you're in good spirits this evening. "

"Indifferent enough, mamma; my spirits, you know, are not naturallygood. "

"And why should they not?" said her mother; "what on earth have you totrouble you?"

"O, mamma, " she exclaimed, "you don't know how often I miss mysister;--at night I think I see her, and she looks pale and melancholy, and full of sorrow--just as she did when she felt that her hope of lifewas gone forever. O, how willingly--how joyfully--would I return herfortune, and if I had ten times as much of my own, along with it, if itcould only bring her back to me again!"

"Well, you know, my darling, that can't be done; but cheer up; I havegood news for you--news that I am sure will delight you. "

"But I don't stand in need of any good news, mamma. "

This simple reply proved an unexpected capsize to her mother, who knewnot how to proceed; but, in the moment of her embarrassment, looked toher husband for assistance. 

"My dear Alice, " said her father, "the fact is this--you have achieved aconquest, and there has been a proposal of marriage made for you. "

Alice instantly suspected the individual from whom the proposal came, and turned pale as death. 

"That does not cheer my spirits, then, papa. "

"That may be, my dear Alice, " replied her father; "but, in the opinionof your mother and me, it ought. "

"From what quarter has it come, papa, may I ask? I am living very lonelyand retired here, you know. "

"The proposal, then, my dear child, has come from Henry Woodward, thisday; and what will surprise you more, through his mother, too--who hasbeen of late such an inveterate enemy to our family. So far as I haveseen of Henry himself, he is everything I could wish for a son-in-law. "

"But you have seen very little of him, papa. "

"What I have seen of him has pleased me very much, Alice. "

"How strange, " said she musingly, "that father and daughter should drawsuch different conclusions from the same premises. The very thought ofthat young man sinks the heart within me. I beg, once for all, that youwill never mention his name to me on this subject, and in this light, again. It is not that I hate him--I trust I hate nobody--but I feel anantipathy against him; and what is more, I feel a kind of terror when Ieven think of him; and an oppression, for which I cannot account, whilstI am in his society. "

"This is very strange, Alice, " replied her father; "and, I am afraid, rather foolish, too. There is nothing in his face, person, manner, orconversation that, in my opinion, is not calculated to attract any youngwoman in his own rank of life--at least, I think so. "

"Well, but the poor child, " said her mother, "knows nothing aboutlove--how could she? Sure, my dear Alley, true love never begins untilafter marriage. You don't know what a dislike I had to your father, there, whilst our friends on both sides were making up the courtship. They literally dragged me into it. "

"Yes, Alley, " added her father, smiling, "and they literally draggedme into it; and yet, when we came together, Alice, there never was ahappier couple in existence. "

Alice could not help smiling, but the smile soon passed away. "That maybe all very true, " she replied, "but in the meantime, you must not pressme on this subject. Don't entertain it for a moment. I shall never marrythis man. Put an end to it--see his mother, and inform her, without lossof time, of the unalterable determination I have made. Do not palterwith them, father---do not, mother; and above all things, don't attemptto sacrifice the happiness of your only daughter. I could make anysacrifice for your happiness but this; and if, in obedience to yourwishes, I made it, I can tell you that I would soon be with my sister. You both know that I am not strong, and that I am incapable of severestruggles. Don't, then, harass me upon this matter. "

She here burst into tears, and for a few minutes wept bitterly. 

"We must give it up, " said her father, looking at Mrs. Goodwin. "

"No such thing, " replied his wife; "think of our own case, and how happywe have been in spite of ourselves. "

"Ay, but we were neither of us fools, Martha; at least you were not, oryou would never have suffered yourself to be persuaded into matrimony, as you did at last. There was, it is true, an affected frown upon yourbrow; but then, again, there was a very sly smile under it. As for me, I would have escaped the match if I could; but no matter, it was all forthe best, although neither of us anticipated as much. Alice, my child, think of what we have said to you; reflect upon it. Our object is tomake you happy; our experience of life is much greater than yours. Don'treply to us now; we will give you a reasonable time to think of it. Consider that you will add to your mother's happiness and mine byconsenting to such an unobjectionable match. This young man will, ofcourse, inherit his uncle's property; he will elevate you in life; he ishandsome, accomplished, and evidently knows the world, and you can lookup to him as a husband of whom you will have a just right to feel proud. Allow the young man to visit you; study him as closely as you may; butabove all things do not cherish an unfounded antipathy against him orany one. "

Several interviews took place afterwards between Alice and HenryWoodward; and after each interview her parents sought her opinionof him, and desired to know whether she was beginning to think morefavorably of him than she had hitherto done. Still, however, came thesame reply. Every interview only increased her repugnance to the match, and her antipathy to the man. At length she consented to allow him onelast interview--the last, she asserted, which she would ever afford himon the subject, and he accordingly presented himself to know herfinal determination. Not that from what came out from their formerconversations he had any grounds, as a reasonable man, to expect achange of opinion on her part; but as the property was his object, heresolved to leave nothing undone to overcome her prejudice against himif he could. They were, accordingly, left in the drawing-room to discussthe matter as best they might, but with a hope on the part of herparents that, knowing, as she did, how earnestly their hearts were fixedupon her marriage with him, she might, if only for their sakes, renounceher foolish antipathy, ard be prevailed upon, by his ardor and hiseloquence, to consent at last. 

"Well, Miss Goodwin, " said he, when they were left together, "this Iunderstand, and what is more, I fear, is to be my day of doom. Heavengrant that it may be a favorable one, for I am badly prepared to see myhopes blasted, and my affection for you spurned! My happiness, my dearMiss Goodwin--my happiness for life depends upon the result of thisinterview. I know--but I should not say so--for in this instance I mustbe guided by hearsay--well, I know from hearsay that your heart is kindand affectionate. Now I believe this; for who can look upon your faceand doubt it? Believing this, then, how can you, when you know thatthe happiness of a man who loves you beyond the power of language toexpress, is at stake, depends upon your will--how can you, I say, refuseto make that individual--who appreciated all your virtues, as Ido--who feels the influence of your extraordinary beauty, as I do--whocontemplates your future happiness as the great object of his life, as Ido--how can you, I say, refuse to make that man happy?"

"Mr. Woodward, " she said, "I will not reply to your arguments; Isimply wish to ask you, Are you a gentleman?--in other words, a man ofintegrity and principle?"

"Do you doubt me, Miss Goodwin?" he inquired, as if he felt somewhathurt. 

"It is very difficult, Mr. Woodward, " she replied, "to know the heart;I request, however, a direct and a serious answer, for I can assure youthat I am about to place the deepest possible confidence in your faithand honor. "

"O, " he exclaimed, "that is sufficient; in such a case I feel bound torespect your confidence as sacred; do not hesitate to confide in me. Letme perish a thousand times sooner than abuse such a trust. Speak out, Miss Goodwin. "

"It is necessary that I should, " she replied, "both for your sake and myown. Know, then, that my heart is not at my own disposal; it is engagedto another. "

"I can only listen, Miss Goodwin--I can only listen--but--but--excuseme--proceed. "

"My heart, as I said, is engaged to another--and that other is yourbrother Charles. "

Woodward fixed his eyes upon her face--already scarlet with blushes, andwhen she ventured to raise hers upon him, she beheld a countenance sunkapparently in the deepest sorrow. 

"Alas! Miss Goodwin, " he replied, "you have filled my heart with adouble grief. I could resign you--of course it would and must be withthe most inexpressible anguish--but to resign you to such a--. O!"he proceeded, shaking his head sorrowfully, "you know not in what aposition of torture you place me. You said you believed me to be agentleman; so I trust--I feel--I am, and what is more, a brother, andan affectionate brother, if I--O, my God, what am I to do? How, knowingwhat I know of that unfortunate young man, could I ever have expectedthis? In the meantime I thank you for your confidence, Miss Goodwin; Ihope it was God himself who inspired you to place it in me, and thatit may be the means of your salvation from--but perhaps I am sayingtoo much; he is my brother; excuse me, I am not just now cool and calmenough to say what I would wish, and what you, poor child, neither knownor suspect, and perhaps I shall never mention it; but you must give metime. Of course, under the circumstances you have mentioned, I resignall hopes of my own happiness with you; but, so help me Heaven, if Ishall resign all hopes of yours. I cannot now speak at further length;I am too much surprised, too much agitated, too much shocked at what Ihave heard; but I shall see you, if you will allow me, to-morrow; and asI cannot become your husband, perhaps I may become your guardian angel. Allow me to see you to-morrow. You have taken me so completely bysurprise that I. Am quite incapable of speaking on this subject, asperhaps--but I know not yet--I must become more cool, and reflect deeplyupon what my conduct ought to be. Alas! my dear Miss Goodwin, little yoususpect how completely your happiness and misery are in my power. Willyou permit me to see you to-morrow?"

"Certainly, sir, " replied Alice, "since it seems that you have somethingof more than ordinary importance to communicate to me--something, which, I suppose, I ought to know. I shall see you. "

He then took his leave with an air of deep melancholy and sorrow, andleft poor Alice in a state of anxiety very difficult to be described. Her mind became filled with a sudden and unusual alarm; she trembledlike an aspen leaf; and when her mother came to ask her the result ofthe interview, she found her pale as death and in tears. 

"Why, Alley, my child, " said she, "what is the matter? Why do you lookso much alarmed, and why are you in tears? Has the man been rude oroffensive to you?"

"No, mamma, he has not; but--but--I am to see him again to-morrow, and until then, mamma, do not ask me anything upon the subject of ourinterview to-day. "

Her mother felt rather gratified at this. There was, then, to be anotherinterview, and that was a proof that Woodward had not been finallydiscarded. So far, matters did not seem so disheartening as she hadanticipated. She looked upon Alice's agitation, and the tears she hadbeen shedding, as the result of the constraint which she had put uponher inclination in giving him, she hoped, a favorable reception; andwith this impression she went to communicate what she conceived to bethe good intelligence to her husband. 

Alice, until the next interview took place, passed a wretched timeof it. As the reader knows, she was constitutionally timid and easilyalarmed, and she consequently anticipated, something very distressingin the disclosures which Woodward was about to make. That there wassomething uncommon and painful in connection with Charles Lindsay tobe mentioned, was quite evident from Woodward's language and hisunaccountable agitation. He was evidently in earnest; and, from thesuddenness with which the confession of her attachment to his brothercame upon him, it was impossible, she concluded, that he could havehad time to concoct the hints which he threw out. Could she have beenmistaken in Charles? And yet, why not? Had he not, as it were, abandonedher ever since the occurrence of the family feud? and why should he havedone so unless there had been some reason for it? It was quite clear, she thought, that, whatever revelation Woodward was about to makeconcerning him, it was one which would occasion himself great painas his brother, and that nothing but the necessity of saving her fromunhappiness could force him to speak out. In fact, her mind was in atumult; she felt quite nervous--tremulous--afraid of some disclosurethat might destroy her hopes and her happiness, and make her wretchedfor life. 

On the next day Woodward made his appearance and found Alice by herselfin the drawing-room, as when he left her the day before. His countenanceseemed the very exponent of suffering and misery. 

"Miss Goodwin, " said he, "I have passed a period of the deepest anxietysince I saw you last. You may, indeed, read what I have suffered, andam suffering, in my face, for unfortunately it is a tell-tale upon myheart; but I cannot help that, nor should I wish it to be otherwise. Believe me, however, that it is not for myself that I suffer, but foryou, and the prospects of your future happiness. You must look upon myconduct now as perfectly disinterested, for I have no hope. What, then, should that conduct be in me as a generous man, which I trust I am, butto promote your happiness as far as I can? and on that I am determined. You say you love my brother; are you certain that your affection isreciprocated?"

"I believe your brother certainly did love me, " she replied, with atremor in her voice, which she could not prevent, "Just so, my dear Miss Goodwin; that is well expressed--did love you;perhaps it may have been so; possessing anything like a heart, I don'tsee how it could have been otherwise. "

"I will thank you, Mr. Woodward, to state what you have to say withas little circumlocution and ambiguity as possible. Take me out ofsuspense, and let me know the worst. Do not, I entreat you, keep me ina state of uncertainty. Although I have acknowledged my love for yourbrother, in order to relieve myself from your addresses, which I couldnot encourage, still I am not without the pride of a woman who respectsherself. "

"I am aware of that; but before I proceed, allow me to ask, in orderthat I may see my way the clearer, to what length did the expression ofmy brother's affection go?"

"It went so far, " she replied, blushing, "as an avowal of mutualattachment; indeed, it might be called an engagement; but ever since thedeath of his cousin, and the estrangement of our families, he seems tohave forgotten me. It is very strange; when I was a portionless girl hewas ardent and tender, but, ever since this unfortunate property cameinto my hands, he seems to have joined in the hard and unjust feeling ofhis family against me. I have certainly met him since at parties, and onother occasions, but we met almost as strangers; he was not the CharlesLindsay whom I had known when I was comparatively a poor girl; heappeared to shrink from me. In the meantime, as I have already confessedto you, he has my heart; and, so long as he has, I cannot encourage theaddresses of any other man. "

Woodward paused, and looked upon her with well-feigned admiration andsorrow. 

"The man is blind, " he at length said, "not only to the fascinations ofyour person and character, but to his own interests. What is he in pointof property? Nothing. He has no rich uncle at his back to establish himin life upon a scale, almost, of magnificence. Why, it is since you cameinto this property that he ought to have urged his suit with greaterearnestness. I am speaking now like a man of the world, Miss Goodwin;and I am certain that he would have done so but for one fact, of which Iam aware: he has got into a low intrigue with a peasant's daughter, who possesses an influence over him such as I have never witnessed. Shecertainly is very beautiful, it is said; but of that I cannot speak, asI have not yet seen her; but I am afraid, Miss Goodwin, from all I hear, that a very little time will disclose her calamity and his guilt. Youwill now understand what I felt yesterday when you made me acquaintedwith your pure and virtuous attachment to such a man; what shall I say, "he added, rising, and walking indignantly through the room, "to such aprofligate?"

"Mr. Woodward, " replied Alice, "I can scarcely believe that; you musthave been imposed on by some enemy of his. Depend upon it you are. I think I know Charles well--too well to deem him capable of suchprofligacy; I will not believe it. "

"I don't wish you, my dear Miss Goodwin, to believe it; I only wish youto suspend your opinion until time shall convince you. I considered itmy duty to mention the fact, and after that to leave you to the exerciseof your own judgment. "

"I will not believe it, " replied Alice, "because I place hisestrangement to a higher and nobler motive, and one more in accordancewith his honorable and generous character. I do believe, Mr. Woodward, that his apparent coldness to me, of late, proceeds from delicacy, anda disinterestedness that is honorable to him; at least I will interprethis conduct in this light until I am perfectly convinced that he is theprofligate you describe him. I do not impute, in the disclosure you havemade, ungenerous motives to you; because, if you attempted to displacemy affections from your brother by groundless slander or deliberatefalsehood, you would be a monster, and as such I would look upon you, and will, if it appears that you are maligning him for selfishpurposes of your own. I will now tell you to what I impute his apparentestrangement; I impute it to honor, sir--to an honorable pride. Heknows now that I am rich; at least comparatively so, and that he iscomparatively poor; he hesitates to renew our relations with eachother lest I might suspect him of mingling a selfish principle with hisaffection. That is the conduct of a man of honor; and until the factsyou hint at come out broadly, and to public proof, as such I shallcontinue to consider him. But, Mr. Woodward, I shall not rest here; Ishall see him, and give him that to which his previous affection andhonorable conduct have entitled him at my hands--that is, an opportunityof making an explanation to myself. But, at all events, I assure you ofthis fact, that, if I do not marry him, I shall never marry another. "

"Great God!" exclaimed Woodward, "what a jewel he has lost. Well, MissGoodwin, I have nothing further to say; if I am wrong, time will convictme. I have mentioned these matters to you, not on my own account butyours. I have no hope of your affection; and if there were any livingman, except myself, to whom I should wish to see you united, it wouldbe my brother Charles--that is, if I thought he was worthy of you. AllI ask of you, however, is to wait a little; remain calm and quiet, and time will tell you which of us feels the deepest interest in yourhappiness. In the meantime, aware of your attachment to him, as I am, I beg you will no longer consider me in any other light than that of asincere friend. To seduce innocence, indeed--but I will not dwell uponit; the love of woman, they say, is generous and forgiving; I hope yourswill be so. But, Miss Goodwin, as I can approach you no longer inthe character of a lover, I trust I may be permitted the privilege ofvisiting the family as a friend and acquaintance. Now that your decisionagainst me is known, it will be contrary to the wishes of our folks athome; especially of my mother, whose temper, as I suppose you are aware, is none of the coolest; you will allow me, then, to visit you, but nolonger as claimant for your hand. "

"I shall always be happy to see you, Mr. Woodward, but upon thatcondition. "

After he had token his leave, her parents, anxious to hear the result, came up to the drawing-room, where they found her in a kind of areverie, from which their appearance startled her. 

"Well, Alley, " said her mother, smiling, "is everything concludedbetween you?"

"Yes, mamma, " replied Alice, "everything is concluded, and finally, too. "

"Did he name the day?" said her father, smiling gravely. 

Alice stared at him; then recollecting herself, she replied--

"I thought I told you both that this was a man I could never thinkof marrying. I don't understand him; he is either very candid or veryhypocritical; and I feel it painful, and, besides, unnecessary in me totake the trouble of balancing the character of a person who loses groundin my opinion on every occasion I see him. Of course, I have discardedhim, and I know very well that his mother will cast fire and swordbetween us as she did before; but to do Mr. Woodward justice, heproposes to stand aloof from her resentments, and wishes to visit us asusual. "

"Then it's all over between you and him?" said her mother. 

"It is; and I never gave you reason to anticipate any other result, mamma. "

"No, indeed, " said her father, "you never did, Alice; but still I thinkit is generous in him to separate himself from the resentments of thatwoman, and as a friend we will be always glad to see him. "

"I know not how it is, " replied Alice; "but I felt that the expressionof his eye, during our last interview, oppressed me excessively; it wasnever off me. There was a killing--a malignant influence in it, thatthrilled through me with pain; but, perhaps, I can account for that. As it is, he has asked leave to visit us as usual, and to stand, withrespect to me, in the light of a friend only. So far as I am concerned, papa, I could not refuse him a common privilege of civility; but, to tell you both the truth, I shall always meet him not only withreluctance, but with something almost amounting to fear. "

Woodward, now that he had learned his fate, and was aware that hisbrother stood between him and his expectations, experienced a feeling ofvengeance against him and Alice, which he neither could, nor attemptedto, restrain. The rage of his mother, too, when she heard that thelatter had rejected him, and avowed her attachment to Charles, wentbeyond all bounds. Her son, however, who possessed a greater restraintupon his feelings, and was master of more profound hypocrisy andcunning, requested her to conceal the attachment of Alice to hisbrother, as a matter not to be disclosed on any account. 

"Leave me to my resources, " said he, "and it will go hard or I willso manage Charles as to disentangle him from the consequences of herinfluence over him. But the families, mother, must not be for thepresent permitted to visit again. On the contrary, it is better for ourpurposes that they should not see each other as formerly, nor resumetheir intimacy. If you suffer your passions to overcome you, even in ourown family, the consequence is that you prevent us both from playing ourgame as we ought, and as we shall do. Leave Charles to me; I shall makeO'Connor of use, too; but above all things do not breathe a syllable toany one of them of my having been thrown off. I think, as it is, I havedamped her ardor for him a little, and if she had not been obstinate andfoolishly romantic, I would have extinguished it completely. As it is, I told her to leave the truth of what I mentioned to her respecting him, to time, and if she does I shall rest satisfied. Will you now be guidedby me, my dear mother?"

"I will endeavor to do so, " she replied; "but it will be a terriblerestraint upon me, and I scarcely know how I shall be able to keepmyself calm. I will try, however; the object is worth it. You know ifshe dies without issue the property reverts to you. "

"Yes, mother, the object is worth much more than the paltry sacrificeI ask of you. Keep yourself quiet, then, and we will accomplish ourpurposes yet. I shall set instruments to work who will ripen ourprojects, and, I trust, ultimately accomplish them. "

"Why, what instruments do you intend to use?"

"I know the girl's disposition and character well. I have learned muchconcerning her from Casey, who is often there as a suitor for the fairhand of her favorite maid. Casey, however, is a man in whom I can placeno confidence; he is too much attached to the rest of the family, anddoes not at all relish me. I will make him an unconscious agent of mine, notwithstanding. In the meantime, let nothing appear in your manner thatmight induce them to suspect the present position of affairs between us. They may come to know it soon enough, and then it will be our businessto act with greater energy and decision. "

And so it was arranged between this precious mother and son. 

Woodward who was quick in the conception of his projects, had themall laid even then; and in order to work them out with due effect, heresolved to pay a visit to our friend, Sol Donnel, the herb doctor. This hypocritical old villain was uncle to Caterine Collins, thefortune-teller, who had prognosticated to him such agreeable tiding's onthe night of the bonfire. She, too, was to be made useful, and, so faras money could do it, faithful to his designs--diabolical as they were. He accordingly went one night, about the hour mentioned by Donnel, to the cabin of that worthy man; and knocking gently at the door, wasreplied to in a peevish voice, like that of an individual who had beeninterrupted in the performance of some act of piety and devotion. 

"Who is there?" said the voice inside. 

"A friend, " replied Woodward, in a low, cautious tone; "a friend, whowishes to speak to you. "

"I can't spake to you to-night, " replied Sol; "you're disturbin' me atmy prayers. "

"But I wish to speak to you on particular business. "

"What business? Let me finish my padereens and go to bed like a vilesinner, as I am--God help me. Who are you?"

"I don't intend to tell you that just now, Solomon; do you wish me toshout it out to you, in order that the whole neighborhood may hear it? Ihave private business with you. "

"Well, " replied the other, "I think, by your voice and language, you'renot a common man, and, although it's against my rule to open at this timeo' night to any one, still I'll let you in--and sure I must only say myprayers aftherwards. In the manetime it's a sin for you or any one todisturb me at them; if you knew what the value of one sinful sowl is inthe sight of God, you wouldn't do it--no, indeed. Wait till I light acandle. "

He accordingly lighted a candle, and in the course of a few minutesadmitted Woodward to his herbarium. When the latter entered, he lookedabout him with a curiosity not unnatural under the circumstances. Hisfirst sensation, however, was one that affected his olfactory nervesvery strongly. A combination of smells, struggling with each other, asit were, for predominance, almost overpowered him. The good and the bad, the pleasant and the oppressive, were here mingled up in one sickeningexhalation--for the disagreeable prevailed. The whole cabin was hungabout with bunches of herbs, some dry and withered, others fresh andgreen, giving evidence that they had been only newly gathered. A numberof bottles of all descriptions stood on wooden shelves, but withoutlabels, for the old sinner's long practice and great practical memoryenabled him to know the contents of every bottle with as much accuracyas if they had been labelled in capitals. 

"How the devil can you live and sleep in such a suffocating compound ofvile smells as this?" asked Woodward. 

The old man glanced at him keenly, and replied, --

"Practice makes masther, sir--I'm used to them; I feel no smell buta good smell; and I sleep sound enough, barrin' when I wake o' onepurpose, to think of and repent o' my sins, and of the ungrateful worldthat is about me; people that don't thank me for doin' them good--Godforgive them! _amin acheernah!_"

"Why, now, " replied Woodward, "if I had a friend of mine that wasunwell--observe me, a friend of mine--that stood between me and myown interests, and that I was kind and charitable enough to forget anyill-will against him, and wished to recover him from his illness throughthe means of your skill and herbs, could you not assist me in such agood and Christian work?"

The old fellow gave him a shrewd look and piercing glance, butimmediately replied--

"Why, to be sure, I could; what else is the business of my whole lifebut to cure my fellow-cratures of their complaints?"

"Yes; I believe you are very fortunate in that way; however, for thepresent, I don't require your aid, but it is very likely I shall soon. There is a friend of mine in poor health, and if he doesn't otherwiserecover, I shall probably apply to you; but, then, the party I speak ofhas such a prejudice against quacks of all sorts, that I fear we mustsubstitute one of your draughts, in a private way, for that of theregular doctor. That, however, is not what I came to speak to you about. Is not Caterine Collins, the fortune-teller a niece of yours?"

"She is, sir. "

"Where and when could I see her?--but mark me, I don't wish to be seenspeaking to her in public. "

"Why not?--what's to prevent you from chattin' wid her in an aisypleasant way in the streets; nobody will obsarve any thing then, orthink it strange that a gentleman should have a funny piece o' discoorsewid a fortune-teller. "

"I don't know that; observations might be made afterwards. "

"But what can she do for you that I can't? She's a bad graft to haveanything to do wid, and I wouldn't recommend you to put much trust inher. "

"Why so?"

"Why, she's nothin' else than a schemer. "

Little did old Solomon suspect that he was raising her very highly inthe estimation of his visitor by falling foul of her in this manner. 

"At all events, " said Woodward, "I wish to see her; and, as I said, Icame for the express purpose of asking you where and when I could seeher--privately, I mean. "

"That's what I can't tell you at the present spakin', " repliedSolomon. "She has no fixed place of livin', but is here to-day andaway to-morrow. God help you, she has travelled over the whole kingdomtellin' fortunes. Sometimes she's a dummy, and spakes to them bysigns--sometimes a gypsy--sometimes she's this and sometimes she'sthat, but not often the same thing long; she's of as many colors as therainbow. But if you do wish to see her, there's a chance that you mayto-morrow. A conjurer has come to town, and he's to open to-morrow, forboth town and country, and she'll surely be here, for that's taking thebit out of her mouth. "

"A conjurer!"

"Yes, he was here before some time ago, about the night of that bonfirethat was put out by the shower o' blood, but somehow he disappeared fromthe place, and he's now come back. "

"A conjurer--well, I shall see the conjurer myself to-morrow; but canyou give me no more accurate information with respect to your niece?"

"Sarra syllable--as I tould you, she's never two nights in the sameplace; but, if I should see her, I'll let her know your wishes; and whatmight I say, sir, that you wanted her to do for you?"

"That's none of your affair, most sagacious Solomon--I wish to speakwith her myself, and privately, too; and if you see her, tell her tomeet me here to-morrow night about this hour. "

"I'll do so; but God forgive you for disturbin' me in my devotions, asyou did. It's not often I'd give them up for any one; but sure out ofregard for the proprietor o' the town I'd do that, and more for you. "

"Here, " replied Woodward, putting some silver into his hand, "let thatconsole you; and tell your niece when you see her that I am a goodpaymaster; and, if I should stand in need of your skill, you shall findme so, too. Good-night, and may your prayers be powerful, as I know theycome from a Christian heart, honest Solomon. "

CHAPTER XI. A Conjurer's Levee. 

We cannot form at this distance of time any adequate notion of theinfluence which a conjurer of those days exercised over the minds andfeelings of the ignorant. It was necessary that he should be, or besupposed at least to be, well versed in judicial astrology, the use ofmedicine, and consequently able to cast a nativity, or cure any earthlycomplaint. There is scarcely any grade or species of superstition thatis not associated with or founded upon fear. The conjurer, consequently, was both feared and respected; and his character appeared in differentphases to the people--each phase adapted to the corresponding characterof those with whom he had to deal. The educated of those days, with butfew exceptions, believed in astrology, and the possibility of developingthe future fate and fortunes of an individual, whenever the hour of hisbirth and the name of the star or planet under which he was born couldbe ascertained. The more ignorant class, however, generally associatedthe character of the conjurer with that of the necromancer or magician, and consequently attributed his predictions to demoniacal influence. Neither were they much mistaken, for they only judged of these impostorsas they found them. In nineteen cases out of twenty, the character ofthe low astrologer, the necromancer, and the quack was associated, andthe influence of the stars and the aid of the devil were both consideredas giving assurance of supernatural knowledge to the same individual. This unaccountable anxiety to see, as it were, the volume of futurityunrolled, so far as it discloses individual fate, has characterizedmankind ever since the world began; and hence, even in the presentday, the same anxiety among the ignorant to run after spae-women, fortunetellers, and gypsies, in order to have their fortunes toldthrough the means of their adroit predictions. 

On the following morning the whole town of Rathfillan was in a state ofexcitement by the rumor that a conjurer had arrived, for the purpose notonly of telling all their future fates and fortunes, but of discoveringall those who had been guilty of theft, and the places where the stolenproperty was to be found. This may seem a bold stroke; but when weconsider the materials upon which the sagacious conjurer had to work, weneed not feel surprised at his frequent success. 

The conjurer in question had taken up his residence in the best innwhich the little town of Rathfillan afforded. Immediately after hisarrival he engaged the beadle, with bell in hand, to proclaim hispresence in the town, and the purport of his visit to that part of thecountry. This was done through the medium of printed handbills, whichthat officer read and distributed through the crowds who attended him. The bill in question was as follows:

"To the inhabitants of Rathfillan and the adjacent neighborhood, thefollowing important communications are made:--

"Her Zander Vanderpluckem, the celebrated German conjurer, astrologist, and doctor, who has had the honor of predicting the deaths of threekings, five queens, twenty-one princesses, and seven princes, all ofroyal blood, and in the best possible state of health at the time thepredictions were made, and to all of whom he had himself the honorof being medical attendant and state physician, begs to announce hisarrival in this town. He is the seventh son of the great and renownedconjurer, Herr Zander Vanderhoaxem, who made the stars tremble, and thedevil sweat himself to powder in a fit of repentance. His influence overthe stars and heavenly bodies is tremendous, and it is a well-known factthroughout the universe that he has them in such a complete state ofterror and subjection, that a single comet dare not wag his tail unlessby his permission. He travels up and down the milky way one night inevery month, to see that the dairies of the sky are all right, and thatthat celebrated path be properly lighted; brings down a pail of the milkwith him, which he churns into butyrus, an unguent so efficacious thatit cures all maladies under the sun, and many that never existed. Itcan be had at five shillings a spoonful. He can make Ursa Major, orthe Great Bear, dance without a leader, and has taught Pisces, or theFishes, to live out of water--a prodigy never known or heard of beforesince the creation of _terra firma_. Such is the power of the great andcelebrated Her Vanderpluckem over the stars and planets. But now to comenearer home: he cures all patients of all complaints. No person askinghis assistance need ever be sick, unless when they happen to be unwell. His insight into futurity is such that, whenever he looks far into it, he is obliged to shut his eyes. He can tell fortunes, discover hiddenwealth to any amount, and create such love between sweethearts as willbe sure to end in matrimony. He is complete master of the fairies, and has the whole generation of them under his thumb; and he generallytravels with the king of the fairies in his left pocket closed up in asnuffbox. He interprets dreams and visions, and is never mistaken; canforetell whether a child unborn will be a boy or a girl, and can alsoinform the parents whether it will be brought to the bench or thegallows. He can also foretell backwards, and disclose to the individualanything that shall happen to him or her for the last seven years. Hisphilters, concocted upon the profound science of alchemistic philosophy, have been sought for by persons of the highest distinction, who havealways found them to produce the very effects for which they wereintended, to wit, mutual affection between the parties, uniformly endingin matrimony and happiness. Devils expelled, ghosts and spirits laid onthe shortest notice, and at the most moderate terms. Also, recipes tofarmers for good weather or rain, according as they may be wanted. 

"(Signed, ) Her Zander VANDERPLUCKEM, "

"The Greatest Conjurer, Astrologer, and Doctor in the world. "

To describe the effect that this bill, which, by the way, was postedagainst every dead wall in the town, had upon the people, would beimpossible. The inn in which he stopped was, in a short time, crowdedwith applicants, either for relief or information, according as theirills or wishes came under the respective heads of his advertisement. Theroom he occupied was upstairs, and he had a door that led into a smallerone, or kind of closet, at the end of it; here sat an old-looking man, dressed in a black coat, black breeches, and black stockings; the verypicture of the mysterious individual who had appeared and disappeared sosuddenly at the bonfire. He had on a full-bottomed wig, and a long whitebeard, depending from the lower part of his face, swept his reverendbreast. A large book lay open before him, on the pages of which wereinscribed cabalistic characters and strange figures. He only admittedthose who wished to consult him, singly; for on no occasion did he everpermit two persons at a time to approach him. All the paraphernalia ofastrology were exposed upon the same table, at one end of which he satin an arm-chair, awaiting the commencement of operations. At lengtha good-looking country-woman, of about forty-five years, made herappearance, and, after a low courtesy, was solemnly motioned to take aseat. 

"Well, Mrs. Houlaghan, " said he, "how do you do?"

The poor woman got as pale as death. "Heavenly Father, " thought she, "how does it happen that he comes to know my name!"

"Mrs. Houlaghan, what can I do for you? not that I need ask, for I couldgive a very good guess at it;" and this he added with a very sage andsolemn visage, precisely as if he knew the whole circumstances. 

"Why, your honor, " she replied--"but, blessed Father, how did you cometo know my name?"

"That's a question, " he replied, solemnly, "which you ought not to askme. It is enough that you see I know it. How is your husband, Frank, andhow is your daughter, Mary? She's complaining of late--is she not?"

This private knowledge of the family completely overwhelmed her, and shefelt unable to speak for some time. 

"Do not be in a hurry, Mrs. Honlaghan, " said he, mildly; "reflect uponwhat you are about to say, and take your time. "

"It's a ghost, your reverence, " she replied--"a ghost that haunts thehouse. "

"Very well, Mrs. Houlaghan; the fee for laying a ghost is fiveshillings; I will trouble you for that sum; we conjurers have no poweruntil we get money from the party concerned, and then we can work witheffect. "

The simple woman, in the agitation of the moment, handed him the amountof his demand, and then collected herself to hear the response, and themeans of laying the ghost. 

"Well, now, " said he, "tell me all about this ghost, Mrs. Houlaghan. Howlong has it been troubling the family?"

"Why, then, ever since Frank lost the use of his sight, now goin' uponfive months. "

"When does it appear?"

"Why, generally afther twelve at night; and what makes it more strangeis, that poor Mary's more afeard o' me than she is of the ghost. Shesays it appears to her in her bedroom every night; but she knows I'm sotimersome that she keeps her door always locked for fraid I'd see it, poor child. "

"Does it terrify her?"

"Not a bit; she says it does her no harm on earth, and that it's greatcompany for her when she can't sleep. "

"Has Mary many sweethearts?"

"She has two: one o' them rather ould, but wealthy and well to do; herfather and myself, wishin' to see her well settled, are doin' all we canto get her consent to marry him. "

"Who's the other?"

"One Brine Oge M'Gaveran, a good-lookin' vagabone, no doubt, but notworth a copper. "

"Is she fond of him?"

"Troth, to tell you the truth, I'm afeard she is; he has been often seenabout the house in the evenin's. "

"Well, Mrs. Houlaghan, I will tell you how to lay this ghost. "

"God bless you, sir; poor Mary, although she purtends that the ghost isgood company for her, is lookin' pale and very quare somehow. "

"Well, then, here is the receipt for laying the ghost: Marry her as soonas you possibly can to Brine Oge M'Gaveran--do that and the ghost willnever appear again; but if you refuse to do it--I may lay that ghost ofcourse--but another ghost, as like it as an egg is to an egg, willhaunt your house until she is married to Brine Oge. You have wealthyourselves, and you can make Brine and her comfortable if you wish. She is your only child"--("Blessed Father, think of him knowin'this!")--"and as you are well to do in the world, it's both a sin and ascandal for you to urge a pretty young girl of nineteen to marry anold miserly runt of fifty. You know now how to lay the ghost, Mrs. Houlaghan--and that is what I can do for you; but if you do not marryher to Brine Oge, as I said, another ghost will certainly contrive tohaunt you. You may now withdraw. "

A farmer, with a very shrewd and comic expression of countenance, nextmade his appearance, and taking his hat off and laying it on the floorwith his staff across it, took his seat, as he had been motioned to do, upon the chair which Mrs. Houlaghan had just vacated. 

"Well, my friend, " said the conjurer, "what's troubling you?"

"A crock o' butther, your honor. "

"How is that? explain yourself. "

"Why, sir, a crock o' butther that was stolen from me; and I'm tould fora sartinty that you can discover the thief o' the world that stole it. "

"And so I can. Do you suspect anybody?"

"Troth, sir, I can't say--for I live in a very honest neighborhood. The only two thieves that were in it--Charley Folliott and GeorgeAustin--were hanged not long ago, and I don't know anybody else in thecountry side that would stale it. "

"What family have you?"

"Three sons, sir. "

"How many daughters?"

"One, sir--but she's only a _girsha_" (a little girl). 

"I suppose your sons are very good children to you?"

"Betther never broke bread, sir--all but the youngest. "

"What age is he?"

"About nineteen, sir, or goin' an twenty; but he's a, heart-scald to meand the family--although he's his mother's pet; the divil can't standhim for dress--and, moreover, he's given to liquor and card-playin', andis altogether goin' to the bad. Widin the last two or three days he hasbought himself a new hat, a new pair o' brogues, and a pair o' span-newbreeches--and, upon my conscience, it wasn't from me or mine he got themoney to buy them. "

The conjurer looked solemnly into his book for some minutes, and thenraising his head, fastened his cold, glassy, glittering eyes on thefarmer with a glance that filled him with awe. 

"I have found it out, " said he; "there are two parties to thetheft--your wife and your youngest son. Go to the hucksters of the town, and ask them if they will buy any more butter like the last of yoursthat they bought, and, depend on it, you will find out the truth. "

"Then you think, sir, it was my wife and son between them that stole thebutter?"

"Not a doubt of it, and if you tell them that I said so, they willconfess it. You owe me five shillings. "

The farmer put his hand in his pocket, and placing the money beforehim, left the room, satisfied that there was no earthly subject, past, present, or to come, with which the learned conjurer was not acquainted. 

The next individual that came before him was a very pretty buxomwidow, who, having made the venerable conjurer a courtesy, sat down andimmediately burst into tears. 

"What is the matter with you, madam?" asked the astrologer, rathersurprised at this unaccountable exhibition of the pathetic. 

"O, sir, I lost, about fifteen months ago, one of the best husbands thatever broke the world's bread. "

Here came another effusion, accompanied with a very distracted blow ofthe nose. 

"That must have been very distressing to you, madam; he must have beenextremely fond of such a very pretty wife. "

"O sir, he doted alive upon me, as I did upon him--poor, darling oldPaul. "

"Ah, he was old, was he?"

"Yes, sir, and left me very rich. "

"But what do you wish me to do for you?"

"Why, sir, he was very fond of money; was, in fact, a--a--kind of miserin his way. My father and mother forced me to marry the dear old man, and I did so to please them; but at the same time he was very kind inhis manner to me--indeed, so kind that he allowed me a shilling a monthfor pocket money. "

"Well, but what is your object in coming to me?"

"Why, sir, to ask your opinion on a case of great difficulty. "

"Very well, madam; you shall have the best opinion in the known worldupon the subject--that is, as soon as I hear it. Speak out withouthesitation, and conceal nothing. "

"Why, sir, the poor dear man before his death--ah, that ever my darlingold Paul should have been taken away from me!--the poor dear man, before his death--ahem--before his death--O, ah, "--here came anothereffusion--"began to--to--to--get jealous of me with a young man in theneighborhood that--that--I was fond of before I married my dear oldPaul. "

"Was the young man in question handsome?"

"Indeed, sir, he was, and is, very handsome--and the impudent minxes ofthe parish are throwing their caps at him in dozens. "

"But still you are keeping me in the dark. "

"Well, sir, I will tell you my difficulty. When poor dear old Paul wasdying, he called me to the bed-side one day, and says to me: 'Biddy, 'says he, 'I'm going to die--and you know I am wealthy; but, in themeantime, I won't leave you sixpence. ' 'It's not the loss of yourmoney I am thinking of, my darling Paul, ' says I, 'but the loss ofyourself"--and I kissed him, and cried. 'You didn' often kiss me thatway before, ' said he--' and I know what you're kissing me for now. ''No, ' I said, 'I did not; because I had no notion then of losing you, myown darling Paul--you don't know how I loved you all along, Paul, ' saidI; 'kiss me again, jewel. ' 'Now, ' said he, ' I'm not going to leave yousixpence, and I'll tell you why--I saw young Charley Mulvany, that youwere courting before I married you--I saw him, I say, through the windythere, kiss you, with my own eyes, when you thought I was asleep--andyou put your arms about his neck and hugged him, ' said he. I must beparticular, sir, in order that you may understand the difficulty I'min. "

"Proceed, madam, " said the conjurer. "If I were young I certainly wouldenvy Charley Mulvany--but proceed. "

"Well, sir, I replied to him: 'Paul, dear, ' said I, 'that was a kiss offriendship--and the reason of it was, that poor Charley was near cryingwhen he heard that you were going to die and to leave me so lonely. ''Well, ' said he, 'that may be--many a thing may be that's notlikely--and that may be one of them. Go and get a prayer-book, and comeback here. ' Well, sir, I got a book and I went back. 'Now, ' said he, 'if you swear by the contents of that book that you will never put aring on man after my death, I'll leave you my property. ' 'Ah, God pardonyou, Paul, darling, ' said I, 'for supposing that I'd ever dream ofmarrying again'--and I couldn't help kissing him once more and cryingover him when I heard what he said. 'Now, ' said he, 'kiss the book, andswear that you'll never put a ring on man after my death, and I'll leaveyou every shilling I'm worth. ' God knows it was a trying scene to aloving heart like mine--so I swore that I'd never put a ring on manafter his death--and then he altered his will and left me the propertyon those conditions. "

"Proceed, madam, " said the conjurer; "I am still in the dark as to theobject of your visit. "

"Why, sir, it is to know--ahem--O, poor old Paul. God forgive me! it wasto know, sir, O--"

"Don't cry, madam, don't cry. "

"It was to know, sir, if I could ever think of--of--you must know, sir, we had no family, and I would not wish that the property should die withme; to know if--if you think I could venture to marry again?"

"This, " replied the conjurer, "is a matter of unusual importance anddifficulty. In the first place you must hand me a guinea--that is my feefor cases of this kind. "

The money was immediately paid, and the conjurer proceeded: "I said itwas a case of great difficulty, and so it is, but--"

"I forgot to mention, sir, that when I went out to get the prayer-book, I found Charley Mulvany in the next room, and he said he had one in hispocket; so that the truth, sir, is, I--I took the oath upon a bookof ballads. Now, " she proceeded, "I have strong reasons for marryingCharley Mulvany; and I wish to know if I can do so without losing theproperty. "

"Make your mind easy on that point, " replied the conjurer; "you sworenever to put a ring on man, but you did not swear that a man would neverput a ring on you. Go home, " he continued, "and if you be advised by me, you will marry Charley Mulvany without loss of time. "

A man rather advanced in years next came in, and taking his seat, wipedhis face and gave a deep groan. 

"Well, my friend, " said the conjurer, "in what way can I serve you?"

"God knows it's hard to tell that, " he replied--"but I'm troubled. "

"What troubles you?"

"It's a quare world, sir, altogether. "

"There are many strange things in it certainly. "

"That's truth, sir; but the saison's favorable, thank God, and there'severy prospect of a fine spring for puttin' down the crops. "

"You are a farmer, then; but why should you feel troubled about what youcall a fine season for putting down the crops?"

The man moved uneasily upon his chair, and seemed at a loss how toproceed; the conjurer looked at him, and waited for a little that hemight allow him sufficient time to disclose his difficulties. 

"There are a great many troubles in this life, sir, especially inmarried families. "

"There is no doubt of that, my friend, " replied the conjurer. 

"No, sir, there is not. I am not aisy in my mind, somehow. "

"Hundreds of thousands are so, as well as you, " replied the other. "Iwould be glad to see the man who has not something to trouble him; butwill you allow me to ask you what it is that troubles you?"

"I took her, sir, widout a shift to her back, and a betther husbandnever breathed the breath of life than I have been to her;" and then hepaused, and pulling out his handkerchief, shed bitter tears. "I wouldlove her still, if I could, sir; but, then, the thing's impossible. "

"O, yes, " said the conjurer; "I see you are jealous of her; but will youstate upon what grounds?"

"Well, sir, I think I have good grounds for it. "

"What description of a woman is your wife, and what age is she?"

"Why, sir, she's about my own age. She was once handsome enough--indeed, very handsome when I married her. "

"Was the marriage a cordial one between you and her?"

"Why, sir, she was dotin' upon me, as I was upon her?"

"Have you had a family?"

"A fine family, sir, of sons and daughters. "

"And how long is it since you began to suspect her?"

"Why, sir, I--I--well, no matther about that; she was always a good wifeand a good mother, until--" Here he paused, and again wiped his eyes. 

"Until what?"

"Why, sir, until Billy Fulton, the fiddler, came across her. "

"Well, and what did Billy Fulton do?"

"He ran away wid my ould woman, sir. "

"What age is Billy Fulton?"

"About my own age, sir; but by no means so stout a man; he's a dancin'masther, too, sir; and barrin' his pumps and white cotton stockin's, I don't know what she could see in him; he's a poor light crature, andwalks as if he had a hump on his hip, for he always carries his fiddleundher his skirt. Ay, and what's more, sir, our daughter, Nancy, is goneoff wid him. "

"The devil she is. Why, did the old dancing-master run off with both ofthem? How long is it since this elopement took place?"

"Only three days, sir. "

"And you wish me to assist you?"

"If you can, sir; and I ought to tell you that the vagabone's son isgone off wid them too. "

"O, O, " said the conjurer, "that makes the matter worse. "

"No, it doesn't, sir, for what makes the matter worse is, that they tookaway a hundred and thirty pounds of my money along wid 'em. "

"Then you wish to know what I can do for you in this business?"

"I do, sir, i' you plaise. "

"Were you ever jealous of your wife before?"

"No, not exactly jealous, sir, but a little suspicious or so; I didn'tthink it safe to let her out much; I thought it no harm to keep my eyeon her. "

"Now, " said the conjurer, "is it not notorious that you are the mostjealous--by the way, give me five shillings; I can make no furthercommunications till I am paid; there--thank you--now, is it notnotorious that you are one of the most jealous old scoundrels in thewhole country?"

"No, sir, barrin' a little wholesome suspicion. "

"Well, sir, go home about your business. Your daughter and the dancingmaster's son have made a runaway match of it, and your wife, to protectthe character of her daughter, has gone with them. You are a miser, too. Go home now; I have nothing more to say to you, except that you havebeen yourself a profligate. Look at that book, sir; there it is; thestars have told me so. "

"You have got my five shillings, sir; but say what you like, allthe wather in the ocean wouldn't wash her clear of the oulddancin'-masther. "

In the course of a few minutes a beautiful peasant girl entered theroom, her face mantled with blushes, and took her seat on the chair asthe others had done, and remained for some time silent, and apparentlypanting with agitation. 

"What is your name, my pretty girl?" asked the conjurer. 

"Grace Davoren, " replied the girl. 

"And what do you wish to know from me, Miss Davoren?"

"O, don't call me miss, sir; I'm but a poor girl. "

The conjurer looked into his book for a few minutes, and then, raisinghis head, and fixing his eyes upon her, replied--

"Yes, I will call you miss, because I have looked into your fate, and Isee that there is great good fortune before you. "

The young creature blushed again and smiled with something likeconfidence, but seemed rather at a loss what to say, or how to proceed. 

"From your extraordinary beauty you must have a great many admirers, Miss Davoren. "

"But only two, sir, that gives me any trouble--one of them is a--"

The conjurer raised his hand as an intimation to her to stop, and afterporing once more over the book for some time, proceeded:--

"Yes--one of them is Shawn-na-Middogue; but he's an outlaw--and thatcourtship is at an end now. "

"Wid me, it is, sir; but not wid him. The sogers and autorities is outfor him and others; but still he keeps watchin' me as close as he can. "

"Well, wait till I look into the book of fate again--yes--yes--hereis--a gentleman over head and ears in love with you. "

Poor Grace blushed, then became quite pale. "But, sir, " said she, "willthe gentleman marry me?"

"To be sure he will marry you; but he cannot for some time. "

"But will he save me from disgrace and shame, sir?" she asked, with adeath-like face. 

"Don't make your mind uneasy on that point;--but wait a moment till Ifind out his name in the great book of fatality;--yes, I see--his nameis Woodward. Don't, however, make your mind uneasy; he will take care ofyou. "

"My mind is very uneasy, sir, and I wish I had never seen him. But Idon't know what could make him fall in love wid a poor simple girl likeme. "

This was said in the coquettish consciousness of the beauty which sheknew she possessed, and it was accompanied, too, by a slight smile ofself-complacency. 

"Do you think I could become a lady, sir?"

"A lady! why, what is to prevent you? You are a lady already. You wantnothing but silks and satins, jewels and gold rings, to make you aperfect lady. "

"And he has promised all these to me, " she replied. 

"Yes; but there is one thing you ought to do for your own sake andhis--and that is to betray Shaivn-na-Middogue, if you can; because ifyou do not, neither your own life, nor that of your lover, Mr. Woodward, will be safe. "

"I couldn't do that, sir, " replied the girl, "it would be treacherous;and sooner than do so, I'd just as soon he would kill me at wanst--stillI would do a great deal to save Mr. Woodward. But will Mr. Woodwardmarry me, sir? because he said he would--in the coorse of some time. "

"And if he said so don't be uneasy; he is a gentleman, and a gentleman, you know, always keeps his word. Don't be alarmed, my pretty girl--yourlover will provide for you. "

"Am I to pay you anything, sir?" she asked, rising. 

"No, my dear, I will take no money from you; but if you wish to saveMr. Woodward from danger, you will enable the soldiers to, arrestShawn-na-Middogue. Even you, yourself, are not safe so long as he is atlarge. "

She then took her leave in silence. 

It is not to be supposed that among the crowd that was assembled aroundthe inn door there were not a number of waggish characters, who feltstrongly inclined to have, if possible, a hearty laugh at the greatconjurer. No matter what state of society may exist, or what state offeeling may prevail, there will always be found a class of persons whoare exceptions to the general rule. Whilst the people were chattingin wonder and admiration, not without awe and fear, concerning theextraordinary knowledge and power of the conjurer, a character peculiarto all times and all ages made his appearance, and soon joined them. This was one of those circulating, unsettled vagabonds, whom, likescum, society, whether agitated or not, is always sure to throw on thesurface. The comical miscreant no sooner made his appearance than, likeListon, when coming on the stage, he was greeted with a general roar oflaughter. 

"So, " said he, "you have a conjurer above. But wait a while; by thepowdhers o' delf Rantin' Rody's the boy will try his mettle. If he canlook farther than his nose, I'm the lad will find it out. If he doesn'tsay I'll be hanged, he knows nothing about his business. I have myselfhalf-a-dozen hangmen engaged to let me down aisy; it's a death I've agreat fancy for, and, plaise God, I'm workin' honestly to desarve it. Which of you has a cow to steal? for, by the sweets o' rosin, I'm low incash, and want a thrifle to support nather; for nather, my boys, must besupported, and it was never my intintion to die for want o' my vittles;aitin' and drinkin' is not very pleasant to most people, I know, but Iwas born wid a fancy for both. "

"Rantin' Rody, in airnest, will you go up and have your fortune tould?"

"But wait, " he proceeded; "wait, I say, --wait, --I have it. " And as hesaid so he went at the top of his speed down the street, and disappearedin Sol Donnel's cabin. 

"By this and by that, " said one of them, "Rtn'tin' Rody will take spunkout of him, if it's in him. "

"I think he had better have notin' to do wid him, " said an old woman, "for fraid he'd rise the devil--Lord guard us! Sure it's the same manthat was in this very town the night he was _riz_ before, and that thebonfire for Suil Balor (the eye of Balor, or the Evil Eye) Woodward wasdrowned by a shower of blood. Troth I wouldn't be in the same Woodward'scoat for the wealth o' the world. As for Rantin' Rody, let him take careof himself. It's never safe to sport wid edged tools, and he'll be aptto find it so, if he attempts to put his tricks upon the conjurer. "

In the meantime, while that gentleman was seated above stairs, a female, tall, slim, and considerably advanced in years, entered the room andtook her seat. Her face was thin, and red in complexion, especiallyabout the point of a rather long nose, where the color appeared to beconsiderably deeper in hue. 

"Sir, " said she, in a sharp tone of voice, "I'm told you can tellfortunes. "

"Certainly, madam, " he replied, you have been correctly informed. "

"You won't be offended, then, if I wish to ask you a question or two. It's not about myself, but a sister of mine, who is--ahem--what thecensorious world is pleased to call an old maid. "

"Why did your sister not come herself?" he asked; "I cannot predictanything unless the individual is before me; I must have him or her, asthe case may be, under my eye. "

"Bless me, sir! I didn't know that; but as I am now here--could you tellme anything about myself?"

"I could tell you many things, " replied the conjurer, who read old maidin every line of her face--"many things not very pleasant for you toreflect upon. "

"O, but I don't wish to hear anything unpleasant, " said she; "tell mesomething that's agreeable. "

"In the first place, I cannot do so, " he replied; "I must be guidedby truth. You have, for instance, been guilty of great cruelty; andalthough you are but a young woman, in the very bloom of life--"

Here the lady bowed to him, and simpered--her thin, red nose twistedinto a gracious curl, as thanking him for his politeness. 

"In the very prime of life, madam--yet you have much to be accountablefor, in consequence of your very heartless cruelty to the male sex--yousee, madam, and you feel too, that I speak truth. "

The lady put the spectre of an old fan up to her withered visage, andpretended to enact a blush of admission. 

"Well, sir, " she replied, "I--I--I cannot say but that--indeed I havebeen charged with--not that it--cruelty--I mean--was ever in my heart;but you must admit, sir, that--that--in fact--where too many press, upona person, it is the more difficult choose. "

"Unquestionably; but you should have, made a judicious selection--andthat was because you were in no hurry--and indeed you need not be; youhave plenty of time before you. Still, there is much blame attached toyou--you have defrauded society of its rights. Why, now, you might havebeen the proud mother of a son or daughter at least five years old bythis time, if it had not been for your own obduracy--excuse me. "

Up went the skeleton fan again with a wonderfully modest if not anoffended simper at the notion of such an insinuation; but, said shein her heart, this is the most gentlemanly conjurer that ever told afortune; quite a delightful old gentleman; he is really charming; I wishI had met him twenty years ago. "

"Well, sir, " she replied, "I see there is no use in denying--especiallyto you, who seem to know everything--the truth of the facts you havestated. There was one gentleman in particular whom I rejected--thatis, conditionally--rather harshly; and do you know, he took thescarlet-fever soon afterwards and died of a broken-heart. "

"Go on, madam, " said he; "make a clean breast of it--so shall you enableme to compare the future with the past, and state your coming fortunesmore distinctly. "

"Another gentleman, sir--a country squire--owes, I fear, his death to myseverity; he was a hard drinker, but I gave him a month to reform--whichsentence he took so much to heart that he broke his neck in a fox-chasefrom mere despair. A third individual--a very handsome young man--ofwhom I must confess I was a little jealous about his flirting withanother young lady--felt such remorse that he absolutely ran away withand married her. I know, of course, I am accountable for all thesecalamities; but it cannot be helped now--my conscience must bear it. "

"You should not look back upon these things with too much remorse, "replied the conjurer; "forget them--bear a more relenting heart; makesome man happy, and marry. Have you no person at present in your eyewith whom you could share your charms and your fortune?"

"O, sir, you are complimentary. "

"Not at all, madam; speak to me candidly, as you perceive I do to you. "

"Well, then, " she replied, "there is a young gentleman with whomI should wish to enter into a--a domestic--that is--a matrimonialconnection. "

"Pray what age is he?"

"Indeed, he is but young, scarce nineteen; but then he is very wild, andI--I--have--indeed I am of too kind a heart, sir. I have supplied hisextravagance--for so I must call it--poor boy--but cannot exactlyget him to accept a legitimate right over me--I fear he is attachedelsewhere--but you know he is young, sir, and. Not come to his ripejudgment yet. I read your handbill, sir; and if you could furnish mewith a--something--ahem--that might enable me to gain, or rather torestore his affections--for I think he was fond of me some few monthsago--I would not grudge whatever the payment might be. "

"You mean a philter?"

"I believe that is what it is called, sir. "

"Well, madam, you shall be supplied with a philter that never fails, onthe payment ol twenty-one shillings. This, philter, madam, will not onlymake him fond of you before marriage, but will secure his affectionsduring life, increasing them day by day, so that every month of yourlives will be a delicious honeymoon. There is another bottle at the sameprice; it may not, indeed, be necessary for you, but I can assure youthat it has made many families happy where there had been previouslybut little prospect of happiness; the price is the same--twenty-oneshillings. "

Up went the spectral fan again, and out came the forty-two shillings, and, with a formal courtesy, the venerable old maid walked away with thetwo bottles of aqua pura in her pocket. 

Now came the test for the conjurer's knowledge--the sharp and unexpectedtrial of his skill and sagacity. After the old maid had taken her leave, possessed of the two bottles, a middle-aged, large-sized woman walkedin, and, after making a low courtesy, sat down as she had been desired. The conjurer glanced keenly at her, and something like a smile might beseen to settle upon his features; it was so slight, however, that thegood woman did not notice it. 

"Pray, what's the object of your visit to me, may I ask?"

"My husband, sir--he runn'd away from me, sure. "

"Small blame to him, " replied the conjurer. "If I had such a wife Iwould not remain a single hour in her company. "

"And is that the tratement you give a heart-broken and desarted craturelike me?"

"Come, what made him run away from you?"

"In regard, sir, of a dislike he took to me. "

"That was a proof that the man had some taste. "

"Ay, but why hadn't he that taste afore he married me?"

"It was very well that he had it afterwards--better late than never. "

"I want you to tell me where he is. "

"What family have you?"

"Seven small childre that's now fatherless, I may say. "

"What kind of a man was your husband?"

"Why, indeed, as handsome a vagabone as you'd see in a day'stravellin'. "

"Mention his name; I can tell you nothing till I hear it. "

"He's called Rantin' Rody, the thief, and a great schamer he is amongthe girls. "

"Ranting Rody--let me see, " and here he looked very solemnly into hisbook--"yes; I see--a halter. My good woman, you had better not inquireafter him; he was born to be hanged. "

"But when will that happen, sir?"

"Your fate and his are so closely united, that, whenever he swings, youwill swing. You will both hang together from the same gallows; so that, in point of fact, you need not give yourself much trouble about the timeof his suspension, because I see it written here in the book of fate, that the same hangman who swings you off, will swing him off at the samemoment. You'll 'lie lovingly together; and when he puts his tongue outat those who will attend his execution, so will you; and when he danceshis last jig in their presence, so will you. Are you now satisfied?"

"Troth, and I'm very fond o' the vagabone, although he's the worstfriend I ever had. But you won't tell me where he is? and I know why, because, with all your pretended knowledge, the devil a know you know. "

"Are you sure of that?"

"Ay, cocksure. "

"Then I can tell you that he is sitting on the chair there, opposite me. Go about your business, Rody, and rant elsewhere; you may impose uponothers, but not upon a man that can penetrate the secrets of human lifeas I can. Go now; there is a white wand in the corner, --my conjuringrod, --and if I only touched you with it, I could leave you a cripple andbeggar for life. Go, I say, and tell Caterine Collins how much she andyou gained by this attempt at disgracing me. "

Rody, for it was he, was thunderstruck at this discovery, and, springingto his feet, disappeared. 

"Well, Rody, " said the crowd, "how did you manage? Did he know you?"

Rody was as white in the face as a sheet. "Let me alone, " he replied;"the conjurer above is the devil, and nothin' else. I must get a glasso' whiskey; I'm near faintin'; I'm as wake as a child; my strength'sgone The man, or the devil, or whatsomever he is, knows everything, and, what is worse, he tould me I am to be hanged in earnest. "

"Faith, Rody, that required no great knowledge on his part; there's nota man here but could have tould you the same thing, and there's none ofus a conjurer. "

Rody, however, immediately left them to discuss the matter amongthemselves, and went, thoroughly crestfallen, to give an account of hismission to Caterine Collins, who had employed him, and to reassume hisown clothes, which, indeed, were by no means fresh from the tailor. 

The last individual whose interview with the conjurer we shall noticewas no other than Harry Woodward, our hero. On entering he took hisseat, and looked familiarly at the conjurer. 

"Well, " said he, "there was no recognition?"

"How could there?" replied the other; "you know the thing's impossible;even without my beard, nobody in the town or about it knows my face, and to those who see me in character, they have other things to think ofthan the perusal of my features. "

"The girl was with you?"

"She yes, and I feel that, unless we can get Shawn-na-Middogue taken offby some means or other, your life will not, cannot, be safe. "

"She won't betray him, then? But I need not ask, for I have pressed herupon that matter before. "

"She is very right in not doing so, " replied the conjurer; "because, ifshe did, the consequence would be destruction to herself and her family. In addition to this, however, I don't think it's in her power to betrayhim. He never sleeps more than one night in the same place; and sinceher recent conduct to him--I mean since her intimacy with you--he wouldplace no confidence in her. "

"He certainly is not aware of our intimacy. "

"Of course he is not; you would soon know it to your cost if he were. The place of your rendezvous is somewhat too near civilization for him;you should, however, change it; never meet twice in the same place, ifyou can. "

"You are reaping a tolerably good harvest here, I suppose. Do they everplace you in a difficulty?"

"Difficulty! God help you; there is not an individual among them, orthroughout the whole parish, with whose persons, circumstances, andcharacters I am not acquainted; but even if it were not so, I could makethem give me unconsciously the very information they want--returned tothem, of course, in a new shape. I make them state the facts, and I drawthe inferences; nothing is easier; it is a trick that every impostor ismaster of. How do you proceed with Miss Goodwin?"

"That matter is hopeless by fair means--she's in love with that d----dbrother of mine. "

"No chance of the property, then?"

"Not as affairs stand at present; we must, however, maintain ourintimacy; if so, I won't despair yet. "

"But what do you intend to do? If she marries your brother the propertygoes to him--and you may go whistle. "

"I don't give it up, though--I bear a brain still, I think; but thetruth is, I have not completed my plan of operations. What I am to do, Iknow not yet exactly. If I could break off the match between her and mybrother, she might probably, through the influence of her parentsand other causes, he persuaded into a reluctant marriage with HarryWoodward; time, however, will tell, and I must only work my way throughthe difficulty as well as I can. I will now leave you, and I don't thinkI shall be able to see you again for a week to come. "

"Before you go let me ask if you know a vagabond called Ranting Rody, who goes about through the country living no one knows how?"

"No, I do not know him; what is he?"

"He's nothing except a paramour of Caterine Collins's, who, you know, is a rival of ours; nobody here knows anything about him, whilst he, itappears, knows every one and everything. "

"He would make a good conjurer, " replied Woodward, smiling. 

"If the fellow could be depended on, " replied the other, "he mightbe useful; in fact, I am of opinion that if he wished he could trace_Shawn-na-Middogue's_ haunts. The scoundrel attempted just now to imposeupon me in the dress of a woman, and, were it not that I knew him sowell, he might have got my beard stripped from my face, and my bonesbroken besides; but I feel confident that if any one could trace andsecure the outlaw, he could--I mean with proper assistance. Think ofthis. "

"I shall find him out, " replied Woodward, "and sound him, at all events, and I think through Caterine Collins I may possibly secure him; but wemust be cautious. Good-by; I wish you success!"

After which he passed through the crowd, exclaiming, "A wonderful man--an astonishing man--and a fearful man; that is if hebe a man, which I very much doubt. "

CHAPTER XII. Fortune-telling

Ever since the night of the bonfire Woodward's character becameinvolved more or less in a mystery that was peculiar to the time andthe superstitions of the period. That he possessed, the Evil Eye waswhispered about; and what was still more strange, it was not his wishthat such rumors should be suppressed. They had not yet, however, reached either Alice Goodwin or her parents. In the meantime thefeelings of the two families were once more suspended in a kind ofneutral opposition, each awaiting the other to make the first advance. Poor Alice, however, appeared rather declining in health and spirits, for, notwithstanding her firm and generous defence of Charles Lindsay, his brother, to a certain extent, succeeded in shaking her confidencein his attachment. Her parents; frequently asked her the cause of herapparent melancholy, but she only gave them evasive replies, and statedthat she had not felt herself very well since Henry Woodward's lastinterview with her. 

They now urged her to take exercise--against which, indeed, she alwayshad a constitutional repugnance--and not to sit so much in her own roomas she did; and in order to comply with their wishes in this respect, she forced herself to walk a couple of hours each day in the lawn, whereshe generally read a book, for the purpose, if possible, of overcomingher habitual melancholy. It was upon one of these occasions that she sawthe fortune-teller, Caterine Collins, approach her, and as her spiritswere unusually depressed for the moment, she felt no inclination toenter into any conversation with her. Naturally courteous, however, andreluctant to give offence, she allowed the woman to advance, especiallyas she could perceive from the earnestness of her manner that she wasanxious to speak with her. 

"Well, Caterine, " said she, "I hope you are not coming to tell myfortune to-day; I am not in spirits to hear much of the future, beit good or bad. Will you not go up to the house? They will give yousomething to eat. "

"Thank you, Miss Alice, I will go up by and by; but in the manetime, what fortune could any one tell you but good fortune? There's nothin'else before you; and if there is, I'm come to put you on your guardagainst it, as I will, plaise goodness. I heard what I'm goin' tomention to you on good autority, and, as I know it's true, I thinkit's but right you should know of it, too. " Alice immediately becameagitated; but mingled with that agitation was a natural wish--perhapsit might be a pardonable curiosity, under the circumstances--to hearhow what the woman had to disclose could affect herself. Being nervous, restless, and depressed, she was just in the very frame of mind toreceive such an impression as might be deeply prejudicial to the ease ofher heart--perhaps her happiness, and consequently her health. 

"What is it that you think I should know, Caterine?"

Caterine, who looked about her furtively, as if to satisfy herself thatthere was no one present but themselves, said, --

"Now, Miss Goodwin, everything depends on whether you'll answer me onequestion truly, and you needn't be afeard to spake the truth to me. "

"Is it concerning myself?"

"It is, Miss Goodwin, and another, too, but principally yourself. "

"But what right have you, Caterine, to question me upon my own affairs?"

"No right, miss; but I wish to prevent you from, harm. "

"I thank you for your good wishes, Caterine; but what is it you wouldsay?"

"Is it true, Miss Alice, that you and Mr. Woodward are coortin'?"

"It is not, Caterine, " replied Alice, uttering the disavowal with a gooddeal of earnestness; "there is no truth whatsoever in it; nothing canbe more false and groundless--I wonder how such a rumor could have gotabroad; it certainly could not proceed from Mr. Woodward. "

"It did not, indeed, Miss Alice; but it did from his brother, who, itseems, is very fond of him, and said he was glad of it; but indeed, miss, it delights my heart to hear that there is no truth in it. Mr. Woodward, God save us! is no fit husband for any Christian! woman. "

"Why so?" asked Alice, laboring under, some vague sense of alarm. 

"Why, Heavenly Father! Miss Alice, sure it's well known he has the EvilEye; it's in the family upon his mother's side. "

"My God!" exclaimed Alice, who became instantly as pale as death, "ifthat be true, Caterine, it's shocking. "

"True, " replied Caterine; "did you never I observe his eyes?"

"Not particularly. "

"Did you remark that they're of different colors? that one of them is asblack as the devil's, and the other a gray?"

"I never observed that, " replied Alice, who really never had. 

"Yes, and I could tell you more than that about him, " proceededCaterine; "they say he's connected wid what's not good. Sure, when theygot up a bonfire for him, doesn't all the world know that it was put outby a shower of blood; and that's a proof that he's a favorite wid thedevil and the fairies. "

"I believe, " replied Alice, "that there is no doubt whatsoever about theshower of blood; but I should not consider that fact as proof that he isa favorite with either the devil or the fairies. "

"Ay, but you don't know, miss, that this is the way they have of showin'it. Then, ever since he has come to the country, Bet Harramount, thewitch, in the shape of a white hare, is come back to the neighborhood, and the _Shawn-dhinne-dhuv_ is now seen about the Haunted House, oftenerthan he ever was. It's well known that the white hare plays about Mr. Woodward like a dog, and that she goes into the Haunted House, too, every night. "

"And what brought you to tell me all this, Caterine?" asked Alice. 

"Why, miss, to put you on your guard; afraid you might get married to aman that, maybe, has sould himself to the devil. It's well known by hisfather's sarvints that he's out two or three nights in the week, andnobody can tell where he goes. "

"Are the servants your authority for that?"

"Indeed they are; Barney Casey knows a great deal about him. Now, MissAlice, you're on your guard; have nothing to do wid him as a sweetheart;but above all things don't fall out wid him, bekaise, if you did, assure as I stand here he'd wither you off o' the earth. And above allthings again watch his eyes; I mane the black one, but don't seem to doso; and now good-by, miss; I've done my duty to you. "

"But about his brother, Caterine? He has not the Evil Eye, I hope?"

"Ah, miss, I could tell you something about him, too. They're a badgraft, these Lindsays; there's Mr. Charles, and it's whispered he'sgoin' to make a fool of himself and disgrace his family. "

"How is that, Caterine?"

"I don't know rightly; I didn't hear the particulars; but I'll be on thewatch, and when I can I'll let you know it. "

"Take no such trouble, Caterine, " said Alice; "I assure you I feel nopersonal interest whatsoever in any of the family except Miss Lindsay. Leave me, Caterine, leave me; I must finish my book; but I thank youfor your good wishes. Go up, and say I desired them to give you yourdinner. "

Alice soon felt herself obliged to follow; and it was, indeed, with somedifficulty she was able to reach the house. Her heart got deadly sick;an extraordinary weakness came over her; she became alarmed, frightened, distressed; her knees tottered under her, and she felt on reachingthe hall-door as if she were about to faint. Her imagination becamedisturbed; a heavy, depressing gloom descended upon her, and darkenedher flexible and unresisting spirit, as if it were the forebodings ofsome terrible calamity. 

The diabolical wretch who had just left her took care to perform herbase and heartless task with double effect. It was not merely theinformation she had communicated concerning Woodward that affected herso deeply, although she felt, as it were, in the Inmost recesses of hersoul, that it was true, but that which went at the moment with greateragony to her heart was the allusion to Charles Lindsay, and thecorroboration it afforded to the truth of the charge which Woodward hadbrought, with so much apparent reluctance, against him--the charge ofhaving neglected and abandoned her for another, and that other a personof low birth, who, by relinquishing her virtue, had contrived to gainsuch an artful and selfish ascendancy over him. How could she doubtit? Here was a woman ignorant of the communication Woodward had made toher, --ignorant of the vows that had passed between them, --who had heardof his falsehood and profligacy, and who never would have alluded tothem had she not been questioned. So far, then, Woodward, she felt, stood without blame with respect to his brother. And how could shesuspect Caterine to have been the agent of that gentleman, when she knewnow that her object in seeking an interview with herself was to put heron her guard against him? The case was clear, and, to her, dreadfulas it was clear. She felt herself now, however, in that mood which nosympathy can alleviate or remove. She experienced no wish to communicateher distress to any one, but resolved to preserve the secret in herown bosom. Here, then, was she left to suffer the weight of a twofoldaffliction--the dread of Woodward, with which Caterine's intelligencehad filled her heart, feeble, and timid, and credulous as it was uponany subject of a superstitious tendency--and the still deeper distresswhich weighed her down in consequence of Charles Lindsay's treachery anddishonor. Alas! poor Alice's heart was not one for struggles, nurtured and bred up, as she had been, in the very wildest spirit ofsuperstition, in all its degrading ramifications. There was somethingin the imagination and constitution of the poor girl which generated andcherished the superstitions which prevailed in her day. She could notthrow them off her mind, but dwelt upon them with a kind of fearfulpleasure which we can understand from those which operated upon ourown fancies in our youth. These prepare the mind for the reception of athousand fictions concerning ghosts, witches, fairies, apparitions, anda long catalogue of nonsense, equally disgusting and repugnant to reasonand common-sense. It is not surprising, then, that poor Alice's mind onthat night was filled with phantasms of the most feverish and exciteddescription. As far as she could, however, she concealed her agitationfrom her parents, but not so successfully as to prevent them fromperceiving that she was laboring under some extraordinary andunaccountable depression. This unfortunately was too true. On that nightshe experienced a series of such wild and frightful visions as, when shewas startled out of them, made her dread to go again to sleep. The whitehare, the Black Spectre, but, above all, the fearful expression heralarmed fancy had felt in Woodward's eye, which was riveted upon her, she thought, with a baleful and demoniacal glance, that pierced andprostrated her spirit with its malignant and supernatural power; allthese terrible images, with fifty other incoherent chimeras, flittedbefore the wretched girl's imagination during her feverish slumbers. Towards morning she sank into a somewhat calmer state of rest, but stillwith occasional and flitting glimpses of the same horrors. 

So far the master-spirit had set, at least, a portion of his machineryin motion, in order to work out his purposes; but we shall find that hisdesigns became deeper and blacker as he proceeded in his course. 

In a few days Alice became somewhat relieved from the influence of thesetumultuous and spectral phantasms which had run riot in her terrifiedfancy; and this was principally owing to the circumstance of her havingprevailed upon one of the maid-servants, a girl named Bessy Mangan, Barney Casey's sweetheart, to sleep privately in her room. The attackhad reduced and enfeebled her very much, but still she was slightlyimproved and somewhat relieved in her spirits. The shock, and thenervous paroxysm that accompanied it, had nearly passed away, and shewas now anxious, for the sake of her health, to take as much exerciseas she could. Still--still--the two leading thoughts would recurto her--that of Charles's treachery, and the terrible gift of cursepossessed by his brother Henry; and once more her heart would sink tothe uttermost depths of distress and terror. The supernatural, however, in the course of a little time, prevailed, as it was only reasonableto suppose it would in such a temperament as hers; and as her mindproceeded to struggle with the two impressions, she felt that her dreadof Woodward was gradually gaining upon and absorbing the other. Herfear of him, consequently, was deadly; that terrible and malignanteye--notwithstanding its dark brilliancy and awful beauty, alas! too, significant of its power--was constantly before her imagination, gazingupon her with a fixed, determined, and mysterious look, accompanied bya smile of triumph, which deepened its satanity, if we may be allowed tocoin a word, at every glance. It was not mere antipathy she felt for himnow, but dread and horror. How, then, was she to act? She had pledgedherself to receive his visits upon one condition, and to permit himto continue a friendly intimacy altogether apart from love. How, then, could she violate her word, or treat him with rudeness, who had alwaysnot only treated her with courtesy, but expressed an interest in herhappiness which she had every reason to believe sincere? Thus was thepoor girl entangled with difficulties on every side without possessingany means of releasing herself from them. 

In a few days after this she was sitting in the drawing-room whenWoodward unexpectedly entered it, and saluted her with great apparentgood feeling and politeness. The surprise caused her to become as paleas death; she felt her very limbs relax with weakness, and her breathfor a few moments taken away from her; she looked upon him with anexpression of alarm and fear which she could not conceal, and it waswith some difficulty that she was at length enabled to speak. 

"You will excuse me, sir, " she said, "for not rising; I am very nervous, and have not been at all well for the last week or upwards. "

"Indeed, Miss Goodwin, I am very sorry to hear this; I trust it is onlya mere passing indisposition; I think the complaint is general, for mysister has also been ailing much the same way for the last few days. Don't be alarmed, Miss Goodwin, it is nothing, and won't signify. Youshould mingle more in society; you keep too much alone. "

"But I do not relish society; I never mingle in it that I don't feelexhausted and depressed. "

"That certainly makes a serious difference; in such a case, then, Iimagine society would do you more harm than good. I should not haveintruded on you had not your mother requested me to come up and try toraise your spirits--a pleasure which I would gladly enjoy if I could. "

"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Woodward, " she replied; "I hope a shorttime will remove this unusual depression, and I must only have a littlepatience. "

"Just so, Miss Goodwin; a little time, as you say, will restore you toyourself. "

Now all this was very courteous and kind of Mr. Woodward, and might haveraised her spirits were it not for the eye. From the moment he enteredthe apartment that dreaded instrument of his power was fixed upon herwith a look so concentrated, piercing, and intense, that it gave acharacter of abstraction to all he said. In other words, she felt asif his language proceeded out of his lips unconsciously, and that somemysterious purport of his heart emanated from his eye. It appeared toher that he was thinking of something secret connected with herself, towhich his words bore no reference whatsoever. She neither knew what todo nor what to say under this terrible and permeating gaze; it was invain she turned away her eyes; she knew--she felt--that his was uponher--that it was drinking up her strength--that, in fact, the evilinfluence was; mingling with and debilitating her frame, and operatingupon all her faculties. There was still, however, a worse symptom, andone which gave that gaze a significance that appalled her--this wasthe smile of triumph which she had seen playing coldly but triumphantlyabout his lips in her dreams. That smile was the feather to the arrowthat pierced her, and that was piercing her at that moment--it was thecold but glittering glance of the rattlesnake, when breaking down by thepoison of his eyes the power of resistance in his devoted victim. 

"Mr. Woodward, " said she, after a long pause, "I am unable to bear aninterview--have the goodness to withdraw, and when you go down-stairssend my mother up. Excuse me, sir; but you must perceive how very ill Ihave got within a few minutes. "

"I regret it exceedingly, Miss Goodwin. I had something to mention toyou respecting that unfortunate brother of mine; but you are not now ina condition to hear anything unpleasant and distressing; and, indeed, it is better, I think, now that I observe your state of health, that youshould not even wish to hear it. "

"I never do wish to hear it, sir; but have the goodness to leave me. "

"I trust my next visit will find you better. Good-by, Miss Goodwin! Ishall send your mother up. "

[Illustration: PAGE 697-- One long, dark, inexplicable gaze]

He withdrew very much after the etiquette of a subject leaving a crownedhead--that is, nearly backwards; but when he came to the door he pauseda moment, turning upon her one long, dark, inexplicable gaze, whilstthe muscles of his hard, stony mouth were drawn back with a smilethat contained in its expression a spirit that might be consideredcomplacent, but which Alice interpreted as derisive and diabolical. 

"Mamma, " said she, when her mother joined her, "I am ill, and I know notwhat to do. "

"I know you are not well, my love, " replied her mother, "but I hopeyou're not worse; how do you feel?"

"Quite feeble, utterly without strength, and dreadfully depressed andalarmed. "

"Alarmed, Alley! Why, what could alarm you? Does not Mr. Woodward alwaysconduct himself as a gentleman?"

"He does, ma'am; but, nevertheless, I never wish to see him again. "

"Why, dear me! Alice, is it reasonable that you should give way to sucha prejudice against that gentleman? Indeed I believe you absolutely hatehim. "

"It is not personal hatred, mother; it is fear and terror. I do not, as I said, hate the man personally, because I must say that he neverdeserved such a feeling at my hands, but, in the meantime, the sight ofhim sickens me almost to death. I am not aware that he is or ever wasimmoral, or guilty of any act that ought to expose him to hatred; but, notwithstanding that, my impression, when conversing with him, is, thatI am in the presence of an evil spirit, or of a man who is possessed ofone. Mamma, he must be excluded the house, and forbidden to visit hereagain, otherwise my health will be destroyed, and my very life placedin danger. "

"My dear Alice, that is all very strange, " replied her mother, now considerably alarmed at her language, but still more so at herappearance; "why, God bless me, child! now that I look at you, youcertainly do seem to be in an extraordinary state. You are the color ofdeath, and then you are all trembling! Why is this, I ask again?"

"The presence of that man, " she replied, in a faint voice; "his presencesimply and solely. That is what has left me as you see me. "

"Well, Alice, it is very odd and very strange, and it seems as if therewas some mystery in it. I will, however, talk to your father about it, and we will hear what he shall say. In the meantime, raise your spirits, and don't be so easily alarmed. You are naturally nervous and timid, andthis is merely a poor, cowardly conceit that has got into your head; butyour own good sense will soon show you the folly of yielding to a merefancy. Amuse yourself on the spinet, and play some brisk music that willcheer your spirits; it is nothing but the spleen. "

Woodward, in the meantime, having effected his object, and satisfiedhimself of his power over Alice, pursued his way home in high spirits. To his utter astonishment, however, he found the family in an uproar, the cause of which we will explain. His mother, whose temper neither sheherself nor any other human being, unless her husband, when provokedtoo far, could keep under anything like decent restraint, had got into apassion, while he, Woodward, was making his visit; and while in a blazeof resentment against the Goodwins she disclosed the secret ofhis rejection by Alice, and dwelt with bitter indignation upon theattachment she had avowed for Charles--a secret which Henry had mostdishonorably intrusted to her, but which, as the reader sees, she hadneither temper nor principle to keep. 

On entering the house he found his; mother and step-father at high feud. The I brows of the latter were knit, as was always the case when hefound himself bent upon mischief. He was calm, however, which wasanother bad sign, for in him the old adage was completely reversed, "After a storm comes a calm, " whilst in his case it uniformly precededit. 

Woodward looked about him with amazement; his step-father was standingwith his back to the parlor fire, holding the skirts of his coat dividedbehind, whilst his wife stood opposite to him, her naturally red facestill naming more deeply with a tornado of indignation. 

"And you dare to tell me that you'll consent to Charles's marriage withher?"

"Yes, my dear, I dare to tell you so. You have no objection that sheshould marry your son Harry there. You forgot or dissembled your scornand resentment against her, when you thought you could make a catch ofher property: a very candid and disinterested proceeding on your part, Well, what's the consequence? That's all knocked up; the girl won't havehim, because she is attached to his brother, and because his brother isattached to her. Now that is just as it ought to be, and, please God, we'll have them married. And I now I take the liberty of asking you bothto the wedding. "

"Lindsay, you're an offensive old dog, sir. "

"I might retort the compliment by changing the sex, my dear, " hereplied, laughing! and nodding at her, with a face, from the nose down, rather benevolent than otherwise, but still the knit was between thebrows. 

"Lindsay, you're an unmanly villain, and a coward to boot, or youwouldn't use such language to a woman. "

"Not to a woman; but I'm sometimes forced to do so to a termagant. "

"What's the cause of all this?" inquired Woodward; "upon my honor, thelanguage I hear is very surprising, as coming from a justice of quorumand his lady. Fie! fie! I am ashamed of you both. In what did itoriginate?"

"Why, the fact is, Harry, she has told us that Alice Goodwin, in themost decided manner, has rejected your addresses, and confided to you anavowal of her attachment to Charles here. Now, when I heard this, I felthighly delighted at it, and said we should have them married, and sowe shall. Then your mother, in flaming indignation at this, enactedVesuvius in a blaze, and there she stands ready for another eruption. "

"I wish you were in the bottom of Vesuvius, Lindsay; but you shall nothave your way, notwithstanding. "

"So I am, my dear, every day in my life. I have a little volcano of myown here, under the very roof with me; and I tell that volcano that Iwill have my own way in this matter, and that this marriage must takeplace if Alice is willing; and I'm sure she is, the dear girl. "

"Sir, " said Woodward, addressing his step-father calmly, "I feel a gooddeal surprised that a thinking man, of a naturalise late temper as youare, --"

"Yes, Harry, I am so. "

"Of such a sedate temper as you are, should not recollect thepossibility of my mother, who sometimes takes up impressions hastily, ifnot erroneously--as the calmest of us too frequently do--of my mother, I say, considerably mistaking and unconsciously misrepresenting thecircumstances I mentioned to her. "

"But why did you mention them exclusively to her?" asked Charles; "Icannot see your object in concealing them from the rest of the family, especially from those who were most interested in the knowledge ofthem. "

"Simply because I had nothing actually decisive to mention. Iprincipally confined myself to my own inferences, which unfortunatelymy mother, with her eager habit of snatching at conclusions, in thisinstance, mistook for facts. I shall satisfy you, Charles, of this, andof other matters besides; but we will require time. "

"I assure you, Harry, that if your mother does not keep her temperwithin some reasonable bounds, either she or I shall leave thehouse--and I am not likely to be the man to do so. "

"This house is mine, Lindsay, and the property is mine--both in my ownright; and you and your family may leave it as soon as you like. "

"But you forget that I have property enough to support myself and themindependently of you. "

"Wherever you go, my dear papa, " said Maria, bursting into tears, "Iwill accompany you. I admit it is a painful determination for a daughterto be forced to make against her own mother; but it is one I should havedied sooner than come to if she had ever treated me as a daughter. "

Her good-natured and affectionate father took her in his arms and kissedher. 

"My own darling Maria, " said he, "I could forgive your mother all herdomestic violence and outrage had she acted with the affection of amother towards you. She has a heart only for one individual, and that isher son Harry, there. "

"As for me, " said Charles, "wherever my father goes, I, too, my dearMaria, will accompany him. "

"You hear that, Harry, " said Mrs. Lindsay; "you see now they are in aleague--in a conspiracy against your happiness and mine;--but think oftheir selfishness and cunning--it is the girl's property they want. "

"Perish the property, " exclaimed Charles indignantly. "I will nowmention a fact which I have hitherto never breathed--Alice Goodwin and Iwere, I may say, betrothed before ever she dreamed of possessing it; andif I held back since that time, I did so from the principles of a manof honor, lest she might imagine that I renewed our intimacy, after thealienation of the families, from mercenary motives. "

"You're a fine fellow, Charley, " said his father; "you're a fine fellow, and you deserve her and her property, if it was ten times what it is. "

"Don't you be disheartened, Harry, " said his mother; "I have a betterwife in my eye for you--a wife that will bring you connection, and thatis Lord Bilberry's niece. "

"Yes, " said her husband, ironically, "a man with fifty thousand acresof mountain. Faith, Harry, you will be a happy man, and may feed onbilberries all your life; but upon little else, unless you can pick thespare bones of an old maid who has run herself into an asthma in theunsuccessful sport of husband-hunting. "

"She will inherit her uncle's property, Lindsay. "

"Yes, she will inherit the heather and the bilberries. But go in God'sname; work out that project; there is nobody here disposed to hinderyou. Only I hope you will ask us to the wedding. "

"Mother, " said Woodward, affectionately taking her hand and giving it asignificant squeeze; "mother, you must excuse me for what I am aboutto say"--another squeeze, and a glance which was very wellunderstood--"upon my honor, mother, I must give my verdict for thepresent"--another squeeze--"against you. You--must be kinder to Charlesand Maria, and you must not treat my father with such disrespect andharshness. I wish to become a mediator and pacificator in the family. Asfor myself, I care not about property; I wish to marry the girl I love. I am not, I trust, a selfish man--God forbid I should; but for thepresent"--another squeeze--"let me entreat you all to forget this littlebreeze; urge nothing, precipitate nothing; a little time, perhaps, ifwe have patience to wait, may restore us all, and everything else we arequarrelling about, to peace and happiness. Charles, I wish to have someconversation with you. "

"Harry, " said Lindsay, "I am glad you have spoken as you did; your wordsdo you credit, and your conduct is manly and honorable. "

"I do believe, indeed, " said his unsuspecting brother, "that the bestthing we could all do would be to put ourselves under his guidance; asfor my part I am perfectly willing to do so, Harry. After hearing thegood sense you have just uttered, I think you are entitled to everyconfidence from us all. "

"You overrate my abilities, Charles; but not, I hope, the goodness of anaffectionate heart that loves you all. Charles, come with me for a fewminutes; and, mother, do you also expect a private lecture from me byand by. "

"Well, " said the mother, "I suppose I must. If I were only spoken tokindly I could feel as kindly; however, let there be an end to thisquarrel as the boy says, and I, as well as Charles, shall be guided byhis advice. "

"Now, Charles, " said he, when they had gone to another room, "you knowwhat kind! of a woman my mother is; and the truth is, until matters getsettled, we will have occasion for a good, deal of patience with her;let us, therefore, exercise it. Like most hot-tempered women, she hasa bad memory, and wrests the purport of words too frequently to a wrongmeaning. In the account she gave you of what occurred between AliceGoodwin and me, she entirely did. "

"But what did occur between Alice Goodwin and you, Harry?"

"A very few words will tell it. She admitted that there certainly hasbeen an attachment between you and her, but--that--that--I willnot exactly repeat her words, although I don't say they were meantoffensively; but it amounted, to this, that she now filled a differentposition in the eyes of the world; that she would rather the matterwere not renewed; that if her mind had changed, she had good reason forjustifying the change; and when I, finding that I had no chance myself, began to plead for you, she hinted to me that, in consequence of thefeud that had taken place between the families, and the slanders that mymother had cast upon her honor and principles, she was resolved tohave no further connection whatsoever with any one of the blood; heraffections were not now her own. "

"Alas, Harry!" said Charles, "how few can bear the effects of unexpectedprosperity. When she and I were both comparatively poor, she was allaffection; but now that she has become an heiress, see what a changethere is! Well, Harry, if she can be faithless and selfish, I can beboth resolute and proud. She shall have no further trouble from me onthat subject; only I must say, I don't envy her her conscience. "

"Don't be rash, Charles---we should judge of her charitably andgenerously; I don't think myself she is so much to blame. O'ConnorFardour, or Farther, or whatever you call him--"

"O, Ferdora!"

"Yes, Ferdora; that fellow is at the bottom of it all; he has plied herwell during the estrangement, and to some purpose. I never visit themthat I don't find him alone with her. He is, besides, both frank andhandsome, with a good deal of dash and insinuation in his address andmanner, and, besides, a good property, I am told. But, in the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you; that is, if you think you can placeconfidence in me. "

"Every confidence, my dear Harry, " said Charles, clasping his handwarmly; "every confidence. As I said before, you shall be my guide andadviser. "

"Thank you, Charles. I may make mistakes, but I shall do all for thebest. Well, then, will you leave O'Connor to me? If you do, I shall notpromise much, because I am not master of future events; but this is allI ask of you--yes, there is one thing more--to hold aloof from her andher family for a time. "

"After what you have told me, Harry, that is an unnecessary request now;but as for O'Connor, I think he ought to be left to myself. "

"And so he shall in due time; but I must place him in a proper positionfor you first--a thing which you could not do now, nor even attempt todo, without meanness. Are you, then, satisfied to leave this matter inmy hands, and to remain quiet until I shall bid you act?"

"Perfectly, Harry, perfectly; I shall be guided by you in everything. "

"Well, now, Charley, we will have a double triumph soon, I hope. Allis not lost that's in danger. The poor girl is surrounded by a clique. Priests have interfered. Her parents, you know, are Catholics; so, youknow, is O'Connor. Poor Alice, you know, too, is anything but adamant. And now I will say no more; but in requital for what I have said, goand send our patient mild mamma, to me. I really must endeavor to trysomething with her, in order to save us all from this kind of life sheis leading us. "

When his mother entered he assumed the superior and man of authority;his countenance exhibited something unpleasant, and in a decisive andrather authoritative tone he said, --

"Mother, will you be pleased to take a seat?"

"You are angry with me, Harry--I know you are; but I could not restrainmy feelings, nor keep your secret, when I thought of their insolence inrequiting you--you, to whom the property would and ought to have come--"

"Pray, ma'am, take a seat. "

She sat down--anxious, but already subdued, as was evident by hermanner. 

"I, " proceeded her son, "to whom the property would and ought to havecome--and I to whom it will come--"

"But are you sure of that?"

"Not, I am afraid, while I have such a mother as you are--a woman inwhom I can place no confidence with safety. Why did you betray me tothis silly family?"

"Because, as I said before, I could not help it; my temper got thebetter of me. "

"Ay, and I fear it will always get the better of you. I could now giveyou very agreeable information as to that property and the piece ofcurds that possesses it; but then, as I said, there is no placing anyconfidence in a woman of your temper. "

"If the property is concerned, Harry, you may depend your life on me. Sohelp me, God, if ever I will betray you again. "

"Well, that's a solemn asseveration, and I will depend on it; but ifyou betray me to this family the property is lost to us and our heirsforever. "

"Do not fear me; I have taken the oath. "

"Well, then, listen; if you could understand Latin, I would give you aquotation from a line of Virgil--

 '_Haeret lateri lethhalis arundo_. '

The girl's doomed--subdued--overcome; I am in the process of killingher. "

"Of killing her! My God, how? not by violence, surely--that, you know, would not be safe. "

"I know that; no--not by violence, but by the power of this dark eyethat you see in my head. "

"Heavenly Father! then you possess it?"

"I do; and if I were never to see her again I don't think she couldrecover; she will merely wither away very gently, and in due time willdisappear without issue--and then, whose is the property?"

"As to that, you know there can be no doubt about it; there is thewill--the stupid; will, by which she got it. "

"I shall see her again, however--nay, in spite of them I shall seeher time after time, and shall give her the Evil Eye, until the; scenecloses--until I attend her funeral. "

"My mind is somewhat at ease, " replied his mother; "because I wasalarmed lest you should have had recourse to any process that might havebrought you within the operation of the law. "

"Make your mind easy on that point, my dear mother. No law compels a manto close his eyes; a cat, you know, may look on a king; but of one thingyou may be certain--she dies--the victim is mine. "

"One thing is certain, " replied his mother, "that if she and Charlesshould marry, you are ousted from the property. "

"Don't trouble yourself about such a contingency; I have taken stepswhich I think will prevent that. I speak in a double sense; but if Ifind, after all, that they are likely to fail, I shall take others stillmore decisive. "

CHAPTER XIII. Woodward is Discarded from Mr. Goodwin's Family

--Other Particulars of Importance. 

The reader sees that Harry Woodward, having ascertained the mutualaffection which subsisted between his brother and Alice, resorted tosuch measures as were likely to place obstructions in the way of theirmeeting, which neither of them was likely to remove. He felt, now, satisfied that Charles, in consequence of the malignant fabricationswhich he himself had palmed upon him for truth, would, most assuredly, make no further attempt to renew their former intimacy. When Alice, too, stated to him, that if she married not Charles, whether he proved worthyof her or otherwise, she would never marry another, he felt that she wasunconsciously advancing the diabolical plans which he was projecting andattempting to carry into effect. If she died without marriage or withoutissue, the property, at her death, according to his uncle's will, reverted, as we have said, to himself. His object, therefore, was toexpedite her demise with as little delay as possible, in order that hemight become master of the patrimony. With this generous principle forhis guide, he made it a point to visit the Goodwins, and to see Aliceas often as was compatible with the ordinary usages of society. HadCaterine Collins not put the unsuspecting and timid girl on her guardagainst the influence of the Evil Eye, as possessed by Woodward, forwhom she acted as agent in the business, that poor girl would not havefelt anything like what this diabolical piece of information occasionedher to experience. From the moment she heard it her active imaginationtook the alarm. An unaccountable terror seized upon her; she felt as ifsome dark doom was impending over her. It was in a peculiar degree theage of superstition; and the terrible influence of the Evil Eye wasone not only of the commonest, but the most formidable of them all. Thedark, significant, but sinister gaze of Harry Woodward was, she thought, forever upon her. She could not withdraw her imagination from it. Ithaunted her; it was fixed upon her, accompanied by a dreadful smile ofapparent courtesy, but of a malignity which she felt as if it penetratedher whole being, both corporeal and mental. She hurried to bed at nightwith a hope that sleep might exclude the frightful vision which followedher; but, alas! even sleep was no security to her against its terrors. It was now that in her distempered dreams imagination ran riot. She fledfrom him, or attempted to fly, but feared that she had not strength forthe effort; he followed her, she thought, and when she covered her facewith her hands in order to avoid the sight of him, she felt him seizingher by the wrists, and removing her arms in order that he might pour themalignant influence of that terrible eye into her very heart. From thesescenes she generally awoke with a shriek, when her maid, Sarah Sullivan, who of late slept in the same room with her, was obliged to come to herassistance, and soothe and sustain her as well as she could. She thenlay for hours in such a state of terror and agitation as cannot bedescribed, until near morning, WHen she generally fell into somethinglike sound sleep. In fact, her waking moments were easy when comparedwith the persecution which the spirit of that man inflicted on herduring her broken and restless slumbers. The dreadful eye, as it restedupon her, seemed as if its powerful but killing expression proceededfrom the heart and spirit of some demon who sought to wither her byslow degrees out of life; and she felt that he was succeeding in hismurderous and merciless object. It is not to be wondered at, then, that she dreaded the state of sleep more than any other condition ofexistence in which she could find herself. As night, and the hour ofretiring to what ought to have been a refreshing rest returned, heralarms also returned with tenfold terror; and such was her apprehensionof those fiend-like and nocturnal visits, that she entreated SarahSullivan to sleep with and awaken her the moment she heard her groan orshriek. Our readers may perceive that the innocent girl's tenure of lifecould not be a long one under such strange and unexampled sufferings. 

The state of her health now occasioned her parents to feel the mostserious alarm. She herself disclosed to them the fearful intelligencewhich had been communicated to her in such a friendly spirit by CaterineCollins, to wit, that Harry Woodward possessed the terrible power of theEvil Eye, and that she felt he was attempting to kill her by it; adding, that from the state of her mind and health she feared he had succeeded, and that certainly, if he were permitted to continue his visits, sheknew that she could not long survive. 

"I remember well, " said her father, "that when he was a boy of about sixor seven he was called, by way of nickname, _Harry na Suil Glair_; and, indeed, the common report always has been that his mother possesses theevil eye against cattle, when she wishes to injure any neighbor thatdoesn't treat her with what she thinks to be proper and becomingrespect. If her son Harry has the accursed gift it comes from her blood;they say there is some old story connected with her family that accountsfor it, but, as I never heard it, I don't know what it is. "

"I agree with you, " said his wife; "if he has it at all, he may thankher for it. There is, I fear, some bad principle in her; for surelythe fierceness and overbearing spirit of her pride, and the malignantcalumnies of her foul and scandalous tongue, can proceed from nothingthat's good. "

"Well, Martha, " observed her husband, "if the devilish and unaccountablehatred which she bears her fellow-creatures is violent, she has thesatisfaction of knowing--and well she knows it--that it is returned toher with compound interest; I question if the devil himself is detestedwith such a venomous feeling as she is. Her own husband and childrencannot like a bone in her skin. "

"And yet, " replied Alice, "you would have made this woman mymother-in-law! Do you think it was from any regard to us that she camehere to propose a marriage between her son and me? No, indeed, dearpapa, it was for the purpose of securing the property, which her brotherleft me, for him who would otherwise have inherited it. And do youimagine for a moment that Harry Woodward himself ever felt one emotionof personal affection for me? If you do you are quite mistaken. Iknew and felt all along--even while he was assuming the part of thelover--that he actually hated, not only me, but every one of the family. His object was the property, and so was that of his mother; but Iabsolve all the other members of the family from any knowledge of, orparticipation in, their schemes. As it is, if you wish to see yourselveschildless you will allow his, visits, or, if not, you will never permithis presence under this roof again. I fear, however, that it is nowtoo late--you see that I am already on the brink of the grave, inconsequence of the evil influence which the dreadful villain has gainedover me, and, indeed, " she added, bursting into tears, "I have, at thismoment, no hopes of recovery. My strength, both bodily and mental, isgone--I am as weak as an infant, and I see nothing before me but anearly grave. I have also other sorrows, but even to you I will notdisclose them--perhaps on my bed of death I may. "

The last words were scarcely uttered when she fainted. Her parents weredreadfully alarmed--in a moment both were in tears, but they immediatelysummoned assistance. Sarah Sullivan made her appearance, attended byothers of the servants; the usual remedies were applied, and in thecourse of about ten or twelve minutes she recovered, and was weeping ina paroxysm bordering on despair when Harry Woodward entered the room. This was too much for the unfortunate girl. It seemed like setting theseal of death to her fate. She caught a glimpse of him. There was themalignant, but derisive look--one which he meant to be courteous, butwhich the bitter feeling within him overshadowed with the gloomy triumphof an evil spirit. She placed her hands over her eyes, gave one loudshriek, and immediately fell into strong convulsions. 

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Woodward, "what is the matter with MissGoodwin? I am sincerely sorry to see this. Is not her health good?"

"Pray, sir, " replied her father, "how did you come to obtrude yourselfhere at such a moment of domestic distress?"

"Why, my dear sir, " replied Woodward, "of course you must know that Iwas ignorant of all this. The hall-door was open, as it generally is, sowas the door of this room, and I came in accordingly, as I have been inthe habit of doing, to pay my respects to the family. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Goodwin, "the hall-door is generally open, but it shallnot be so in future. Come out of the room, Mr. Woodward; your presenceis not required here. "

"O, certainly, " replied Woodward, "I feel that; and I assure you Iwould not by any means have intruded had I known that Miss Goodwin wasunwell. "

"She is unwell, " responded her father; "very unwell; unwell unto death, I fear. And now, Mr. Woodward, " he proceeded, when they had reached thehall, "I beg to state peremptorily and decidedly that all intimacy andintercourse between you and our family must cease from this hour. Youvisit here no more. "

"This is very strange language, Mr. Goodwin, " replied the other, "andI think, as between two gentlemen, I am entitled to an explanation. Ireceived the permission of yourself, your lady, and your daughter tovisit here. I am not conscious of having done anything unbecoming agentleman, that could or ought to deprive me of a privilege which Ilooked upon as an honor. "

"Well, then, " replied her father, "look into your own conscience, andperhaps you will find the necessary explanation there. I am master of myown house and my own motions, and now I beg you instantly to withdraw, and to consider this your last visit here. "

"May I not be permitted to call to-morrow to inquire after MissGoodwin's health?"

"Assuredly not. "

"Nor to send a messenger?"

"By no means; and now, sir, withdraw; I must go in to my daughter, tillI see what can be done for her, or whether anything can or not. "

Harry Woodward looked upon him steadily for a time, and the old man feltas if his very strength was becoming relaxed; a sense of faintness andterror came over him, and, as Woodward took his departure in silence, the father of Alice began to abandon all hopes of her recovery. Hehimself felt the effects of the mysterious gaze which Woodward hadfastened on him, and entered the room, conscious of the fatal power ofthe Evil Eye. 

Fit after fit succeeded each other for the space of, at least, an hourand a half, after which they ceased, but left her in such a state ofweakness and terror that she might be said, at that moment, to hoverbetween life and death. She was carried in her distracted father'sarms to bed, and after they had composed her as well as they could, herfather said, --

"My darling child, you may now summon strength and courage; that man, that bad man, will never come under this roof again. I have finallysettled the point, and you have nothing further now, nor anything worse, to dread from him. I have given the villain his _nunc dimittis_ once andforever, and you will never see him more. "

"But I fear, papa, " she replied, feebly, "that, as I said before, it isnow too late. I feel that he has killed me. I know not how I willpass this night. I dread the hours of sleep above all conditions of myunhappy existence. O, no wonder that the entrance of that man-demon toour house should be heralded by the storms and hurricanes of heaven, andthat the terrible fury of the elements, as indicative of the Almighty'sanger, should mark his introduction to our family. Then the prodigywhich took place when the bonfires were lighted to welcome his accursedreturn--the shower of blood! O, may God support me, and, above allthings, banish him from my dreams! Still, I feel some relief by theknowledge that he is not to come here again. Yes, I feel that itrelieves me; but, alas! I fear that even the consciousness of thatcannot prevent the awful impression that I think I am near death. "

"No, darling, " replied her mother, "don't allow that thought to gainupon you. We'll get a fairy-man or a fairy-woman, because they know thebest remedies against everything of that kind, when a common leech orchirurgeon can do nothing. "

"No, " replied her father, "I will allow nothing of the kind under thisroof. It's not a safe thing to have dealings with such people. We knowthat the Church forbids it. Perhaps it's a witch we might stumbleon; and would it not be a frightful thing to see one of those who areleagued with the devil bringing their unconsecrated breaths about usthis week, as it were, and, perhaps, burned the next? No, we will havea regular physician, who has his own character, as such, to look to andsupport by his honesty and skill, but none of those withered classes ofhell that are a curse to the country. "

"Very well, " replied Mrs. Goodwin, "have your own way in it. I dare sayyou are right. "

"O, don't bring any fairy-women or fairy-men about me, " said Alice. "Thevery sight of them would take away the little life I have left. "

In the meantime Harry Woodward, who had a variety of plans and projectsto elaborate, found himself, as every villain of his kind generallydoes, encompassed by doubt and apprehension of their failure. The readerwill understand the condition of his heart and feelings when he advancesfurther in this narrative. Old Lindsay, who was of a manly and generousdisposition, felt considerable surprise that all intimacy should havebeen discontinued between his son Charles and Alice Goodwin. As forthe property which she now possessed, he never once thought of it inconnection with their former affection for each other. He certainlyappreciated the magnanimity and disinterestedness of his son in ceasingto urge his claims after she had become possessed of such a fortune; andit struck him that something must have been wrong, or some evil agencyat work, which prevented the Goodwins from reestablishing their formerintimacy with Charles whilst they seemed to court that of his brother. Here was something strange, and he could not understand it. One. Morning, when they were all seated at breakfast, he spoke as follows:--

"I can't, " he said, "comprehend the conduct of the Goodwins. Theirdaughter, if we are to judge from appearances, has discarded heraccepted lover, poor Charles, here. Now, this doesn't look well. Thereseems to be something capricious, perhaps selfish, in it. Still, knowingthe goodness of their hearts, as I do, I cannot but feel that thereis something like a mystery in it. I had set my heart upon a marriagebetween Charles and Alice before ever she came into the propertybequeathed to her. In this I was not selfish certainly. I looked only totheir happiness. Yes, and my mind is still set upon this marriage, andit shall go hard with me or I will accomplish it. "

"Father, " said Charles, "if you regard or respect me, I entreat of youto abandon any such project. Ferdora O'Connor is now the favorite there. He is rich and I am poor; no, the only favor I ask is that you willnever more allude to the subject in my hearing. "

"But I will allude to it, and I will demand an explanation besides, "replied Lindsay. 

"Father, " observed Harry, "I trust that no member of this family iscapable of an act of unparalleled meanness. I, myself, pleaded mybrother's cause with that heartless and deceitful girl in language whichcould not be mistaken. And what was the consequence? Because I venturedto do so I have been forbidden to visit there again. They told me, without either preface or apology, that they will have no furtherintercourse with our family. Ferdora O'Connor is the chosen man. "

"It is false, " said his sister, her eyes sparkling with indignation asshe spoke; "it is abominably false; and, father, you are right; seekan explanation from the Goodwins. I feel certain that there are evilspirits at work. "

"I shall, my dear girl, " replied her father; "it is only an act ofjustice to them. And if the matter be at all practicable, I shall haveCharles and her married still. "

"Why not think of Harry?" said his wife; "as the person originallydestined to receive the property, he has the strongest claim. "

"You are talking now in the selfish and accursed principles of theworld, " replied Lindsay. "Charles has the claim of her early affection, and I shall urge it. "

"Very well, " said his wife; "if you succeed in bringing about a marriagebetween her and Charles, I will punish both you and him severely. "

"As how, madam?" asked her husband. 

"Are you aware of one fact, Lindsay?"

"I am aware of one melancholy fact, " he replied, sarcastically. 

"And, pray, what is it?" she inquired. 

"Faith, " he replied, "that I am your husband. "

"O, yes--just so--that is the way I am treated, children; you see itand you hear it. But, now, listen to me; you know, Lindsay, that theproperty I brought you, as your unfortunate wife, was property in my ownright; you know, too, that by our marriage settlement that property wassettled on me, with the right of devising it to any of my children whomI may select for that purpose. Now, I tell you, that if you press thismarriage between Charles and Alice Goodwin, I shall take this propertyinto my own hands, shall make my will in favor of Harry, and you andyour children may seek a shelter where you can find one. "

"Me and my children! Why, I believe you think you have no children butHarry here. Well, you may do as you like with your property; I am not sopoor but I and my children can live upon my own. This house and place, I grant you, are yours, and, as for myself, I am willing to leave itto-day; a life of exclusion and solitude will be better than that whichI lead with you. "

"Papa, " said Maria, throwing her arms about his neck and bursting intotears, "when you go I shall go; and wherever you may go to, I shallaccompany you. "

"Father, " said Charles, in a choking voice, and grasping his hand as hespoke, "if you leave this house you shall not go alone. Neither I norMaria shall separate ourselves from you. We will have enough to live onwith comfort and decency. "

"Mother, " said Harry, rising up and approaching her with a face ofsignificant severity; "mother, you have forced me to say--and heavenknows the pain with which I say it--that I am ashamed of you. Why willyou use language that is calculated to alienate from me the affectionsof a brother and sister whom I love with so much tenderness? I trustyou understand me when I tell you now that I identify myself with theirfeelings and objects, and that no sordid expectation of your propertyshall ever induce me to take up your quarrel or separate myself fromthem. Dispose of your property as you wish; I for one shall not earn itby sacrificing the best affections of the heart, nor by becoming a slaveto such a violent and indefensible temper as yours. As for me, I shallnot stand in need of your property--I will have enough of my own. "

They looked closely at each other; but that look was sufficient. Thecunning mother thoroughly understood the freemason glance of his eye, and exclaimed, --

"Well, I see I am abandoned by all my children; but I will endeavor tobear it. I now leave you to yourselves--to meditate and put in practicewhatever plot you please against my happiness. Indeed, I know what aconsolation my death would be to you all. "

She then withdrew, in accordance with the significant look which Harrygave towards the door. 

"Harry, " said Lindsay, holding out his hand, "you are not the son of myblood, but I declare to heaven I love you as well as if you were. Your conduct is noble and generous; ay, and as a natural consequence, disinterested; there is no base and selfish principle in you, my dearboy; and I honor and love you as if I were your father in reality. "

"Harry, " said Maria, kissing him, "I repeat and feel all that dear papahas said. "

"And so do I, " exclaimed Charles, "and if I ever entertained any otherfeeling, I fling it to the winds. "

"You all overrate me, " said Harry; "but, perhaps, if you were aware ofmy private remonstrances with my mother upon her unfortunate principlesand temper, you would give me more credit even than you do. My object isto produce peace and harmony between you, and if I can succeed in thatI shall feel satisfied, let my mother's property go where it may. Ofcourse, you must now be aware that I separate myself from her and herprojects, and identify myself, as I said, with you all. Still, there isone request I have to make of you, father, my dear father, for well Imay call you so; and it is that you will not, as an independent man anda gentleman, attempt to urge this marriage, on which you seem to haveset your heart, between Charles and Goodwin's daughter. You are notaware of what I know upon this subject. She and Ferdora O'Connor areabout to be married; but I will not mention what I could mention untilafter that ceremony shall have taken place. "

"Well, " said his sister, "you appear to speak very sincerely, Harry, butI know and feel that there is some mistake somewhere. "

"Harry, " said Lindsay, "from what has occurred this morning, I shall beguided by you. I will not press this marriage, neither shall I stoop toseek an explanation. "

"Thank you, sir, " replied Harry. "I advise you as I do because I wouldnot wish to see our whole family insulted in your person. "

Maria and her brother Charles looked at each other, and seemed tolabor under a strange and somewhat mysterious feeling. The confidence, however, with which Harry spoke evidently depressed them, and, as theyentertained not the slightest suspicion of his treachery, they left theapartment each with a heavy heart. 

Harry, from this time forward, associated more with his brother than hehad done, and seemed to take him more into his confidence. He asked himout in all his sporting expeditions; and proposed that they should eachprocure a shooting dress of the same color and materials, which wasaccordingly done; and so strongly did they resemble each other, whendressed in them, that in an uncertain light, or at a distance, it wasnearly impossible to distinguish the one from the other. In fact, thebrothers were now inseparable, Harry's object being to keep Charles asmuch under his eye and control as possible, from an apprehension that, on cool reflection, he might take it into his head to satisfy himselfby a personal interview with Alice Goodwin as to the incomprehensiblechange which had estranged her affection from him. 

Still, although the affection of those brothers seemed to increase, theconduct of Harry was full of mystery. That the confidence he placedin Charles was slight and partial admitted of no doubt. He was in thehabit, for instance, of going out after the family had gone to bed, aswe have mentioned before; and it was past all doubt that he had beenfrequently seen accompanied, in his midnight rambles, by what was knownin the neighborhood as the Black Spectre, or, by the common people, asthe _Shan-dhinne-dhue_, or the dark old man. These facts investedhis character, which, in spite of all his plausibility of manner, wasunpopular, with something of great dread, as involving on his part someunholy association with the evil and supernatural. This was peculiarlythe age of superstition and of a belief in the connection of both menand women with diabolical agencies; for such was the creed of the day. 

One evening, about this time, Caterine Collins was on her way home toRathfillan, I when, on crossing a piece of bleak moor adjacent to thetown, a powerful young fellow, dressed in the truis, cloak, and barradof the period, started up from a clump of furze bushes, and addressedher as follows:--

"Caterine, " said he, "are you in a hurry?"

"Not particularly, " she replied; "but in God's name, Shawn, what bringsyou here? Are you mad? or what tempts you to come within the jaws of thelaw that are gaping for you as their appointed victim? Don't you knowyou are an outlaw?"

"I will answer your first question first, " he replied. "What tempted meto come here? Vengeance--deep and deadly vengeance. Vengeance upon thevillain who has ruined Grace Davoren. I had intended to take her lifefirst; but I am an Irishman, and will not visit upon the head ofthe innocent girl, whom this incarnate devil has tempted beyond herstrength, the crime for which he is accountable. "

"Well, indeed, Shawn, it would be only serving him right; but, in themeantime, you had better be on your guard; it is said that he fearsneither God nor devil, and always goes well armed; so be cautious, andif you take him at all, it must be by treachery. "

"No, " said the outlaw, indignantly, "I'll never take him or any man bytreachery. I know I am an outlaw; but it was the merciless laws of thecountry, and their injustice to me and mine, that made me so; I resistedthem openly and like a man; but, bad as I am supposed to be, I willnever stain either my name or my conscience by an act of cowardlytreachery. I will meet this dark villain face to face, and take myrevenge as a brave man ought. You say he goes well armed, and that is aproof that he feels his own guilt; yes, he goes well armed, you say; sodo I, and it will not be the treacherous murderer that he will meet, butthe open foe. "

"Well, " replied Caterine, "that is just like you, Shawn; and it is nowonder that the women were fond of you. "

"Yes, " said he, "but the girl that was dearer to me a thousand timesthan my own life has proved faithless, because there is a stain upon myname--a stain, but no crime, Caterine; a stain made by the law, but nocrime. Had her heart been loyal and true, she would have loved me tentimes more in consequence of my very disgrace--if disgrace I ought tocall it; but instead of that--but wait--O, the villain! Well, I shallmeet him, I trust, before long, and then, Caterine, ah, then!"

"Well, Shawn, if she has desalted you, I know one that loves you betterthan ever she did, and that would never desart you, as Grace Davoren hasdone. "

"Ah, Caterine, " replied the outlaw, sorrowfully, "I am past that now;my heart is broke--I could never love another. What proof of truth oraffection could any other woman give me after the treachery of her whoonce said she loved me so well? She said, indeed, some time ago, that itwas her father forced her to do it, but that was after she had seen him, for well I know she often told me a different story before the nightof the bonfire and the shower of blood. Well, Caterine, that shower ofblood was not sent for nothing. It came as the prophecy of his fate, which, if I have life, will be a bloody one. "

"Shawn, " replied Caterine, as if she had not paid much attention to hiswords, "Shawn, dear Shawn, there is one woman who would give her lifefor your love. "

"Ah, " said Shawn, "it's aisily said, at all events--aisily said; but whois it Caterine?"

"She is now speaking to you, " she returned. "Shawn, you cannot butknow that I have long loved you; and I now tell you that I love youstill--ay, and a thousand times more than ever Grace Davoren did. "

"You!" said Shawn, recoiling with indignation; "is it you, a spy, afortune-teller, a go-between, and, if all be true, a witch; you, whose life and character would make a modest woman blush to hear themmentioned? Why, the curse of heaven upon you! how dare you think ofproposing such a subject to me? Do you think because I'm marked by thelaws that my heart has lost anything of its honesty and manhood? Begone, you hardened and unholy vagabond, and leave my sight. "

"Is that your language, Shawn?"

"It is; and what other language could any man with but a single spark ofhonesty and respect for himself use toward you? Begone, I say. "

"Yes, I will begone; but perhaps you may live to rue your words: that isall. "

"And, perhaps, so may you, " he replied. "Leave my sight. You are adisgrace to the name of woman. "

She turned upon her heel, and on the instant bent her steps towardsRathfillan House. 

"Shawn-na-Middogue, " she said as she went along, "you talk aboutrevenge, but wait till you know what the revenge of an insulted womanis. It is not an aisy thing to know your haunts; but I'll set them uponyour trail that will find you out if you were to hide yourself in thebowels of the earth, for the words you used to me this night. _Darmanim_, I will never rest either night or day until I see you swing froma gibbet. "

Instead of proceeding to the little town of Rathfillan, she changed hermind and turned her steps to Rathfillan House, the residence, as ourreaders are aware, of the generous and kind-hearted Mr. Lindsay. 

On arriving there she met our old acquaintance, Barney Casey, on the wayfrom the kitchen to the stable. Observing that she was approaching thehall-door with the evident purpose of knocking, and feeling satisfiedthat her business could be with none of the family except Harry, heresolved to have some conversation with her, in order, if possible, to get a glimpse of its purport. Not, indeed, that he entertained anyexpectation of such a result, because he knew the craft and secrecy ofthe woman he had to deal with; but, at all events, he thought that hemight still glean something significant even by her equivocations, ifnot by her very silence. He accordingly turned, over and met her. 

"Well, Caterine, won't this be a fine night when the moon and starscomes out to show you the road home again afther you manage the affairyou're bent on?"

"Why, what am I bent on?" she replied, sharply. 

"Why, to build a church to-night, wid the assistance of Mr. HarryWoodward. "

"Talk with respect of your masther's stepson, " she replied, indignantly. 

"And my sweet misthress's son, " returned Barney, significantly. "Why, Caterine, I hope you won't lift me till I fall. What did I saydisrespectful of him? Faith, I only know that the wondher is how sucha devil's scald could have so good and kind-hearted a son, " he added, disentangling himself from her suspicions, knowing perfectly well, ashe did, that any unfavorable expression he might utter against thatvindictive gentleman would most assuredly be communicated to him withcomments much stronger than the text. This would only throw him out ofHarry's confidence, and deprive him of those opportunities of probablylearning, from their casual conversation, some tendency of hismysterious movements, especially at night; for that he was enveloped inmystery--was a fact of which he felt no doubt whatsoever. He accordinglyresolved to cancel the consequences even of the equivocal allusion tohim which he had made, and which he saw at a glance that Caterine's keensuspicions had interpreted into a bad sense. 

"So you see, Katty, " he proceeded, "agra-machree that you wor, don'tlift me, as I said, till I fall; but what harm is it to be fond of aspree wid a purty girl? Sure it's a good man's case; but I'll tell youmore; you must know the misthress's wig took fire this mornin', and shewas within an inch of havin' the house in flames. Ah, it's she that blewa regular breeze, threatened to make the masther and the other two taketo their travels from about the house and place, and settle the samehouse and place upon Mr. Harry. "

"Well, Barney, " said Caterine, deeply interested, "what was the upshot?"

"Why, that Masther Harry--long life to him--parted company wid her onthe spot; said he would take part wid the masther and the other two, andtould her to her teeth that he did not care a damn about the property, and that she might leave it as a legacy to ould Nick, who, he said, desarved it better at her hands than he did. "

"Well, well, " replied Caterine, "I never thought he was such a foolas all that comes to. Devil's cure to him, if she laves it to some oneelse! that's my compassion for him. "

"Well, but, Caterine, what's the news? When will the sky fall, you thatknows so much about futurity?"

"The news is anything but good, Barney. The sky will fall some Sundayin the middle of next week, and then for the lark-catching. But tell me, Barney, is Mr. Harry within? because, if he is, I'd thank you to let himknow that I wish to see him. I have a bit of favor to ask of him aboutmy uncle Solomon's cabin; the masther's threatnin' to pull it down. "

Now, Barney knew the assertion to be a lie, because it was only a day ortwo previous to the conversation that he had heard Mr. Lindsay expresshis intention of building the old herbalist a new one. He kept hisknowledge of this to himself, however. 

"And so you want him to change the masther's mind upon the subject. Faith and you're just in luck after this mornin's skirmish--skirmish!no bedad, but a field day itself; the masther could refuse him nothing. Will I say what you want him for?"

"You may or you may not; but, on second thoughts, I think it will beenough to say simply that I wish to spake to him particularly. "

"Very well, Caterine, " replied Barney, "I'll tell him so. "

In a few minutes Harry joined her on the lawn, where she awaited him, and the following dialogue took place between them:

"Well, Caterine, Casey tells me that you have something particular tosay to me. "

"And very particular indeed, it is, Mr. Harry. "

"Well, then, the sooner we have it the better; pray, what is it?"

"I'm afeard, Mr. Woodward, that unless you have some good body'sblessin' about you, your life isn't worth a week's purchase. "

"Some good body's blessing!" he replied ironically; "well, never mindthat, but let me know the danger, if danger there be; at all events, Iam well prepared for it. "

"The danger then is this--and terrible it is--that born devil, Shawn-na-Middogue, has got hold of what's goin' on between you and GraceDavoren. "

"Between me and Grace Davoren!" he exclaimed, in a voice of well-feignedastonishment. "You mean my brother Charles. Why, Caterine, thatsoft-hearted and softheaded idiot, for I can call him nothing else, hasmade himself a perfect fool about her, and what is worst of all, I amafraid he will break his engagement with Miss Goodwin, and marry thiswench. Me! why, except that he sent me once or twice to meet her, andapologize for his not being able to keep his appointment with her, Iknow nothing whatsoever of the unfortunate girl, unless that, like afool, as she is, it seems to me that she is as fond of him as he, thefool, on the other hand, is of her. As for my part, I shall deliver hismessages to her no more--and, indeed, it was wrong of me ever to do so. "

The moon had now risen, and Caterine, on looking keenly andincredulously into his face, read nothing there but an expression ofapparent sincerity and sorrow for the indiscretion and folly of hisbrother. 

"Well, " she proceeded, "in spite of all you tell me I say that it doesnot make your danger the less. It is not your brother but yourselfthat he suspects, and whether right or wrong, it is upon you that hisvengeance will fall. "

"Well, but, Caterine, " he replied, "could you not see Shawn-na-Middogue, and remedy that?"

"How, sir?" she replied. 

"Why, by telling him the truth, " said the far-sighted villain, "that itis my brother, and not I, that was the intriguer with her. "

"Is that generous towards your brother, Mr. Woodward? No, sir; soonerthan bring the vengeance of such a person as Shawn upon him, I wouldhave the tongue cut out of my mouth, or the right arm off my body. "

"And I, Caterine, " he answered, retrieving himself an well as he could;"yes, I deserve to have my tongue cut out, and my right arm chopped off, for what I have said. O, no; if there be danger let me run the risk, and not poor, good, kind-hearted Charles, who is certainly infatuatedby this girl. He is to meet her to-morrow night at nine o'clock, in thelittle clump of alders below the well, but I shall go in his place--thatis, if I can prevail upon him to allow me--and endeavor once for allto put an end to this business: mark that I said, if he will allow me, although I scarcely think he will. Now, good-night, and many thanks foryour good wishes towards myself and him. Accept of this, and good-nightagain. " As he spoke he placed some money in her unreluctant hand, andreturned on his way home. 

CHAPTER XIV. Shawn-na-Middogue Stabs Charles Lindsay

Shawn-na-Middogue Stabs Charles Lindsay in Mistake for his Brother

Shawn-na-Middogue, though uneducated, was a young man of no commonintellect. That he had been selected to head the outlaws, or rapparees, of that day, was a sufficient proof of this. After parting from CaterineCollins, on whom the severity of his language fell with such bitterness, he began to reflect that he had acted with great indiscretion, to saythe least of it. He knew that if there was a woman in the barony who, ifshe determined on it, could trace him to his most secret haunts, she wasthat woman. He saw, too, that after she had left him, evidently indeep indignation, she turned her steps towards Rathfillan House, mostprobably with an intention of communicating to Harry Woodward the strongdeterminations of vengeance which he had expressed against him. Here, then, by want of temper and common policy, had he created two formidableenemies against himself. This, he felt, was an oversight for which hecould scarcely forgive himself. He resolved, if possible, to repair theerror he had committed, and, with this object in view, he hung about theplace until her return should afford him an opportunity of making suchan explanation as might soothe her into good humor and a more friendlyfeeling towards him. Nay, he even determined to promise her marriage, inorder to disarm her resentment and avert the danger which, he knew, was to be apprehended from it. He accordingly stationed himself in theshelter of a ditch, along which he knew she must pass on her way home. He had not long, however, to wait. In the course of half an hour he sawher approach, and as she was passing him he said in a low, confidentialvoice, --

"Caterine!"

"Who is that?" she asked, but without exhibiting any symptoms of alarm. 

"It's me, " he replied, "Shawn. "

"Well, " she replied, "and what is that to me whether it's you or not?"

"I have thought over our discourse a while ago, and I'm sorry for whatI've said;--will you let me see you a part of the way home?"

"I can't prevent you from comin', " she replied, "if you're disposed tocome--the way is as free to you as to me. "

They then proceeded together, and our readers must gather from theincidents which are to follow what the result was of Shawn's policyin his conversation with her on the way. It is enough to say that theyparted on the best and most affectionate terms, and that a certainsmack, very delicious to the lips of Caterine, was heard before Shawnbade her good-night. 

Barney Casey, who suspected there was something in the wind, inconsequence of the secret interview which took place between CaterineCollins and Harry, conscious as he felt that it was for no good purpose, watched that worthy gentleman's face with keen but quiet observation, inthe hope of being able to draw some inference from its expression. This, however, was a vain task. The face was impassable, inscrutable; nosymptom of agitation, alarm, or concealed satisfaction could be read init, or anything else, in short, but the ordinary expression of the mostperfect indifference. Barney knew his man, however, and felt aware, fromformer observations, of the power which Woodward possessed of disguisinghis face whenever he wished, even under the influence of the strongestemotions. Accordingly, notwithstanding all this indifference of manner, he felt that it was for no common purpose Caterine Collins sought aninterview with him, and with this impression on his mind he resolved towatch his motions closely. 

The next day Harry and Charles went out to course, accompanied by Barneyhimself, who, by the way, observed that the former made a point to bringa case of pistols and a dagger with him, which he concealed so asthat they might not be seen. This discovery was the result of Barney'svigilance and suspicions, for when Harry was prepared to follow hisbrother, who went to put the dogs in leash, he said:

"Barney, go and assist Mr. Charles, and I will join you both on thelawn. "

Barney accordingly left the room and closed the door after him; butinstead of proceeding, as directed, to join Charles, he deliberately puthis eye to the key-hole, and saw Harry secrete the pistols and daggerabout his person. Each, also, brought his gun at the suggestion ofHarry, who said, that although they went out merely to course, yet itwas not improbable that they might get a random shot at the grouse orpartridge as they went along. Upon all these matters Barney made hiscomments, although he said nothing upon the subject even to Charles, from whom he scarcely ever concealed a secret. That Harry was brave andintrepid even to rashness he knew; but why he should arm himself withsuch secrecy and caution occasioned him much conjecture. His intriguewith Grace Davoren was beginning to be suspected. _Shawn-na-Middoque_might have heard of it. Caterine Collins was one of Woodward'sagents--at least it was supposed from their frequent interviews thatshe was, to a certain degree, in his confidence; might not her request, then, to see him on the preceding night proceed from an anxiety, onher part, to warn him against some danger to be apprehended from thatfearful freebooter? This was well and correctly reasoned on the part ofBarney, and, with those impressions fixed upon his mind, he accompaniedthe two brothers on the sporting expedition of the day. 

We shall not dwell upon their success, which was even better than theyhad expected. Nothing, however, occurred to render either pistols ordagger necessary; but Barney observed that, on their return home, Harrymade it a point to come by the well where he and Grace Davoren were inthe habit of meeting, and, having taken his brother aside, he pointedto the little dark clump of alders, which skirted a small grove, and, having whispered something to him which he could not hear, they passedon by the old, broken boreen, which we have described, and reachedhome loaded with game, but without any particular adventure. Barney'svigilance, however, was still awake, and he made up his mind toascertain, if possible, why Harry had armed himself, for as yet he hadnothing but suspicion on which to rest. He knew that whenever he wentout at night or in the evening he always went armed; and this was onlynatural, for the country was in a dangerous and disturbed state, owing, as the report went, to the outrages against property which were said tohave been committed by Shawn-na-Middogue and his rapparees. During hissporting excursions in the open day, however, he never knew him to goarmed in this manner before, because, on such occasions he had alwaysseen his pistols and dagger hanging against the wall, where he usuallykept them. On this occasion, however, Woodward went like a man who feltapprehensive of some premeditated violence on the part of an enemy. Judging, therefore, from what he had seen, as well as from what heconjectured, Barney, as we said, resolved to watch him closely. 

In the meantime, the state of poor Alice Goodwin's health wasdeplorable. The dreadful image of Harry Woodward, or, rather, thefrightful power of his Satanic spirit, fastened upon her morbid anddiseased imagination with such force, that no effort of her reason couldshake it off. That dreadful eye was perpetually upon her and before her, both asleep and awake, and, lest she might have any one point on whichto rest for comfort, the idea of Charles Lindsay attachment to GraceDavoren would come over her, only to supersede one misery byintroducing another. In this wretched state she was when the calamitouscircumstances, which we are about to relate, took place. 

Barney Casey was a good deal engaged that evening, for indeed he was ageneral servant in his master's family, and was expected to put a handto, and superintend, everything. He was, therefore, out of the way fora time, having gone to Rathfillan on a message for his mistress, whom hecursed in his heart for having sent him. He lost little time, however, in discharging it, and was just on his return when he saw Harry Woodwardentering the old boreen we have described; and, as the night was ratherdark, he resolved to ascertain--although he truly suspected--theobject of this nocturnal adventure. He accordingly dogged him at a safedistance, and, in accordance with his suspicions, he found that Woodwarddirected his steps to the clump of alders which he had, on their returnthat day, pointed out to his brother. Here he (Barney) ensconced himselfin a close thicket, in order to watch the event. Woodward had not beenmany minutes there when Grace Davoren joined him. She seemed startled, and surprised, and disappointed, as Casey could perceive by her manner, or rather by the tones of her voice; but, whatever the cause of herdisappointment may have been, there was little time left for eitherremonstrances or explanation on the part of her lover. Whilst addressingher, a young and powerful man bounded forward, and, brandishing along dagger--the dreaded middogue--plunged it into his body, and hercompanion fell with a groan. The act was rapid as lightning, and themoment the work of blood and vengeance had been accomplished, the youngfellow bounded away again with the same speed observable in the rapidityof his approach. Grace's screams and shrieks were loud and fearful. 

"Murdherin' villain of hell, " she shouted after Shawn--for it washe--"you have killed the wrong man--you have murdered the innocent Thisis his brother. "

Barney was at her side in a moment. 

"Heavenly Father!" he exclaimed, shocked and astounded by her words, "what means this? Is it Mr. Charles?"

"O, yes, " she replied, not conscious that in the alarm and terror of themoment she had betrayed herself, or rather her paramour--"innocent Mr. Charles I'm afeard is murdhered by that revengeful villain; and now, Barney, what is to be done, and how will we get assistance to bring himhome? But, cheerna above! what will become of me!"

"Mr. Charles, " said Barney, "is it possible that it is you that ishere?"

"I am here, Barney, " he replied, with difficulty, "and, I fear, mortallywounded. "

"God forbid!" replied his humble but faithful friend--"I hope it is notso bad as you think. "

"Take this handkerchief, " said Charles, "tie it about my breast, and tryand stop the blood. I feel myself getting weak. "

This Barney proceeded to do, in which operation we shall leave him, assisted by the unfortunate girl who was indirectly the means ofbringing this dreadful calamity upon him. 

Shaivn-na-Middogue. Was not out of the reach of hearing when Graceshouted after him, having paused to ascertain, if possible, whether hehad done his work effectually. That Harry Woodward was Grace's paramour, he knew; and that Charles was innocent of that guilt, he also knew. All that Caterine Collins had told him on the preceding night went fornothing, because he felt that Woodward had coined those falsehoodswith a view to screen himself from his (Shawn's) vengeance. But in themeantime Grace's words, uttered in the extremity of her terror, assuredhim that there had been some mistake, and that one brother mighthave come to explain and apologize for the absence of the other. Heconsequently crept back within hearing of their conversation, andascertained with regret the mistake he had committed. Shawn, at night, seldom went unattended by several of his gang, and on this occasionhe was accompanied by about a dozen of them. His murderous mistakeoccasioned him to feel deep sorrow, for he was perfectly well acquaintedwith the amiable and generous character which Charles bore amongsthis father's tenantry. His life had been, not only inoffensive, butbenevolent; whilst that of his brother--short as was the time sincehis return to Rathfillan House--was marked by a very licentiousprofligacy, --a profligacy which he attempted in vain to conceal. WhilstGrace Davoren and Casey were attempting to staunch the blood whichissued from the wound, four men, despatched by Shawn for the purpose, came, as if alarmed by Grace's shrieks, to the scene of the tragedy, and, after having inquired as to the cause of its occurrence, preciselyas if they had been ignorant of it, they proposed that the only thingto be done, so as to give him a chance for life, was to carry himhome without a moment's delay. He was accordingly raised upon theirshoulders, and, with more sympathy than could be expected from such men, was borne to his father's house in apparently a dying state. 

It is unnecessary to attempt any description of the alarm which hisappearance there created. His father and Maria were distracted; even hismother manifested tokens of unusual sorrow, for after all she was hismother; and nothing, indeed, could surpass the sorrow of the wholefamily. The servants were all in tears, and nothing but sobs andwailings could be heard throughout the house. Harry Woodward himselfput his handkerchief to his eyes, and seemed to feel a deep butsubdued sorrow. Medical aid was immediately sent for, but such was hisprecarious condition that no opinion could be formed as to his ultimaterecover+y. 

The next morning the town of Rathfillan, and indeed the parish at large, were in a state of agitation, and tumult, and sorrow, as soon as themelancholy catastrophe had become known. The neighbors and tenantsflocked in multitudes to learn the particulars, and ascertain his state. About eleven o'clock Harry mounted his horse, and, in defiance of theinterdict that had been laid upon him, proceeded at a rapid pace to Mr. Goodwin's house, in order to disclose--with what object the reader mayconjecture--the melancholy event which had happened. He found Goodwin, his wife, and Sarah Sullivan in the parlor, which he had scarcelyentered when Mr. Goodwin got up, and, approaching him in a state ofgreat alarm and excitement, exclaimed, --

"Good Heavens, Mr. Woodward! can this dreadful intelligence which wehave heard be true?"

"O, you have heard it, then, " replied Woodward. "Alas! yes, it is tootrue, and my unfortunate brother lies with life barely in him, butwithout the slightest hope of recovery. As for myself I am in a state ofabsolute distraction; and were it not that I possess the consciousnessof having done everything in my power as a friend and brother towithdraw him from this unfortunate intrigue, I think I should becomefairly crazed. Miss Goodwin has for some time past been aware of my deepanxiety upon this very subject, because I deemed it a solemn duty on mypart to let her know that ha had degraded himself by this low attachmentto such a girl, and was consequently utterly unworthy of her affection. I could not see the innocence and purity imposed upon, nor her generousconfidence placed on an unworthy object. This, however, is not a timeto deal harshly by him. He will not be long with us, and is entitledto nothing but our forbearance and sympathy. Poor fellow! he has paid aheavy and a fatal penalty for his crime. Alas, my brother! cut down inthe very prime of life, when there was still time enough for reformationand repentance! O, it is too much!"

He turned towards the window, and, putting his handkerchief to his eyes, did the pathetic with a very good grace. 

"But, " said Mrs. Goodwin, "what were the exact circumstances under whichthe deplorable act of vengeance was committed?"

"Alas! the usual thing, Mrs. Goodwin, " replied Harry, attempting toclear his throat; "they met last night between nine and ten o'clock, in a clump of alders, near the well from which the inhabitants of theadjoining hamlet fetch their water. The outlaw, Shawn-na-Middogue, a rejected lover of the girl's, stung with jealousy and vengeance, surprised them, and stabbed my unfortunate brother, I fear, to death. "

"And do you think there is no hope?" she added, with tears in her eyes;"O, if he had only time for repentance!"

"Alas! madam, the medical man who has seen him scarcely holds out anyhope; but, as you say, if he had time even to repent, there would bemuch consolation in that. "

"Well, " observed Goodwin, his eyes moist with tears, "after this day, I shall never place confidence in man. I did imagine that if everthere was an individual whose heart was the source of honor, truth, generosity, disinterestedness, and affection, your brother Charles wasthat man. I am confounded, amazed--and the whole thing appears to melike a dream; at all events, thank God, our daughter has had a narrowescape of him. "

"Pray, by the way, how is Miss Goodwin?" asked. Harry; "I hope she isrecovering. "

"So far from that, " replied her father, "she is sinking fast; in truthwe entertain but little hopes of her. "

"On the occasion of my last visit here you forbade me your house, Mr. Goodwin, " said Woodward; "but perhaps, now that you are aware ofthe steps I have taken to detach your daughter's affections from anindividual whom I knew at the time to be unworthy of them, you may beprevailed on to rescind that stern and painful decree. "

Goodwin, who was kind-hearted and placable, seemed rather perplexed, andlooked towards his wife, as if to be guided by her decision. 

"Well, indeed, " she replied, "I don't exactly know; perhaps we willthink of it. "

"No, " replied Sarah Sullivan, who was toasting a thin slice of bread forAlice's breakfast. "No; if you allow this man to come about the place, as God is to judge me, you will both have a hand in your daughter'sdeath. If the devils from hell were to visit here, she might bear it;but at the present moment one look from that man would kill her. "

This remonstrance decided them. 

"No, Mr. Woodward, " said Goodwin, "the truth is, my daughter entertainsa strong prejudice against you--in fact, a terror of you--and underthese circumstances, and considering, besides, her state of health, wecould not think of permitting your visits, at least, " he added, "untilthat prejudice be removed and her health restored--if it ever shall be. We owe you no ill-will, sir; but under the circumstances we cannot, forthe present, at least, allow you to visit us. "

"Well, " replied Woodward, "perhaps--and I sincerely trust--her healthwill be restored, and her prejudices against me removed, and when bettertimes come about I shall look with anxiety to the privilege of renewingmy intimacy with you all. "

"Perhaps so, " returned Mr. Goodwin, "and then we shall receive yourvisits with pleasure. "

Woodward then shook hands with him and his wife, and wished them a goodmorning. 

On his way home worthy Suil Balor began to entertain reflections uponhis prospects in life that he felt to be rather agreeable. Here was hisbrother, whom he had kindly sent to apologize to Grace Davoren forthe impossibility from illness of his meeting her according to theirprevious arrangement; yes, we say he feigned illness on that evening, and prevailed on the unsuspecting young man to go in his stead, inorder, as he said, to give her the necessary explanations for hisabsence. Charles undertook this mission the more willingly, as it washis firm intention to remonstrate with the girl on the impropriety ofher conduct, in continuing a secret and guilty intrigue, which must endonly in her own shame and ruin. But when Harry deputed him upon such amessage he anticipated the very event which had occurred, or, rather, a more fatal one still, for, despite his hopes of Alice Goodwin's illstate of health, he entertained strong apprehensions that his stepfathermight, by some accidental piece of intelligence, be restored to hisoriginal impressions on the relative position in which she and Charlesstood. An interview between Mr. Lindsay and her might cancel all he haddone; and if every obstruction which he had endeavored to place betweentheir union were removed, her health might recover, their marriage takeplace, and then what became of his chance for the property? It istrue he had managed his plans and speculations with great ability. Substituting Charles, like a villain as he was, in his own affair withGrace Davoren, he contrived to corroborate the falsehood by the tragicincident of the preceding night. Now, if this would not satisfy Aliceof the truth of his own falsehood, nothing could. That Charles wasthe _intrigant_ must be clear and palpable from what had happened, andaccordingly, after taking a serious review of his own iniquity, he felt, as we said, peculiarly gratified with his prospects. Still, it cannot bedenied that an occasional shadow, not proceeding from any consciousnessof guilt, but from an apprehension of disappointment, would cast itsdeep gloom across his spirit. With such terrible states of feeling themachinations of guilt, no matter how successful its progress may be, are from time to time attended; and even in his case the torments of thedamned were little short of what he suffered, from a dread of failure, and its natural consequences--an exposure which would bar him out ofsociety. Still, his earnest expectation was that the intelligence ofthe fate of her lover would, considering her feeble state of health, effectually accomplish his wishes, and with this consoling reflection herode home. 

His great anxiety now was, his alarm lest his brother should recover. On reaching Rathfillan House he proceeded to his bedroom, where he foundhis sister watching. 

"My dear Maria, " said he, in a low and most affectionate voice, "is hebetter?"

"I hope so, " she replied, in a voice equally low; "this is the firstsleep he has got, and I hope it will remove the fever. "

"Well, I will not stop, " said he, "but do you watch him carefully, Maria, and see that he is not disturbed. "

"O, indeed, Harry, you may rest assured that I shall do so. Poor, dearCharles, what would become of us all if we lost him--and Alice Goodwin, too--O, she would die. Now, go, dear Harry, and leave him to me. "

Harry left the room apparently in profound sorrow, and, on going intothe parlor, met Barney Casey in the hall. 

"Barney, " said he, "come into the parlor for a moment. My father is out, and my mother is upstairs. I want to know how this affair happenedlast night, and how it occurred that you were present at it. It's a badbusiness, Barney. "

"Devil a worser, " replied Barney, "especially for poor Mr. Charles. I was fortunately goin' down on my _kalie_ to the family of poordisconsolate Granua (Grace), when, on passing the clump of alders, Iheard screams and shouts to no end. I ran to the spot I heard the skirlscomin' from, and there I found Mr. Charles, lyin' as if dead, and GraceDavoren with her hands clasped like a mad woman over him. The strangemen then joined us, and carried him home, and that's all I know aboutit. "

"But, can you understand it, Barney? As for me, I cannot. Did Grace saynothing during her alarm?"

"Divil a syllable, " replied Barney, lying without remorse; "she wasso thunderstruck with what happened that she could do nothing nor sayanything but cry out and scream for the bare life of her. They say shehas disappeared from her family, and that nobody knows where she hasgone to. I was at her father's to-day, and I know they are searchin' thecountry for her. It is thought she has made away with herself. "

"Poor Charles, " exclaimed his brother, "what an unfortunate business ithas turned out on both sides! I thought he was attached to Miss Goodwin;but it would appear now that he was deceiving her all along. "

"Well, Mr. Harry, " replied Barney, dryly, or rather with some severity, "you see what the upshot is; treachery, they say, seldom prospers inthe long run, although it may for a while. God forgive them that makes apractice of it. As for Master Charles, I couldn't have dreamt of such athing. "

"Nor I, Barney. I know not what to say. It perplexes me, from whateverpoint I look at it. At all events, I hope he may recover, and if hedoes, I trust he will consider what has happened as a warning, and actupon better principles. May God forgive him!"

And so ended their dialogue, little, indeed, to the satisfactionof Harry, whom Barney left in complete ignorance of the significantexclamations by which Grace Davoren, in the alarm of the moment, hadbetrayed her own guilt, by stating that Shawn-na-Middogue had stabbedthe wrong man. 

Sarah Sullivan--poor, thoughtless, but affectionate girl--on repairingwith the thin toast to her mistress's bedroom, felt so brimful of thedisaster which had befallen Charles, that---now believing in his guilt, as she did, and with a hope of effectually alienating Alice's affectionsfrom him--she lost not a moment in communicating the melancholyintelligence to her. 

"O, Miss Alice!" she exclaimed, "have you heard what has happened? O, the false fend treacherous villain! Who would believe it? To lavea beautiful lady like you, and take up with sich a vulgar vagabone!However, he has suffered for it. _Shawn-na-Middogue_ did for him. "

"What do you mean, Sarah?" said her mistress, much alarmed by such astartling-preface; "explain yourself. I do not understand, you. "

"But you soon will, miss. Shawn-na-Middogue found Mr. Charles Lindsayand Grace Davoren together last night, and has stabbed him to death;life's only in him; and that's the gentleman that pretended to love you. Devil's cure to the villain!"

She paused. The expression of her mistress's face was awful. A pallormore frightful than that of death, because it was associated with life, overspread her countenance. Her eyes became dim and dull; her featuresin a moment were collapsed, and resembled those of some individualstruck by paralysis--they were altogether without meaning. She claspedand unclasped her hands, like one under the influence of stronghysterical agony; she laid herself back in bed, where she had beensitting up expecting her coffee, her eyes closed, for she had notphysical strength even to keep them open, and with considerabledifficulty she said, in a low and scarcely audible voice, --"My mother!"

Poor Sarah felt and saw the mischief she had done, and, with streamingeyes and loud sobbings, lost not a moment in summoning Mrs. Goodwin. In truth she feared that her mistress lay dying before her, and wasimmediately tortured with the remorseful impression that the thoughtlessand indiscreet communication she had made was the cause of her death. It is unnecessary to describe the terror and alarm of her mother, norof her father, when he saw her lying as it were between lifeand dissolution. The physician was immediately sent for, but, notwithstanding all his remedies, until the end of the second day, thereappeared no change in her. Towards the close of that day an improvementwas perceptible; she was able to speak and take some nourishment, butit was observed that she never once made the slightest allusion to thedisaster which had befallen Charles Lindsay. She sank into a habitualsilence, and, unless when forced to ask for some of those usualattentions which her illness required, she never ventured to indulge inconversation on any subject whatsoever. One thing, however, struck SarahSullivan, which was, that in all her startings, both asleep and awake, and in all her unconscious ejaculations, that which appeared to pressupon her most was the unceasing horror of the Evil Eye. The name ofCharles Lindsay never escaped her, even in the feverish agitation of herdreams, nor in those exclamations of terror and alarm which she uttered. 

"O, save me!--save me from his eye--he is killing me! Yes, Woodward is adevil--he is killing me--save me--save me!"

Well had the villain done his work; and how his web of iniquity waswoven out we shall see. 

On leaving Barney, that worthy gentleman sought his mother, and thusaddressed her:--

"Mother, " said he, apparently much moved, "this is a melancholy, and Itrust in heaven it may not turn out a fatal, business. I'm afraid poorCharles's case is hopeless. "

"O, may God forbid, poor boy!" exclaimed Mrs. Lindsay; "for, although healways joined his father against me, still he was in other respects mostobliging to every one, and inoffensive to all. "

"I know that, and I am sorry that this jade--and she is a handsome jade, they say--should have gained such a cursed influence over him. That, however, is not the question. We must think of nothing now but hisrecovery. The strictest attention ought to be paid to him; and as it hasoccurred to me that there is no female under this roof who understandsthe management of a sick bed, we ought, under these circumstances, toprovide a nurse for him. "

"Well, indeed, that is true enough, Harry, and it is very kind andconsiderate of you to think of it; but who will we get? The women hereare very ignorant and stupid. "

"I have been making inquiries, " he replied, "and I am told there is awoman in Rathfillan, named Collins, niece to a religious herbalist orherb doctor, who possesses much experience in that way. It is just sucha woman we want. "

"Well, then, let her come; do you go and engage her; but see that shewill not extort dishonest terms from you, because there is nothing butfraud and knavery among these wretches. "

Harry lost little time in seeming the services of Caterine Collins, whowas that very day established as nurse-tender in Charles Lindsay's sickroom. 

Alice's illness was now such as left little expectation of her recovery. She was stated, and with good reason, to be in a condition absolutelyhopeless; and nothing could exceed the regret and sorrow which were feltfor the benevolent and gentle girl. We say benevolent, because, sinceher accession to her newly-acquired property, her charities to the poorand distressed were bountiful and generous, almost beyond belief; andeven during her illness she constituted her father as the agent--anda willing one he was--of her beneficence. In fact, the sorrow for herapproaching death was deep and general, and the sympathy felt for herparents such as rarely occurs in life. 

Of course it is unnecessary to say that these tidings of her hopelessillness did not reach the Lindsays. On the second morning after Harry'svisit he asked for a private interview with his mother, which wasaccorded to him. 

"Mother, " said he, "you must pay the Goodwins another visit--a visit, mark you, of sympathy and condolence. You forget all the unpleasantcircumstances that have occurred between the families. You forgeteverything but your anxiety for the recovery of poor, dear Alice. "

"But, " replied his mother, "I do not wish to go. Why should I go toexpress a sympathy which I do not feel? Her death is only a judicialpunishment on them for having inveigled your silly old uncle to leavethem the property which would have otherwise come to you as the naturalheir. "

"Mother, " said her dutiful son, "you have a nose, and beyond that noseyou never yet have been able to look with anything like perspicuity. Ifyou don't visit them, your good-natured noodle of a husband will, andperhaps the result of that visit may cut us out of the property forever. At breakfast this morning you will propose the visit, which, markyou, is to be made in the name and on behalf of all the family. You, consequently, being the deputation on this occasion, both your husbandand Maria will not feel themselves called upon to see them. You can, besides, say that her state of health precludes her from seeing any oneout of her own family, and thus all risk of an explanation will beavoided. It is best to make everything safe; but that she can't live Iknow, because I feel that my power and influence are upon her, and thatthe force of this Evil Eye of mine has killed her. I told you thisbefore, I think. "

"Even so, " said his mother; "it is only what I have said, a judicialpunishment for their villany. Villany, Harry, never prospers. "

"Egad, my dear mother, " he replied, "I know of nothing so prosperous:look through life and you will see the villain thrive upon his fraud andiniquity, where the honest man--the man of integrity, who binds himselfby all the principles of what are called honor and morality--is elbowedout of prosperity by the knave, the swindler, and the hypocrite. O, no, my dear mother, the two worst passports to independence and success inlife are truth and honesty. "

"Well, Harry, I am a bad logician, and will not dispute it with you; butI am far from well, and I don't think I shall be able to visit them fortwo or three davs at least. "

"But, in the meantime, express your intention to do so--on behalf ofthe family, mark; assume your right as the proprietor of this place, and as its representative, and then your visit will be considered as thevisit of the whole family. In the meantime, mark me, the girl is dead. Ihave accomplished that gratifying event, so that, after all, your visitwill be a mere matter of form. When you reach their house you willprobably find it the house of death. "

"And then, " replied his mother, "the twelve hundred a year is yours forlife, and the property of your children after you. Thank God!"

That morning at breakfast she expressed her determination to visit theGoodwins, making it, she said, a visit from the family in general; sucha visit, she added, as might be proper on their (the Lindsays) part, but yet such an act of neighborhood that, while it manifested sufficientrespect for them, would preclude all hopes of any future intercoursebetween them. 

Mr. Lindsay did not relish this much; but as he had no particular wish, in consequence of Charles's illness, to oppose her motives in making thevisit, he said she might manage it as she wished--he would not raise afresh breeze about it. He only felt that he was sincerely, sorry for theloss which the Goodwins were about to experience. 

CHAPTER XV. The Banshee. --Disappearance of Grace Davoren. 

In the meantime it was certainly an unquestionable fact that GraceDavoren had disappeared, and not even a trace of her could be found. Theunfortunate girl, alarmed at the tragic incident of that woful night, and impressed with a belief that Charles Lindsay had been murdered byShawn-na-Middogue, had betaken herself to some place of concealmentwhich no search on behalf of her friends could discover. In fact, her disappearance was involved in a mystery as deep as the alarm anddistress it occasioned. But what astonished the public most was the factthat Charles, whose whole life had been untainted by a single act ofimpropriety, much less of profligacy, should have been discovered insuch a heartless and unprincipled intrigue with the daughter of one ofhis father's tenants, an innocent girl, who, as such, was entitled toprotection rather than injury at his hands. 

Whilst this tumult was abroad, and the country was in an unusual stateof alarm and agitation, Harry Woodward took, matters very quietly. Thathe seemed to feel deeply for the uncertain and dangerous state of hisbrother, who lay suspended, as it were, between life and death, wasevident to every individual of his family. He frequently took CaterineCollins's place, attended him personally, with singular kindness andaffection, gave him his drinks and decoctions with his own hand; and, when the surgeon came to make his daily visit, the anxiety he evincedin ascertaining whether there was any chance of his recovery was mostaffectionate and exemplary. Still, as usual, he was out at night; butthe mystery of his whereabouts, while absent, could never be penetrated. On those occasions he always went armed--a fact which he never attemptedto conceal. On one of these nights it so happened that Barney Casey wascalled upon to attend at the wake of a relation, and, as his master'sfamily were apprised of this circumstance, they did not of course expecthim home until a late hour. He left the wake, however, earlier than hehad proposed to do, for he found it a rather dull affair, and was onhis way home when, to his astonishment, or rather to his horror, he sawHarry Woodward--also on his way home--in close conversation withthe supernatural being so well known by description as the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_; or Black Spectre. Now, Barney was half cowardly andhalf brave--that is to say, had he lived in an enlightened age he wouldhave felt little terror of supernatural appearances; but at the periodof our story such was the predominance of a belief in ghosts, fairies, evil spirits, and witches, that he should have been either less or morethan man could he have shaken off the prevailing superstitions, and thegross credulity of the times in which he lived. As it was, he knew notwhat to think. He remembered the character which had been whisperedabroad about Harry Woodward, and of his intercourse with supernaturalbeings--he was known to possess the Evil Eye; and it was generallyunderstood that those who happened to be endowed with that accursed giftwere aided in the exercises of it by the powers of darkness and of evil. What, then, was he to do? There probably was an opportunity of solvingthe mystery which hung around the midnight motions of Woodward. If therewas a spirit before him, there was also a human being, in living fleshand blood--an acquaintance, too--an individual whom he personally knew, ready to sustain him, and afford, if necessary, that protection which, under such peculiar circumstances, one fellow-creature has a right toexpect from another. Now Barney's way home led him necessarily--and apainful necessity it was--near the Haunted House; and he observed thatthe place where they stood, for they had ceased walking, was about fiftyyards above that much dreaded mansion. He resolved, however, to makethe plunge and advance, but deemed it only good manners to give someintimation of his approach. He was now within about twenty yards fromthem, and made an attempt at a comic song, which, however, quivered offinto as dismal and cowardly a ditty as ever proceeded from human lips. Harry and the Spectre, both startled by the voice, turned roundto observe his approach, when, to his utter consternation, theShan-dhinne-dhuv sank, as it were, into the earth and disappeared. Thehair rose upon Barney's head, and when Woodward called out:

"Who comes there?"

He could scarcely summon voice enough to reply:

"It's me, sir, " said he; "Barney Casey. "

"Come on, Barney, " said Woodward, "come on quickly;" and he had scarcelyspoken when Barney joined him. 

"Barney, " said he, "I am in a state of great terror. I have felt eversince I passed that Haunted House as if there was an evil spirit in mycompany. The feeling was dreadful, and I am very weak in consequence ofit. Give me you arm. "

"But did you see nothing, sir?" said Barney; "didn't it become visibleto you?"

"No, " replied the other; "but I felt as if I was in the presence of asupernatural being, and an evil one, too. "

"God protect us, Mr. Harry! then, if you didn't see it I did. "

"You did!" replied the other, startled; "and pray what was it like?"

"Why, a black ould man, sir; and, by all accounts that ever I could hearof it, it was nothing else than the Shan-dhinne-dhuv. For God's sakelet us come home, sir, for this, if all they say be true, is unholy andcursed ground we're standin' on. "

"And where did it disappear?" asked Woodward, leading him by a circuitfrom the spot where it had vanished. 

"Just over there, sir, " replied Barney, pointing to the place. "But, in God's name, let us make for home as fast as we can. I'll think everyminute an hour till we get safe undher our own roof. "

"Barney, " said Woodward, solemnly, "I have a request to make of you, andit is this--the common report is, that the spirit in question followsour family--I mean by my mother's side. Now I beg, as you expect mygood will and countenance, that, for my sake, and out of respect for thefamily in general, you will never breathe a syllable of what you haveseen this night. It could answer no earthly purpose, and would onlysend abroad idle and unpleasant rumors throughout the country. Will youpromise this?"

"Of course I promise it, " replied Barney; "what object could I gain byrepeatin' it?"

"None whatsoever. Well, then, be silent on the subject, and let us reachhome as soon as we can. "

It would be difficult to describe honest Barney's feelings as they wentalong. He imagined that he felt Harry's arm tremble within his, and whenhe thought of the reports concerning the evil spirit, and itsconnection with Mrs. Lindsay's family, his sensations were anythingbut comfortable. He tossed and tumbled that night for hours in hisbed before he was able to sleep, and when he did sleep the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_ rendered his dreams feverish and frightful. 

Precisely at this period, before Mrs. Lindsay had recovered from herindisposition, and could pay her intended visit to the Goodwins, acircumstance occurred which suggested to Harry Woodward one of the mostremorseless and Satanic schemes that ever was concocted in the heart ofman. He was in the habit occasionally of going down to the kitchen toindulge in a smoke and a piece of banter with the servants. One evening, whilst thus amusing himself, the conversation turned upon the prevailingsuperstitions of the day. Ghosts, witches, wizards; astrologers, fairies, leprechauns, and all that could be termed supernatural, or evenrelated to or aided by it, were discussed at considerable length, and with every variety of feeling. Amongst the rest the Banshee wasmentioned--a spirit of whose peculiar office and character Woodward, in consequence of his long absence from the country, was completelyignorant. 

"The Banshee!" he exclaimed; "what kind of a spirit is that? I havenever heard of it. "

"Why, sir, " replied Barney, who was present, "the Banshee--the Lordprevent us from hearin' her--is always the forerunner of death. Sheattends only certain families--principally the ould Milesians, andmostly Catholics, too; although, I believe, it's well known that shesometimes attends Protestants whose families have been Catholics orMilesians, until the last of the name disappears. So that, afther all, it seems she's not over-scrupulous about religion. "

"But what do you mean by attending families?" asked Woodward; "whatdescription of attendance or service does she render them?"

"Indeed, Mr. Harry, " replied Barney, "anything but an agreeableattendance. By goxty, I believe every family she follows would be veryglad to dispense with her attendance if they could. "

"But that is not answering my question, Casey. "

"Why, sir, " proceeded Barney, "I'll answer it. Whenever the family thatshe follows is about to have a death in it, she comes a little timebefore the death tikes place, sits either undher the windy of the sickbed or somewhere near the house, and wails and cries there as if hervery heart would break. They say she generally names the name of theparty that is to die; but there is no case known of the sick person everrecoverin' afther she has given the warnin' of death. "

"It is a strange and wild superstition, " observed Woodward. 

"But a very true one, sir, " replied the cook; "every one knows that aBanshee follows the Goodwin family. "

"What! the Goodwins of Beech Grove?" said Harry. 

"Yes, sir, " returned the cook; "they lost six children, and not one ofthem ever died that she did not give the warnin'. "

"If poor Miss Alice heard it, " observed Barney, "and she in the stateshe's in, she wouldn't live twenty-four hours afther it. "

"According to what you say, " observed Woodward, "that is, if it followsthe family, of course it will give the warning in her case also. "

"May God forbid, " ejaculated the cook, "for it's herself, the darlin'girl, that 'ud be the bitther loss to the poor and destitute. "

This kind ejaculation was fervently echoed by all her fellow-servants;and Harry, having finished his pipe, went to see how his brother'swound was progressing. He found him asleep, and Caterine Collins seatedknitting a stocking at his bedside. He beckoned her to the lobby, where, in a low, guarded voice, the following conversation took place betweenthem:

"Caterine, have you not a niece that sings well? Barney Casey mentionedher to me as possessing a fine voice. "

"As sweet a voice, sir, as ever came from a woman's lips; but the poorthing is delicate and sickly, and I'm afeard not long for this world. "

"Could she imitate a Banshee, do you think?"

"If ever woman could, she could. There's not her aquil at the keene, orIrish cry, livin'; she's the only one can bate myself at it. "

"Well, Caterine, if you get her to go to Mr. Goodwin's to-morrow nightand imitate the cry of the Banshee, I will reward her and you liberallyfor it. You are already well aware of my generosity. "

"Indeed I am, Mr. Woodward; but if either you or I could insure her thewealth of Europe, we couldn't prevail on her to go by herself atnight. Except by moonlight she wouldn't venture to cross the street ofRathfillan. As to her, you may put that out of the question. She's veryhandy, however, about a sick bed, and I might contrive, undher someexcuse or other, to get her to take my place for a day or so. But here'syour father. We will talk about it again. "

She then returned to the sick room, and Harry met Mr. Lindsay on thestairs going up to inquire after Charles. 

"Don't go up, sir, " said he; "the poor fellow, thank God, is asleep, andthe less noise about him the better. "

Both then returned to the parlor. 

About eleven o'clock the next night Sarah Sullivan was sitting bythe bedside of her mistress, who was then, fortunately for herself, enjoying, what was very rare with her, an undisturbed sleep after theterror and agitation of the day, when a low, but earnest and sorrowfulwailing was heard, immediately, she thought, under the window. It roseand fell alternately, and at the close of every division of the cryit pronounced the name of Alice Goodwin in tones of the most patheticlamentation and woe. The natural heat and warmth seemed to depart out ofthe poor girl's body; she felt like an icicle, and the cold perspirationran in torrents from her face. 

"My darling misthress, " thought she, "it's all over with you at last. There is the sign--the Banshee--and it is well for yourself that youdon't hear it, because it would be the death of you at once. However, ifI committed one mistake about Misther Charles's misfortune, I will notcommit another. You shall never hear of this from me. "

The cry was then heard more distant and indistinct, but still loadedwith the same mournful expression of death and sorrow; but in a littletime it died away in the distance, and was then heard no more. 

Sarah, though she had judiciously resolved to keep this awful intimationa secret from Miss Goodwin, considered it her duty to disclose it to herparents. We shall not dwell, however, upon the scene which occurred onthe occasion. A belief in the existence and office of the Bansheewas, at the period of which we write, almost universally held by thepeasantry, and even about half a century ago it was one of the strongestdogmas of popular superstition. After the grief of the parents hadsomewhat subsided at this dreadful intelligence, Mr. Goodwin asked SarahSullivan if his daughter had heard the wail of this prophetic spirit ofdeath; and on her answering in the negative, he enjoined, her never tobreathe a syllable of the circumstance to her; but she told him she hadcome to that conclusion herself, as she felt certain, she said, that theknowledge of it would occasion her mistress's almost immediate death. 

"At all events, " said her master; "by the doctor's advice we shall leavethis place tomorrow morning; he says if she has any chance it will bein a change of air, of society, and of scenery. Everything here hasassociations and recollections that are painful, and even horrible toher. If she is capable of bearing an easy journey we shall set out forthe Spa of Ballyspellan, in the county of Kilkenny. He thinks the watersof that famous spring may prove beneficial to her. If the Banshee, then, is anxious to fulfil its mission it must follow us. They say it alwayspays three visits, but as yet it has paid us only one. "

Mrs. Lindsay had now recovered from her slight indisposition, andresolved to pay the last formal visit to the Goodwins, --a visit whichwas to close all future intercourse between the families; and ourreaders are not ignorant of her motives for this, nor how completely andwillingly she was the agent of her son Harry's designs. She went in allher pomp, dressed in satins and brocades, and attended by Barney Caseyin full livery. Her own old family carriage had been swept of its dustand cobwebs, and put into requisition on this important occasion. Atlength they reached Beech Grove, and knocked at the door, which wasopened by our old Mend, Tom Kennedy. 

"My good man, " she asked, "are the family at home?"

"No, ma'am. "

"What! not at home, and Miss Goodwin so ill?--dying, I am told. Perhaps, in consequence of her health, they do not wish to see strangers. Go andsay that Mrs. Lindsay, of Rathnllan House, is here. "

"Ma'am, they are not at home; they have left Beech Grove for some time. "

"Left Beech Grove!" she exclaimed; "and pray where are they gone to? Ithought Miss Goodwin was not able to be removed. "

"It was do or die with her, " replied Tom. "The doctor said there was butone last chance--change of air, and absence from dangerous neighbors. "

"But you did not tell me where they are gone to. "

"I did not, ma'am, and for the best reason in life--because I don'tknow. "

"You don't know! Why, is it possible they made a secret of such amatter?"

"Quite possible, ma'am, and to the back o' that they swore every one ofus upon the seven gospels never to tell any individual, man or woman, where they went to. "

"But did they not tell yourselves?"

"Devil a syllable, ma'am. "

"And why, then, did they swear you to secrecy?"

"Why, of course, ma'am, to make us keep the secret. "

"But why swear you, I ask again, to keep a secret which you did notknow?"

"Why, ma'am, because they knew that in that case there was little dangerof our committin' parjury; and because every saicret which one does notknow is sure to be kept. "

She looked keenly at him, and added, "I'm inclined to think, sirrah, that you are impertinent. "

"Very likely, ma'am, " replied Tom, with great gravity. "I've a strongnotion of that myself. My father before me was impertinent, and his lastdying words to me were, 'Tom, I lay it as a last injunction upon youto keep up the principles of our family, and always to show nothing butimpertinence to those who don't deserve respect. '"

With a face scarlet from indignation she immediately ordered hercarriage home, but before it had arrived there the intelligence fromanother source had reached the family, together with the fact that theBanshee had been heard by Mr. Goodwin's servants under Miss Alice'swindow. Such, indeed, was the fact; and the report of the circumstancehad spread through half the parish before the hour of noon next day. 

The removal of Alice sank heavily upon the heart of Harry Woodward; itseemed to him as if she had gone out of his grasp, and from under theinfluence of his eye, for, by whatever means he might accomplish it, he was resolved to keep the deadly power of that eye upon her. He hadcalculated upon the voice and prophetic wail of the Banshee asbeing fatal in her then state of health; or was it this ominous andsupernatural foreboding of her dissolution that caused them to fly fromthe place? He reasoned, as the reader may perceive, upon the principleof the Banshee being, according to the superstitious notions entertainedof her, a real supernatural visitant, and not the unscrupulous anddiabolical imitation of her by Catherine Collins. Still he thought itbarely possible that the change of air and the waters of the celebratedspring might recover her, notwithstanding all his inhuman anticipations. His brother, also, according to the surgeon's last report, affordedhopes of convalescence. A kind of terror came over him that his plansmight fail, because he felt almost certain that if Alice and his brotherboth recovered, Mr. Lindsay might, or rather would, mount his old hobby, and insist on having them married, in the teeth of all opposition onthe part of either himself or his mother. This was a gloomy prospect forhim, and one which he could not contemplate without falling back uponstill darker schemes. 

After the night on which Barney Casey had seen him and the Black Spectretogether we need scarcely say that he watched Barney closely, nor thatBarney watched him with as keen a vigilance. Whatever Woodward may haveactually felt upon the subject of the apparition, Barney was certainlyundecided as to its reality; or if there existed any bias at all, it wasin favor of that reality. Why did Woodward's arm tremble, and why didthe man, who was supposed ignorant of fear, exhibit so much terror andagitation on the occasion? Still, on the other hand, there appeared tobe a conversation, as it were, between them, and a familiarity of mannerconsiderably at variance with Woodward's version of the circumstances. Be this as it might, he felt it to be a subject on which he could, by noprocess of reasoning, come to anything like a definite conclusion. 

Woodward now determined to consult his mother as to the plan of theirfuture operations. The absence of Alice, and the possible chance of herrecovery, rendered it necessary that some new series of projects shouldbe adopted; but although several had occurred to him, he had not yetcome to a definite resolution respecting the selection he would make. With this view he and his conscientious mother closeted themselves inher room, and discussed the state of affairs in the following dialogue:

"Mother, " said he, "this escape of Miss Curds-and-whey is an untowardbusiness. What, after all, if she should recover?"

"Recover!" exclaimed the lady; "why, did you not assure me that such anevent was impossible--that you were killing her, and that she must die?"

"So I still think; but so long as the notion of her recovery exists, even only as a dream, so certainly ought we to provide against such acalamity. "

"Ah! Harry, " she exclaimed, "you may well term it a calamity, for suchindeed it would be to you. "

"Well, but what do you think ought to be done, my dear mother? Iam anxious to have both your advice and opinion upon our futureproceedings. Suppose change of air--the waters of that damned brimstonespring, and above all things, the confidence she will derive from theconsciousness that she is removed from me and out of my reach--suppose, I say, that all these circumstances should produce a beneficial effectupon her, then how do I stand?"

"Why, with very little hope of the property, " she replied; "and thenwhat tenacity of life she has! Why, there are very few girls who wouldnot have been dead long ago, if they had gone through half what she hassuffered. Well, you wish to ask me how I would advise you to act?"

"Of course I do. "

"Well, then, you have heard the old proverb: It is good to have twostrings to one's bow. We shall set all consideration of her aside for atime, and turn our attention to another object. "

"What or who is that, mother?"

"You remember I mentioned some time ago the names of a neighboringnobleman and his niece, who lives with him. The man I allude to as LordBilberry, but is now Earl of Cockletown. He was raised to this rank forsome services he rendered the government against the tories, who hadbeen devastating the country, and also against some turbulent papistswho were supposed to have privately encouraged them in their outragesagainst Protestant life and property. He was a daring and intrepid manwhen in his prime of life, and appeared to seek danger for its own sake. He is now an old man, although a young peer, and was always consideredeccentric, which he is to the present day. Some people look upon him asa fool, and others as a knave; but in balancing his claims to each, ithas never yet been determined on which side the scale would sink. Heis the proprietor of a little fishing village on the coast, and on thisaccount he assumed the title of Cockletown; and when he built himself amansion, as they term it, he would have it called by no other name thanthat of Cockle Hall. It is true he laughs at the thing himself, andconsiders it a good joke. "

"And so it is, " replied her son; "but what about the lady, his niece?"

"Why, she is a rather interesting person. "

"Ahem! person!"

"Yes, about thirty-four or so; but she will inherit his property. "

"And have you any notion of what that may amount to?" asked hercalculating son. 

"I could not exactly say, " she replied; "but I believe it is handsome. A great deal of it is mountain, but they say there are large portions ofit capable of being reclaimed. "

"But how can the estate go to her?"

"Simply because there is no other heir, " replied his mother; "they arethe last of the family. It is not entailed. "

"Thirty-four!" ruminated Woodward. "Well, I have seen very fine girls atthirty-four; but in personal appearance and manner what is she like?"

"Why, perhaps a critical eye might not call her handsome; but thegeneral opinion on that point is in her favor. Her manners areagreeable, so are her features; but it is said that she is fastidiousin her lovers, and has rejected many. It is true most of them werefortune-hunters, and deserved no better success. "

"But what do you call me, mother?"

"Surely not a fortune-hunter, Harry. Is not there your granduncle'slarge property who is a bachelor, and you are his favorite. "

"But don't you know, mother, that, as respects my granduncle, I haveconfided that secret to you already?"

"I know no such thing, you fool, " she replied, looking at him withan expression in her odious eyes which could not be described; "I amaltogether ignorant of that fact; but is there not the twelve hundredper annum which reverts to you on the demise of that dying girl?"

"True, my dear mother, true; you are right, I am a fool. Of course Inever told you the secret of my disinheritance by the old scoundrel. "

"Ah, Harry, I fear you played your cards badly there. You knew he wasreligious, and yet you should become a seducer; but why make free withhis money?"

"Why? Why, because he kept me upon the tight curb; but, as these mattersare known only to ourselves, I see you are right. I am still to beconsidered his favorite--his heir--and am here only on, a visit. "

"Well, but, Harry, he must have dealt liberally with you on yourdeparture from him?"

"He! Don't you know I was obliged to fly?--to take French leave, Iassure you. I reached Rathfillan House with not more than twenty poundsin my pocket. "

"But how does it happen that you always appear to have plenty of money?"

"My dear mother, there is a secret there; but it is one which even youshall not know, --or come, you shall know it. Did you ever hear of acertain supernatural being which follows your family, which supernaturalbeing is known by the name of the Black Spectre, or some suchdenomination which I cannot remember?"

"I don't wish to hear it named, " replied his mother, deeply agitated. "It resembles the Banshee, and never appears to any one of our familyexcept as a precursor of his death by violence. "

Woodward started for a moment, and could not avoid being struck at thecoincidence of the same mission having been assigned to the two spirits, and he reflected, with an impression that was anything but agreeable, upon his damnable suggestion of having had recourse to the vile agencyof Caterine Collins in enacting the said Banshee, for the purpose ofgiving the last fatal blow to the almost dying Alice Goodwin. He felt, and he had reason to feel, that there was a mystery about the BlackSpectre, which, for the life of him, he could not fathom. He was, however, a firm and resolute man, and after a moment or two's thought hedeclined to make any further disclosure on the subject, but reverted tothe general topic of their conversation. 

"Well, mother, " said he, "after all, your speculation may not be a badone; but pray, what is the lady's name?"

"Riddle--Miss Riddle. She is of the Clan-Riddle family, a close relationto the Nethersides of Middle town. "

"And a devilish enigmatical name it is, " replied her son, "as is that ofall her connections. "

"Yes, but they were always close and prudent people, who kept theiropinions to themselves, and wrought their way in the world with greatsuccess, and without giving offence to any party. If you marry her, Harry, I would advise you to enter public life, recommend yourself tothe powers that be, and, my word for it, you stand a great chance ofhaving the title of Cockletown revived in your person. "

"Well, although the title is a ridiculous one, I should have noobjection to it, notwithstanding; but there will certainly arise somedifficulty when we come to the marriage settlements. There will be sharplawyers there, whom we cannot impose upon; and you know, mother, I amwithout any ostensible property. "

"Yes, but we can calculate upon the death of cunning Alice, who, by herundue and flagitious influence over your uncle, left you so. "

"Ay, but such a calculation would never do either with her uncle or thelawyers. I think we have nothing to fall back upon, mother, but your ownproperty. If you settle that upon me everything will go right. "

"And leave myself depending upon Lindsay? No, no, " replied this selfishand penurious woman; "never, Harry--never, never; you must wait until Idie for that. But I can tell you what we can do; let us enter upon thenegotiation--let us say for the time being that you have twelve hundreda-year, and, while the business is proceeding, what is there to preventyou from going to recruit your health at Balleyspellan, and kill outAlice Goodwin there, as well as if she remained at home? By this plan, before the negotiations are closed, you will be able to meet Miss Riddlewith twelve hundred a-year at your back. Alice Goodwin! O, how I hateand detest her--ay, as I do hell!"

"The plan, " replied her son, "is an excellent one. We will commenceoperations with Lord Cockletown and Miss Riddle, in the first place; andhaving opened negotiations, as you say, I shall become unwell, and gofor a short time to try what efficacy the waters of Ballyspellan mayhave on my health--or rather on my fortunes. "

"We shall visit them to-morrow, " said the mother. 

"So be it, " replied the son; and to this resolution they came, whichclosed the above interesting dialogue between them. We say interesting, for if it has not been such to the reader, it was so at least tothemselves. 

CHAPTER XVI. A House of Sorrow. 

--After which follows a Courting Scene. 

The deep sorrow and desolation of spirit introduced by the profligatedestroyer into the humble abode of peace and innocence is an awful thingto contemplate. In our chapter headed "The Wake of a Murderer" wehave attempted to give a picture of it. The age, indeed, was one oflicentiousness and profligacy. The reigning monarch, Charles the Second, of infamous memory, had set the iniquitous example to his subjects, andsurrounded his court by an aristocratic crew, who had scarcely anythingto recommend them but their imitation of his vices, and this wasalways a passport to his favor, whilst virtue, morality, and honor wereexcluded with contempt and derision. In fact, the corrupt atmosphereof his court carried its contagion throughout the empire, until theseduction of female innocence became the fashion of the day, and no mancould consider himself entitled to a becoming position in society whohad not distinguished himself by half a dozen criminal intrigues eitherwith the wives or daughters of his acquaintances. When we contemplatefor a moment the contrast between the abandoned court of that royalprofligate, and that under which we have the happiness to live--theone, a sty of infamy, licentiousness, and corruption; the other, a well, undented of purity, virtue, and honor, to whose clear mind unadulteratedwaters nothing equivocal, or even questionable, dares to approach, much less the base or the tainted--we say that, on instituting thiscomparison and contrast, the secret of that love and affectionateveneration which we bear to our pure and highminded Queen, and the pridewhich we feel in the noble example which she and her Royal Consort haveset us, requires no illustration whatsoever. The affection and gratitudeof her people are only the meed due to her virtues and to his. We neednot apologize to our readers for this striking contrast. The period andthe subject of our narrative, as well as the melancholy scene to whichwe are about to introduce the reader, rendered it an impossibility toavoid it. 

We now proceed to the humble homestead of Torley Davoren; a homesteadwhich we have already described as the humble abode of peace andhappiness. Barney Casey, who felt anxious to know from the parents ofGrace Davoren whether any trace or tidings of her had been heard of, went to pay the heart-broken family a visit for that purpose. 

On entering, he found the father seated at his humble hearth, unshaven, and altogether a man careless and negligent of his appearance. He satwith his hands clasped before him, and his heavy eyes fixed on theembers of the peat fire which smouldered on the hearth. The motherwas at her distaff, and so were the other two females--to wit, hergrandmother and Grace's sister. But the mother! gracious heaven, what aspirit of distress and misery breathed from those hopeless and agonizingfeatures! There was not only natural sorrow there, occasioned by thedisappearance of her daughter, but the shame which resulted fromher fall and her infamy; and though last not least, the terribleapprehension that the hapless girl had rushed by suicidal means into thepresence of an offended God, "unanointed, unaneled, " with all her sinsupon her head. Her clothes were hanging from the branches of a largeburdock* against the wall, and from time to time the father casthis eyes upon them with a look in which might be read the hollow butterrible expression of despair. 

 * The branches of the burdock, when it is cut, trimmed, and seasoned, are used by the humble classes to hang their clothes upon. They grow upwards towards the top of the stalk, and, in consequence of this, are capable of sustaining the heaviest garment. 

Honest Barney felt his heart deeply moved by all this, and, soothto say, his natural cheerfulness and lightness of spirit completelyabandoned him at the contemplation of the awful anguish which pressedthem down. There is nothing which makes such a coward of the heart asthe influence of such a scene. He felt that he stood within a circleof misery, and that it was a solemn and serious task even to enter intoconversation with them. But, as he had come to make friendly inquiriesabout the unfortunate girl, he forced himself to break this pitiable butterrible silence of despair. 

"I know, " said he, with a diffident and melancholy spirit, "that it ispainful to you all to make the inquiries that I wish to make; but stilllet me ask you if you have got any account of her?"

The mother's heart had been bursting-pent up as it were--and thisallusion to her withdrew the floodgates of its sorrow; she spread outher arms, and fising up approached her husband, and throwing them abouthis neck, exclaimed, in tones of the most penetrating grief, --

"O, Torley, Torley, my husband, was she not our dearest and our best?"

The husband embraced her with a flood of tears. 

"She was, " said he, "she was. " But immediately looking upon her sisterDora, he said, "Dora, come here--bring Dora to me, " and his wife wentover and brought her to him. 

"O, Dora dear, " said he, "I love you. But, darling, I never loved you asI loved her. "

"But was I ever jealous of that, father?" replied Dora, with tears. "Didn't we all love her? and did any one of you love her more thanmyself? Wasn't she the pride of the whole family? But I didn't careabout her disgrace, father, if we had her back with us. She mightrepent; and if she did, every one would forgive their favorite--for sureshe was every one's favorite; and above all, God would forgive her. "

"I loved her as the core of my heart, " said the grandmother; "butyou spoiled her yourselves, and indulged her too much in dress andeverything she wished for. Had you given her less of her own way, andkept her more from dances and merry-makings, it might be better foryourselves and her today; still, I grant you, it was hard to do it--forwho, mavrone, could refuse her anything? O! God sees my heart how I pityyou, her father, and you, too, her mother, above all. But, Torley, dear, if we only had her--if we only had her back again safe with us--thenwhat darling Dora says might be true, and her repentance would washaway her shame--for every one loved her, so that they wouldn't judge herharshly. "

"I can bear witness to that, " said Barney; as it is, every one pitiesher, and but very few blame her. It is all set down to her innocence andwant of experience, ay, and her youthful years. No; if you could onlyfind her, the shame in regard of what I've said would not be laidheavily upon her by the people. "

"O, " exclaimed her father, starting up, "O, Granua, Granua, my heart'slife! where are you from us? Was not your voice the music of our hearth?Did not your light laugh keep it cheerful and happy? But where are younow? O, will no one bring me back my daughter? Where is my child? shethat was the light--the breakin' of the summer mornin' amongst us! Butwait; they say the villain is recoverin' that destroyed her--well--hemay recover from the blow of Shawn-na-Middogue, but he will get a blowfrom me that he won't recover from. I will imitate Morrissy--and willwelcome his fate. "

"Aisy, Torley, " said Casey; "hould in a little. You are spakin' now ofMasther Charles?"

"I am, the villain! warn't they found together?"

"I have one question to ask you, " proceeded Barney, "and it isthis--when did you see or spake with Shawn-na-Middogue?"

"Not since that unfortunate night. "

"Well, all I can tell you is this--that Masther Charles had as much todo with the ruin of your daughter as the king of Jerusalem. Take myword for that. He is not the stuff that such a villain is made of, but Isuspect who is. "

"And who do you suspect, Barney?"

"I say I only suspect; but, so long as it is only suspicion, I willmention no names. It wouldn't be right; and for that reason I will waituntil I have betther information. But, after all, " he proceeded, "maybenothing wrong has happened. "

The mother shook her head: "I know to the contrairy, " she replied, "and intended on that very night to bring her to an account about herappearance, but I never had the opportunity. "

The father here wrung his hands, and his groans were dreadful. 

"Could you see Shawn-na-Middogue?" asked Barney. 

"No, " replied Davoren; "he, too, has disappeared; and although he ishunted like a bag-fox, nobody can find either hilt or hair of him. "

"Might it not be possible that she is with him?" he asked again. 

"No, Barney, " replied her mother, "we know Shawn too well for that. Heknows how we loved her, and what we would suffer by her absence. Shawn, though driven to be an outlaw, has a kind heart, and would never allowus to suffer what we are sufferin' on her account. O, no! we know Shawntoo well for that. "

"Well, " replied Barney, meditatively, "there's one thing I'm inclined tothink: that whoever was the means of bringing shame and disgrace uponpoor Granua will get a touch of his middogue that won't fail as thefirst did. Shawn now knows his man, and, with the help of God, I hopehe won't miss his next blow. I must now go; and before I do, let me tellyou that, as I said before, Masther Charles is as innocent of the shamebrought upon poor Granua as the king of Jerusalem. "

There is a feeling of deep but silent sorrow which weighs down thespirit after the death of some beloved individual who is taken away fromamong the family circle. It broods upon, and casts a shadow of the mostprofound gloom over the bereaved heart; but let a person who knew thedeceased, and is capable of feeling a sincere and friendly sympathy forthe survivors, enter into this circle of sorrow; let him or her dwellupon the memory of the departed; then that silent and pent-up griefbursts out, and the clamor of lamentation is loud and vehement. It wasso upon this occasion. When Barney rose to take his departure, a lowmurmur of grief assailed his ears; it gradually became more loud; itincreased; it burst into irrepressible violence--they wept aloud; theyflew to her clothes, which hung, as we said, motionless upon the stalkof burdock against the wall; they kissed them over and over again; andit was not until Barney, now deeply affected, succeeded in moderatingtheir sorrow, that these strong and impassioned paroxysms were checkedand subdued into something like reasonable grief. Having consoled andpacified them as far as it was in his power, he then took his departureunder a feeling of deep regret that no account of the unfortunate girlhad been obtained. 

The next day Mrs. Lindsay and Harry prepared to pay the important visit. As before, the old family carriage was furbished up, and the lady oncemore enveloped in her brocades and satins. Harry, too, made it a pointto appear in his best and most becoming habiliments; and, truth to tell, an exceedingly handsome and well-made young fellow he was. The dressof the day displayed his manly and well-proportioned limbs to the bestadvantage, whilst his silver-hilted sword, in addition to the generalrichness of his costume, gave him the manner and appearance of anaccomplished cavalier. Barney's livery was also put a second time intorequisition, and the coachman's cocked hat was freshly crimped for theoccasion. 

"Is it true, mother?" inquired Harry, as they went along, "that this oldnoodle has built his residence as much after the shape of a cockle-shellas was possible to be accomplished?"

"Perfectly true, as you will see, " she replied. 

"But what could put such a ridiculous absurdity into his head?"

"Because he thought of the name before the house was built, and hegot it built simply to suit the name. 'There is no use, ' said he, 'incalling it Cockle Hall unless it resembles a cockle;' and, indeed, whenyou see it, you will admit the resemblance. "

"Egad, " said her son, "I never dreamed that fate was likely to cramp mein a cockleshell. I dare say there is a touch of sublimity about it. Theassociations are in favor of it. "

"No, " replied his mother, "but it has plenty of comfort and convenienceabout, it. The plan was his own, and he contrived to make it, notwithstanding its ludicrous shape, one of the most agreeableresidences in the country. He is a blunt humorist, who drinks a gooddeal, and instead of feeling offence at his manner, which is ratherrough, you will please him best by answering him exactly in his ownspirit. "

"I am glad you gave me this hint, " said her son; "I like that sort ofthing, and it will go hard if I don't give him as good as he brings. "

"In that case, " replied the mother, "the chances will be ten to one inyour favor. Seem, above all things, to like his manner, because the oldfool is vain of it, and nothing gratifies him so much. "

"But about the niece? What is the cue there, mother?"

"The cue of a gentleman, Harry--of a well-bred and respectful gentleman. You may humor the old fellow to the top of his bent; but when you becomethe gentleman with her, she will not misinterpret your manner withher uncle, but will look upon the transition as a mark of deference toherself. And now you have your instructions: be careful and act uponthem. Miss Riddle is a girl of sense, and, they say, of feeling; and itis on this account, I believe, that she is so critical in scrutinizingthe conduct and intellect of her lovers. So there is my last hint. "

"Many thanks, my dear mother; it will, I think, be my own fault ifI fail with either uncle or niece, supported as I shall be by youreloquent advocacy. "

On arriving at Cockle Hall, Harry, on looking out of the carriagewindow, took it for granted that his mother had been absolutelybantering him. "Cockle Hall!" he exclaimed: "why, curse the hall I seehere, good, bad, or indifferent. What did you mean, mother? Were youonly jesting?"

"Keep quiet, " she replied, "and above all things don't seem surprisedat the appearance of the place. Look precisely as if you had been in itever since it was built. "

The appearance of Cockle Hall was, indeed, as his mother had veryproperly informed him, ludicrous in the extreme. It was built on asurface hollowed out of a high bank, or elevation, with which the roofof it was on a level. It was, of course, circular and flat, and the roofdrooped, or slanted off towards the rear, precisely in imitation of acockle-shell. There was, however, a complete _deceptio visus_ in it. Tothe eye, in consequence of the peculiarity of its position, it appearedto be very low, which, in point of fact, was not exactly the case, for it consisted of two stories, and had comfortable and extensiveapartments". There was a paved space wide enough for two carriages topass each other, which separated it from the embankment that surroundedit. Altogether, when taken in connection with the original idea of itsconstruction, it was a difficult thing to look at it without mirth. Onentering the drawing-room, which Harry did alone--for his mother, having seen Miss Riddle in the parlor, entered it in order to have apreliminary chat with her--her son found a person inside dressed in apair of red plush breeches, white stockings a good deal soiled, a yellowlong-flapped waistcoat, and a wig, with a cue to it which extended downthe whole length of his back, --evidently a servant in dirty lively. There was something _degagee_ and rather impudent in his manner andappearance, which Harry considered as in good keeping with all he hadheard of this eccentric nobleman. Like master like man, thought he. 

"Well, " said the servant, looking hardly at him, "what do you want?"

"You be cursed, " replied Harry; "don't be impertinent; do you think I'mabout to disclose my business to you, you despicable menial? Why don'tyou get your stockings washed? But if you wish to know what I want, Iwant your master. "

The butler, footman, or whatever he might hive been, fixed a keen lookupon him, accompanied by a grin of derision that made the visitor'sgorge rise a good deal. 

"My master, " said the other, "is not under this roof. What do you thinkof that?"

"You mean the old cockle is not in his shell, then, " replied Harry. 

"Come, " said the other, with a chuckle of enjoyment, "curse me, butthat's good. Who are you?--what are you? You are in good feathers--onlygive an account of yourself. "

Harry was a keen observer, but was considerably aided by what he hadheard from his mother. The rich rings, however, which he saw sparklingon the fingers of what he had conceived to be the butler or footman, at once satisfied him that he was then addressing the worthy noblemanhimself. In the meantime, having made this discovery, he resolved to actthe farce out. 

"Why should I give an account of myself to you, you cursed old sot?--youdrink, sirrah: I can read it in your face. "

"I say, give an account of yourself; what's your business here?"

"Come, then, " replied Harry, "as you appear to be a comical oldscoundrel, I don't care, for the joke's sake, if I do. I am coming tocourt Miss Riddle, ridiculous old Cockletown's niece. "

"Why are you coming to court her?"

"Because I understand she will have a good fortune after old Cockletakes his departure. "

"Eh, confound me, but that's odd; why, you are a devilish queer fellow. Did you ever see Lord Cockletown?"

"Not I, " replied Harry; "nor I don't care a curse whether I do or not, provided I had his niece secure. "

"Did you ever see the niece?"

"Don't annoy me, sirrah. No, I didn't; neither do I care if I never did, provided I secure old Cockle's money and property. If it could be somanaged, I would prefer being married to her in the dark. "

The old peer walked two or three times through the room in a kind ofgood-humored perplexity, raising his wig and scratching his headunder it, and surveying Woodward from time to time with a serio-comicexpression. 

"Of course you are a profligate, for that is the order of the day?"

"Why, of course I am, " replied Harry. 

"Any intrigues--eh?"

"Indeed, " replied the other, pulling a long face, "I am ashamed toanswer you on that subject. Intrigues! I regret to say only half a dozenyet, but my prospects in that direction are good. "

"Have you fought? Did you ever commit murder?"

"It can scarcely be called by that name. It was in tavern brawls; onewas a rascally cockleman, and the other a rascally oyster-man. "

"How did you manage the oysterman with a knife, eh?"

"No, sirrah; with my sword I did him open. "

"Have you any expectation of being hanged?"

"Why, according to the life I have led, I think there is everyprobability that I may reach that honorable position. "

The old peer could bear this no longer. He burst out into a loud laugh, which lasted upwards of two minutes. 

"Faith, " said Harry, "if you had such a prospect before you, I don'tthink you would consider it such a laughing matter. "

"Curse you, sir, do you know who I am?"

"Curse yourself, sir, " replied the other, "no, I don't; how should I, when I never saw you before?"

"Sir, I am Lord Cockletown. "

"And, sir, I am Harry Woodward, son--favorite son--to, Mrs. Lindsay ofRathfillan House. "

"What! are you a son of that old fagot?"

"Her favorite son, as I said; that old fagot, sir, is my mother. "

"Ay, but who was your father?" asked his lordship, with a grin, "forthat's the rub. "

"That is the rub, " said Woodward, laughing; "how the devil can I tell?"

"Good again, " said his lordship; "confound me but you are a queer one. Itell you what, I like you. "

"I don't care a curse whether you do or not, provided your niece does. "

"Are you the fellow that has been abroad, and returned home lately?"

"I am the very fellow, " replied Woodward, with a ludicrous andgood-humored emphasis upon the word fellow. 

"There was a bonfire made for you on your return?"

"There was, my lord. "

"And there fell a shower of blood upon that occasion?"

"Not a doubt of it, my lord. "

"Well, you are a strange fellow altogether. I have not for a long timemet a man so much after my own heart. "

"That is because our dispositions resemble each other. If I had thechance of a peerage, I would be as original as your lord-ship in theselection of my title; but I trust I shall be gratified in that, too;because, if I marry your niece, I will enter into public life, makemyself not only a useful, but a famous man, and, of course, the title ofCockletown will be revived in my person, and will not perish with you. No, my lord, should I marry your niece, your title shall descend withyour blood, and there is something to console you. "

"Come, " said the old peer, "shake hands. Have you a capacity for publicbusiness?"

"I was born for it, my lord. I feel that fact; besides, I have agenerous ambition to distinguish myself. "

"Well, " said the peer, "we will talk all that over in a few days. Butdon't you admit that I am an eccentric old fellow?"

"And doesn't your lordship admit that I am an eccentric young fellow?"

"Ay, but, harkee, Mr. Woodward, " said the peer, "I always sleep with oneeye open. "

"And I, " replied Harry, "sleep with both eyes open. "

"Come, confound me, that beats me, you must get on in life, and I willconsider your pretensions to my niece. "

At this moment his mother and Miss Riddle entered the drawing-room, which, notwithstanding the comical shape of the mansion, was spacious, and admirably furnished. Miss Riddle's Christian name was Thomasina; buther eccentric uncle never called her by any other appellation than Tom, and occasionally Tommy. 

"Mrs. Lindsay, uncle, " said the girl, introducing her. 

"Eh? Mrs. Lindsay! O! how do you do, Mrs. Lindsay? How is thatunfortunate devil, your husband?"

Now Mrs. Lindsay was one of those women who, whenever there was aselfish object in view, could not only suppress her feelings, butexhibit a class of them in direct opposition to those she actually felt. 

"Why unfortunate, my lord?" she asked, smiling. 

"Why, because I am told he plays second fiddle at home, and a devilishdeal out of tune too, in general. You play first, ma'am; but theysay, notwithstanding, that there's a plentiful lack of harmony in yourconcerts. "

"All, " she replied, "your lordship must still have your joke, Iperceive; but, at all events, I am glad to see you in such spirits. "

"Well, you may thank your son for that. I say, Tom, " he added, addressing his niece, "he's a devilish good fellow; a queer chap, andI like him. Woodward, this is Tom Riddle, my niece. This scamp, Tom, is that woman's son, Mr. Woodward. He's an accomplished youth: I'll behanged if he isn't. I asked him how many intrigues he has had, and hereplied, with a dolorous face, only half a dozen yet. He only committedtwo murders, he says; and when I asked him if he thought there was anyprobability of his being hanged, he replied that, from a review of hispast life, and what he contemplated in the future, he had little doubtof it. "

Harry Woodward was indeed, a most consummate tactician. From the momentMiss Riddle entered the room, his air and manner became that of a mostpolished gentleman; and after bowing to her when introduced, he cast, from time to time, a glance at her, which told her, by its significance, that he had only been gratifying her uncle by playing into his whims andeccentricities. In the meantime the heart of Mrs. Lindsay bounded withdelight at the progress which she saw, by the complacent spirit of theold peer, honest and adroit Harry had made in his good opinion. 

"Miss Riddle, " said he, "his lordship and I have been bantering eachother; but although I considered myself what I may term, an able hand atit, yet I find I am no match for him. "

"Well, not exactly, I believe, " replied his lordship; "but, notwithstanding, you are one of the best I have met. "

"Why, my lord, " replied Woodward, "I like the thing; and, indeed, Inever knew any one fond of it who did not possess a good heart and acandid disposition; so, you see, my lord, there is a compliment for eachof us. "

"Yes, Woodward, and we both deserve it. "

"I trust Mr. Woodward, " observed his niece, "that you don't practiseyour abilities as a banterer upon our sex. "

"Never! Miss Riddle; that would be ungenerous and unmanly. There isnothing due to your sex but respect, and that, you know, is incompatiblewith banter. 

"The wit that could wantonly sport with the modesty of woman degeneratesinto impudence and insult;" and he accompanied the words with a low andgraceful bow. 

This young fellow, thought Miss Riddle, is a gentleman. 

"Yes, but, Mr. Woodward, we sometimes require a bantering; and, what ismore, a remonstrance. We are not perfect, and surely it is not the partof a friend to overlook our foibles or our errors. "

"True, Miss Riddle, but it is not by bantering they will be reclaimed. A friendly remonstrance, delicately conveyed, is one thing, but thebuffoonery of a banter is another. "

"What's that?" said the peer, "buffoonery! I deny it, sir, there is nobuffoonery in banter. "

"Not, my lord, when it occurs between gentlemen, " replied Woodward, "butyou know, with the ladies it is a different thing. "

"Ay, well, that's not bad; a proper distinction. I tell you what, Woodward, you are a clever fellow; and I'm not sure but I'll advocateyour cause with Tom there. Tom, he tells me he is coming to court you, and he says he doesn't care a fig about either of us, provided he couldsecure your fortune. Ay, and, what's more, he says that if you and heare married, he hopes it will be in the dark. What do you think of thatnow?"

Miss Riddle did not blush, nor affect a burst of indignation, but shesaid what pleased both Woodward and his mother far better. 

"Well, uncle, " she replied, calmly, "even if he did say so, I believehe only expressed in words what most, if not all, of my former loversactually felt, but were too cautious to acknowledge. "

"I trust, Miss Eiddle, " said Harry, smiling graciously, "that I amneither so silly nor so stupid as to defend a jest by anything likea serious apology. You will also be pleased to recollect that, as anargument for my success, I admitted two murders, half a dozen intrigues, and the lively prospect of being hanged. The deuce is in it, if theseare not strong qualifications in a lover, especially in a lover ofyours, Miss Riddle. "

The reader sees that the peer was anything but a match for Woodward, whocontrived, and with perfect success, to turn all his jocular attacks tohis own account. 

Miss Riddle smiled, for the truth was that Harry began to rise rapidlyin her good opinion. His sprightliness was gentlemanly and agreeable, and he contrived, besides, to assume the look and air of a man who onlyindulged in it in compliment to her uncle, and, of course, indirectlyto herself, with whom, it was but natural, he should hope to make himan advocate. Still the expression of his countenance, as he managed it, appeared to her to be that of a profound and serious thinker--one whosefeelings, when engaged, were likely to retain a strong hold of hisheart. That he should model his features into such an expression is byno means strange, when we reflect with what success hypocrisy can stampupon them all those traits of character for which she wishes to getcredit from the world. 

"Come, Tom, " said his lordship, "it's time for luncheon; we can'tallow our friends to go without refreshments. I say, Woodward, I'm ahospitable old fellow; did you ever know that before?"

"I have often heard it, my lord, " replied the other, "and I hope tohave still better proof of it. " This was uttered with a significant, butrespectful glance, at the niece, who was by no means displeased at it. 

"Ay! ay!" said his lordship, laughing, "the proof of the pudding isin the eating. Well, you shall have an opportunity, and soon, too; youappear to be a blunt, honest fellow; and hang me but I like you. "

Miss Riddle now went out to order in the refreshments, but not withoutfeeling it strange how her uncle and herself should each contemplateWoodward's character in so different a light--the uncle looking upon himas a blunt, honest fellow, whilst to her he appeared as a man of sense, and a perfect gentleman Such, however, was the depth of his hypocrisy, that he succeeded at once in pleasing both, and in deceiving both. 

"Well, Woodward, what do you think of Tom?" asked his lordship. 

"Why, my lord, that she is an admirable and lovely girl. "

"Well, you are right, sir; Tom is an admirable girl, and loves her olduncle as if he was her father, or maybe a great deal better; she willhave all I am worth when I pop off, so there's something for you tothink upon. "

"No man, my lord, capable of appreciate ing her could think of anythingbut herself. "

"What! not of her property?"

"Property, my-lord; is a very secondary subject when taken intoconsideration with the merits of the lady herself. I am no enemy toproperty, and I admit its importance as an element of happiness whenreasonably applied, but I am neither sordid nor selfish; and I knowhow little, after all, it contributes to domestic enjoyment, unlessaccompanied by those virtues which constitute the charm of connubiallife. "

"Confound me but you must have got that out of a book, Woodward. "

"Out of the best book, my lord--the book of life and observation. "

"Why, curse it, you are talking philosophy, though. "

"Only common sense, my lord. "

His lordship, who was walking to and fro in the room, turned abruptlyround, looked keenly at him, and then, addressing Mrs. Lindsay, said, --

"Why, upon my soul, Mrs. Lindsay, we must try and do something with thisfellow; he'll be lost to the world if we don't. Come, I say, we mustmake a public man of him. "

"To become a public man is his own ambition, my lord, " replied Mrs. Lindsay; "and although I am his mother, and may feel prejudiced in hisfavor, still I agree with your lordship that it is a pity to see suchabilities as his unemployed. "

"Well, madam, we shall consider of it. What do you think, Woodward, ifwe made a bailiff of you?"

At this moment Miss Riddle entered the room just in time to hear thequestion. 

"The very thing, my lord; and the first capture I should make would beMiss Riddle, your fair niece here. "

"Curse me, but the fellow's a cat, " said the peer, laughing. "Throwhim as you will, he always falls upon his legs. What do you think, Tom?Curse me but your suitor here talked philosophy in your absence. "

"Only common sense, Miss Riddle, " said Harry. "Philosophy, it is said, excludes feeling; but that is not a charge which I ever heard broughtagainst common sense. "

"I am an enemy neither to philosophy nor common sense, " replied hisniece, "because I think neither of them incompatible with feeling; but Icertainly prefer common sense. "

"There's luncheon announced, " said the peer, rubbing his hands, "andthat's a devilish deal more comfortable than either of them. Come, Mrs. Lindsay; Woodward, take Tom with you. "

They then descended to the dining-room, where the conversation waslively and amusing, the humorous old peer furnishing the greaterproportion of the mirth. 

"Mrs. Lindsay, " said he, as they were preparing to go, "I hope, afterall, that this clever son of yours is not a fortune-hunter. "

"He need not be so, my lord, " replied his mother, "and neither is he. Hehimself will have a handsome property. "

"Will have. I would rather you wouldn't speak in the future tense, though. Woodward, " he added, addressing that gentleman, "remember that Itold you that I sleep with one eye open. "

"If you have any doubts, my lord, on this subject, " replied Woodward, "you may imitate me: sleep with both open. "

"Ay, as the hares do, and devil a bit they're the better for it; but, inthe meantime, what property have you, or will you have? There is nothinglike coming to the point. "

"My lord, " replied Woodward, "I respect Miss Riddle too much to enterupon such a topic in her presence. You must excuse me, then, for thepresent; but if you wish for precise information on the subject, I referyou to my mother, who will, upon a future occasion--and I trust it willbe soon--afford you every satisfaction on this matter. "

"Well, " replied his lordship, "that is fair enough--a little vague, indeed--but no matter, your mother and I will talk about it. In themeantime you are a devilish clever fellow, and, as I said, I like you;but still I will suffer no fortune-hunter to saddle himself upon myproperty. I repeat it, I sleep with one eye open. I will be happy tosee you soon, Mr. Woodward; but remember I will be determined on thissubject altogether by the feelings of my niece Tom here. "

"I have already said, my lord, " replied Woodward, "that, except asa rational element in domestic happiness, I am indifferent to theconsideration or influence of property. The prevailing motives with meare the personal charms; the character, and the well-known virtues ofyour niece. It is painful to me to say even this in her presence, butyour lordship has forced it from me. However, I trust that Miss Riddleunderstands and will pardon me. "

"Mr. Woodward, " she observed, "you have said nothing unbecoming agentleman; nothing certainly but that which you could not avoid saying. "

After the usual forms of salutation at parting, Harry and his motherentered the old carriage and proceeded on their way home. 

"Well, Harry, " said his mother, "what do you think?"

"A hit, " he replied; "a hit with both, but especially with the niece, who certainly is a fine girl. If there is to be any opposition, it willbe with that comical old buffoon, her uncle. He says he sleeps withone eye open, and I believe it. You told me it could not be determinedwhether he was more fool or knave; but, from all I have seen of him, thedevil a bit of fool I can perceive, but, on the contrary, a great dealof the knave. Take my word for it, old Cockle-town is not to be imposedupon. "

"Is there no likelihood of that wretch, Alice Goodwin, dying?" said hismother. 

"That is a case I must take in hand, " returned the son. "I shall goto Ballyspellan and put an end to her. After that we can meet oldCockletown with courage. I feel that I am a favorite with his niece, andshe, you must have perceived, is a favorite with him, and can managehim as she wishes, and that is one great point gained--indeed, thegreatest. "

"No, " replied his mother, "the greatest is the death of Alice Goodwin. "

"Be quiet, " said her worthy son; "that shall be accomplished. "

CHAPTER XVII. Description of the Original Tory

--Their Manner of Swearing

We have introduced an Irish outlaw, or tory, in the person ofShawn-na-Middoque, and, as it may be necessary to afford the reader aclearer insight into this subject, we shall give a short sketch of thecharacter and habits of the wild and lawless class to which he belonged. The first description of those savage banditti that has come down to uswith a distinct and characteristic designation, is known as that ofthe wild band of tories who overran the South and West of Ireland bothbefore the Revolution and after it. The actual signification of the word_tory_, though now, and for a long time, the appellative of a politicalparty, is scarcely known except to the Irish scholar and historian. Theterm proceeds from the Irish noun _toir_, a pursuit, a chase; and fromthat comes its cognate, _toiree_, a person chased, or pursued--therebymeaning an outlaw, from the fact that the individuals to whom itwas first applied were such as had, by their murders and robberies, occasioned themselves to be put beyond the protection of all laws, and, consequently, were considered outlaws, or tories, and liable to be shotdown without the intervention of judge or jury, as they often were, wherever they could be seen or apprehended. We believe the word firstassumed its distinct character in the wars of Cromwell, as applied tothe wild freebooters of Ireland. 

Tory-hunting was at one time absolutely a pastime in Ireland, inconsequence of this desperate body of people having proved the commonenemy of every class, without reference to either religious or politicaldistinction. We all remember the old nursery song, which, howeversimple, is very significant, and affords us an excellent illustration oftheir unfortunate condition, and the places of their usual retreat. 

 "I'll tell you a story about Johnny Magrory, Who went to the wood and shot a tory; I'll tell you another about his brother. Who went to the wood and shot another. "

From this it is evident that the tories of the time of Cromwell andCharles the Second were but the lineal descendants of the thievish woodkernes mentioned by Spenser, or at least the inheritors of theirhabits. Defoe attributes the establishment of the word in England to theinfamous Titus Oates. 

"There was a meeting, " says he "(at which I was present), in thecity, upon the occasion of the discovery of some attempt to stifle theevidence of the witnesses (about the Popish plot), and tampering withBedlow and Stephen Dugdale. Among the discourse Mr. Bedlow said 'he hadletters from Ireland; that there were some tories to be brought overhither, who were privately to murder Dr. Oates and the said Bedlow. 'The doctor, whose zeal was very hot, could never hear any man after thistalk against the plot, or against the witnesses, but he thought he wasone of the tories, and called almost every man who opposed him in hisdiscourse a tory--till at last the word became popular. Hume's accountof it is not very much different from this. 

"The court party, " says he, "reproached their antagonists with theiraffinity to the fanatical conventiclers of Scotland, who were known bythe name of Whigs. * The country party found a resemblance between thecourtiers and the Popish banditti in Ireland, on whom the appellation oftory was affixed. And after this manner these foolish terms of reproachcame into public and general use. "

 * The word _whig_ is taken from the fact, that in Scotland it was applied to milk that had become sour; and to this day milk that has lost its sweetness is termed by the Scotch, and their descendants in the north of Ireland, whigged milk. 

It is evident, from Irish history, that the original tories, politicallyspeaking, belonged to no party whatever. They were simply thieves, robbers, and murderers on their own account. Every man's hand wasagainst them, and certainly their hands were against every man. The factis, that in consequence of the predatory nature of Irish warfare, whichplundered, burned, and devastated as it went along, it was impossiblethat thousands of the wretched Irish should not themselves be drivenby the most cruel necessity, for the preservation of their lives and ofthose of their families, to become thieves and plunderers in absoluteself-defence. Their habitations, such as they were, having beendestroyed and laid in ruins, they were necessarily driven to seekshelter in the woods, caves, and other fastnesses of the country, fromwhich they issued forth in desperate hordes, armed as well as theycould, to rob and to plunder for the very means of life. Goaded byhunger and distress of every kind, those formidable and ferocious "woodkernes" only paid the country back, by inflicting on it that plunderand devastation which they had received at its hands. Neither is itsurprising that they should make no distinction in their depredations, because they experienced, to their cost, that no "hosting, " on eitheror any side, ever made a distinction with them. Whatever hand wasuppermost, whether in the sanguinary struggles of their rival chiefs, orin those between the Irish and English, or Anglo-Irish, the result wasthe same to them. If they were not robbed or burned out to-day, theymight be to-morrow; and under such circumstances to what purpose couldthey be expected to exercise industrious or laborious habits, when theyknew that they might go to bed in comfort at night, and rise up beggarsin the morning? It is easy to see, then, that it was the lawless andturbulent state of the country that reduced them to such a mode of life, and drove them to make reprisals upon the property of others, in theabsence of any safe or systematic way of living. There is no doubt thata principle of revenge and retaliation animated their proceedings, andthat they stood accountable for acts of great cruelty and murder, aswell as of robbery. The consequence necessarily was, that they feltthemselves beyond the protection of all law, and fearfully distinct inthe ferocity of their character from the more civilized population ofthe country, which waged an exterminating warfare against them under thesanction and by the assistance of whatever government existed. 

It was about the year 1689 that they began to assume or to becharacterized by a different designation--we mean that of rapparees; socalled, it is said, from the fact of their using the half pike or shortrapier; although, for our part, we are inclined to think that they wereso termed from the word _rapio_, to plunder, which strikes us as themost appropriate and obvious. At all events it is enough to say that the_tories_ were absorbed in the rapparees, and their name in Ireland andGreat Britain, except as a political class, was forgotten and lost inthat of the rapparees, who long survived them. 

Barney Casey was, as the reader must have perceived, a young fellowof good sense and very acute observation. He had been, since an earlyperiod of his youth, domesticated in the family of Mr. Lindsay, whorespected him highly for his attachment and integrity. He had a brother, however, who, with his many good qualities, was idle and headstrong. Hisname was Michael, and, sooth to say, the wild charm of a freebooter'slife, in addition to his own indisposition to labor for his living, were more than the weak materials of his character could resist. Heconsequently joined Shawn-na-Middogue and his gang, and preferred thedangerous and licentious life of a robber and plunderer to that ofhonesty and labor--precisely as many men connected with a seafaring lifeprefer the habits of the smuggler or the pirate to those of themore honorable or legitimate profession. Poor Barney exerted all hisinfluence with his brother with a hope of rescuing him from the societyand habits of hia dissolute companions, but to no purpose. It was alife of danger and excitement--of plans and projects, and changes, andchases, and unexpected encounters--of retaliation, and, occasionally, the most dreadful revenge. Such, however, was the state of society atthat time, that those persons who had connected themselves with thesedesperate outlaws were by no means afraid to pay occasional visits totheir own relatives, and from time to time to hold communication withthem. Nay, not only was this the fact, but, what is still more strange, many persons who were related to individuals connected with this daringand unmanageable class were in the habit of attending their nightlymeetings, sometimes for the purpose of preventing a robbery, or ofkilling a family whom they wished to suffer. 

One night, during this period of our narrative, Barney's brothercontrived to have secret interview with him for the purpose ofcommunicating some information to him which had reached his ears fromShawn-na-Middogue, to the effect that Caterine Collins had admitted tohim (Shawn), upon his promise of marrying her--a promise made only forthe purpose of getting into her confidence, and making her useful asan agent to his designs--that she knew, she said, that it was not hisbrother Charles who had brought unfortunate Grace Davoren to ruin, butHarry Woodward, and, she added, when it was too late, she suspectedsomething from his manner, of his intention to send Charles, on thatdisastrous night, in his stead. But Shawn, who knew Caterine and herconnections well, recommended Michael Casey to apprise his brother thathe could not keep too sharp an eye upon the movements of both, but, above all things, to try and induce him to set Woodward in such a waythat he could repair the blow upon him, which, in mistake, he had dealtto his innocent brother. Now, although Barney almost detested Woodward, yet he was incapable of abetting Shawn's designs upon Suit Balor. 

"No, " said he to his brother, "I would die first. It is true I do notlike a bone in his body, but I will never lend myself to such a cowardlyact as that; besides, from all I know of Shawn, I did not think he wouldstoop to murder. "

"Ay, but think of our companions, " replied hia brother, "and think too, of what a notion they have of it. Shawn, however, is a different manfrom most, if not all, of them--and he says he was urged on by a fitof fury when he found the man, that he thought the destroyer of GraceDavoren, speaking to her in such a lonely and suspicious place. Itwas his intention to have bidden him to stand on his guard and defendhimself, but jealousy and revenge overcame him at the moment, and hestruck the blow. Thank God that it failed; but you may take my wordthat the next won't--because Shawn now swears, that without preface orapology, or one moment's warning, he will stab him to the heart whereverhe can meet him. "

"It's a bad life, " replied Barney, "that Shawn's leading; but, poorfellow, he and his resaved hard treatment--their house and place torndown and laid in rains, and instead of protection from government, theyfound themselves proclaimed outlaws. What could he and they do?But, Michael, it was a different thing with you. Our family werecomfortable--too much so, indeed, for you; you got idle habits and adistaste for work, and so, rather than settle down to industry, youshould join them. "

"Ay, and so would you, if you knew the life we lead. "

"That might be, " replied his brother, "if I didn't happen to think ofthe death you die. "

"As to that, " said Michael, "we have all made up our minds; shooting andhanging will get nothing out of us but the death-laugh at our enemies. "

"Ay, enemies of your own making, " said Barney; "but as to thedeath-laugh on the gallows, remember that that is at your own expense. It will be what we call on the wrong side of the mouth, I think. But inregard of these nightly meetings of yours, I would have no objection tosee one of them. Do you think I would be allowed to join you for an houror two, that I might hear and see what you say and do?"

"You may, Barney; but you know it isn't every one that would get thatprivilege; but in ordher to make sure, I'll spake to Shawn about it. Leave is light, they say; and as he knows you're not likely to turn aspy upon our hands, I'm certain he won't have any objection. "

"When and where will you meet next?" asked Barney. 

"On the very spot where Shawn struck his middogue into the body ofMasther Charles, " replied his brother. Shawn has some oath of revenge tomake against Woodward, because he suspects that the villain knows wherepoor Granua Davoren is. "

"Well, on that subject he may take his own coorse, " replied Barney; "butas for me, Michael, I neither care nor will think of the murdher of afellow-crature, no matther how wicked he may be, especially when I knowthat it is planned for him. As a man and a Christian, I cannot lendmyself to it, and of coorse--but this is between ourselves--I will putMr. Woodward on his guard. "

Those were noble sentiments, considering the wild and licentious periodof which we write, and the dreadfully low estimate at which human lifewas then held. 

"Act as you like, " replied Michael; "but this I can tell you, and this Ido tell you, that if, for the safety of this villain, you take a singlestep that may bring _Shawn-na-Middogue_ into danger, if you were mybrother ten times over I will not prevent him--Shawn I mean--fromletting loose his vengeance upon you. No, nor upon Rathfillan House andall that it contains, you among the number. "

"I will do nothing, " replied Barney, firmly, "to bring Shawn or any ofyou into danger; but as sure as I have a Christian soul to be saved, andmy life in my body, I will, as I said, put Mr. Harry Woodward upon hisguard against him. So now, if you think it proper to let me be presentat your meeting, knowing what you know, I will go, but not otherwise. "

"I feel, Barney, " said his brother, "that my mind is much hardened oflate by the society I keep. I remember when I thought murder as horriblea thing as you do, but now it is not so. The planning and the plottingof it is considered only as a good joke among us. "

"But why don't you lave them, then?" said Barney. "The pious principlesof our father and mother were never such as they practise and preachamong you. Why don't you lave them, I say?"

"Don't you know, " replied Michael, "that that step would be my deathwarrant? Once we join them we must remain with them, let what mayhappen. No man laving them, unless he gets clear of the countryaltogether, may expect more than a week's lease of life; in general notso much. They look upon him as a man that has been a spy among them, andwho has left them to make his peace, and gain a fortune from governmentfor betraying them; and you know how often it has happened. "

"It is too true, Michael, " replied his brother, "for unfortunately itso happens that, whether for good or evil, Irishmen can never be got tostand by each other. Ay, it is true--too true. In the meantime call onme to-morrow with liberty from Shawn to attend your meeting, and we willboth go there together. "

"Very well, " replied his brother, "I will do so. "

The next night was one of tolerably clear moonlight; and about thehour of twelve or one o'clock some twenty or twenty-five outlaws wereassembled immediately adjoining the spot where Charles Lindsay wasso severely and dangerously wounded. The appearance of those men wassingular and striking. Their garbs, we need scarcely inform our readers, were different from those of the present day. Many--nay, most, if notall of them, were bitter enemies to the law, which rendered it penal forthem to wear their glibs, and in consequence most of those present hadthem in full perfection around their heads, over which was worn the_barrad_ or Irish cap, which, however, was then beginning to fall intodesuetude. There was scarcely a man of them on whose countenance was notstamped the expression of care, inward suffering, and, as it would seem, the recollection of some grief or sorrow which had befallen themselvesor their families. There was something, consequently, determined andutterly reckless in their faces, which denoted them to be men who hadset at defiance both the world and its laws. They all wore the _truis_, the brogue, and beneath the cloaks which covered them were concealed thecelebrated Irish skean or mid-dogue, so that at the first glance theypresented the appearance of men who were in a peaceful garb and unarmed. The persons of some of them were powerful and admirably symmetrical, as could be guessed from their well-defined outlines. They arrangedthemselves in a kind of circle around Shawn-na-Middogue, who stood inthe centre as their chief and leader. A spectator, however, could notavoid observing that, owing to the peculiarity of their costume, which, in consequence of their exclusion from society, not to mention thepoverty and hardship which they were obliged to suffer, their appearanceas a body was wild and almost savage. In their countenances was blendeda twofold expression, composed of ferocity and despair. They feltthemselves excommunicated, whether justly or not, from the world and itsinstitutions, and knew too well that society, and the laws by which itis regulated and protected, were hunting them like beasts of prey fortheir destruction. Perhaps they deserved it, and this considerationmay still more strongly account for their fierce and relentless-lookingaspect. There is, in the meantime, no doubt that, however wild, ferocious, and savage they may have appeared, the strong and terriblehand of injustice and oppression had much, too much, to do with thecrimes which they had committed, and which drove them out of the paleof civilized life. Altogether the spectacle of their appearance thereon that night was a melancholy, as well as a fearful one, and ought toteach statesmen that it is not by oppressive laws that the heart of mancan be improved, but that, on the contrary, when those who project andenact them come to reap the harvest of their policy, they uniformly findit one of violence and crime. So it has been since the world began, and so it will be so long as it lasts, unless a more genial and humaneprinciple of legislation shall become the general system of managing, and consequently, of improving society. 

"Now, my friends, " said Shawn-na-Middogue, "you all know why we arehere. Unfortunate Granua Davoren has disappeared, and I have brought youtogether that we may set about the task of recovering her, whethershe is living or dead. Even her heart-broken parents would feel ita consolation to have her corpse in order that they might give itChristian burial. It will be a shame and a disgrace to us if she is notfound, as I said, living or dead. Will you all promise to rest neithernight nor day till she is found? In that case swear it on your skeans. "

In a moment every skean was out, and, with one voice, they said, "By thecontents of this blessed iron, that has been sharpened for the hearts ofour oppressors, we will never rest, either by night or by day, till wefind her, living or dead"--every man then crossed himself and kissed hisskean--"and, what is more, " they added, "we will take vengeance upon thevillain that ruined her. "

"Hould, " said Shawn; "do you know who he is?"

"By all accounts, " they replied, "the man that you struck. "

"No!" exclaimed Shawn, "I struck the wrong man; and poor Granua wasright when she screamed out that I had murdered the innocent. But now, "he added, "why am I here among you? I will tell you, although I supposethe most of you know it already: it was good and generous Mr. Lindsay'sshe-devil of a wife that did it; and it was her he-devil of a son, HarryWoodward, that ruined Granua Davoren. My mother happened to say thatshe was a heartless and tyrannical woman, that she had the Evil Eye, and that a devil, under the name of Shan-dhinne-dhuv, belonged to herfamily, and put her up to every kind of wickedness. This, which wasonly the common report, reached her ears, and the consequence was thatbecause we were-behind in the rent only a single gale, she sent in herbailiffs without the knowledge of her husband, who was from home at thetime, and left neither a bed under us nor a roof over us. At all events, it is well for her that she was a woman; but she has a son born in herown image, so far, at least, as a bad heart is concerned; that son isthe destroyer of Granua Davoren; but not a man of you must raise hishand to him: he must be left to my vengeance. Caterine Collins has toldme much more about him, but it is useless to mention it. The Evil SpiritI spoke of, the Shan-dhinne-dhuv, and he have been often seen together;but no matter for that; he'll find the same spirit badly able to protecthim; so, as I said before, he must be left to my vengeance. "

"You mentioned Caterine Collins?" said one of them. "Caterine hasfriends here, Shawn. What is your opinion of her?"

"Yes, " observed another, "she has friends here; but, then, she hasenemies too, men who have a good right to hate the ground she walks on. "

"Whatever my opinion of Caterine Collins may be, " said Shawn, "I willkeep it to myself; I only say, that the man who injures her is no friendof mine. Isn't she a woman? And, surely, we are not to quarrel with, orinjure a defenceless woman. "

By this piece of policy Shawn gained considerable advantage. His purposewas to preserve such an ascendency over that cunning and treacherouswoman as might enable him to make her useful in working out his owndesigns, his object being, not only on that account, but for the sakeof his own personal safety, to stand well with both her friends and herenemies. 

Other matters were discussed, and plans of vengeance proposed andassented to, the details of which would afford our readers but slightgratification. After their projects had been arranged, this wild andsavage, but melancholy group, dispersed, and so intimately werethey acquainted with the intricacies of cover and retreat which thencharacterized the surface of the country, that in a few minutes theyseemed rather to have vanished like spectres than to have disappearedlike living men. Shawn, however, remained behind in order to hold someprivate conversation with Barney Casey. 

"Barney, " said he, "I wish to speak, to you about that villainWoodward. "

"I don't at all doubt, " replied this honest and manly peasant, "that heis a villain; but at the same time, Shawn, you must remember that I amnot a tory, and that I will neither aid nor assist you in your designsof murdher upon him. I received betther principles from my father andthe mother who bore me; and indeed I think the same thing may be said ofyourself, Shawn. Still and all, there is no doubt but that, unlike thatself-willed brother of mine, you had heavy provocation to join the lifeyou did. "

"Well, Barney, " replied Shawn, in a melancholy tone of voice, "if thesame oppressions were to come on us again, I think I would take anothercourse. My die, however, is cast, and I must abide by it. What I wantedto say to you, however, is this:--You are livin' in the same housewith Woodward; keep your eye on him--watch him well and closely; he isplotting evil for somebody. "

"Why, " said Barney, "how do you know that?"

"I have it, " replied Shawn, "from good authority. He has paid threeor four midnight visits to Sol, the herb docthor, and you know that agreater old scoundrel than he is doesn't breathe the breath of life. It has been long suspected that he is a poisoner, and they say that inspite of the poverty he takes on him, he is rich and full of money. It can be for no good, then, that Woodward consults him at suchunseasonable hours. "

"Ay; but who the devil could he think of poisoning?" said Barney. "I seenobody he could wish to poison. "

"Maybe, for all that, the deed is done, " replied Shawn. "Where, forinstance, is unfortunate Granua? Who can tell that he hasn't dosed her?"

"I believe him villain enough to do it, " returned the other; "but stillI don't think he did. He was at home to my own knowledge the nightshe disappeared, and could know nothing of what became of her. I thinkthat's a sure case. "

"Well, " said Shawn, "it may be so; but in the manetime his stolenvisits to the ould herb docthor are not for nothing. I end, then, as Ibegan--keep your eye on him; watch him closely--and now, good night. "

These hints were not thrown away upon Barney, who was naturally of anobservant turn; and accordingly he kept a stricter eye than ever uponthe motions of Harry Woodward. This accomplished gentleman, like everyvillain of his class, was crafty and secret in everything he did andsaid; that is to say, his object was always to lead those with whomhe held intercourse, to draw the wrong inference from his words andactions. Even his mother, as the reader will learn, was not in hisfull confidence. Such men, however, are so completely absorbed in themanagement of their own plans, that the latent principle or motiveoccasionally becomes apparent, without any consciousness of itsexhibition on their part. Barney soon had an opportunity of suspectingthis. His brother Charles, after what appeared to be a satisfactoryconvalescence, began to relapse, and a fresh fever to set in. The firstperson to communicate the melancholy intelligence to Woodward happenedto be Barney himself, who, on meeting him early in the morning, said, --

"I am sorry, Mr. Woodward, to tell you that Masther Charles is a greatdeal worse; he spent a bad night, and it seems has got very feverish. "

A gleam of satisfaction--short and transient, but which, however, wastoo significant to be misunderstood by such a sagacious observer asBarney--flashed across his countenance--but only for a moment. Herecomposed his features, and assuming a look expressive of the deepestsorrow, said, --

"Good heavens, Casey, do you tell me that my poor brother is worse, andwe all in such excellent spirits at what we considered his certain butgradual recovery?"

"He is much worse, sir; and the masther this morning has strong doubtsof his recovery. He's in great affliction about him, and so are theyall. His loss would be felt in the neighborhood, for, indeed, it's hethat was well beloved by all who knew him. "

"He certainly was a most amiable and affectionate young fellow, " saidWoodward, "and, for my part, if he goes from us through the means ofthat murdering blow, I shall hunt Shawn-na-Middogue to the death. "

"Will you take a friend's advice?" replied Barney: "we all of us wish, of coorse, to die a Christian death upon our beds, that we may thinkof the sins we have committed, and ask the pardon of our Saviour andinthersessor for them. I say, then, if you wish to die such a death, and to have time to repent of your sins, avoid coming acrossShawn-na-Middogue above all men in the world. I tell you this as afriend, and now you're warned. "

Woodward paused, and his face became black with a spirit of vengeance. 

"How does it happen, Casey, " he asked, "that you are able to giveme such a warning? You must have some particular information on thesubject. "

"The only information I have on the subject is this--that you are setdown among most people as the man who destroyed Grace Davoren, and notyour brother; Shawn believes this, and on that account, I say, itwill be well for you to avoid him. He believes, too, that you have herconcealed somewhere--although I don't think so; but if you have, Mr. Woodward, it would be an act of great kindness--an act becomin' botha gentleman and a Christian--to restore the unfortunate girl to herparents. "

"I know no more about her than you do, Casey. How could I? Perhaps mypoor brother, when he is capable of it, may be able to afford us someinformation on the subject. As it is I know nothing of it, but I shallleave nothing undone to recover her if she be alive, or if the thing canbe accomplished. In the meantime all I can think of is the relapse ofmy poor brother. Until he gets better I shall not be able to fix my mindupon anything else. What is Grace Davoren or Shaivn-nu-Middogue--theaccursed scoundrel--to me, so long as my dear Charles is in a state ofdanger?"

"Now, " said he, when they parted "now to work earth and hell to secureShaum-na-Middogue. He has got my secret concerning the girl Davoren, andI feel that while he is at large I cannot be safe. There is a reward forhis head, whether alive or dead, but that I scorn. In the meantime, Ishall not lose an hour in getting together a band who will scour thecountry along with myself, until we secure him. After that I shall be atperfect liberty to work out my plans without either fear of, or dangerfrom, this murdering ruffian. "

CHAPTER XVIII. The Toir, or Tory Hunt. 

Harry Woodward now began to apprehend that, as the reader sees, eitherhis star or that of _Shawn-na-Middogue_ must be in the ascendant. Heaccordingly set to work with all his skill and craft to secure hisperson and offer him up as a victim to the outraged laws of his country, and to a government that had set a price upon his head, as the leader ofthe outlaws; or, what came nearer to his wish, either to shoot him downwith his own hand, or have him shot by those who were on the alert forsuch persons. The first individual to whom he applied upon the subjectwas his benevolent step-father, who he knew was a magistrate, and whoseduty was to have the wretched class of whom we write arrested or shot asbest they might. 

"Sir, " said he, "I think after what has befallen my dear brother Charlesthat this murdering villain, Shawn-na-Middogue, who is at the head ofthe tories and outlaws, ought to be shot, or taken up and handed over togovernment. "

"Why, " asked Mr. Lindsay, "what has happened in connection withShawn-na-Middogue and your brother?"

"Why, that it was from his hand he received the wound that may be hisdeath. That, I think, is sufficient to make you exert yourself; andindeed it is, in my opinion, both a shame and a scandal that thesubject has not been taken up with more energy by the magistracy of thecountry. "

"But who can tell, " replied Lindsay, "whether it was Shawn-na-Middoguethat stabbed Charles? Charles himself does not know the individual whostabbed him. "

"The language of the girl, I think, " replied Woodward, "might indicateit. He was once her lover--"

"But she named nobody, " replied the other; "and as for lovers, she hadenough of them. If Shawn-na-Middogue is an outlaw now, I know who madehim so. I remember when there wasn't a better conducted boy on yourmother's property. He was a credit to his family and the neighborhood;but they were turned out in my absence by your unfeeling mother there, Harry; and the fine young fellow had nothing else for it but the life ofan outlaw. Confound me if I can much blame him. "

"Thank you, Lindsay, " replied his wife; "as kind as ever to the womanwho brought you that property. But you forget what the young scoundrel'smother said of me--do you? that I had the Evil Eye, and that there was afamiliar or devil connected with me and my family?"

"Egad! and I'm much of her opinion, " replied her husband; "and if shesaid it, I give you my honor it is only what every one who knows yousays, and what I, who know you best, say as well as they. Begone, madam--leave the room; it was your damned oppression made the boy atory. Begone, I say--I will bear with your insolence no longer. "

He stood up as he spoke--his eye flashed, and the stamp of his footmade the floor shake. Mrs. Lindsay knew her husband well, and without asingle syllable in reply she arose and left the room. 

"Harry, " proceeded his stepfather, "I shall take no proceedings againstthat unfortunate young man--tory though he be; I would resign mymagistracy sooner. Do not, therefore, count on me. "

"Well, sir, " said he, with a calm but black expression of countenance, "I will not enter into domestic quarrels; but I am my mother's son. "

"You are, " replied Lindsay, looking closely at him--"and I regret it. Ido not like the expression of your face--it is bad; worse I have seldomseen. "

"Be that expression what it may, sir, " replied Woodward, "by the heavensabove me I shall rest neither night nor day until I put an end toShawn-na-Middogue. "

"In the meantime you shall have no assistance from me, Harry; and it illbecomes your mother's son--the woman whose cruelty to the family madehim what he is--to attempt to hunt him down. On the contrary, I tellyou as a friend to let him pass; the young man is desperate, and hisvengeance, or that of his followers, may come on you when you leastexpect it. It is not his death that will secure you. If he dies throughyour means, he will leave those behind him who will afford you but shortspace to settle your last account. "

"Be the consequences what they may, " replied Woodward, "either he or Ishall fall. "

He left the room after expressing this determination, and hisstep-father said, --

"I'm afraid, Maria, we don't properly understand Master Harry. I ammuch troubled by what has occurred just now. I fear he is a hypocritein morals, and without a single atom of honorable principle. Did youobserve the expression of his face? Curse me if I think the devilhimself has so bad a one. Besides, I have heard something about him thatI don't like--something which I am not going to mention to you; but Isay that in future we must beware of him. "

"I was sorry, papa, to see the expression of his face, " replied Maria;"it was fearful; and above all things the expression of his eye. It mademe feel weak whenever he turned it on me. "

"Egad, and it had something of the same effect on myself, " replied herfather. "There is some damned expression in it that takes away one'sstrength. Well, " as I said, "we must beware of him. "

Woodward's next step was to pay a visit to Lord Cockletown, who, as hehad gained his title in consequence of his success in tory-hunting, andcapturing the most troublesome and distinguished outlaws of that day, was, he thought, the best and most experienced person to whom he couldapply for information as to the most successful means of accomplishinghis object. He accordingly waited on his lordship, to whom he thought, very naturally, that this exploit would recommend him. His lordshipwas in the garden, where Woodward found him in hobnailed shoes, digginghimself into what he called his daily perspirations. 

"Don't be surprised, Mr. Woodward, " said he, "at my employment; I amtaking my every-day sweat, because I feel that I could not drink as Ido and get on without it. Well, what do you want with me? Is it anythingabout Tom? Egad, Tom says she rather likes you than otherwise; and ifyou can satisfy me as to property settlements, and all that, I won'tstand in your way; but, in the meantime, what do you want with me now?If it's Tom's affair, the state of your property comes first. "

"No, my lord, I shall leave all dealings of business between you and mymother. This is a different affair, and one on which I wish to have yourlordship's advice and direction. "

"Ay, but what is it? Confound it, come to the point. "

"It is a tory-hunt, my lord. "

"Who is the tory, or who are the tories? Come, I'm at home here. What'syour plan?"

"Why, simple pursuit. We have the _posse comitatus_. "

"The _posse comitatus!_--the posse devil; what do the tories care aboutthe posse comitatus? Have you bloodhounds?"

"No, my lord, but I think we can procure them. "

"Because, " proceeded his lordship, "to go hunt a tory withoutbloodhounds is like looking for your grandmother's needle in a bottle ofstraw. "

"I am thankful to your lordship for that hint, " replied Harry Woodward;"but the truth is, I have been almost since my infancy out of thecountry, and am consequently, very ignorant of its usages. "

"What particular tory are you going to hunt?'"

"A fellow named Shawn-na-Middogue. "

[Illustration: PAGE 736-- _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim]

"Ah! _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim? Don't hunt him. If you'rewise you'll keep your distance from that young fellow. I tell you, Mr. Woodward, there will be more danger to yourself in the hunt thanthere will be to him. It's a well-known fact that it was your mother'sseverity to his family that made a tory of him; and, as I said before, Iwould strongly recommend you to avoid him. How many bloodhounds have yougot?"

"Why, I think we can muster half a dozen. "

"Ay, but do you know how to hunt them?"

"Not exactly; but I suppose we may depend upon the instinct of thedogs. "

"No, sir, you may not, unless to a very limited extent. Those toriesalways, when pursued by bloodhounds, go down the wind whenever it ispossible, and, consequently, leave very little trail behind them. Yourobject will be, of course, to hunt them against the wind; they willconsequently have little chance of escape, unless, as they are often inthe habit of doing, they administer a sop. "

"What is a sop, my lord?"

"A piece of raw beef or mutton, kept for twenty-four hours under thearmpit until it becomes saturated with the moisture of the body; afterthis, administer it to the dog, and instead of attacking he will followyou over the world. The other sop resorted to by these fellows is themiddogue, or skean, and, as they contrive to manage its application, itis the surer of the two. Should you like to see Tom?"

"Unquestionably, my lord. I intended before going to have requested thehonor of a short interview. "

"Ay, of course, to make love. Well, I tell you that Tom, like heruncle, has her wits about her. Go up, then, you will find her in thewithdrawing-room; and listen--I desire that you will tell her of yourtory-hunting project, and ask her opinion upon it. Now, don't forgetthat, because I will make inquiries about it. "

Woodward certainly found her in what was then termed thewithdrawing-room. She was in the act of embroidering, and received himwith much courtesy and kindness. 

"I hope your mother and family are all well, Mr. Woodward, " she said;"as for your sister Maria she is quite a stay-at-home. Does she evervisit any one at all?"

"Very rarely, indeed, Miss Riddle: but I think she will soon do herselfthe pleasure of calling upon you. "

"I shall feel much obliged, Mr. Woodward. From what I have heard, andthe little I have seen of her, a most amiable girl You have had a chatwith my kind-hearted, but eccentric uncle?"

"I have; and he imposed it on me as a condition that I should mention toyou an enterprise on which I am bent. "

"An enterprise! Pray, what is it?"

"Why, a tory-hunt; I am going to hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue, as he iscalled, and I think it will be rendering the country a service to getrid of him. "

Miss Riddle's face got pale as ashes; and she looked earnestly andsolemnly into Woodward's face. 

"Mr. Woodward, " said she, "would you oblige me with one simple request?Do not hunt down Shawn-na-Middogue: my uncle and I owe him our lives. "

"How is that, Miss Riddle?"

"Do you not know that my uncle was a tory hunter?"

"I have certainly heard so, " replied Woodward; "and I am, besides, awareof it from the admirable instructions which he gave me concerning thebest method of hunting them down. "

"Yes, but did he encourage you in your determination of hunting downShawn-na-Middogue?"

"No, certainly; but, on the contrary, advised me to pass him by--to havenothing to do with him. "

"Did he state his reasons for giving you such advice?"

"He mentioned something with reference to certain legal proceedingstaken by my mother against the family of Shawn-na-Middogue. But Ipresume my mother had her own rights to vindicate, and beyond that Iknow nothing of it. He nearly stabbed my brother to death, and Iwill leave no earthly means unattempted to shoot the villain down, orotherwise secure him. "

"Well, you are aware that my uncle was the most successful andcelebrated tory-hunter of his day, and rendered important services tothe government in that capacity--services which have been liberallyrewarded. "

"I am aware of it, Miss Riddle. "

"But you are not aware, as I am, that this same Shawn-na-Middogue savedmy uncle's life and mine on the night before last?"

"How could I, Miss Riddle?"

"It is a fact, though, and I beg you to mark it; and I trust that ifyou respect my uncle and myself, you will not engage in this cruel andinhuman expedition. "

"But your uncle mentioned nothing of this to me, Miss, Riddle. "

"He does not know it yet. I have been all yesterday thinking over thecircumstance, with a view of getting his lordship to interfere withthe government for this unfortunate youth; but I felt myself placedin circumstances of great difficulty and delicacy with respect to yourfamily and ours. I hope you understand me, Mr. Woodward. I allude to thecircumstances which forced him to become an outlaw and a tory, and itstruck me that my uncle could not urge any application in his favorwithout adverting to them. "

"O, Miss Riddle, if you feel an interest in his favor, he shallexperience no molestation from me. "

"The only interest which I feel in him is that of humanity, andgratitude, Mr. Woodward; but, indeed, I should rather say that thegratitude should not be common to a man who saved my uncle's life andmine. "

"And pray may I ask how that came about? At all events he has made mehis friend forever. "

"My uncle and I were returning home from dinner, --we had dined at SquireDawson's, --and on coming to a lonely part of the road we found ourcarriage surrounded by a party of the outlaws, who shouted out, 'This isthe old tory-hunter, who got his wealth and title by persecuting us, and now we will pay him home for all, ' 'Ay, ' observed another, 'andhis niece is with him, and we will have her off to the mountains. ' Thecarriage was immediately surrounded, and I know not to what an extenttheir violence and revenge might have proceeded, when Shawn samebounding among them with the air of a man who possessed authority overthem. 

"'Stop, ' said he; 'on this occasion they must go free, and on everyoccasion. Lord Cockletown, let him be what he may before, is of late agood landlord, and a friend to the people. His niece, too, is--' He thencomplimented me upon some trifling acts of kindness I had paid to hisfamily when--hem--ahem--in fact, when they stood much in need of it. "

This was a delicate evasion of any allusion to the cruel conduct of hismother towards the outlaw's family. 

"When, " she went on, "he had succeeded in restraining the meditatedviolence of the tories, he approached me--for they had already draggedme out, and indeed it was my screaming that brought him with such hasteto the spot. 'Now, Miss Riddle, ' said he, in a low whisper which myuncle could not hear, 'one good act deserves another; you were kind tomy family when they stood sorely in need of it. You and your uncle aresafe, and, what is more, will be safe: I will take care of that; butforget Shawn-na Middogue, the outlaw and tory, or if ever you mentionhis name, let it be in a spirit of mercy and forgiveness. Mr. Woodward, you will not hunt down this generous young man?"

"I would as soon hunt down my father, Miss Riddle, if he were alive. Itrust you don't imagine that I can be insensible to such noble conduct. "

"I do not think you are, Mr. Woodward; and I hope you will allow theunfortunate youth to remain unmolested until my uncle, to whom I shallmention this circumstance this day, may strive to have him restored tosociety. "

We need scarcely assure our readers that Woodward pledged himself inaccordance with her wishes, after which he went home and prepared such amask for his face, and such a disguise of dress for his person, as, whenassumed, rendered it impossible for any one to recognize him. Such wasthe spirit in which he kept his promise to Miss Riddle, and such thehonor of every word that proceeded from his hypocritical lips. 

In the meantime the preparations for the chase were made with the mostextraordinary energy and caution. Woodward had other persons engaged init, on whom he had now made up his mind to devolve the consequences ofthe whole proceedings. The sheriff and the _posse comitatas_, togetherwith assistance from other quarters, had all been engaged; and as somevague intelligence of _Shawn-na-Midoque's_ retreat had been obtained, Woodward proceeded in complete disguise before daybreak with a party, not one of whom was able to recognize him, well armed, to have what was, in those days, called a tory-hunt. 

The next morning was dark and gloomy. Gray, heavy mists lay upon themountain-tops, from which, as the light of the rising sun fell uponthem, they retreated in broken masses to the valleys and lower groundsbeneath them. A cold, chilly aspect lay upon the surface of the earth, and the white mists that had descended from the mountain-tops, or weredrawn up from the ground by the influence of the sun, were, althoughmore condensed, beginning to get a warmer look. 

Notwithstanding the secrecy with which this enterprise was projected ithad taken wind, and many of those who had suffered by the depredationsof the tories were found joining the band of pursuers, and many otherswho were friendly to them, or who had relations among them, also madetheir appearance, but contrived to keep somewhat aloof from the mainbody, though not at such a distance as might seem to render themsuspected; their object being to afford whatever assistance theycould, with safety to themselves and without incurring any suspicion ofaffinity to the unfortunate tories. 

The country was of intricate passage and full of thick woods. At thisdistance of time, now that it is cleared and cultivated, our readerscould form no conception of its appearance then. In the fastnesses andclose brakes of those woods lay the hiding-places and retreats of thetories--"the wood kernes" of Spenser's day. A tory-hunt at that time, or at any time, was a pastime of no common, danger. Those ferociousand determined banditti had little to render life desirable. Theyconsequently set but a slight value upon it. The result was that thepursuits after them by foreign soldiers, and other persons but slightlyacquainted with the country, generally ended in disaster and death toseveral of the pursuers. 

On the morning in question the tory-hunters literally beat the woodsas if they had been in the pursuit of game, but for a considerable timewith little effect. Not the appearance of a single tory was anywherevisible; but, notwithstanding this, it so happened that some one oftheir enemies occasionally dropped, either dead or wounded, by a shotfrom the intricacies and covers of the woods, which, upon beingsearched and examined, afforded no trace whatsoever of those who didthe mischief. This was harassing and provocative of vengeance to themilitary and such wretched police as existed in that day. No searchcould discover a single trace of a tory, and many of those in thepursuit were obliged to withdraw from it--not unreluctantly, indeed, inorder to bear back the dead and wounded to the town of Rathfillan. 

As they were entering an open space that lay between two woodedenclosures, a white hare started across their path, to the utterconsternation of those who were in pursuit. Woodward, now disguised andin his mask, had been for a considerable time looking behind him, butthis circumstance did not escape his notice, and he felt, to saythe least of it, startled at her second appearance. It reminded him, however, of the precautions which he had taken; and he looked back fromtime to time, as we have said, in expectation of something appertainingto the pursuit. At length he exclaimed, "Where are the party with the blood-hounds? Why have they not joined usand come up with us?

"They have started a wolf, " replied one of them, "and the dogs are afterhim; and some of them have gone back upon the trail of the wounded men. "

"Return for them, " said he; "without their assistance we can neverfind the trail of these accursed tories; but, above all, ofShawn-na-Middoque. "

In due time the dogs were brought up, but the trails were so variousthat they separated mostly into single hunts, and went at such a rapidspeed that they were lost in the woods. 

At length two of them who came up first, gave tongue, and the body ofpursuers concentrated themselves on the newly-discovered trail, keepingas close to the dogs as they could. Those two had quartered the woodsand returned to the party again when they fell upon the slot of someunfortunate victim who had recently escaped from the place. The pursuitnow became energetic and full of interest, if we could forget themelancholy and murderous fact that the game pursued were human victims, who had nothing more nor less to expect from their pursuers than thesavage wolves which then infested the forests--a price having been laidupon the heads of each. 

After some time the party arrived at the outskirts of the wood, andan individual was seen bounding along in the direction of themountains--the two dogs in full pursuit of him. The noise, theanimation, and the tumult of the pursuit were now astounding, and ranglong and loud over the surface of the excited and awakened neighborhood, whilst the wild echoes of their inhuman enjoyment were giving back theirterrible responses from the hills and valleys around them. The shouting, the urging on of the dogs by ferocious cries of encouragement, wereloud, incessant, and full of a spirit which, at this day, it is terribleto reflect upon. The whole country was alive; and the loud, vociferousagitation which disturbed it, resembled the influence of one of thosestorms which lash the quiet sea into madness. Fresh crowds joined them, as we have said, and the tumult still became louder and stronger. In themeantime, _Shawn-na-Middogue's_ case--it was he--became hopeless--forit was the speed of the fleetest runner that ever lived to that oftwo powerful bloodhounds, animated, as they were, by their ferociousinstincts. Indeed, the interest of the chase was heightened by themanner and conduct of the dogs, which, when they came upon the trail ofthe individual, in question, yelped aloud with an ecstatic delight thatgave fresh courage to the vociferous band of pursuers. 

"Who can that man be?" asked one of them; "he seems to have wings to hisfeet. "

"By the sacred light of day, " exclaimed another, "it is no other thanthe famous _Shawn-na-Middogue_ himself. I know him well; and even if Idid not, who could mistake him by his speed of foot?"

"Is that he?" said the mask; "then fifty pounds in addition to thegovernment reward to the man who will shoot him down, or secure him, living or dead: only let him be taken. "

Just then four or five persons, friends of course to the unfortunateoutlaw, came in before the dogs across the trail, in consequenceof which the animals became puzzled, and lost considerable time inregaining it, whilst Shawn, in the meantime, was fast making his way tothe mountains. 

The reward, however, offered by the man in the black mask--for it wasa black one--accelerated the speed of the pursuers, between whom acompetition of terrible energy and action arose as to which of themshould secure the public reward and the premium that were offered forhis blood. Shawn, however, had been evidently exhausted, and sat downconsiderably in advance of them, on the mountain side, to take breath, in order to better the chance of effecting his escape; but whilstseated, panting after his race, the dogs gained rapidly upon him. Havingput his hand over his eyes, and looked keenly down--for he had the sightof an eagle--the approach of the dogs did not seem at all to alarm him. 

"Ah, thank God, they will have him soon, " said the mask, "and it is apity that we cannot give them the reward. Who owns those noble dogs?"

"You will see that very soon, sir, " replied a man beside him; "you willsee it very soon--you may see it now. "

As he uttered the words the dogs sprang upon Shawn, wagged their tailsas if in a state of most ecstatic delight, and began to caress him andlick his face. 

"Finn, my brave Finn!" he exclaimed, patting him affectionately, "andis this you? and Oonah, my darling Oonah, did the villains think that mybest friends would pursue me for my blood? Come now, " said he, "followme, and we will lead them a chase. "

During this brief rest, however, four of the most active of hispursuers, who knew what is called the lie of the country, succeeded, by passing through the skirt of the wood in a direction where it, wasimpossible to observe them, in coming up behind the spot where he hadsat, and consequently, when he and his dogs, or those which had beenonce his, ascended its flat summit, the four men pounced upon him. Fouragainst one would, in ordinary cases, be fearful odds; but Shawn knewthat he had two stanch and faithful friends to support him. Quick aslightning his _middogue_ was into one of their hearts, and almost asquickly were two more of them seized by the throats and dragged down bythe powerful animals that defended him. The fourth man was as rapidlydespatched by a single blow, whilst the dogs were literally tearing outthe throats of their victims. In the course of about ten minutes, whatbetween Shawn's middogue and the terrible fangs and strength of thosedreadful animals, the four men lay there four corpses. Shawn's danger, however, notwithstanding his success, was only increasing. His pursuershad now gained upon him, and when he looked around he found himselfhemmed in, or nearly so. Speed of foot was everything; but, what wasworst of all, with reference to his ultimate escape, four other dogswere making their way up the mountains--dogs to which he was a stranger, and he knew right well that they would hunt him with all the deadlyinstincts of blood. They were, however, far in the distance, and hefelt little apprehension from them. Be this as it may, he bounded offaccompanied by his faithful friends, and not less than twenty shots werefired after him, none of which touched him. The number of his pursuers, dogs included, almost made his heart sink; and would have done so, butthat he was probably desperate and reckless of life. He saw himselfalmost encompassed; he heard the bullets whistling about him, andperceived at a glance that the chances of his escape were a thousand toone against him. With a rapid sweep of his eye he marked the locality. It also was all against him. There was a shoreless lake, abrupt and deepto the very edge, except a slip at the opposite side, lying at his feet. It was oblong, but at each end of it there was nothing like a pass forat least two or three miles. If he could swim across this he knewthat he was safe, and that he could do so he felt certain, providedhe escaped the bullets and the dogs of the pursuers. At all events hedashed down and plunged in, accompanied by his faithful attendants. Shotafter shot was sent after him; and so closely did some of them reachhim, that he was obliged to dive and swim under water from time totime, in order to save himself from their aim. The strange bloodhounds, however, which had entered the lake, were gaining rapidly on him, andon looking back he saw them within a dozen yards of him. He was now, however, beyond the reach of their bullets, unless it might be alonger shot than ordinary, but the four dogs were upon him, and in theextremity of despair he shouted out, --"Finn and Oonah, won't you saveme?" Shame upon the friendship and attachment of man! In a moment two ofthe most powerful of the strange dogs were in something that resembleda death struggle with his brave and gallant defenders. The other two, however, were upon himself; but by a stab of his middogue he despatchedone of them, and the other he pressed under water until he was drowned. 

In the meantime, whilst the four other dogs were fighting furiously inthe water, Shawn, having felt exhausted, was obliged to lie on his backand float, in order to regain his strength. 

A little before this contest commenced, the black mask and a number ofthe pursuing party were standing on the edge of the lake looking on, conscious of the impossibility of their interference. 

"Is there no stout man and good swimmer present, " exclaimed the mask, "who will earn the fifty pounds I have offered for the capture of thatman?"

"Here am I, " said a powerful young fellow, the best swimmer, with theexception of Shawn-na-Middogue, in the province. "I am like a duck inthe water; but upon my sowl, so is he. If I take him, you will give methe fifty pounds?"

"Unquestionably; but you know you will have the government rewardbesides. "

"Well, then, here goes. I cannot bring my carbine with me; but evenso--we will have a tug for it with my skean. "

He threw off his coat and barrad, and immediately plunged in and swamwith astonishing rapidity towards the spot where Shawn and the dogs--thelatter still engaged in their ferocious contest--were in the lake. Shawnnow had regained considerable strength, and was about to despatch theenemies of his brave defenders, when, on looking back to the spot on themargin of the lake where his pursuers stood, he saw the powerful youngswimmer within a few yards of him. It was well for him that he hadregained his strength, and such was his natural courage that hefelt rather gratified at the appearance of only a single individual. "Shawn-na-Middogue, " said the young fellow, "I come to make you aprisoner. Will you fight me fairly in the water?"

"I am a hunted outlaw--a tory, " replied Shawn, "and will fight you thebest way I can. If we were on firm earth I would fight you on yourown terms. If there is to be a fight between us, remember that you arefighting for the government reward, and I for my life. "

"Will you fight me, " said the man, "without using your middogue?"

"I saw you take a skean from between your teeth as I turned round, "replied Shawn, "and I know now that you are a villain and a treacherousruffian, who would take a cowardly advantage of me if you could. "

The fellow made a plunge at Shawn, who was somewhat taken by surprise. They met and grappled in the water, and the contest between them was, probably, one of the fiercest and most original that ever occurredbetween man and man. It was distinctly visible to the spectators onthe shore, and the interest which it excited in them can scarcely bedescribed. A terrible grapple ensued, but as neither of them wished todie by drowning, or, in fact, to die under such peculiar circumstancesat all, there was a degree of caution in the contest which requiredgreat skill and power on both sides. Notwithstanding this caution, however, still, when we consider the unsubstantial element on whichthe battle between them raged--for rage it did--there were frightfulalternatives of plunging and sinking between them. 

Shawn's opponent was the stronger of the two, but Shawn possessed inactivity what the other possessed in strength. The waters of the lakewere agitated by their struggles and foamed white about them, whilst, atthe same time, the four bloodhounds tearing each other beside themadded to the agitation. Shawn and his opponent clasped each other andfrequently disappeared for a very brief space, but the necessity tobreathe and rise to the air forced them to relax the grasps and seek thesurface of the water; so was it with the dogs. At length, Shawn, feelingthat his middogue had got entangled in his dress, which the water hadclosely contracted about it, rendering it difficult, distracted ashe was by the contest, to extricate it, turned round and swam severalstrokes from his enemy, who, however, pursued him with the ferocity ofone of the bloodhounds beside them. This ruse was to enable Shawn todisengage his middogue, which he did. In the meantime this expedient ofShawn's afforded his opponent time to bring out his skean, --two weaponswhich differed very little except in name. They once more approached oneanother, each with the armed hand up, --the left, --and a fiercer and moreterrible contest was renewed. The instability of the element, however, on which they fought, prevented them from using their weapons witheffect. At all events they played about each other, offering and wardingoff the blows, when Shawn exclaimed, --having grasped his opponent withhis right arm, --

"I am tired of this; it must be now sink or swim between us. To die hereis better than to die on the gallows. "

As he spoke both sank, and for about half a minute became invisible. Thespectators from the shore now gave them both over for lost; one ofthem only emerged with the fatal middogue in his hand, but his opponentappeared not, and for the best reason in the world: he was on his wayto the bottom of the lake. Shawn's exhaustion after such a struggle nowrendered his situation hopeless. He was on the point of going down whenhe exclaimed:

"It is all in vain now; I am sinking, and me so near the only slip thatis in the lake. Finn and Oonah, save me; I am drowning. "

The words were scarcely out of his lips when he felt the two faithful, powerful, and noble animals, one at each side of him--seeing as theydid, his sinking state--seizing him by his dress, and dragging himforward to the slip we have mentioned. With great difficulty he gotupon land, but, having done so, he sat down; and when his dogs, inthe gambols of their joy at his safety, caressed him, he wept like aninfant--this proscribed outlaw and tory. He was now safe, however, andhis pursuers returned in a spirit of sullen and bitter disappointment, finding that it was useless to continue the hunt any longer. 

CHAPTER XIX. Plans and Negotiations. 

We have already said that Woodward was a man of personal courage, andwithout fear of anything either living or dead, yet, notwithstandingall this, he felt a terror of _Shawn-na-Middogue_ which he could not Iovercome. The escape--the extraordinary escape of that celebrated youngtory--depressed and vexed him to the heart. He was conscious, however, of his own villany and of his conduct to Grace Davoren, whom Shawn hadloved, and, as Shakespeare says, "conscience makes cowards of us all. "One thing, however, afforded him some consolation, which was that hisdisguise prevented him from from being known as the principal personengaged in the attempt to hunt down the outlaw. He knew that after thesolemn promise he had given Miss Riddle, any knowledge on her part ofhis participation in the pursuit of that generous but unfortunate youngman would have so completely sunk him in her opinion, as an individualprofessing to be a man of honor, that she would have treated hisproposals with contempt, and rejected him with disdain. At all events, his chief object now was to lose no time in prosecuting his suit withher. For this purpose he urged his mother to pay Lord Cockletown anothervisit, in order to make a formal proposal for the hand of his niece inhis name, with a view of bringing the matter to an issue with aslittle delay as might be. His brother, who had relapsed, was in a veryprecarious condition, but still slightly on the recovery, a circumstancewhich filled him with alarm. He only went out at night occasionally, butstill he went out, and, as before, did not return until about twelve, but much more frequently one, two, and sometimes three o'clock. Nobodyin the house could understand the mystery of these midnight excursions, and the servants of the family, who were well aware of them, began tolook on him with a certain undefined terror as a man whose unaccountablemovements were associated with something that was evil and supernatural. They felt occasionally that the power of his eye was dreadful; and asit began to be whispered about that it was by its evil influence he hadbrought Alice Goodwin to the very verge of the grave for the purpose ofgetting at the property, which was to revert to him in case she shoulddie without issue, there was not one of them who, on meeting him, eitherin or about the house, would run the risk of looking him in the face. Infact, they experienced that kind of fear of him which a person mightbe supposed to feel in the case of a spirit; and this is not surprisingwhen we consider the period in which they lived. 

Be this as it may, his mother got up the old carriage once more andset out on her journey to Cockle Hall--her head filled with many aniniquitous design, and her heart with fraud and deceit. On reachingCockle Hall she was ushered to the withdrawing-room, where she found hislordship in the self-same costume which we have already described. MissEiddle was in her own room, so that she had the coast clear--which wasprecisely what she wanted. 

"Well, Mrs. Lindsay, I'm glad to see you. How do you do, madam? Is yourson with you?" he added, shaking hands with her. 

"No, my lord. "

"O! an embassadress, then?"

"Something in that capacity, my lord. "

"Then I must be on my sharps, for I am told you are a keen one. But tellme--do you sleep with one eye open, as I do?"

"Indeed, my lord, " she replied, laughing, "I sleep as other people do, with both eyes shut. "

"Well, then, what's your proposal?--and, mark me, I'm wide awake. "

"By all accounts, my lord, you have seldom been otherwise. How could youhave played your cards so well and so succassfully if you had not?"

"Come, that's not bad--just what I expected, and I like to deal withclever people. Did you put yourself on the whetstone before you camehere? I'll go bail you did. "

"If I did not I would have little chance in dealing with your lordship, "replied Mrs, Lindsay. 

"Come, I like that, too;--well said, and nothing but the truth. In factit will be diamond cut diamond between us--eh?"

"Precisely, my lord. You will find me as sharp as your lordship, for thelife of you. "

"Come, confound me, I like that best of all--a touch of my owncandor;--we're kindred spirits, Mrs. Lindsay. "

"I think so, my lord. We should have been man and wife. "

"Egad, if we had I shouldn't have played second fiddle, as I'm told poorLindsay does; however, no matter about that--even a good second is notso bad. But now about the negotiations--come, give a specimen of yourtalents. Let us come to the point. "

"Well, then, I am here, my lord, to propose, in the name of my sonWoodward, for the hand of Miss Riddle, your niece. "

"I see; no regard for the property she is to have, eh?"

"Do you think me a fool, my lord? Do you imagine that any one of commonsense would or should overlook such an element between parties whopropose to marry? Whatever my son may do--who is deeply attached toMiss Riddle--I am sure I do not, nor will not, overlook it; you may restassured of that, my lord. "

Old Cockletown looked keenly at her, and their eyes met; but, after along and steady gaze, the eyes of the old peer quailed, and he felt, when put to an encounter with hers, that to which was attributed suchextraordinary influence. There sparkled in her steady black orb avenomous exultation, mingled with a spirit of strong and contemptuousderision, which made the eccentric old nobleman feel ratheruncomfortable. His eye fell, and, considering his age, it was decidedlya keen one. He fidgeted upon the chair--he coughed, hemmed, then lookedabout the room, and at length exclaimed, rather in a soliloquy, --

"Second fiddle! egad, I'm afraid had we been man and wife I should neverhave got beyond it. Poor Lindsay! It's confoundedly odd, though. "

"Well, Mrs. Lindsay--ahem--pray proceed, madam; let us come to theproperty. How does your son stand in that respect?"

"He will have twelve hundred a year, my lord. "

"I told you before, Mrs. Lindsay, that I--don't like the futuretense--the present for me. What has he?"

"It can scarcely be called the future tense, my lord, which you seem toabhor so much. Nothing stands between him and it but a dying girl. "

"How is that, madam?"

"Why, my lord, his Uncle Hamilton, my brother, had a daughter, an onlychild, who died of decline, as her mother before her did. This foolishchild was inveigled into an unaccountable affection for the daughterof Mr. Goodwin--a deep, designing, artful girl--who contrived to gain acomplete ascendency over both father and daughter. For months beforemy niece's death this cunning girl, prompted by her designing family, remained at her sick bed, tended her, nursed her, and would scarcelyallow a single individual to approach her except herself. In short, she gained such an undue and iniquitous influence over both parent andchild, that her diabolical object was accomplished. "

"Diabolical! Well, I can see nothing diabolical in it, for so far. Affection and sympathy on the one hand, and gratitude on the other--thatseems much more like the thing. But proceed, madam. "

"Why, my poor brother, who became silly and enfeebled in intellect bythe loss of his child, was prevailed on by Miss Goodwin and her familyto adopt her as his daughter, and by a series of the most artful andselfish manoeuvres they succeeded in getting the poor imbecile andbesotted old man to make a will in her favor; and the consequence wasthat he left her twelve hundred a year, both to her and her issue, should she marry and have any; but in case she should have no issue, then, after her death, it was to revert to my son Woodward for whom itwas originally intended by my brother. It was a most unprincipled andshameful transaction on the part of these Goodwins. Providence, however, would seem to have punished them for their iniquity, for Miss Goodwin isdying--at least, beyond all hope. The property, of course, will soonbe in my son's possession, where it ought to have been ever since hisuncle's death. Am I not right, then, in calculating on that property ashis?"

"Why, the circumstances you speak of are recent; I remember them wellenough. There was a lawsuit about the will?"

"There was, my lord. "

"And the instrument was proved strictly legal and valid?"

"The suit was certainly determined against us. "

"I'll tell you what, Mrs. Lindsay; I am certain that I myself would haveacted precisely as your brother did. I know the Goodwins, too, and Iknow, besides, that they are incapable of reverting to either fraud orundue influence of any kind. All that you have told me, then, is, withgreat respect to you, nothing but mere rigmarole. I am sorry, however, to hear that the daughter, poor girl, is dying. I hope in God she willrecover. "

"There is no earthly probability--nay, possibility of it--which is astronger word--I know, my lord, she will die, and that very soon. "

"You know, madam! How the deuce can you know? It is all in the hands ofGod. I hope she will live to enjoy her property. "

"My lord, I visited the girl in her illness, and life was barely in her;I have, besides, the opinion of the physician who attended her, andof another who was called in to consult upon her state, and both haveinformed me that her recovery is hopeless. "

"And what opinion does your son, Woodward, entertain upon the subject?"

"One, my lord, in complete keeping with his generous character. He is asanxious for her recovery as your lordship. "

"Well, I like that, at all events; it is a good point in him. Yes, I like that--but, in the meantime, here are you calculating upon acontingency that may never happen. The calculation is, I grant, notoverburdened with delicacy of feeling; but still it may proceed fromanxiety for the settlement and welfare of your son. Not an improbablething on the part of a mother, I grant that. "

"Well, then, my lord, " asked Mrs. Lindsay, "what is to be done? Come tothe point, as you very properly say yourself. "

"In the first place bring me the written opinions of those two doctors. They ought to know her state of health best, and whether she is likelyto recover or not. I know I am an old scoundrel in entering into amatrimonial negotiation upon a principle so inhuman as the poor lady'sdeath; but still, if her demise is a certain thing, I don't see whymen of the world should not avail themselves of I such a circumstance. Now, I wish to see poor Tom settled before I die; and, above all things, united to a gentleman. Your son Woodward, Mrs. Lindsay, is a gentleman, and what is more, I have reason to believe Tommy likes him. She speakswell of him, and there is a great deal in that; because I know that ifshe disliked him she would not conceal the fact. She has, occasionally, much of her old uncle's bluntness about her, and will not say one thingand think another; unless, indeed, when she has a design in it, and thenshe is inscrutable. "

"My own opinion is this, my lord: let my son wait upon Miss Riddle--lethim propose for her--and if she consents, why the marriage settlementsmay be drawn up--at once and the ceremony performed. "

"Let me see, " he replied. "That won't do. I will never marry off poorTommy upon a speculation which may never after all be realized. No, no--I'm awake there; but I'll tell you what--produce me those lettersfrom the physician or physicians who attended her; then, should Tom giveher consent, the settlements may be drawn up, and they can lie unsigneduntil the girl dies--and then let them be married. Curse me, I'm an oldscoundrel again, however, as to that the whole world is nothing but onegreat and universal scoundrel, and it is nothing but to see Tom the wifeof a gentleman in feeling, manners, and bearing, that I consent even tothis conditional arrangement. "

"Well, " replied the lady, "be it so; it is as much as either of us cando under the circumstances. "

Ay, and more than we ought to do. I never was without a conscience; butof all the poor pitiful scoundrels of a conscience that ever existed, itwas the greatest. But why should I blame it? It loved me too well; for, after some gentle rebukes when I was about to do a rascally act, itquietly withdrew all opposition and left me to my own will. "

"Ah, we all know you too well, my lord, to take your own report of yourown character. However, I am glad that matters have proceeded so far. I shall do what your lordship wishes as to the opinions of the medicalmen. The lawyers, with our assistance, will manage the settlements. "

"Yes; but this arrangement must be kept a secret from Tom, because ifshe knew of it she would knock up the whole project. "

"She shall not from me, my lord. "

"Nor from me, I promise you that. But now for another topic. I am gladyour son had nothing to do with the dreadful chase of that unfortunateShawn-na-Middogue; he pledged his honor to Tom that he would ratherprotect than injure him. "

"So, my lord, he would, ever since his conversation with Miss Riddle onthe subject. "

This, indeed, was very honestly said, inasmuch as it was she herself whohad furnished him with the mask and other of the disguises. 

"Well, I think so; and I believe him to be a gentleman, certainly. This unfortunate tory saved Tom's life and mine the other night;but, independently of that, Mrs. Lindsay, no son of yours should haveanything to do in his pursuit or capture. You understand me. It is myintention to try what I can do to get him a pardon from government, andrescue him from the wild and lawless life he is leading. "

Mrs. Lindsay merely said, --"If my son Woodward could render youany assistance, I am sure he would feel great pleasure in doing so, notwithstanding that it was this same Shawn-na-Middogue who, perhaps, has murdered his brother, for he is by no means out of danger. "

"What--he? Shawn-na-Middogue! Have you any proof of that?"

"Not positive or legal proof, my lord, but! at least a strong moralcertainty. However, it is a subject on which I do not wish to speak. "

"By the way, I am very stupid; but no wonder. When a man approachesseventy he can't be expected to remember everything. You will excuse mefor not inquiring after your son's health; how is he?"

"Indeed, my lord, we know not what to say; neither does the doctor whoattends him--the same, by the way, who attended Miss Goodwin. At presenthe can say neither yes or no to his recovery. "

"No, nor will not as long as he can; I know those gentry well. Cursethe thing on earth frightens one of them so much as any appearance ofconvalescence in a patient. I had during my life about half a dozen fitsof illness, and whenever they found that I was on the recovery, theyalways contrived to throw me back with their damned nostrums, for amonth or six weeks together, that they might squeeze all they could outof me. O, devilish rogues! devilish rogues!"

Mrs. Lindsay now asked to see his niece, and the peer said he would sendher down, after which he shook hands with her, and once more cautionedher against alluding to the arrangement into which they had enteredtouching the matrimonial affairs already discussed. It is not ourintention to give the conversation between the two ladies, which was, indeed, not one of long duration. Mrs. Lindsay simply stated that shehad been deputed by her son, Woodward, to have the honor of making aproposal in his name to her uncle, in which proposal she, Miss Riddle, was deeply concerned, but that her son himself would soon have thegreater honor of pleading his own cause with the fair object of his mostenthusiastic affection. To this Miss Riddle said neither yes nor no;and, after a further chat upon indifferent topics, the matron took herdeparture, much satisfied, however, with the apparent suavity of theworthy peer's fair niece. 

It matters not how hard and iniquitous the hearts of mothers may be, it is a difficult thing to extinguish in them the sacred principle ofmaternal affection. Mrs. Lindsay, during her son Charles's illness, andwhilst laboring under the apprehension that she was about to lose him, went to his sick room after her return from Lord Coccletown's, and, finding he was but slightly improving, --if improving at all, --she feltherself much moved, and asked him how he felt. 

"Indeed, my dear mother, " he replied, "I can scarcely say; I hardly knowwhether I am better or worse. "

Harry was in the room at the time, having gone up to ascertain hiscondition. 

"O, come, Charles, " said she, "you were always an affectionate son, andyou must strive and recover. If it may give you strength and hope, I nowtell you that the property which I intended to leave to Harry here, Ishall leave to you. Harry will not require it; he will be well off--muchbetter than you imagine. He will have back that twelve hundred a yearwhen that puny girl dies. She is, probably, dead by this time, and hewill, besides, become a wealthy man by marriage. "

"But I think, my dear mother, that Harry has the best claim to it; he isyour firstborn, and your eldest son. "

"He will not require it, " replied his mother; "he is about to be marriedto Miss Riddle, the niece of Lord Cockle town. "

"Are you quite sure of that, mother?" asked Harry, with a brow as blackas midnight. 

"There is an arrangement made, " she replied; "the marriage settlementsare to be drawn up, but left unsigned until the death of Alice Goodwin. "

Charles here gave a groan of agony, which, for the life of him, he couldnot suppress. 

"She will not die, I hope, " said he; "and, mother, as for the property, leave it to Harry. I don't think you ought to change your contemplatedarrangements on my account, even should I recover. "

"Yes, Charles, but I will--only contrive and live; you are my son, andas sure as I have life you will be heir to my property. "

"But Maria, mother, " replied the generous young man; "Maria--" and helooked imploringly and affectionately into her face. 

"Maria will have an ample portion; I have taken care of that. I willnot leave my property to those who are strangers to my blood, as ason-in-law must be. No, Charles, you shall have my property. As forHarry, as I said before, he won't stand in need of it. "

"Of course you saw Miss Riddle to-day, mother?" asked. Harry. 

"I did. "

"Of course, too, you mentioned the matter to her?"

"To be sure I did. "

"And what did she say?"

"Why, I think she acted just as every delicate-minded girl ought. Itold her you would have the honor of proposing to herself in person. Sheheard me, and did not utter a syllable either for or against you. Whatelse should any lady do? You would not have her jump at you, would you?Nothing, however, could be kinder or more gracious than the receptionshe gave me. "

"Certainly not, mother; to give her consent before she was solicitedwould not be exactly the thing; but the uncle is willing?"

"Upon the conditions I said; but his niece is to know nothing of theseconditions: so be cautious when you see her. "

"I don't know how it is, " replied Harry; "I have been thinking our lastinterview over; but it strikes me there is, notwithstanding her courtesyof manner, a hard, dry air about her which it is difficult to penetrate. It seems to me as if it were no easy task to ascertain whether she is injest or earnest. Her eye is too calm and reflecting for my taste. "

"But, " replied his mother, "those, surely, are two good qualities in anywoman, especially in her whom you expect to become your wife. "

"Perhaps so, " said he;'"but she is not my wife yet, my dear mother. "

"I wish she was, Harry, " observed his brother, "for by all accounts sheis an excellent girl, and remarkable for her charity and humanity to thepoor. "

His mother and Harry then left the room, and both went to her ownapartment, where the following conversation took place between them:

"Harry, " said she, "I hope you are not angry at the determination Iexpressed to leave my property to Charles should he recover?"

"Why should I, my dear mother?" he replied; "your property is your own, and of course you may leave it to whomsoever you wish. At all events, itwill remain in your own family, and won't go to strangers, like that ofmy scoundrel old uncle. "

"Don't speak so, Harry, of my brother; silly, besotted, and overreachedhe was when he acted as he did; but he never was a scoundrel, Harry. "

"Well, well, let that pass, " replied her son; "but the question now is, What am I to do? What step should I first take?"

"I don't understand you. "

"Why, I mean whether should I start directly for Ballyspellan and putthis puling girl out of pain, or go in a day or two and put thequestion at once to Miss Riddle, against whom, somehow, I feel a strongantipathy. "

"Ah, Harry, that's your grandfather all over; but, indeed, our familywere full of strong antipathies and bitter resentments. Why do you feelan antipathy against the girl?"

"Who can account for antipathies, mother? I cannot account for this. "

"And perhaps on her part the poor girl is attached to you. "

"Well, but you have not answered my question. How am I to act? Whichstep should I take first--the quietus, of 'curds-and-whey, ' or thecourtship? The sooner matters come to a conclusion the better. I wish, if possible, to know what is before me: I cannot bear uncertainty inthis or anything else. "

"I scarcely know how to advise you, " she replied; "both steps are ofthe deepest importance, but certainly which to take first is a necessaryconsideration. I am of opinion that our best plan is simply to take aday or two to think it over, after which we will compare notes and cometo a conclusion. " And so it was determined. 

We need scarcely assure our readers that honest and affectionateBarney Casey felt a deep interest in the recovery of the generous andkind-hearted Charles Lindsay, nor that he allowed a single day to passwithout going, at least two or three times, to ascertain whether therewas any appearance of his convalescence. On the day following that onwhich Mrs. Lindsay had declared the future disposition of her propertyhe went to see Charles as usual, when the latter, after having stated tohim that he felt much better, and the fever abating, he said, --

"Casey, I have rather strange news for you. "

"Be it good, bad, or indifferent, sir, " replied Barney, "you couldtell me no news that would plaise me half so much as that there is acertainty of your gettin' well again. "

"Well, I think there is, Barney. I feel much better to-day than I havedone for a long while--but the news, are you not anxious to hear it?"

"Why, I hope I'll hear it soon, Masther Charles, especially if it'sgood; but if it's not good I'm jack-indifferent about it. "

"It is good, Barney, to me at least, but not so to my brother Woodward. "

Barney's ears, if possible, opened and expanded themselves on hearingthis. To him it was a double gratification: first, because it wasfavorable to the invalid, to whom he was so sincerely attached; andsecondly, because it was not so to Woodward, whom he detested. 

"My mother yesterday told me that she has made up her mind to leave meall her property if I recover, instead of to Harry, for whom she hadoriginally intended it. "

Barney, on hearing this intelligence, was commencing to dance an Irishjig to his own music, and would have done so were it not that thedelicate state of the patient prevented him. 

"Blood alive, Masther Charles!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers in akind of wild triumph, "what are you lying there for? Bounce to your feetlike a two-year ould. O, holy Moses, and Melchisedek the divine, ay, andSolomon, the son of St. Pettier, in all his glory, but that is news!"

"She told my brother Woodward, face to face, that such was her fixeddetermination. "

"Good again; and what did he say?"

"Nothing particular, but that he was glad it was to stay in the family, and not go to strangers, like our uncle's--alluding, of course, to hiswill in favor of dear Alice Goodwin. "

"Ay, but how did he look?" asked Barney. 

"I didn't observe, I was rather in pain at the time; but, from a passingglimpse I got, I thought his countenance darkened a little; but I may bemistaken. "

"Well, I hope so, " said Barney. "I hope so--but--well, I am glad to findyou are betther, Masther Charles, and to hear the good piece offortune you have mentioned. I trust in God your mother will keep herword--that's all. "

"As for myself, " said Charles, "I am indifferent about the property; allthat presses upon my heart is my anxiety for Miss Goodwin's recovery. "

"Don't be alarmed on that account, " said Casey! "they say the watersof Ballyspellan would bring the dead to life. Now, good-by, MastherCharles; don't be cast down--keep up your spirits, for something tellsme that's there's luck before you, and good luck, too. "

After leaving him Barney began to ruminate. He had remarked anextraordinary change in the countenance and deportment of HarryWoodward during the evening before and the earlier part of that day. Theplausible serenity of his manner was replaced by unusual gloom, and thatabstraction which is produced by deep and absorbing thought. He seemedso completely wrapped up in constant meditation upon some particularsubject, that he absolutely forgot to guard himself against observationor remark, by his usual artifice of manner. He walked alone in thegarden, a thing he was not accustomed to do; and during these walks hewould stop and pause, then go on slowly and musingly, and stop and pauseagain. Barney, as we have said before, was a keen observer, andhaving watched him from a remote corner of the garden in which hewas temporarily engaged among some flowers, he came at once to theconclusion that Woodward's mind was burdened with something whichheavily depressed his spirits, and occupied his whole attention. 

"Ah, " exclaimed Barney, "the villain is brewing mischief for some one, but I will watch his motions if I should pass sleepless nights for it. He requires a sharp eye after him, and it will go hard with me or Ishall know what his midnight wanderings mean; but in the meantime I mustkeep calm and quiet, and not seem to watch him. "

Whilst Barney, who was unseen by Woodward, having been separated fromhim by a fruit hedge over which he occasionally peeped, indulged in thissoliloquy, the latter, in the same deep and moody meditation, extendedhis walk, his brows contracted, and dark as midnight. 

"The damned hag, " said he, speaking unconsciously aloud, "is this theaffection which she professed to bear me? Is this the proof she gives ofthe preference which she often expressed for her favorite son? To leaveher property to that miserable milksop, my half-brother! What devilcould have tempted her to this? Not Lindsay, certainly, for I know hewould scorn to exercise any control over her in the disposition of herproperty, and as for Maria, I know she would not. It must then have beenthe milksop himself in some puling fit of pain or illness; and ably mustthe beggarly knave have managed it when he succeeded in changing thestern and flinty heart of such a she-devil. Yes, unquestionably thatmust be the true meaning of it; but, be it so for the present; thefuture is a different question. My plans are laid, and I will put theminto operation according as circumstances may guide me. "

Whatever those plans were, he seemed to have completed them in his ownmind. The darkness departed from his brow; his face assumed its usualexpression; and, having satisfied himself by the contemplation of hisfuture course of action, he walked at his usual pace out of the garden. 

"Egad, " thought Barney, "I'm half a prophet, but I can say no more thanI've said. There's mischief in the wind; but whether against MastherCharles or his mother, is a puzzle to me. What a dutiful son, too! Ashe-devil! Well, upon my sowl, if he weren't her son I could forgive himfor that, because it hits her off to a hair--but from the lips of a son!O, the blasted scoundrel! Well, no matther, there's a sharp pair of eyesupon him; and that's all I can say at present. "

When the medical attendant called that day to see his patient he found, on examining Charles, and feeling his pulse, that he was decidedly andrapidly on the recovery. On his way down stairs he was met by Woodward, who said, "Well, doctor, is there any chance of my dear brother's recovery?"

"It is beyond a chance now, Mr. Wood-ward; he is out of danger; andalthough his convalescence will be slow, it will be sure. "

"Thank God, " said the cold-blooded hypocrite; "I have never heardintelligence more gratifying. My mother is in the withdrawing-room, anddesired me to say that she wishes to speak with you. Of course it isabout my brother; and I am glad that you can make so favorable a reportof him. "

On going down he found Mrs. Lindsay alone, and having taken a seat andmade his daily report, she addressed him as follows:

"Doctor, you have taken a great weight off my mind by your account of myson's certain recovery. "

"I can say with confidence, as I have already said to his anxiousbrother, madam, that it is certain, although it will be slow. He is outof danger at last. The wound is beginning to cicatrize, and generateslaudable pus. His fever, too, is gone; but he is very weak still, --quiteemaciated, --and it will require time to place him once more on his legs. Still, the great fact is, that his recovery is certain. Nothing unlessagitation of mind can retard it; and I do not see anything which canoccasion that. "

"Nothing, indeed, doctor; but, doctor, I wish to speak to you on anothersubject. You have been attending Miss Goodwin during her very strangeand severe illness. You have visited her, too, at Ballyspellan. "

"I have, madam. She went there by my directions. "

"How long is it since you have seen her?"

"I saw her three days ago. "

"And how was she?"

"I am afraid beyond hope, madam. She is certainly not better, and I canscarcely say she is worse, because worse she cannot be. The complaintis on her mind; and in that case we all know how difficult it is for aphysician to minister to a mind diseased. "

"You think, then, she is past recovery?"

"Indeed, madam, I am certain of it, and I deeply regret it, not only forher own sake, but for that of her heart-broken parents. "

"My dear doctor--O, by the way, here is your fee; do not be surprised atits amount, for, although your fees have been regularly paid--"

"And liberally, madam. "

"Well, in consequence of the favorable and gratifying report whichyou have this day made, you must pardon an affectionate mother for thecompensation which she now offers you. It is far beneath the value ofyour skill, your anxiety for my son's recovery, and the punctuality ofyour attendance. "

"What! fifty pounds, madam! I cannot accept it, " said he, exhibiting itin his hand as he spoke. 

"O, but you must, my dear doctor; nor shall the liberality of the motherrest here. Come, doctor, no remonstrance; put it in your pocket, andnow hear me. You say Miss Goodwin is past all hope. Would you have anyobjection to write me a short note stating that fact?"

"How could I, madam?" replied the good-natured, easy man, who, ofcourse, could never dream of her design in asking him the question. Still, it seemed singular and unusual, and quite out of the range ofhis experience. This consideration startled him into reflection, andsomething like a curiosity to ascertain why she, who, he felt aware, wasof late at bitter feud with Miss Goodwin and her family--the cause ofwhich was well known throughout the country--should wish to obtain sucha document from him. 

"Pardon me, madam; pray, may I inquire for what purpose you ask me tofurnish such a document?"

"Why, the truth is, doctor, that there are secrets in all families, and, although this is not, strictly speaking, a secret, yet it is a thingthat I should not wish to be mentioned out of doors. "

"Madam, you cannot for a moment do me such injustice as to imaginethat I am capable of violating professional confidence. I considerthe confidence you now repose in me, in the capacity of your familyphysician, as coming under that head. "

"You will have no objection, then, to write the note I ask of you?"

"Certainly not, madam. "

"But there is Dr. Lendrum, who joined you in consultation in my son'scase, as well I believe, as in Miss Goodwin's. Do you think you couldget him to write a note to me in accordance with yours? Speak to him, and tell him that I don't think he has been sufficiently remunerated forhis trouble in the consultations you have had with him here. "

"I shall do so, madam, and I think he will do himself the pleasure ofseeing you in the course of to-morrow. "

Both doctors could, with a very good conscience, furnish Mrs. Lindsaywith the opinions which she required. She saw the other medicalgentleman on the following day, and, after handing him a handsomedouceur, he felt no hesitation in corroborating the opinion of hisbrother physician. 

Having procured the documents in question, she transmitted them, enclosed in a letter, to Lord Cockletown, stating that her son Woodward, who had been seized by a pleuritic attack, would not be able, shefeared, to pay his intended visit to Miss Biddle so soon as he hadexpected; but, in the meantime, she had the honor of enclosing him thedocuments she alluded to on the occasion of her last visit. And thisshe did with the hope of satisfying his lordship on the subject theyhad been discussing, and with a further hope that he might become anadvocate for her son, at least until he should be able to plead his owncause with the lady herself, which nothing but indisposition preventedhim from doing. The doctor, she added, had advised him to try the watersof the Spa of Ballyspellan for a short time, as he had little doubt thatthey would restore him to perfect health. She sent her love to dear MissRiddle, and hoped ere long to have the pleasure of clasping her to herheart as a daughter. 

CHAPTER XX. Woodward's Visit to Ballyspellan. 

After a consultation with his mother our worthy hero prepared for hisjourney to this once celebrated Spa, which possessed even then a certainlocal celebrity, that subsequently widened to an ampler range. Thelittle village was filled with invalids of all classes; and even thefarmers' houses in the vicinity were occupied with individuals in questof health. The family of the Goodwins, however, were still in deepaffliction, although Alice, for the last few days, was progressingfavorably. Still, such was her weakness, that she was unable to walkunless supported by two persons, usually her maid and her mother or herfather. The terrible influence of the Evil Eye had made too deep anddeadly an impression ever, she feared, to be effaced; for, althoughremoved from Woodward's blighting gaze, that eye was perpetually uponher, through the medium of her strong but diseased imagination. And whois there who does not know how strongly the force of imagination acts?On this subject she had now become a perfect hypochondriac. She couldnot shake it off, it haunted her night and day; and even the influenceof society could scarcely banish the dread image of that mysterious andfearful look for a moment. 

The society at Ballyspellan was, as the society in such places usuallyis, very much mixed and heterogeneous. Many gentry were there--gentlemenattempting to repair constitutions broken down by dissipation andprofligacy; and ladies afflicted with a disease peculiar, in those days, to both sexes, called the spleen--a malady which, under that name, has long since disappeared, and is now known by the title of nervousaffection. There was a large public room, in imitation of the morecelebrated English watering-places, where the more respectable portionof the company met and became acquainted, and where, also, balls anddinners were occasionally held. Not a wreck of this edifice is nowstanding, although, down to the days of Swift and Delany, it possessedconsiderable celebrity, as is evident from the ingenious verses writtenby his friend to the Dean upon this subject. 

The principal individuals assembled at it on this occasion were SquireManifold, whose complaint, as was evident by his three chins, consistedin a rapid tendency to obesity, which his physician had told him mightbe checked, if he could prevail on himself to eat and drink with a lessgluttonous appetite, and take more exercise. He had already had a fitof apoplexy, and it was the apprehension of another, with which he wasthreatened, that brought him to the Spa. The next was Parson Topertoe, whose great enemy was the gout, brought on, of course, by an ascetic andapostolic life. The third was Captain Culverin, whose constitution hadsuffered severely in the wars, but which he attempted to reinvigorateby a course of hard drinking, in which he found, to his cost, that theremedy was worse than the disease. There were also a great variety ofothers, among whom were several widows whose healthy complexions wereanything but a justification for their presence there, especially in thecharacter of invalids. Mr. Goodwin, his wife, and daughter, we need notenumerate. They lodged in the house of a respectable farmer, who livedconvenient to the village, where they found themselves exceedingly snugand comfortable. In the next house to them lodged a Father Mulrenin, afriar, who, although he attended the room and drank the waters, was anadmirable specimen of comic humor and robust health. There was alsoa Miss Rosebud, accompanied by her mother, a blooming widow, who hadmarried old Rosebud, a wealthy bachelor, when he was near sixty. Themother's complaint was also the spleen, or vapors; indeed, to tell thetruth, she was moved by an unconquerable and heroic determination toreplace poor old Rosebud by a second husband. The last whom we shallenumerate, although not the least, was a very remarkable character ofthat day, being no other than Cooke, the Pythagorean, from the county ofWaterford. He held, of course, the doctrines of Pythagoras, and believedin the transmigration of souls. He lived upon a vegetable diet, andwore no clothing which had been taken or made from the wool or skins ofanimals, because he knew that they! must have been killed before these_exuviae_ could be applied to human use. His dress, consequently, duringthe inclemency of winter and the heats of summer, consisted altogetherof linen, and even his shoes were of vegetable fabric. Our readers, consequently, need not feel surprised at the complaint of thephilosopher, which was a chronic and most excruciating rheumatism thatracked every bone in his Pythagorean body. He was, however, like acertain distinguished teetotaler and peace preserver of our own city andour own day, a mild and benevolent man, whose monomania affected nobodybut himself, and him it did affect through every bone of his body. Hewas attended by his own servants, especially by his own cook--for he wasa man of wealth and considerable rank in the country--in order that hecould rely upon their fidelity in seeing that nothing contrary to hisprinciples might be foisted upon him. He had his carriage, in whichhe drove out every day, and into which and out of which his servantsassisted him. We need scarcely assure our readers that he was thelion of the place, or that no individual there excited either so muchinterest or curiosity. Of the many others of various, but subordinateclasses we shall not speak. Wealthy farmers, professional men, amongwhom, however, we cannot omit Counsellor Puzzlewell, who, by the way, had one eye upon Miss Rosebud and another upon the comely-widow herself, together with several minor grades down to the very paupers of society, were all there. 

About this period it was resolved to have a dinner, to be followed by aball in the latter part of the evening. This was the project of SquireManifold, whose physician attended him like, or very unlike, his shadow, for he was a small thin man, with sharp eyes and keen features, and soslight that if put into the scale against the shadow he would scarcelyweigh it up. The squire's wife, who was a cripple, insisted that heshould accompany her husband, in order to see that he might not gorgehimself into the apoplectic fit with which he was threatened. His firsthad a peculiar and melancholy, though, to spectators, a ludicrous effectupon him. He was now so stupid, and made such blunders in conversation, that the comic effect of them was irresistible; especially to to thosewho were not aware of the cause of it, but looked upon the whole thingas his natural manner. He had been, ever since his arrival at theaccursed Spa, kept by Doctor Doolittle upon short commons, both asto food and drink; and what with the effect of the waters, and severepurgatives administered by the doctor, he felt himself in a statelittle short of purgatory itself. The meagre regimen to which he was somercilessly subjected gave him the appetite of a shark, Indeed, the billof fare prescribed for him was scarcely sufficient to sustain a boy oftwelve years of age. In consequence of this he had got it into hishead that the season was a season of famine, and on this calamitousdispensation of Providence he kept harping from morning to night. Theidea of the dinner, however, was hailed by them all as a very agreeableproject, for which the squire, who only thought of the opportunity itwould give himself to enjoy a surfeit, was highly complimented. It wasto be in the shape of a modern table d'hote: every gentleman was to payfor himself and such of his party as accompanied him to it. Eventhe Pythagorean relished the proposal, for although peculiar in hisopinions, he was sufficiently liberal, and too much of a gentleman, to quarrel with those who differed from him. Mr. Goodwin, too, wasa consenting party, and mentioned the subject to Alice in a cheerfulspirit, and with a hope that she might be able to rally and attend it. She promised to do so if she could; but said it chiefly depended onthe state of health in which she might find herself. Indeed, if evera beautiful and interesting girl was to be pitied, she, mostunquestionably, was an object of the deepest compassion. 

It was not merely what she had to suffer from the Evil Eye of the demonWoodward, but from the fact which had reached her ears of what sheconsidered the profligate conduct of his brother Charles, once herbetrothed lover. This latter reflection, associated with the probabilityof his death, when joined to the terrible malady which Woodward hadinflicted on her, may enable our readers to perceive what the poor girlhad to suffer. Still she told her father that she would be present ifher health permitted her, "especially, " she added, "as there was nopossibility of Woodward being among the guests. "

"Why, my dear child, " said her father, "what could put such an absurdapprehension into your head?"

"Because, papa, I don't think he will ever let me out of his power untilhe kills me. I don't think he will come here; but I dread to returnhome, because I fear that if I do he will obtrude himself on me; and Ifeel that another gaze of his eye would occasion my death. "

"I would call him out, " replied the father, "and shoot him like a dog, to which honest and faithful animal it is a sin to compare the villain. "

"And then I might be left fatherless!" she exclaimed. "O, papa, promiseme that you never will have recourse to that dreadful alternative. "

"But my darling, I only said so upon the supposition of your death byhim. "

"But mamma!"

"Come, come, Alice, get up your spirits, and be able to attend thisdinner. It will cheer you and do you good. We have been discussingsoap bubbles. Give up thinking of the scoundrel, and you will soonfeel yourself well enough. In about another month we will start forKillarney, and see the lakes and the magnificent scenery by which theyare surrounded. "

"Well, dear papa, I shall go to this dinner if I am at all able; butindeed I do not expect to be able. "

In the meantime every preparation was made for the forthcoming banquet. It was to be on a large scale, and many of the neighboring gentryand their families were asked to it, The knowledge that Cooke, thePythagorean, was at the Well had taken wind, and a strong curiosityhad gone abroad to see him. This eccentric gentleman's appearance wasexceedingly original, if not startling. He was, at least, six feettwo, but so thin, fleshless, and attenuated, that he resembled a livingskeleton. This was the more strange, inasmuch as in his earlier days hehad been robust and stout, approaching even to corpulency. His dress wasas remarkable as his person, if not more so. It consisted of bleachedlinen, and was exceedingly white; and so particular was he in point ofcleanliness, that he put on a fresh dress every day. He wore a pair oflong pantaloons that, unfortunately for his symmetry, adhered to hislegs and thighs as closely as the skin; and as the aforesaid legsand thighs were skeletonic, nothing could be more ludicrous than hisappearance in them. His vest was equally close; and as the hanging cloakwhich he wore over it did not reach far enough down his back, it wasimpossible to view him behind without convulsive laughter. His shoeswere made of some description of foreign bark, which had by somechemical process been tanned into toughness, and on his head he worea turban of linen, made of the same material which furnished hisother garments. Altogether, a more ludicrous figure could not be seen, especially if a person happened to stand behind him when he bowed. Notwithstanding all this, however, he possessed the manners and bearingof a gentleman; the only thing remarkable about him, beyond what we havedescribed, being a peculiar wildness of the eyes, accompanied, however, by an unquestionable expression of great benignity. 

We leave the company at the Well preparing for the forthcomingdinner and return to Rathfillan House, where Harry Woodward is makingarrangements for his journey to Ballyspellan, which now we believe goesby the name of Johnstown. Under every circumstance of his life he was aplotter and a planner, and had at all times some private speculation inview. On the present occasion, in addition to his murderous designupon Miss Goodwin, he resolved to become a wife-hunter, for, being wellacquainted, as he was, with the tone and temper of English society atits most celebrated watering places, and. The matrimonial projects andintrigues which abound at them, he took it for granted that he mightstand a chance of making a successful hit with a view to matrimony. Onething struck him, however, which was, that he had no horse, and couldnot go there mounted, as a gentleman ought. It is true his step-fatherhad several horses, but not one of them beyond the character of acommon hack. He resolved, therefore, to purchase a becoming nag for hisjourney, and with this object he called upon a neighboring farmer, namedMurray, who possessed a very beautiful animal, rising four, and which helearned was to be disposed of. 

"Mr. Murray, " said he, "I understand you have a young horse for sale. "

"I have, sir, " replied Murray; "and a better piece of flesh is not inthe country he stands in. "

"Could I see him?"

"Certainly, sir, and try him, too. He is not flesh and bone at all, sir--devil a thing he is but quicksilver. Here, Paudeen, saddle BrienBoro for this gentleman. You won't require wings, Mr. Woodward; BrienBoro will show you how to fly without them. "

"Well, " replied Woodward, "trial's all; but at any rate, I'm willing toprefer good flesh and bone to quicksilver. "

In a few minutes the horse was brought out, saddled and bridled, andWoodward, who certainly was an excellent horseman, mounted him and triedhis paces. 

"Well, sir, " said Murray, "how do you like him?"

"I like him well, " said Woodward. "His temper is good, I know, by hisdocility to the bit. "

"Yes, but you haven't tried him at a ditch; follow me and I'll show youas pretty a one as ever a horse crossed, and you may take my word itisn't every horse could cross it. You have a good firm seat, sir; and Iknow you will both do it in sportsman-like style. "

Having reached the ditch, which certainly was a rasper, Woodward reinedround the animal, who crossed it like a swallow. 

"Now, " said Murray, "unless you wish to ride half a mile in order to getback, you must cross it again. "

This was accordingly done in admirable style, both by man and horse;and Woodward, having ridden him back to the farmyard, dismounted, highlysatisfied with the animal's action and powers. 

"Now, Mr. Murray, " said he, "what's his price?"

"Fifty guineas, sir; neither more nor less. "

"Say thirty and we'll deal. "

"I don't want money, sir, " replied the sturdy farmer, "and I won't partwith the horse under his value. I will get what I ask for him. "

"Say thirty-five. "

"Not a cross under the round half hundred; and I'm glad it is not yourmother that is buying him. "

"Why so?" asked Woodward; and his eye darkly sparkled with its malignantinfluence. 

"Why, sir, because if I didn't sell him to her at her own terms, hewould be worth very little in a few days afterwards. "

The observation was certainly an offensive one, especially when made toher son. 

"Will you take forty for him?" asked Woodward, coolly. 

"Not a penny, sir, under what I said. You are clearly a good judge of ahorse, Mr. Woodward, and I wonder that a gentleman like you would offerme less than I ask, because you cannot but know that it is under hisvalue. "

"I will give no more, " replied Woodward; "so there is an end to it. Letme see the horse's eyes. "

He placed himself before the animal, and looked steadily into his eyesfor about five minutes, after which he said, --

"I think, Mr. Murray, you would have acted more prudently had you takenmy offer. I bade you full value for the horse. "

To Murray's astonishment the animal began to tremble excessively; theperspiration was seen to flow from him in torrents; he appeared feebleand collapsed; and seemed scarcely able to stand on his limbs, whichwere shaking as if with terror under him. 

"Why, Mr. Murray, " said Woodward, "I am very glad I did not buy him;the beast is ill, and will be for the dogs of the neighborhood in threedays' time. "

"Until the last five minutes, sir, there wasn't a sounder horse inEurope. "

"Look at him now, then, " said Woodward; "do you call that a sound horse?Take him into the stable; before the expiration of three days you willbe flaying him. "

His words were prophetic. In three days' time the fine and healthyanimal was a carcass. 

"Ah!" said the farmer, when he saw the horse lying dead before him, "this fellow is his mother's son. From the time he looked into thehorse's eyes the poor beast sank so rapidly that he didn't pass thethird day alive. And there are fifty guineas out of my pocket. The curseof God on him wherever he goes!"

Woodward provided himself, however, with another horse, and in due timeset out for the Spa at Ballyspellan. 

The dinner was now fixed for a certain day, and Squire Manifoldfelt himself in high spirits as often as he could recollect thecircumstance--which, indeed, was but rarely, the worthy epicure's memoryhaving nearly abandoned him. Topertoe, of the gout, and he wereold acquaintances and companions, and had spent many a merry nighttogether--both, as the proverb has it, being tarred with the same stick. Topertoe was as great a glutton as the other, but without his desperatevoracity in food, whilst in drink he equalled if he did not surpass him. Manifold would have forgotten every thing about the dinner had he notfrom time to time been reminded of it by his companion. 

"Manifold, we will have a great day on Thursday. "

"Great!" exclaimed Manifold, who in addition to his other stupidities, was as deaf as a post; "great--eh? What size will it be?"

"What size will it be? Why, confound it, man, don't you know what I'msaying?"

"No, I don't--yes, I do--you are talking about something great. O, Iknow now--your toe you mean--where the gout lies. They say, it begins atthe great toe, and goes up to the stomach. I suppose Alexander the Greatwas gouty and got his name from that. "

"I'm talking of the great dinner we're I to have on Thursday, " shoutedTopertoe. "We'll have a splendid feed then, my famous old trencherman, and I'll take care that Doctor Doolittle shall not stint you. "

"There won't be any toast and water--eh?"

"Devil a mouthful; and we are to have the celebrated Cooke, thePythagorean. "

"Ay, but is he a good cook?"

"He's the celebrated Pythagorean, I tell you. "

"Pythagorean--what's that? I thought you said he was a cook. Does heunderstand venison properly? O, good Lord! what a life I'm leading!Toast and water--toast and water. But it's all the result of thisfamine. And yet they know I'm wealthy. I say, what's this your name is?"

"Never mind that--an old acquaintance. Hell and torments! what's this?O!"

"The weather's pleasant, Topertoe. I say, Topertoe, what's this yourname is?"

"O! O!" exclaimed Topertoe, who felt one or two desperate twinges ofhis prevailing malady; "curse me, Manifold, but I think I would exchangewith you; your complaint is an easy one compared to mine. You are a mereblock, and will pop off without pain, instead of being racked like asoul in perdition as I am. "

"Your soul in perdition--well I suppose it will. But don't groan andscream so--you I are not there yet; when you are you will have plentyof time to groan and scream. As for myself, I will be likely to sleepit out there. I think, by the way, I had the pleasure of knowing youbefore; your face is familiar to me. What's this you call the man thatattends sick people?"

"A doctor. O! O! Hell and torments! what is this? Yes, a doctor. O! O!"

"Ay, a doctor. Confound me, but I think my head's going around likea top. Yes, a--a--a--a doctor. Well, the doctor says that I and ParsonTopertoe led a nice life of it--one a glutton and the other a drunkard. Do you know Topertoe? Because if you don't I do. He is a damnedscoundrel, and squeezed his tithes out of the people with pincers ofblood. "

"Manifold, your gluttony has brought you to a fine pass. Are you aliveor not?"

"Eh? Curse all dry toast and water! But it's all the consequence of thisyear of famine. Pray, sir, what do you eat?"

"Beef, mutton, venison, fowl, ham, turbot, salmon, black sole, with allthe proper and corresponding sauces and condiments. "

"O Lord! and no toast and water, beef tea, and oatmeal gruel? Heavens!how I wish this year of famine was past. It will be the death of me. I say, what's this your name is? Your face is familiar to me somehow. Could you aid me in poisoning the--the--what you call him--ay, thedoctor?"

"Nothing more easily done, my dear Manifold. Contrive to let him takeone of his own doses, and he's done for. "

"Wouldn't ratsbane do? I often think he's a rat. "

"In face and eyes he certainly looks very like one. "

"Are you aware, sir, that my wife's a cripple? She's paralyzed in herlower limbs. "

"I am perfectly aware of that melancholy fact. "

"Are you aware that she's jealous of me?"

"No, not that she's jealous of you now; but perfectly aware that she hadgood cause to be so. "

"Ay, but the devil of it is that the paralysis you speak of neverreached her tongue. "

"I speak of--'twas yourself spoke of it. "

"She sent me here because it happens to be a year of famine--what iscommonly called a hard season--and she stitched the little blasteddoctor to me that I might die legitimately under medical advice. Isn'tthat very like murder--isn't it?"

"Ah, my dear friend, thank God that you are not a parson, having ahandsome wife and a handsome curate, with the gout to support you andkeep you comfortable. You would then feel that there are other twingesworse than those of the gout. "

"Ay, but is there anything wrong about your head?"

"Heaven knows. About a twelvemonth ago I felt as if there were twosprouts budding out of my forehead, but on putting up my hand Icould feel nothing. It was as smooth as ever. It must have beenhypochondriasis. The curate, though, is a handsome dog, and, likeyourself, it was my wife sent me here. "

"Is your wife a cripple?"

"Faith, anything but that. "

"How is her tongue? No paralysis in that quarter?"

"On the contrary, she is calm and soft-spoken, and perfectly sweet andangelic in her manner. "

"But was it in consequence of the famine she sent you here? Toast andwater!--toast and water! O Lord!"

This dialogue took place in Manifold's lodgings, where Topertoe, aidedby a crutch and his servant, was in the habit of visiting him. ToManifold, indeed, this was a penal settlement, in consequence of thereasons which we have already stated. 

The Pythagorean, as well as Topertoe, was also occasionally forced tothe use of crutches; and it was certainly a strange and remarkable thingto witness two men, each at the extreme point of social indulgence, and each departing from reason and common-sense, suffering from theconsequences of their respective errors; Manifold, a most voraciousfellow, knocked on the head by an attack of apoplexy, and Cooke, thephilosopher, suffering the tortures of the damned from a most violentrheumatism, produced by a monomania which compelled him to declinethe simple enjoyment of reasonable food and dress. Cooke's monomania, however, was a rare one. In Blackwood's Magazine there appeared, severalyears ago, an admirable writer, whose name we now forget, under thetitle of a modern Pythagorean; but that was merely a _nom de guerre_, adopted, probably, to excite a stronger interest in the perusal of hisproductions. Here, however, was a man in whom the principle existed uponwhat he considered rational and philosophic grounds. He had gottenthe philosophical blockhead's crotchet into his head, and carried theprinciple, in a practical point of view, much further than ever the oldfool himself did in his life. 

CHAPTER XXI. The Dinner at Ballyspellan

--The Appearance Woodward. --Valentine Greatrakes. 

The Thursday appointed for the dinner at length arrived. The littlevillage was all alive with stir and bustle, inasmuch as for severalmonths no such important event had taken place. It was, in fact, agala day; and the poorer inhabitants crowded about the inn to watch theguests arriving, and the paupers to solicit their alms. Twelve or onewas then the usual hour for dinner, but in consequence of the largescale on which it was to take place and the unusual preparationsnecessary, it was not until the hour of two that the guests sat down totable. Some of the principal names we have already mentioned--all themales, of course, invalids--but, as we have said, there were a goodnumber of the surrounding gentry, their wives and daughters, so that thefete was expected to come off with great eclat. Topertoe was dressed, aswas then the custom, in full canonical costume, with, his silk cassockand bands, for he was a doctor of divinity; and Manifold was habited inthe usual dress of the day--his falling collar exhibiting a neck whosethickness took away all surprise as to his tendency to apoplexy. Thelengthy figure of the unsubstantial Pythagorean was cased in linengarments, almost snow-white, through which his anatomy might be read asdistinctly as if his living skeleton was naked before them. Mrs. Rosebudwas blooming and expanded into full flower, whilst Miss Rosebud was justin that interesting state when the leaves are apparently in the act ofbursting out and bestowing their beauty and fragrance on the gratifiedsenses of the beholder. Dr. Doolittle, who was a regular wag--indeedtoo much so ever to succeed in his profession--entered the room with histhree-cocked hat under his arm, and the usual gold-headed cane in hishand; and, after saluting the company, looked about after Manifold, his patient. He saluted the Pythagorean, and complimented him upon hisphilosophy, and the healthful habits engendered by a vegetable diet, andso primitive a linen dress--a dress, he said, which, in addition to itsother advantages, ought to be generally adopted, if only for the sake ofits capacity for showing off the symmetry of the figure. He was himselfa warm admirer of the principle, and begged to have the honor of shakinghands with the gentleman who had the courage to carry it out againstall the prejudices of a besotted world. He accordingly seized thephilosopher's hand, which was then in a desperately rheumatic state, asthe little scoundrel well knew, and gave it such a squeeze of respectand admiration that the Pythagorean emitted a yell which astonished andalarmed the whole room. 

"Death and torture, sir--why did you squeeze my rheumatic hand in such amanner?"

"Pardon me, Mr. Cooke--respect and admiration for your principles. "

"Well, sir, I will thank you to express what you may feel in plainlanguage, but not in such damnable squeezes as that. "

"Pardon me, again, sir; I was ignorant that the rheumatism was in yourhand; you know I am not your physician; perhaps if I were you could beara friendly shake of it without all that agony. I very much regret thepain I unconsciously, and from motives of the highest respect, have putyou to. "

"It is gone--do not mention it, " said the benevolent philosopher. "Perhaps I may try your skill some of these days. "

"I assure you, sir, " said Doolittle, "that I am forcing Mr. Manifoldhere to avail himself of your system--a simple vegetable diet. "

"O Lord!" exclaimed Manifold, in a soliloquy--for he was perfectlyunconscious of what was going on--"toast and water, toast and water!That and a season of famine--what a prospect is before me! Doolittleis a rat, and I will hire somebody to give him ratsbane. Nothing but avegetable diet, and be hanged to him! What's ratsbane an ounce?"

"You hear, sir, " said Doolittle, addressing the Pythagorean; "youperceive that I am adopting your system?"

"Mr. Doolittle, " replied Cooke, "from this day forth you are myphysician--I intrust you with the management of my rheumatism; but, inthe meantime, I think the room is devilishly cold. "

Captain Culverin now entered, swathed up, and, as was evident, somewhattipsy. 

"Eh! confound me, philosopher, your hand, " he exclaimed, putting out hisown to shake hands with him. 

"I can't, sir, " replied Cooke; "I am afflicted with rheumatism. You seemunwell, captain; but if you gave up spirituous liquors--such as wine andusquebaugh--you would find yourself the better for it. "

"What does all this mean?" asked Manifold. "At all events Doolittle's arat. A vegetable diet, a year of famine, toast, and water--O Lord!"

Dinner, however, came, and the little waggish doctor could not, for thelife of him, avoid his jokes. Cooke's dish of vegetables was placed forhim at a particular part of the table; but the doctor, taking Manifoldby the hand, placed him in the philosopher's seat, whom he afterwardsset before a magnificent sirloin of beef--for, truth to speak, thelittle man acted as a kind of master of the ceremonies to the company atBallyspellan. 

"What's this?" exclaimed Manifold. "Perdition! here is nothing but adish of asparagus before me! What kind of treatment is this? Were we notto have a great dinner, Topertoe? Alexander the Great!"

"And who placed me before a sirloin of beef?" asked the philosopher;"I, who follow the principles of the Great Pythagorean. I am nearly sickalready with the fume of it. Good heavens! a sirloin of beef before avegetarian. "

Of course Manifold and the philosopher exchanged places, and the dinnerproceeded. Mr. And. Mrs. Goodwin were present, but Alice was unable tocome, although anxious to do so in order to oblige her parents. It isunnecessary to describe the gastric feats of Manifold and Topertoe. Thevoracity of the former was astonishing, nor was that of the latter muchless; and when the dishes were removed and the tables cleared for theircompotations, the faces of both gentlemen appeared as if they were aboutto explode. The table was now supplied with every variety of liquor, andthe conversation began to assume that convivial tone peculiar to suchassemblies. The little doctor was placed between Manifold and thePythagorean, who, by the way, was exceedingly short-sighted; and on theother side of him sat Parson Topertoe, who seemed to feel somethinglike a reprieve from his gout. When the liquor was placed on the table, after dinner, the Pythagorean got to his feet, filled a large glass ofwater, and taking a gulp of it, leaving it about half full, he proceededas follows:

"Gentlemen: considering the state of morals in our unfortunate country, arising as it does from the use of intoxicating liquors and the fleshof animals, I feel myself called upon to impress upon the consciencesof this respectable auditory the necessity of studying the admirableprinciples of the great philosopher whose simplicity of life in food anddrink I humbly endeavor to imitate. Modern society, my friends, is allwrong, and, of course, is proceeding upon an erroneous and pernicioussystem--that of eating the flesh of animals and indulging in the use, or rather the abuse, of liquors, that heat the blood and intoxicate thebrain into the indulgence of passion and the commission of crime. "

Here the little doctor threw a glass of usquebaugh--now calledwhiskey--into the half-emptied cup which stood before Cooke. 

"A vegetable diet, gentlemen, is that which was appointed for us byProvidence, and water like this our drink. And, indeed, water likethis is delicious drink. The Spa of Ballyspellan stands unrivalled forstrength and flavor, and its capacity of exhilarating the animal spiritsis extraordinary. You see, gentlemen, how copiously I drink it; servant, fill my glass again--thank you. "

In the meantime, and before he touched it, the doctor whipped anotherglass of whiskey into it--an act which the Pythagorean, who was, aswe have said, unusually tall, and kept his eye upon the company, couldneither suspect nor see. 

"It has been ignorantly said that the structure of the human mouth is anargument against me as to the quality of our food, and that the growthof grapes is a proof that wine was ordained to be drank by men. Itis perfectly well known that a man may eat a bushel of grapes withoutgetting drunk; because the pure vegetable possesses no intoxicatingpower any more than the water which I am now drinking--and deliciouswater it is!"

Here the doctor dug his elbow into the fat ribs of Topertoe, whose face, in the meantime, seemed in a blaze of indignation. 

"I tell you what, philosopher, curse me, but you are an infidel. "

"I have the honor, sir, " he replied, "to be an infidel--as everyphilosopher is. The truth of what I am stating to you has been testedby philosophers, and it has been ascertained, that no quantity of grapeseaten by an individual could make him drunk. "

The doctor gave the parson another dig, and winked at him to keep quiet. 

"Sir, " said the parson, unable, however, to restrain himself, "confoundme if ever I heard such infidel opinions expressed in my life. Damn yourphilosophy; it is cursed nonsense, and nothing else. "

"A vegetable diet, " proceeded Cooke, "is a guarantee for health and longlife--O Lord!" he exclaimed, "this accursed rheumatism will be the deathof me. "

"What is he saying?" asked Manifold. 

"He is talking philosophy, " replied the doctor, with a comic grin, "andrecommending a vegetable diet and pure water. "

"A devilish scoundrel, " said Manifold. "He's a rat, too. Doolittle's arat; but I'll poison him; yes, I'll dose him with ratsbane, and then Ican eat, drink, and swill away. Is the philosopher's wife a cripple?"

"He has no wife, " replied Doolittle. 

"And what the devil, then, is he a philosopher for? What on earthchallenges philosophy in a husband so much as a wife, --especially ifshe's a cripple and has the use of her tongue?"

"Not being a married man myself, " replied the doctor, "I can give you noinformation on the subject; or rather I could if I would; but it wouldnot be for your comfort:--ask Manifold. "

"Ay; but he says there's something wrong about his head--sproutspressing up, or something that way. Ask Mrs. Rosebud will she hob or nobwith me. Mrs. Rosebud, " he proceeded, addressing the widow, "hob or nob?"

Mrs. Rosebud, knowing that he was nothing more nor less than a goutyold parson, bowed to him very coldly, but accepted his challenge, notwithstanding. 

"Mrs. Rosebud, " he added, "what kind of a man was old Rosebud?"

"His family name, " replied the widow, "was not Rosebud but Yellowboy;and, indeed, to speak the truth, my dear old Rosebud had all the marksand tokens of the original family name upon him, for he was as thin asthe philosopher there, and as yellow as saffron. His mother, however, the night before he was born, dreamed that she was presented with arosebud, and the name, being somewhat poetical, was adopted by himselfand the family as a kind of set-off against the duck-foot color of theancestral skin. "

The philosopher, in the meantime, finding himself interrupted, stood, with a complacent countenance, awaiting a pause in which he mightproceed. At length he got an opportunity of resuming. 

"The world, " he added, "knows but little of the great founder of so manysystems and theories connected with human life and philosophy. It washe who invented the multiplication table, and solved the forty-seventhproposition of the first book of Euclid. It was he who, from hisprofound knowledge of music, first discovered the music of thespheres--a divine harmony, which, from its unbroken continuity, andincessant play in the heavenly bodies, we are incapable of hearing. "

"Where the deuce, then, is the use of it?" cried Captain Culverin; "itmust be a very odd kind of music which we cannot hear. "

"The great Samian, sir, could hear it; but only in his heart andintellect, and after he had discovered the truthful doctrine of themetempsychosis, or transmigration of souls. "

"The transmigration of soles; why, my dear sir, doesn't every fishwomanunderstand that?" observed the captain. "Was the fellow a fisherman?"

"His great discovery, however, if mankind would only adopt it, was thehealthful one of a vegetable diet, carried out by a fixed determinationnot to wear any dress made up from the skins or fleeces of animals thathave been slain by man, but philosophically to confine himself toplain linen as I do. O Lord! this rheumatism will be the death of me. Pythagoras was one of the greatest philosophers. "

Here the doctor threw another glass of usquebaugh into the cup whichstood before the Pythagorean, which act, in consequence of his greatheight and short sight, he did not perceive, but imagined that he wasdrinking the well water. 

"Philosopher, " said Captain Culverin, "hob or nob, a glass with you. "

"With pleasure, captain, " said the Pythagorean, "only I wish you wouldadopt my principles--a vegetable diet and _aqua pura_. 

"Upon my credit, " observed Father Mulrenin, "I think the _aqua pura_ isthe best of it. It is blessed water, this well water, and it ought to beso, because the parson consecrated it. Hob or nob with me, Mr. Cooke. "

"With pleasure, sir, " replied Mr. Cooke, again; "and I do assure you, Father Mulrenin, that I think the parson's consecration has improved thewater. "

"Sorra doubt of it, " replied the friar; "and I am sure the doctor therewill support me in the article of the parson's consecration. "

"The great Samian, " proceeded Cooke, "the great Samian--"

"My dear philosopher, " said the facetious friar, "never mind your greatSamian, but follow up your principles and drink your water. "

The mischievous doctor had thrown another glass into his cup: "Drinkyour water, and set us all a philosophical example of sobriety. "

"That I always do, " said the philosopher, staggering a little; "thatI always do: the water is delicious, and I think my rheumatism hasdeparted from me. Mr. Manifold, hob or nob!"

"No, " replied Manifold, "confound me if I will. You are the fellow thateats nothing but vegetables, and drinks nothing but water. Do you thinkI will hob or nob with a water-drinking rascal like you? Do you think Iwill put my wine against your paltry water?"

"Don't call it paltry, " replied the Pythagorean; "it is delicious. Youknow not how it elevates the spirits and, so to speak, philosophizes thewhole system of man. I am beginning to feel extremely happy. "

"I think so, " replied the friar; "but wasn't it a fact, as a proof ofyour metempsychosis, that the great author of your doctrine was atthe siege of Troy some centuries before he came into the world as thephilosopher Pythagoras?"

"Yes, sir, " replied his follower, "he fought for the Greeks inthe character of Euphorbus, in the Trojan war, was Hermatynus, andafterwards a fisherman; his next transformation having been into thebody of Pythagoras. "

"What an extraordinary memory he must have had, " said the friar. "Now, can you yourself remember all the bodies your soul has passedthrough?--but before I expect you to answer me, --hob or nob again, --thisis famous water, my dear philosopher. "

"It is famous water, Father Mulrenin; and the parson's consecration hasgiven it a power of exhilaration which is astonishing. " The doctor hadthrown another glass of usquebaugh into his cup, of course unobserved. 

"Why, " said the friar, "if I'm not much mistaken, you will feelthe benefit of it. It is purely philosophical water, and fit for aphilosopher like you to drink. "

The company now were divided into little knots, and the worthyphilosopher found it necessary to take his seat. He felt himself in astate of mind which he could not understand; but the delicious flavor ofthe water still clung to him, and, owing to his shortness of sight, and the doctor's wicked wit, --if wit it could be called, --he continueddrinking spirits and water until he became perfectly--or, in theordinary phrase--blind drunk, and was obliged to be carried to bed. 

In the meantime, a new individual had arrived; and, having ascertainedfrom the servants that there was a great dinner on that day, he inquiredif Mr. Goodwin and his family were present at it. He was informed thatMr. Goodwin and Mrs. Goodwin were there, but that Miss Goodwin wasunable to come. He asked where Mr. Goodwin and Mrs. Goodwin resided, and, having been informed on this point, he immediately passed to thefarmer's house where they lodged. 

Now, it so happened that there was a neat garden attached to the house, in which was an arbor of willows where Miss Goodwin was in the habit ofsitting, and amusing herself by the perusal of a book. It contained anarm-chair, in which she frequently reclined, sometimes after the slightexertion of walking; it also happened that she occasionally fellasleep. There were two modes of approach to the farmer's house--one bythe ordinary pathway, and another much shorter, which led by a gate thatopened into the garden. By this last the guide who pointed out the houseto Woodward directed him to proceed, and he did so. On passing through, his eye caught the summer house, and he saw at a glance that AliceGoodwin was there, and asleep. She was, indeed, asleep, but it wasa troubled sleep, for the demon gaze of the terrible eye which shedreaded, and which had almost blasted her out of life, she imagined wasone more fixed upon her. Woodward approached with a stealthy step, andsaw that, even although asleep, she was deeply agitated, as was evidentby her moanings. He contemplated her features for a brief space. 

"Ah, " he said to himself, "I have done my work. Although beautiful, thestamp of death is upon her. One last gaze and it will all be over. I ambefore her in her dream. My eye is upon her in her morbid and diseasedimagination, but what will the consequence be when she awakens and findsit upon her in reality?"

As those thoughts passed through his mind, she gave a scream, andexclaimed, --

"O, take him away! take him away! he is killing me!" and as she utteredthe words she awoke. 

Now, thought he, to secure my twelve hundred a year; now, for oneglance, with the power of hell in its blighting influence, and all isover; my twelve hundred is safe to me and mine forever. 

On awakening from her terrible dream, the first object that presenteditself to her was the fixed gaze of that terrific eye. It was nowwrought up to such a concentration of malignity as surpassed all thateven her imagination had ever formed of it. Fixed--diabolical in itsaspect, and steady as fate itself--it poured upon the weak and alarmedgirl such a flood of venomous and prostrating influence that her shriekswere too feeble to reach the house when calling for assistance. Sheseemed to have been fascinated to her own destruction. There the eyewas fastened upon her, and she felt herself deprived of the power ofremoving her own from his. 

"O my God!" she exclaimed, "I am lost--help, help; the murderous eye isupon me!"

"It is enough, " said Woodward; "good by, Miss Goodwin. I was simplycontemplating your beauty, and I am sorry to see that you are in so weaka state. Present my compliments to your father and mother; and I thinkof me as a man whose affection you have indignantly spurned--a man, however, I whose eye, whatever his heart may be, is not to be trifledwith. "

He then made her a low bow, and took his departure back through thegarden. 

"It is over, " said he; "_finitum est_, the property is mine; she cannotbe saved now; I have taken her life; but no one can say that I have shedher blood. My precious mother will be delighted to hear this. Now, wewill be free to act with old Cockletown and his niece; and if she doesnot turn out a good wife--if she crosses me in my amours---for amours Iwill have, --I shall let her, too, feel what my eye can do. "

Alice's screams, after his departure from the garden, brought out SarahSullivan, who, aided by another servant, assisted her between them toreach the house, where she was put to bed in such a state of weakness, alarm, and terror as cannot be described. Her father and mother wereimmediately sent for, and, on arriving at her bedside, found herapparently in a dying state. All she could find voice to utter was, --

"He was here--his eye was upon me in the summer house. I feel I amdying. "

Doctor Doolittle and Father Mulrenin were both sent for, but she hadfallen into an exhausted slumber, and it was deemed better not todisturb her until she might gain some strength by sleep. Her parents, who felt so anxious about her health, and the faint hopes of herrecovery, now made fainter by the incident which had just occurred, didnot return to the assembly, and the consequence was that Woodward andthey did not meet. 

When the hour for the dance, however, arrived, the tables forrefreshments were placed in other and smaller rooms, and the larger onein which they had dined was cleared out for the ball. The simple-heartedPythagorean had slept himself sober, without being aware of the cause ofhis break-down at the dinner, and he now appeared among them in a galadress of snow-white linen. He was no enemy to healthy amusements, forhe could not forget that the great philosopher whom he followed had wonpublic prizes at the Olympic games. He consequently frisked about inthe dance with an awkwardness and a disregard of the graces of motion, which, especially in the jigs, convulsed the whole assembly, nor didany one among them laugh more loudly than he did himself. He especiallyaddressed himself too, and danced with, Mrs. Rosebud, who, as she wasshort, fat, and plump, exhibited as ludicrous a contrast with the almostnaked anatomical structure which frisked before her as the imaginationcould conceive. 

"Upon my credit, " observed the Mar, "I see that extremes may meet. Lookat the philosopher, how he trebles and capers it before the widow. Faith, I should not feel surprised if he made Mrs. Pythagoras of her beforelong. "

This, however, was not the worst of it, for what or who but the devilhimself should tempt the parson, with his gout strong upon him, toselect Miss Rosebud for a dance, whilst the philosophic rheumatist wasfrisking it as well as he could with her mother? The room was in anuproar. Miss Rosebud, who possessed much wicked humor, having, as thelady always has, the privilege, called for one of the liveliest tunesthen known. The parson's attempt to keep time made the uproar stillgreater; but at length it ceased, for neither the philosopher nor theparson could hold out any longer, and each retired in a state of tortureto his seat. The mirth having now subsided, a gentleman entered theroom, admirably dressed, on whom the attention of the whole companywas turned, He was tall, elegantly formed, and at a first glance washandsome. The expression of his eyes, however, was striking--startling. It was good--brilliant; it was bad and strange, and, to those whoexamined it closely, such as they had never witnessed before. Still hewas evidently a gentleman: there could be no mistake about that. Hismanner, his dress, and his whole bearing, made them all feel that he wasentitled to respect and courtesy. Little did they imagine that he was amurderer, and that he entered the room under the gratifying impressionof his having killed Alice Goodwin. It was Harry Woodward. The eveningwas now advanced, but, after his introduction to the company, he joinedin their amusements, and had the pleasure of dancing with both Mrs. Rosebud and her daughter; and after having concluded his dance with thelatter, some tidings reached the room, which struck the whole companywith a feeling of awe. It was at first whispered about, but it at lengthbecame the general topic of conversation. Alice Goodwin was dying, andher parents were in a state of distraction. Nobody could tell why, butit appeared she was at the last gasp, and that there was some mystery inher malady. Many speculations were broached upon the subject. Woodwardpreserved silence for a time, but just as he was about to make someobservations with reference to her illness, a tall, handsome gentlemanentered the room and bowed with much grace to the company. 

Father Mulrenin started up, and, shaking hands with him, said, --

"I know now, sir, that you have got my letter. "

"I have got it, " replied the other, "and I am here accordingly. "

As he spoke, his eye glanced around the room, the most distinguishedfigure in which, beyond comparison, was that of Woodward, who instantlyrecognized him as the gentleman whom he had met on the morning of hisdeparture from the hospitable roof of Mr. Goodwin, on his return home, and, we may add, between whom and himself that extraordinary trial ofthe power of will, as manifested by the power of the eye, took place socompletely to his own discomfiture. They were both gentlemen, and bowedto each other very courteously, after which they approached and shookhands, and whilst the stranger held Woodward's hand in his during theirshort but friendly chat, it was observed that Woodward's face got aspale as death, and he almost immediately tottered towards a seat fromweakness. 

"Don't be alarmed, " said the stranger; "you now feel that the principleof good is always able to overcome the principle of evil. "

"Who or what are you?" asked Woodward, faintly. 

"I am a plain country gentleman, sir; and something more, a man ofwealth and distinction; but who, unlike my friend Cooke here, do notmake myself ridiculous by absurd eccentricities, and the adoption of thenonsensical doctrines of Pythagoras, so utterly at variance with reasonand Christian truth. You know, my dear Cooke, I could have cured you ofyour rheumatism had you possessed common-sense; but who could cure anyman who guards his person against the elements by such a ludicrous andunsubstantial dress as yours?"

"I am in torture, " replied Cooke; "I was tempted to dance with a prettywoman, and now I am suffering for it. "

"As for me, " exclaimed Topertoe, "I am a match, and more than a match, for you in suffering. O, this accursed gout!"

"I suppose you brought it on by hard drinking, sir, " said the stranger. "If that be so, I shall not undertake to cure you unless you give uphard drinking. "

"I will do anything, " replied Topertoe, "provided you can allay my pain. I also was tempted to dance as well as the philosopher; and now theChristian parson and the pagan Pythagorean are both suffering for it. "

"What is all this about?" exclaimed Manifold. "O Lord! is he going toput them on a vegetable diet, relieved by toast and water--toast andwater?"

The stranger paid but little attention to Manifold, because he saw byhis face and the number of his chins that he was past hope; but turningtowards Topertoe and the Pythagorean, he requested them both to sitbeside each other before him. He then asked Topertoe where his goutaffected him, and having been informed that it was principally in hisgreat toe and right foot, he deliberately stripped the foot, and havingpressed his hands upon it for about the space of ten minutes, hedesired his patient to rise up and walk. This he did, and to his utterastonishment, without the slightest symptom or sensation of pain. 

"Why, bless my soul!" exclaimed the parson, "I am cured; the pain isaltogether gone. Let me have a bumper of claret. "

"That will do, " observed the stranger. "You are incurable. You willplunge once more into a life of intemperance and luxury, and once moreyour complaint, from which you are now free, will return to you. You will not deny yourself the gratification of your irrational andsenseless indulgences, and yet you expect to be cured. As for me, I canonly remove the malady of such persons as you for the present, ortime being; but, so long as you return to the exciting cause of it, noearthly skill or power in man can effect a permanent cure. Now, Cooke, Iwill relieve you of your rheumatism; but unless you exchange this flimsystuff for apparel suited to your climate and condition, I feel that I amincapable of rendering you anything but a temporary relief. "

He passed his hands over those parts of his limbs most affected byhis complaint, and in a short time he (the philosopher) found himselfcompletely free from his pains. 

During those two most extraordinary processes Woodward looked on witha degree of wonder and of interest that might be truly termed intense. What the operations which took place before him could mean he knew not, but when the stranger turned round to the friar and said, --"Now bring meto this unhappy girl, " Woodward seized his hat, feeling a presentimentthat he was going to the relief of Alice Goodwin, and with hasty stepsproceeded to the farm house in which she and her parents lodged. Hewas now desperate, and resolved, if courtesy failed, to force one moreannihilating glance upon her before the mysterious stranger shouldarrive. We need scarcely inform our readers that he was indignantlyrepulsed by the family; but he was furious, and in spite of allopposition forced his way into her bedroom, to which he was led by hergroans--dying groans they were considered by all around her. He rushedinto her bed-room, and fixed his eye upon her with something like thefury of hell in it. The poor girl on seeing him a second time fell backand moaned as if she had expired. The villain stood looking over her ina spirit of the most malignant triumph. 

"It is done now, " said he; "there she lies--a corpse--and I am nowmaster of my twelve hundred a year. "

He had scarcely uttered the words when he felt a powerful hand grasp himby the shoulder, and send him with dreadful violence to the other sideof the room. On turning round to see who the person was who hadactually twirled him about like an infant, he found the large, butbenevolent-looking stranger standing at Alice's bedside, his fingerupon the pulse and his eyes intently fixed upon her apparently lifelessfeatures. He then turned round to Woodward, and exclaimed in a voice ofthunder, --

"She is not dead, villain, and will not die on this occasion: begone, and leave the room. "

"Villain!" replied Woodward, putting his hand to his sword: "I allow noman to call me villain unpunished. "

The stranger contemptuously and indignantly waved his hand to him, asmuch as to say--presently, presently, but not now. The truth is, theloud tones of his voice had caused Alice to open her eyes, and insteadof trading the dreaded being before her, there stood the symbol ofbenevolence and moral power, with his mild, but clear and benignant eyesmiling upon her. 

"My dear child, " said he, "look upon me and give me your hands. Youshall, with the assistance of that God who has so mysteriously giftedme, soon be well, and free from the evil and diabolical influence whichI has been for such selfish and accursed purposes exercised over you. "

He then took her beautiful but emaciated hands into his own, which werealso soft and beautiful, and keeping his eyes fixed upon hers, hethen, with that necessary freedom which physicians exercise with theirpatients, pressed his hands after a time upon her temples, her head, hereyes, and her heart, the whole family being present, servants and all. The effect was miraculous. In the course of twenty minutes the girl wasrecovered; her spirits--her health had returned to her. Her eyes smiledas she turned them with delight upon her father and mother. 

"O, papa!" she exclaimed, smiling, "O, dear mamma, what can this mean?I am; cured, and what is more, I am no longer afraid of that vile, bad man. May the God of heaven be praised for this! but how will wethank--how can we thank the benevolent gentleman who has rescued me fromdeath?"

"More thanks are due, " replied the stranger, smiling, "to FatherMulrenin here, who acquainted me in a letter, not only with yourmelancholy condition, but with the supposed cause of it. However, letyour thanks be first returned to God, whose mysterious instrument I onlyam. Now, sir, " said he, turning to Woodward, "you laid your hand uponyour sword. I also wear a sword, not for aggression but defence. Youknow we met before. I was not then aware of your personal history, butI am now. I have just returned from London, where I was at the court ofhis Majesty Charles the Second. While in London I met your granduncle, and from him I learned your history, and a bad one it is. Now, sir, Ibeg to inform you that your malignant and diabolical influence over theperson of this young lady has ceased forever. As to the future, she isfree from that influence; but if I ever hear that you attempt to intrudeyourself into her presence, or to annoy her family, I will have yousecured in the jail of Waterford in forty-eight hours afterwards, forother crimes that render you liable to the law. "

"And pray who are you?" asked Woodward, with a blank and crestfallencountenance, but still with a strong feeling of enmity and bitterness--afeeling which he could not repress. "Who are you who presume to dictateto me upon my conduct and course of life?"

"Who am I?" replied the stranger, assuming an air of incredible dignity. "Sir, my name is VALENTINE GREATRAKES, a person on whom God has bestowedpowers which, apart from inspiration, have seldom for centuries everbeen vouchsafed to man. "

Woodward got pale again. He had heard of his extraordinary powers ofcuring almost every description of malady peculiar to the human frame, and without another word slunk out of the room. On hearing his nameMr. And Mrs. Goodwin rushed to him, seized his hands, and with theenthusiasm of grateful hearts each absolutely wept upon his broad andample bosom. He was at this period about forty-six; but seeing Alice'sface lit up with joy and delight, he stooped down and kissed her as afather would a daughter who had recovered from the death struggle. "Mydear child, " he said, "you are now saved; but you must remain here forsome time longer, because I do not wish to part with you until I shallhave completely confirmed the sanative influence with which Godhas enabled me to reinvigorate you and others. As for your selfishpersecutor, he will trouble you no more. He knows now what theconsequences would be if he attempt it. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

History of the Black Spectre. 

Woodward returned to the public room, where he was soon followed byFather Mulrenin and Greatrakes, who were shortly joined by Mr. Goodwin;Mrs. Goodwin having remained at home with Alice. The dancing went onwith great animation, and when the hour of supper arrived there was afull and merry table. The friar was in great glee, but from time to timekept his eye closely fixed upon Woodward, whose countenance and conducthe watched closely; It might have been about the hour of midnight, ifnot later, when, after a short lull in the conversation, Father Mulreninaddressed Mr. Goodwin as follows:--

"Mr. Goodwin, is there not a family in your neighborhood named Lindsay?"

"There is, " replied Goodwin; "and a very respectable family, too. "

"By the way, there is a very curious tradition, or legend, connectedwith the family of Mr. Lindsay's wife: have you ever heard of it?"

"That such a tradition, or legend, exists, I believe, " he replied, "butthere are many versions of it--although I have never heard any ofthem distinctly; something I did hear about what is termed the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_, or the Black Spectre. "

"Well, then, " proceeded the friar, "if the company has no objection tohear an authentic account of this fearful apparition, I will indulgethem with a slight sketch of the narrative:

"When Essex was over here in the Elizabethan wars--and a nice hand hemade of them; not, God knows, that we ought to regret it, but I like agood general whether he is for us or against us--devil a doubt of that:well, when Essex was over here conducting them (with reverence beit spoken) it so happened that he had a scoundrel with him by nameHamilton--and a thorough scoundrel was he. O Lord! if I had lived inthose days, and wasn't in Orders to tie my hands up--but no matter; thissame scoundrel was one of the handsomest vagabonds in the English camp. Well and good; but, indeed, to tell God's truth, it was neither well norgood, because, as I said, the man was a first-rate, tiptop scoundrel;but you will find that he was a devilish sight more so before I have puta period to my little narration. Mr. Woodward, will you hob or nob? Ithink your name is Woodward?"

"With great pleasure, sir, " replied Woodward; "and you are right, myname is Woodward; but proceed with your narrative, for, I assure you, Ifeel very much interested in it, especially in that portion of it whichrelates to the Black Spectre. Though not a believer in supernaturalappearances, I feel much gratification in listening to accounts of them. Pray proceed, sir. "

"Well sir, it so happened that this Hamilton, who had been originallya Scotch Redshank, became privately acquainted with a beautiful andwealthy orphan girl, a relation of the O'Neils; and it so happenedagain, that whether they made a throw on the dice for it or not, he wonher affections. So far, however, there was nothing very particularlyobnoxious in it, because we know that intermarriages between Catholicsand Protestants may disarm the parties of their religious prejudicesagainst each other; and although I cannot affirm the truth of what I amabout to say from my own experience, still, I think I have been able tosmell out the fact that little Cupid is of no particular religion, andcan be claimed by no particular church; or rather I should say that heis claimed by all churches and all creeds. This Hamilton, as I said, wasexceedingly handsome, but it seems from the tradition that it was by thebeauty of his eyes that Eva O'Neil was conquered, just as the firstEve was by the eyes and tongue of the serpent. Not, God knows, that thegreat Eve was any great shakes, for she left the world in a nice plightby falling in love with a serpent; but upon my credit she was not thefirst woman, excuse the blunder, who fell in love with a serpent, andsuffered accordingly. I appeal to Pythagoras there. "

"It is an allegory, " replied the Pythagorean, "and simply means that weare innocent so long as we are young, and that when we come to maturitywe are corrupted and depraved by our passions. "

"How the sorra can you say that, " replied the friar, "when you know thatAdam and Eve were created full-grown?"

"Pray go on with your tradition, " said Greatrakes, "and let us hear thehistory of the Black Spectre. I am not myself an infidel in the historyof supernatural appearances, and I wish to hear you out. "

"Well, then, " replied the friar, "you shall. The villain proposedmarriage to this beautiful young orphan, and as he was a handsomevagabone, as I have stated, he was accepted; but his eyes, above allthings, were irresistible. They were married by a Protestant clergyman, and immediately afterwards by a Catholic priest, who was far advancedin years. The lady would submit to no marriage but a legal one. Themarriage, however, was private; for Hamilton knew that Essex was awareof his having been during this event a married man, and that hiswife, who was a distant relation of the Earl's, was still living. Themarriage, however, came to Essex's ears, and Hamilton was called toaccount. He denied the marriage, the old priest having been now dead, and none but the Protestant clergyman of the parish being alive to beartestimony to the fact of the marriage. He endeavored to prevail upon theclergyman also to deny the marriage, which he refused to do, whereuponhe was found murdered. His wife by this marriage having learned fromEssex that Hamilton had most treacherously deceived her, fell intopremature labor and died; but her last words were an awful curse uponhim, and his children after him, to the last generation. 

"'May the Eye that lured me to destruction, ' she said, 'become a curseto you and your descendants forever! May it blight and kill all thosewhom it looks upon, and render it dreadful and dreaded to all those whowill place confidence in you or your descendants!'"

"God knows I couldn't much blame her; it was her last Christianbenediction to the villain who had destroyed her, and, setting-charityaside, I don't see how she could have spoken otherwise. 

"When the proofs of the marriage, however, were about to be broughtagainst him, the Protestant clergyman, who, on discovering his iniquity, was too honest to conceal it, and who felt bitterly the fraud that hadbeen practised on him, was found murdered, as I have said, because hewas now the only evidence left against Hamilton's crime. The latterdid not, however, get rid of him by that atrocious and inhuman act. Thespirit of that man haunts the family from that day to this; it is alwaysa messenger of evil to them whenever he appears, and it matters notwhere they go or where they live, he is sure to follow them, and tofasten upon some of the family, generally the wickedest, of course, as his victim. Now, Mr. Woodward, what do you think of that familytradition?"

"I think of it, " replied Woodward, "with contempt, as I do of everythingthat proceeds from the lips of an ignorant and illiterate Roman Catholicpriest. "

"Sir, " replied the friar, "I am not the inventor of this familytradition, nor of the crime which is said--however justly I know not--tohave given rise to it; but this I do know, that no man having claims tothe character of a gentleman would use such language to a defencelessman as you have just used to me. The legend is traditionary in yourfamily, and I have only given it as I have heard it. If I were not aclergyman I would chastise you for your insolence; but my hands arebound up, and you well know it. "

"Friar, " said Greatrakes, "when you know that your hands are bound up, you should have avoided insulting any man. You should not have relateda piece of family history--perhaps false from beginning to end--in thepresence of a gentleman so intimately connected with that family as youknew him to be. It was no topic for a common room like this, and it wasquite unjustifiable in you to have introduced it. "

"I feel, sir, that you are perfectly right, " replied the good-naturedfriar, "and I ask Mr. Woodward's pardon for having, without theslightest intention of offence to him, done so. You will recollect thathe himself expressed an anxiety to hear it. "

"All I say upon the subject, " observed the Pythagorean, "is simply this, that Pythagoras himself could not have cured me of the rheumatism as myfriend Valentine Greatrakes has done. "

"You will require no cure, and, what is better, no necessity for cure, "replied Greatrakes, smiling, "if you will have only common sense, mydear Cooke. Clothe yourself in warm and comfortable garments, and feedyour miserable carcass with good beef and mutton, and, in additionto which, like myself and the friar here, take a warm tumbler of goodusquebaugh punch to promote digestion. "

"I will never abandon my principles, " replied the philosopher. "Linenand vegetable diet forever. "

Manifold was asleep after his gorge, --a sleep from which he neverawoke, --but Doctor Doolittle, anxious to secure Cooke as a patient, became quite eloquent upon the advantages of a vegetable diet, and ofthe Pythagorean system in general; after which the conversation of thenight closed, and the guests departed to their respective lodgings. 

The night was still an beautiful. The moon was about to sink, but stillshe emitted that faint and shadowy light which lends such calm, butpicturesque beauty to the nocturnal landscape. Woodward was alone;but it would be difficult to find language in which to describe thebitterness of his feelings and the frightful sense of his disappointmenton finding, not only that his infamous design upon the life of AliceGoodwin had been frustrated, but on feeling certain that she had beenrestored to perfect health before his eyes. This, however, was notthe worst of it. He had calculated on killing her, and consequently ofsecuring the twelve hundred a year, on the strength of which he and hismother could confidently negotiate with the old nobleman, who alwaysslept with one eye open. In the venom and dark malignity of his hearthe cursed Alice Goodwin, he cursed Valentine Greatrakes, he cursedthe world, and he cursed God, or rather would have cursed him had hebelieved in the existence of such a being. 

In this mood of mind he was proceeding to his lodgings, when he espiedbefore him the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_, or Black Spectre with the middogue inhis hand. He stood and looked at it steadily. 

"What is this?" said he, addressing the figure before him. "What pranksare you playing now? Do you think me a fool? What brought you here? andwhat do you mean by this pantomimic nonsense, Mr. Conjurer?"

The figure, of course, made no reply, except by gesture. It brandishedthe middogue, or dagger, however, and pointed it three times at hisheart. The spot upon which this strange interview occurred was perfectlyclear of anything that could conceal an individual. In fact it was anopen common. Woodward, consequently, led astray by circumstances withwhich the reader will become subsequently acquainted, started forwardwith the intention of reaching the individual whom he suspected ofindulging himself in playing with his fears, or rather with jocularlyintending to excite them. He sprang forward, we say, and reached thespot on which the Black Spectre had stood, but our readers may judgeof his surprise when he found that the spectre, or whatever it was, had disappeared, and was nowhere, or any longer, visible. Place ofconcealment there was none. He examined the ground about him. It wasfirm and compact, and without a fissure in which a rat could, concealitself. 

There is no power in human nature which enables the heart of man, undersimilar circumstances, to bear the occurrence of such a scene as we havedescribed, unmoved. The man was hardened--an infidel, an atheist; but, notwithstanding all this, a sense of awe, wonder, and even, in somedegree, of terror, came over his heart, which nearly unnerved him. Most atheists, however, are utter profligates, as he was; or sillyphilosophers, who, because they take their own reason for their guide, will come to no other conclusion than that to which it leads them. "Itis simply a hallucination, " said he to himself, "and merely the resultof having heard the absurd nonsense of what that ignorant and credulousold friar related tonight concerning my family. Still it is strange, because I am cool and sober, and in the perfect use of my senses. Thisis the same appearance which I saw before near the Haunted House, and ofwhich I never could get any account. What if there should be--?"

He checked himself and proceeded to his lodgings, with an intention ofreturning home the next morning; which he did, after having failed inthe murderous mission which he undertook to accomplish. 

"Mother, " said he, after his return home, "all is lost: Alice Goodwinhas been restored to perfect health by Valentine Greatrakes, andmy twelve hundred a year is gone for ever. How can we enter intonegotiations with that sharp old scoundrel, Lord Cockle-town, now?I assure you I had her at the last gasp, when Greatrakes came in andrestored her to perfect health before my face. But, setting that asidefor the present, is there such a being as what is termed the BlackSpectre, mysteriously connected, if I may say so, with our family?"

His mother's face got pale as death. 

"Why do you ask, Harry?" said she. 

"Because, " he replied, "I have reason to think that I have seen ittwice. "

"Alas! alas!" she exclaimed, "then the doom of the curse is upon you. Itselects only one of every generation on which to work its vengeance. Thethird appearance of it will be fatal to you. "

"This is all contemptible absurdity, my dear mother. I don't care if Isaw it a thousand times. How can it interfere with my fate?"

"It does not interfere, " she replied, "it only intimates it, andwhatever the nature of the individual's death among our family may be, it shadows it out. What signs did it make to you?"

"It brandished what is called in this country a middogue, or Irishdagger, at my heart. "

His mother got pale again. 

"Harry, " said she, "I would recommend you to leave the kingdom. Avoidthe third warning!"

"Mother, " he replied, "this certainly is sad nonsense. I have no notionof leaving the kingdom in consequence of such superstitious stuff asthis; all these things are soap bubbles; put your finger on them andthey dissolve into nothing. How is Charles? for I have not yet seenhim. "

"Improving very much, although not able yet to leave his room. "

Woodward walked about and seemed absorbed in thought. 

"It is a painful thing, mother, " said he, "that Charles is so longrecovering. Do you know that I am half inclined to think he will neverrecover? His wound was a dreadful one, and its consequences on hisconstitution will, I fear, be fatal. "

"I hope not, Harry, " she replied, "for ever since his illness I havefound that my heart gathers about him with an affection that I havenever felt for him before. "

"Your resolution, then, is fixed, I suppose, to leave him yourproperty?"

"It is fixed; there is, or can be, no doubt about it. Once I come to adetermination I am immovable. We shall be able to wheedle LordCockletown and his niece. "

Harry paused a moment, then passed out of the room, and retired to hisown apartment. 

Here he remained for hours. At the close of the evening he appeared inthe withdrawing-room, but still in a silent and gloomy state. 

The perfect cure of Miss Goodwin had spread like wildfire, and reachedthe whole country. 

Greatrake's reputation was then at its highest, and the number of hiscures was the theme of all conversation, Barney Casey had well markedWoodward since his return from Ballyspellan, and having heard, inconnection with others, that Miss Goodwin had been cured by Greatrakes, he resolved to keep his eye upon him, and, indeed, as the event willprove, it was well he did so. 

That night, about the hour of twelve o'clock, Barney, who had suspectedthat he (Woodward) had either murdered Grace Davoren in order toconceal his own guilt, or kept her in some secret place for the mostunjustifiable purposes, remarked that, as was generally usual with him, he did not go to bed at the period peculiar to the habits of the family. 

"There is something on my mind this night, " said Barney; "I can't tellwhat it is; but I think he is bent on some villainous scheme that oughtto be watched, and in the name of God I will watch him. "

Woodward went out of the house more stealthily than usual, and took hisway towards the town of Rathfillan. A good way in the distance behindhim might be discovered another figure dogging his footsteps, thatfigure being no other than the honest figure of Barney Casey. Onwent Woodward unsuspicious that he was watched, until he reached theindescribable cabin of Sol Donnel, the old herbalist. The night hadbecome dark, and Barney was able, without being seen, to come nearenough to Woodward to hear his words and observe his actions. He tappedat the old man's window, which, after some delay and a good deal ofgrumbling, was at length opened to him. The hut consisted of only oneroom--a fact which Barney well knew. 

"Who is there?" said the old herbalist. "Why do you come at this hour todeprive me of my rest? Nobody comes for any good purpose at such an houras this. "

"Open your door, you hypocritical old sinner, and I will speak to you. Open your door instantly. "

"Wait, then; I will open it; to be sure--I will open it; because I knowwhoever you are that if there was not something extraordinary in it, itisn't at this hour you'd be coming to me. "

"Open the door I say, and then I shall speak to you. "

The window, which the old herbalist had opened, and, in the hurry ofthe moment, left unshut, remained unshut, and Barney, after Woodward hadentered, stood close to it in order to hear the conversation which mightpass between them. 

"Now, " said Woodward, after he had entered the hut, "I want a dosefrom you. One of my dogs, I fear, is seized with incipient symptoms ofhydrophobia, and I wish to dose him to death. "

"And what hour is this to come for such a purpose?" asked Sol Donnel. "Itisn't at midnight that a man comes to me to ask for a dose of poison fora dog. "

"You are very right in that, " replied Woodward; "but the truth is, thatI had an assignation with a girl in the town, and I thought that I mightas well call upon you now as at any other time. "

The eye of the old sinner glistened, for he knew perfectly well that themalady of the dog was a fable. 

"Well, " said he, "I can give you the dose, but what's to be therecompense?"

"What do you ask?" replied the other. "I will dose nothing under fivepounds. "

"Are you certain that your dose will be sure to effect its purpose?"asked Woodward. 

"As sure as I am of life, " replied the old sinner; "one glass of itwould settle a man as soon as it would a dog;" and as he spoke hefastened his keen, glittering eyes upon Woodward. The glance seemed tosay, I understand you, and I know that the dog you are about to give thedose to walks upon two legs instead of four. 

"Now, " said Woodward after having secured the bottle, "here are yourfive pounds, and _mark me_----" he looked sternly in the face of theherbalist, but added not another word. 

The herbalist, having secured the money and deposited it in his pocket, said, with a malicious grin, "Couldn't you, Mr. Woodward, have prevented yourself from going to theexpense of five pounds for poisoning a dog, that you could have shotwithout all this expense?"

Woodward looked at him. "Your life, " said he, "will not be worth a day'spurchase if you breathe a syllable of what took place between us thisnight. Sol Donnel, I am a desperate man, otherwise I would not have cometo you. Keep the secret between us, for, if you divulge it, you may takemy word for it that you will not survive it twenty-four hours. Now, bewarned, for I am both resolute and serious. "

The herbalist felt the energy of his language and was subdued. 

"No, " he replied, "I shall never breathe it; kill your dog in your ownway; all I can say is, that half a glass of it would kill the strongesthorse in your stable; only let me remark that I gave you the bottle tokill a dog!"

"Now, " thought Barney Casey, "what can all this mean? There is noneof the dogs wrong. He is at some devil's work; but what it is I do notknow; I shall watch him well, however, and it will go hard or I shallfind out his purpose. "

As Woodward was about to depart he mused for a time, and at lengthaddressed the herbalist. 

"Suppose, " said he, "that I wish to kill this dog by slow degrees, wouldit not be a good plan to give him a little of it every day, and let himdie, as it were, by inches?"

"That my bed may be made in heaven but it is a good thought, and byfar the safest plan, " replied the herbalist, "and the very one I wouldrecommend you. A small spoonful every day put into his coffee or hercoffee, as the case may be, will, in the course of a fortnight or threeweeks, make a complete cure. "

"Why, you old scoundrel, who ever heard of a dog drinking coffee?"

"I did, " replied the old villain, with another grin, "and many a timeit is newly sweetened for them, too, and they take it until they fallasleep; but they forget to waken somehow. Taste that yourself, andyou'll find that it is beautifully sweetened; because if it was given tothe dog in its natural bitter state he might refuse to take it at all, or, what would be worse and more dangerous still, he might suspect thereason why it was given to him. "

The two persons looked each other in the face, and it would, indeed, be difficult to witness such an expression as the countenance of eachbetrayed. That of the herbalist lay principally in his ferret eyes. Itwas cruel, selfish, cunning, and avaricious. The eye of the other wasdark, significant, vindictive, and terrible. In his handsome featuresthere was, when contrasted with those of the herbalist, a demoniacalelevation, a satanic intellectuality of expression, which rendered thecontrast striking beyond belief. The one appeared with the power ofApollyon, the god of destruction, conscious of that power; the otheras his mere contemptible agent of evil-subordinate, low, villanous, andwicked. 

Woodward, after a significant look, bade him good night, and took hisway home. 

Barney Casey, however, still dogged him stealthily, because he knew notwhether the dose was intended for Grace Davoren or his brother Charles. Mrs. Lindsay had made no secret of her intention to leave her propertyto the latter, whose danger, and the state of whose health, had awakenedall those affections of the mother which had lain dormant in her heartso long. The revivification of her affections for him was one of thosecapricious manifestations of feeling which can emanate from no othersource but the heart of a mother. Independently of this, there was inthe mind of Mrs. Lindsay a principle of conscious guilt, of hardness ofheart, of all want of common humanity, that sometimes startled her intoterror. She knew the villany of her son Woodward, and, after all, theheart of a woman and a mother is not like the heart of a man. There is atendency to recuperation in a woman's and a mother's heart, which canbe found nowhere else; and the contrast which she felt herself forcedto institute between the generous character of her son Charles and thevillany of Woodward broke down the hard propensities of her spirit, andsubdued her very wickedness into something like humanity. Virtue andgoodness, after all, will work their way, especially where a mother'sfeelings, conscious of the evil and conscious of the good, are forcedto strike the balance between them. This consideration it was whichdetermined Mrs. Lindsay, in addition to other considerations alreadyalluded to, to come to the resolution of leaving her property to her sonCharles. There is, besides, a want of confidence and of mutual affectionin villany which reacts upon the heart, precisely as it did upon that ofMrs. Lindsay. She knew that her eldest son was in intention a murderer;and there is a terrible summons in conscience which sometimes awakensthe soul into a sense of virtue and truth. 

Be this as it may, Barney Casey's vigilance was ineffectual. From thenight on which Woodward got the bottle from the herbalist, CharlesLindsay began gradually and slowly to decline. Barney's situation in thefamily was that of a general servant, in fact, a man of all work, andthe necessary consequence was, that he could not contravene the conductof Harry Woodward, although he saw clearly that, notwithstandingCharles's wound was nearly healed, his general health was getting worse. 

Now, the benevolence and singular power of Valentine Greatrakes arehistorical facts which cannot be contradicted. After about a month fromthe time he cured Alice Goodwin he came to the town of Rathfillan, withseveral objects in view, one of which was to see Alice Goodwin, and toascertain that her health was perfectly reestablished. But the otherand greater one was that which we shall describe. Mr. Lindsay, havingperceived that his son Charles's health was gradually becoming worse, though his wound was healed, and on finding that the physician whoattended him could neither do anything for his malady, nor even accountfor it, or pronounce a diagnosis upon its character, bethought himof the man who had so completely cured Alice Goodwin. Accordingly, onGreatrakes's visit to Rathfillan, he waited upon him, and requested, asa personal favor, that he would come and see his dying son, for indeedCharles at that time was apparently not many days from death. Thisdistinguished and wealthy gentleman at once assented, and told Mr. Lindsay that he "would visit his sen the next day. 

"I may not cure him, " said he, "because there are certain complaintswhich cannot be cured. Such complaints I never attempt to cure; and evenin others that are curable I sometimes fail. But wherever there is apossibility of cure I rarely fail. I am not proud of this gift; on thecontrary, it has subdued my heart into a sense of piety and gratitude toGod, who, in his mercy, has been pleased to make me the instrument of somuch good to my fellow-creatures. "

Mr Lindsay returned home to his family in high spirits, and on his wayto the house observed his stepson Woodward and Barney Casey at the doorof the dog-kennel. 

"I maintain the dog is wrong, " said Woodward, "and to me it seems anincipient case of hydrophobia. "

"And to me, " replied Barney, "it appears that his complaint is hunger, and that you have simply deprived him of his necessary food. "

At this moment Mr. Lindsay approached them, and exclaimed, --

"Harry, let your honest and affectionate heart cheer up. ValentineGreatrakes will be here to-morrow, and will cure Charles, as he curedAlice Goodwin, and then we will have them married; for if he recoversI am determined on it, and will abide no opposition from any quarter. Indeed, Harry, your mother is now willing that they should be married, and is sorry that she ever opposed it. Your mother, thank God, is achanged woman, and thank God the change is one that makes my very heartrejoice. "

"God be praised, " exclaimed Barney, "that is good news, and makes myheart rejoice nearly as much as yours. "

"Father, " said Woodward, "you have taken a heavy load off my mind. Charles is certainly very ill, and until Greatrakes comes I shall makeit a point to watch and nurse-tend him myself. "

"It is just what I would expect from your kind and affectionate heart, Harry, " replied Lindsay, rather slowly though, who then passed intothe house to communicate the gratifying intelligence to his wife anddaughter. 

The intensity of Woodward's malignity and villany was such that, as wehave mentioned before, on some occasions he forgot himself into sucha state of mind, and, what was worse, into such an expression ofcountenance, as, especially to Barney Casey, who so deeply suspectedhim, challenged observation. After Lindsay had gone he put his hand tohis chin, and said, still with caution, --

"Yes, poor fellow, I will watch him myself this night; for if hehappened to die before Greatrakes comes to-morrow, what an afflictionwould it not be to the family, and especially to myself, who love him sowell. Yes, in order to sustain and support him, I will watch him and actas his nurse this night. "

There was, however, such an expression on his countenance as could notbe mistaken even by a common observer, much less by such an acute oneas Barney Casey, who had his eye upon him for such a length of time!His countenance, Barney saw plainly, was as dark as hell, and seemed tocatch its inspiration from that damnable region. 

"Barney, " said he, "I shall watch the sick bed, and nurse my brotherCharles tonight, in order, if possible, to sustain him until Greatrakescures him to-morrow. "

"Ah, it's you that is the affectionate brother, " replied Barney, who hadread deliberate murder in his countenance. "But, " he exclaimed, afterWoodward had gone, "if you watch him this night, I will watch you. Youknow now that he stands between you and your mother's property, and youwill put him out of the way if you can. Yes, I will watch you well thisnight. "

The minute poisoned doses which he had contrived to administer to hisbrother were always followed by an excessive thirst. Now, Barney had, as we have often said, strong suspicions; but on this occasion he wasdetermined to place himself in a position from which he could watchevery movement of Woodward without being suspected himself. His usualsleeping place was in a low gallery below stairs; but it so happenedthat there was a closet beside Charles's bed in which there was neitherbed nor furniture of any kind, with the exception of a single chair. Thedoor between them had, as is usual, two panes of glass in; it, throughwhich any person in the dark could see what happened in the room inwhich Charles slept. 

Barney locked the door on the inside, and it was well that he did so, for in a short time Woodward came in, with a guilty and a stealthy pace, and having looked, like a murderer, about the room, he approached thecloset door and tried to open it; but finding that it was locked hisapprehensions vanished, and he deliberately, on seeing that his brotherwas asleep, took a bottle out of his pocket, and having poured about awine-glassful of the poison into the small jug which contained the usualdrink of the patient, he left the room, satisfied that, as soon ashis brother awoke, he would take the deadly draught. When he departed, Barney came out, and having substituted another for it--for there was avariety of potions on the sick table--he, too, stealthily descendedthe stairs, and going to the dog-kennel deliberately administered thepernicious draught to the dog which Woodward had insisted was unwell. He happily escaped all observation, and accomplished his plan withouteither notice or suspicion. He stayed in the kennel in order to watchthe effects of the potion upon the dog, who died in the course of aboutfifteen minutes after having received it. 

"Now, " said Barney, "I think I have my thumb upon him, and it will gohard with me or I will make him suffer for this hellish intention tomurder his brother. Mr. Greatrakes is a man of great wealth and highrank; he is, besides, a magistrate of the county, and, please God, Iwill disclose to him all that I have seen and suspect. "

Barney, under the influence of these feelings, went to bed, satisfiedthat he had saved the life of Charles Lindsay, at least for that night, but at the same time resolved to bring his murderous brother to anaccount for his conduct. 

CHAPTER XXIII. Greatrakes at Work--Denouement

Greatrakes was on his way from Birch Grove to Rathnllan House the nextday when he was met by Barney Casey, who had been on the lookout forhim. Barney, who knew not his person, was not capable of determiningwhether he was the individual whom he wanted or not. At all events heresolved at once to ascertain that fact. Accordingly, putting his handto his hat, he said, with a respectful manner, --

"Pray, sir, are you the great Valentine Great Rooke, who prevents thepeople from dyin'?"

"I am Valentine Greatrakes, " he replied, with a smile; "but I cannotprevent the people from dying. "

"Begad, but you can prevent them from being sick, at any rate. I ammyself sometimes subject to a colic, bad luck to it--(this was a lie, got up for the purpose of arresting the attention of Greatrakes)--andmaybe if you would be kind enough to rub me down you would drive thewind out of me and cure me of it, for at least, by all accounts throughthe whole parish, it's a windy colic that haunts me. "

Greatrakes, who was a man of great goodnature, and strongly susceptibleof humor, laughed very heartily at Barney's account of his miserablestate of health. 

"Well, " said he, "my good friend, let me tell you that the colic youspeak of is one of the most healthy diseases we have. Don't, if youregard your constitution, and your health, ever attempt to get rid ofit. Your constitution is a windy constitution, and that is the reasonwhy you are graciously afflicted with a windy colic. "

It was, in fact, diamond cut diamond between the two. Barney, who hadnever had a colic in his life, shrugged his shoulders very dolefully atthe miserable character of the sympathy which was expressed for him; andGreatrakes, from his great powers of observation, saw that every wordBarney uttered with respect to his besetting malady was a lie. 

At length Barney's countenance assumed an expression of such honestsincerity and feeling that Greatrakes was at once struck by it, and hekept his eye steadily fixed upon him. 

"Sir, " said Barney, "I understand you are a distinguished gentleman anda magistrate besides?"

"I am certainly a magistrate, " replied Greatrakes; "but what is yourobject in asking the question, my good fellow?"

"I understand you are going to our Masther Charles Lindsay. Now, I wishto give you a hint or two concerning him. His brother--he of the EvilEye--according to my most solemn and serious opinion, is poisoning himby degrees. I think he has been dosing him upon a small scale, so as tomake him die off by the effects of poison, without any suspicion beingraised against himself; but when his father told him yesterday that youwere to come this day to cure him, his brother insisted that he shouldsit up with him, and nurse-tend him himself. I was aware of this, andfrom a conversation I heard him have with an old herbalist, named SolDonnel, I had suspicions of his design against his brother's life. Hestrove to kill Miss Goodwin by the damnable force and power of his EvilEye, and would have done so had not you cured her. "

"And are you sure, " replied Greatrakes, "that it is not his Evil Eyethat is killing his brother?"

"I don't know that, " replied Barney; "perhaps it may be so. "

"No, " replied Greatrakes, "from all I have read and heard of itsinfluence it cannot act upon persons within a certain degree ofconsanguinity. "

"I would take my oath, " said honest Barney, "that it is the poison thatacts in this instance. "

He then gave him a description of Woodward's having poured thepoison--or at least what he suspected to be such--into the drink whichwas usually left at the bedside of his brother, and of its effect uponthe dog. 

Greatrakes, on hearing this, drew up his horse, and looking Barneysternly in the face, asked him, --

"Pray, my good fellow, did Mr. Woodward ever injure or offend you?"

"No, sir, " replied Barney, "never in any instance; but what I say I sayfrom my love for his brother, whose life, I can swear, he is tamperingwith. It is a weak word, I know, but I will use a stronger, for I say heis bent upon his murder by poison. "

"Well, " said Greatrakes, "keep your counsel for the present. I willstudy this matter, and examine into it; and I shall most certainlyreceive your informations against him; but I must have betteropportunities for making myself acquainted with the facts. In themeantime keep your own secret, and leave the rest to me. "

When Greatrakes reached Rathfillan House the whole family attended himto the sick bed of Charles. Woodward was there, and appeared to feel adeep interest in the fate of his brother. Greatrakes, on looking at him, said, before he applied the sanative power which God had placed in hisconstitution, --

"This young man is dying of a slow and subtle poison, which some personunder the roof of this house has been administering to him in smalldoses. "

As he uttered these words he fixed his eyes upon Woodward, whose facequailed and blanched under the power and significance of his gaze. 

"Sir, " replied Lindsay, "with the greatest respect for you, there is nota single individual under this roof who would injure him. He is belovedby every one. The sympathy felt for him through the whole parish iswonderful--but by none more than by his brother Woodward. "

This explanation, however, came too late. Greatrakes's impressions wereunchanged. 

"I think I will cure him, " he proceeded; "but after his recovery let himbe cautious in taking any drink unless from the hands of his mother orhis father. "

He then placed his hands over his face and chest, which he kept rubbingfor at least a quarter of an hour, when, to their utter astonishment, Charles pronounced himself in as good health as he had ever enjoyed inhis lift. 

"This, sir, " said he, "is wonderful; why, I am perfectly restored tohealth. As I live, this man must have the power of God about him tobe able to effect such an extraordinary cure: and he has also cured mydarling Alice. What can I say? Father, give him a hundred--five hundredpounds. "

Greatrakes smiled. 

"You don't know, it seems, " he replied, "that I do not receiveremuneration for any cures I may effect. I am wealthy and independent, and I fear that if I were to make the wonderful gift which God hasbestowed on me the object of mercenary gain, it might be withdrawn fromme altogether. My principle is one of humanity and benevolence. I willremain in Rathfillan for a fortnight, and shall see you again, " headded, addressing himself to Charles. "Now, " he proceeded, "mark me, youwill require neither drinks nor medicine of any description. Whateverdrinks you take, take them at the common table of the family. There arecircumstances connected with your case which, as a magistrate of thecounty, I am I resolved to investigate. "

He looked sternly at Woodward as he uttered the last words, and thentook his departure to Rathfillan, having first told Barney Casey to callon him the next day. 

After Greatrakes had gone, Woodward repaired to the room of his mother, in a state of agitation which we cannot describe. 

"Mother, " said he, "unless we can manage that old peer and his niece, Iam a lost man. "

"Do not be uneasy, " replied his mother; "whilst you were at BallyspellanI contrived to manage that. Ask me nothing about it; but everyarrangement is made, and you are to be married this day week. Keepyourself prepared for a settled case. "

What the mother's arguments in behalf of the match may have been, wecannot pretend to say. We believe that Miss Riddle's attachment to hishandsome person and gentlemanly manners overcame all objections on thepart of her uncle, and nothing now remained to stand in the way of theirunion. 

The next day Barney Casey waited upon Greatrakes, according toappointment, when the following conversation took place between them:--

"Now, " said Greatrakes, solemnly, "what is your name?"

As he put the question with a stern and magisterial air, his tablets andpencil in hand, which he did with the intention of awing Barney into afull confession of the exact truth--a precaution which Barney's romanceof the windy colic induced him to take, --"I say, " he repeated, "what'syour name?"

Barney, seeing the pencil and tablets in hand, and besides not beingmuch, or at all, acquainted with magisterial investigations, felt ratherblank, and somewhat puzzled at this query. 

He accordingly resorted to the usage of the country, and commencedscratching a rather round bullet head. 

"My name, your honor, " he replied; "my name, couldn't you pass that by, sir?"

"No, " said Greatrakes, "I cannot pass it by. In this business it isessential that I should know it. "

"Ay, " replied Barney, "but maybe you have some treacherous design in it, and that you are goin' to take the part of the wealthy scoundrel againstthe poor man; and even if you did, you wouldn't be the first magistratewho did it. "

Greatrakes looked keenly at him. The observation he expressed wasprecisely in accordance with the liberality of his own feelings. 

"Don't be alarmed, " he added; "if you knew my character, which it isevident you do not, you would know that I never take the part of therich man against the poor man, unless when there is justice on the partof the wealthy man, and crime, unjustifiable and cruel crime, on thepart of the poor man, which, I am sorry to say, is not an unfrequentcase. Now, I must insist, as a magistrate, that you give me your name. "

"Well, then, " replied the other, "I'm one Barney Casey, sir, who livesin Rathfillan House, as a servant to Mr. Lindsay, step-father to thatmurtherin' blackguard. "

Greatrakes then examined him closely, and made him promise to come toRathfillan that night, in order that he might accompany him to the hutof old Sol Donnel, the herbalist. 

"I am resolved, " said he, "to investigate this matter, and in mycapacity of a magistrate to bring the guilty to justice. "

"Faith, sir, " replied Barney, "and I'm not the boy who is going to standin your way in such a business as that. You know that it was I that putyou up to it, and any assistance I can give you in it you may reckon on. Although not a magistrate, as you are, maybe I'm just as fond of justiceas yourself. Of coorse I'll attend you to-night, and show you thedevil's nest in which Sol Donnel and his blessed babe of a niece, byname Caterine Collins, live. "

Greatrakes took down the name of Caterine Collins, and after havingarranged the hour at which Barney was to conduct him to Sol Donnel'shut, they separated. 

About eleven o'clock that night Barney and Greatrakes reached themiserable-looking residence in which this old viper lived. 

"Now, " said Greatrakes, addressing the herbalist, "my business with youis this: I have a bitter enemy who wants to establish a claim upon myproperty, and I wish to put him out of my way. Do you understand me? Iam a wealthy man, and can reward you well. "

"I never talk of these things in the presence of a third party, " repliedthe herbalist, looking significantly at Barney, whom he well knew. 

"Well, " replied the other, "I dare say you are right. Casey, go out andleave us to ourselves. "

There was a little hall in the house, which hall was in completeobscurity. Barney availed himself of this circumstance, opened the doorand clapped it to as if he had gone out, but remained at the same timein the inside. 

"No, sir, " replied Sol Donnel, ignorant of the trick which Barney hadplayed upon him, "I never allow a third person to be present at any ofthose conversations about the strength and power of my herbs. Now, tellme, what it is that you want me to do for you. "

"Why, to tell you the truth, " replied Greatrakes, "I never heard of yourname until within a few days ago, that you were mentioned to me by Mr. Henry Woodward, who told me that you gave him a dose to settle a dogthat was laboring under the first symptoms of hydrophobia. Well, the dogis dead by the influence of the bottle you gave him; but now that weare by ourselves I tell you at once that I want a dose for a man who islikely, if he lives, to cut me out of a large property. "

"O, Cheernah!" exclaimed the old villain, "do you think that I who livesby curin' the poor for nothing, or next to nothing, could lend myself tosich a thing as that?"

"Very well, " replied the other, preparing to take his departure, "youhave lost fifty pounds by the affair at all events. "

"Fifty pounds!" exclaimed the other, whilst his keen and diabolical eyesgleamed with the united spirit of avarice and villany. "Fifty pounds!well how simple and foolish some people are. Why now, if you had a dog, say a setter or a pointer, that from fear of madness you wished to getrid of, and that you had mentioned it to me, I could give you a bottlethat would soon settle it; I don't go above a dog or the inferioranimals, and no man that has his senses about him ought to ask me to doanything else. "

"Well, then, I tell you at once that, as I said, it is not for a dog, but for a worse animal, a man, my own cousin, who, unless I absolutelycontrive to poison him, will deprive me of six thousand a year. Insteadof fifty I shall make the recompense a hundred, after having found thatyour medicine is successful. "

The old villain's eye gleamed again at the prospect of such liberality. 

"Well now, " said he, "see what it is for a pious man to forget hisdevotions, even for one day. I forgot to say my Leadan Wurrah thismornin', and that is the raison that your temptation has overcome me. You must call then to-morrow night, because I have nothing now, barrin'what 'ud excite the bowels, and it seems that isn't what you want; butif you be down here about this same hour to-morrow night, you shall havewhat will put your enemy out of the way. "

"That will do then, " replied Greatrakes, "and I shall depend on you. "

"Ay, " replied the old villain, "but remember that the act is not minebut your own. I simply furnish you with the necessary means--your ownact will be to apply them. "

On leaving the hut, Greatrakes was highly gratified on finding thatBarney Casey had overheard their whole conversation. 

"You will serve as a corroborative evidence, " said he. 

The herbalist, at all events, was entrapped, and not only hisdisposition to sell botanical poisons, but his habit of doing so, wasclearly proved to the benevolent magistrate. 

On the next night he got the poison, and having consulted with Casey, hesaid he would not urge the matter for a few days, as he wished, inthe most private way possible, to procure further evidence against theguilty parties. 

In the meantime, every preparation was made in both families forWoodward's wedding. The old peer, who had cross-examined his niece uponthe subject, discovered her attachment to Woodward; and as he wishedto see her settled before his death with a gentlemanly and respectablehusband--a man who would be capable of taking care of the propertywhich he must necessarily leave her, as she was his favorite and hisheiress--and besides, he loved her as a daughter--he was resolved thatWoodward and she should be united. "

"I don't care a fig, " said he, "whether this Woodward has property ornot. He is a gentleman, respectably connected, of accomplished manners, handsome in person, and if he has no fortune, why you have; and I thinkthe best thing you can do is to accept him without hesitation. Thecomical rascal, " said he, laughing heartily, "took me in so completelyduring our first interview, that he became a favorite with me. "

"I think well of him, " replied his firm-minded niece; "and even I admitthat I love him, as far as a girl of such a cold constitution as minemay; but I tell you, uncle, that if I discovered a taint of vice or wantof principle in his character, I could fling him off with contempt. "

"I wish to heaven, " replied the uncle, rather nettled, "that we couldhave up one of the twelve apostles. I dare say some of them, if theywere disposed to marry, might come up to your mark. "

"Well, uncle, at all events I like him sufficiently to consent that heshould become my husband. "

"Well, and is not that enough; bless my heart, could you wish to gobeyond it?"

In the meantime, very important matters were proceeding, which borestrongly upon Woodward's destiny. Greatrakes had collected--aided, of course, by Barney Casey, who was the principal, but not the sole, evidence against him--such a series of facts, as, he felt, justified himin receiving informations against him. 

At this crisis a discovery was made in connection with the HauntedHouse, which was privately, through Casey, communicated to Greatrakes, who called a meeting of the neighboring magistrates upon it. This hedid by writing to them privately to meet him on a particular day at hislittle inn in Rathfillan. For obvious reasons, and out of considerationto his feelings, Mr. Lindsay's name was omitted. At all events the nightpreceding the day of Woodward's marriage with Miss Riddle had arrived, but two circumstances occurred on that evening and on that night whichnot only frustrated all his designs upon Miss Riddle, or rather upon heruncle's property, but--however, we shall not anticipate. 

It was late in the evening when Miss Riddle was told by a servant that ayoung man, handsome and of fine proportions, wished to see her for a fewminutes. 

"Not that I would recommend you to see him, " said the serving-woman whodelivered the message. "He is, to be sure, very handsome; but, then, heis one of those wild people, and armed with a great mid-dogue or dagger, and God knows what his object may be--maybe to take your life. As sureas I live he is a tory. "

"That may be, " replied Miss Riddle; "but I know, by your description ofhim, that he is the individual to whose generous spirit I and my dearuncle owe our lives: let him be shown in at once to the front parlor. "

In a few minutes she entered, and found Shawn before her. 

"O Shawn!" said she, "I am glad to see you. My uncle is using all hisinterest to get you a pardon--that is, provided you are willing toabandon the wild life to which you have taken. "

"I am willing to abandon it, " he replied; "but I have one task toperform before I leave it. You have heard of the toir, or tory-hunt, which was made after me and others; but chiefly after me, for I was theobject they wanted to shoot down, or rather that he, the villain, wantedto murder under the authority of those cruel laws that make us tories. "

"Who do you mean by he?" asked Miss Riddle. 

"I mean Harry Woodward, " he replied. "He hunted me, disguised by a blackmask. "

"But are you sure of that, Shawn?"

"I am sure of it, " he replied; "and it was not until yesterday that Idiscovered his villany. I know the barber in Rathfillan where the blackmask was got for him, I believe, by his wicked mother. "

Miss Riddle, who was a strong-minded girl, paused, and was silent for atime, after which she said, --

"I am glad you told me this, Shawn. I spoke to him in your favor, and hepledged his honor to me previous to the terrible hunt you allude to, andof which the whole country rang, that he would never take a step toyour prejudice, but would rather protect you as far as he could, inconsequence of your having generously saved my dear uncle's life andmine. "

"The deeper villain he, then. He is upon my trail night and day. Heruined Grace Davoren, who has disappeared, and the belief of the peopleis that he has murdered her. He possesses the Evil Eye too, and wouldby it have murdered Miss Goodwin, of Beech Grove, in order to get backthe property which his uncle left her, only for the wonderful power ofSquire Greatrakes, who cured her. And, besides, I have raison to knowthat he will be arrested this very night for attempting to poison hisbrother. I am a humble young man, Miss Riddle, but I am afeard that ifyou marry him you will stand but a bad chance for happiness. "

"She was again silent, but, after a pause, she said--

"Shawn, do you want money?"

"I thank you, Miss Riddle, " he replied, "I don't want money: all I wantis, that you will not be desaved by one of the most damnable villains onthe face of the earth. "

There was an earnestness and force of truth in what the generous youngtory said that could not be mistaken. He arose, and was about to takehis leave, when he said, --

"Miss Riddle, I understand he is about to be married to you to-morrow. Should he become your husband, he is safe from my hand--and that on youraccount; but as it may not yet be too late to spake, I warn youagainst his hypocrisy and villany--against the man who destroyed GraceDavoren--who would have killed Miss Goodwin with his Evil Eye, in orderto get back the property which his uncle left her, and who would havepoisoned his own brother out of his way bekase his mother told him shehad changed her mind in leaving it to him (Woodward), and came to theresolution of leaving it to his brother, and that was the raison why heattempted to poison him. All these things have been proved, and I haveraison to believe that he will sleep--if sleep he can--in Waterfordjail before to-morrow mornin'. But, " he added, with a look which was soreplete with vengeance and terror, that it perfectly stunned the girl, "perhaps he won't, though. It is likely that the fate of Grace Davorenwill prevent him from it. "

He did not give her time to reply, but instantly disappeared, and lefther in a state of mind which our readers may very well understand. 

She immediately went to her uncle's library, where the following briefdialogue occurred:

"Uncle, this marriage must not and shall not take place. "

"What!" replied the peer; "then he is none of the twelve apostles. "

"You are there mistaken, " said she; "he is one of them. Remember Judas. "

"Judas! What the deuce are you at, my dear niece?"

"Why, that he is a most treacherous villain: that's what I'm at, " andher face became crimson with indignation. 

"But what's in the wind? Don't keep me in a state of suspense. Judas!Confound it, what a comparison! Well, I perceive you are not disposed tobecome Mrs. Judas. You know me, however, well enough: I'm not goingto press you to it. Do you think, my dear niece, that Judas was agentleman?"

"Precisely such a gentleman, perhaps, as Mr. Woodward is. "

"And you think he would betray Christ?"

"He would poison his brother, uncle, because he stands between him andhis mother's property, which she has recently expressed her intention ofleaving to that brother--a fact which awoke something like compassion inmy breast for Woodward. "

"Well, then, kick him to hell, the scoundrel. I liked the fellow inthe beginning, and, indeed, all along, because he had badgered me sobeautifully, --which I thought few persons had capacity to, --and inconsequence, I entertained a high opinion of his intellect, and behanged to him; kick him to hell, though. "

"Well, my dear lord and uncle, I don't think I would be capable ofkicking him so far; nor do I think it will be at all necessary, asmy opinion is, that he will be able to reach that region without anyassistance. "

"Come, that's very well said, at all events--one of your touchers, as Icall them. There, then, is an end to the match and marriage, and so beit. "

She here detailed at further length, the conversation which she had withShawn-na-Middogue; mentioned the fact, which had somehow become wellknown, of his having wrought the ruin of Grace Davoren, and concluded bystating that, notwithstanding his gentlemanly manners and deportment, hewas unworthy either the notice or regard of any respectable female. 

"Well, " said the peer, "from, all you have told me I must say you havehad a narrow escape; I did suspect him to be a fortune-hunter; but thenwho the deuce can blame a man for striving to advance himself in life?However, let there be an end to it, and you must only wait until abetter man comes. "

"I assure you, my dear uncle, I am in no hurry; so let that be yourcomfort so far as I am concerned. "

"Well, then, " said the peer, "I shall write to him to say that themarriage, in consequence of what we have heard of his character, isoff. "

"Take whatever steps you please, " replied his admirable niece; "for mostassuredly, so far as I am concerned, it is off. Do you imagine, uncle, that I could for a moment think of marrying a seducer and a poisoner?"

"It would be a very queer thing if you did, " replied her uncle; "butwas it not a fortunate circumstance that you came to discover hisreal character in time to prevent you from becoming the wife of such ascoundrel?"

"It was the providence of God, " said his niece, "that would not sufferthe innocent to become associated with the guilty. "

Greatrakes, in the meantime, was hard at work. He and the othermagistrates had collected evidence, and received the informationsagainst Woodward, the herbalist, and the mysterious individual whowas in the habit of appearing about the Haunted House as the_Shan-dhinne-dhuv_, or the Black Spectre. Villany like this cannot belong concealed, and will, in due time, come to light. 

During the dusk of the evening preceding Woodward's intended marriage, an individual came to Mr. Lindsay's house and requested to see Mr. Woodward. That gentleman came down, and immediately recognized theperson who had, for such a length of time, frightened the neighborhoodas the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv_ or the Black Spectre. He was shown into theparlor, and, as there was no one present, the following dialogue tookplace, freely and confidentially, between them:--

"You must fly, " said the Spectre, or, in other words, the conjurer, whomwe have already described, --"you must fly, for you are to be arrestedthis night. Our establishment for the forgery of bad notes must alsobe given up, and the Haunted House must be deserted. The magistrates, somehow, have smelled out the truth, and we must change our lodgings. Wedodged them pretty well, but, after all, these things can't last long. On to-morrow night I bid farewell to the neighborhood; but you cannotwait so long, because on this very night you are to be arrested. Itis very well that you sent Grace Davoren, at my suggestion, from theHaunted House to what is supposed to be the haunted cottage, in themountains, where Nannie Morrissy soon joined her. I supplied them withprovisions, and had a bed and other articles brought to them, accordingto your own instructions, and I think that, for the present, the safestplace of concealment will be there. "

Woodward became terribly alarmed. It was on the eve of his marriage, andthe intelligence almost drove him into distraction. 

"I will follow your advice, " said he, "and will take refuge in what iscalled the haunted cottage, for this night. "

His mysterious friend now left him, and Woodward prepared to seek thehaunted cottage in the mountains. Poor Grace Davoren was in a painfuland critical condition, but Woodward had engaged Caterine Collins toattend to her: for what object, will soon become evident to our readers. 

Woodward, after night had set in, --it was a mild night with faintmoonlight, --took his way towards the cottage that was supposed to behaunted, and which, in those days of witchcraft and. Superstition, nobody would think of entering. We have already described it, and thatmust suffice for our readers. On entering a dark, but level moor, hewas startled by the appearance of the Black Spectre, which, as on twooccasions before, pointed its middogue three times at his heart. Herushed towards it, but on arriving at the spot he could find nothing. Ithad vanished, and he was left to meditate on it as best he might. 

We now pass to the haunted cottage itself. There lay Grace Davoren, after having given birth to a child; there she lay--the victim of theseducer, on the very eve of dissolution, and beside her, sitting on thebed, the unfortunate Nannie Morrissy, now a confirmed and dying maniac. 

"Grace, " said Nannie, "you, like me, were ruined. "

"I was, " replied Grace, in a voice scarcely audible. 

"Ay, but you didn't murder your father, though, as I did; that's oneadvantage I have over you--ha! ha! ha!"

"I'm not so sure of that, Nannie, " replied the dying girl; "but where'smy baby?"

"O! yes, you have had a baby, but Caterine Collins took it away withher. "

"My child! my child! where is my child?" she exclaimed in a low, buthusky voice; "where's my child? and besides, ever since I took thatbottle she gave me I feel deadly sick. "

"Will I go for your father and mother--but above all things for yourfather? But then if he punished the villain that ruined you and broughtdisgrace upon your name, he might be hanged as mine was. "

"Ah! Nannie, " replied poor Grace; "my father won't die of the gallows;but he will of a broken heart. "

"Better to be hanged, " said the maniac, whose reason, after a lapse ofmore than a year, was in some degree returning, precisely as life wasebbing out, "bekase, thank God, there's then an end to it. "

"I agree with you, Nannie, it might be only a long life of suffering;but I wouldn't wish to see my father hanged. "

"Do you know, " said Nannie, relapsing into a deeper mood of hermania, --"do you know that when I saw my father last he wouldn't nordidn't spake to me? The house was filled with people, and my littlebrother Frank--why now isn't it strange that I feel somehow as if I willnever wash his face again nor comb his white head in order to preparehim for mass?--but whisper, Grace, sure then I was innocent and had notmet the destroyer. "

The two unhappy girls looked at each other, and if ever there was a gazecalculated to wring the human heart with anguish and with pity, it wasthat gaze. Both of them were, although unconsciously, on the very eve ofdissolution, and it would seem as if a kind of presentiment of death hadseized upon both at the same time. 

"Nannie, " said Grace, "do you know that I'm afeard we're both goin' todie?"

"And why are you afeard of it?" asked Nannie. "Many a time I would 'agiven the world to die. "

"Why, " replied Grace, who saw the deep shadows of death upon her wild, pale, but still beautiful countenance, --"why Nannie, you have yourwish--you are dying this moment. "

Just as Grace spoke the unfortunate girl seemed as if she had beenstricken by a spasm of the heart. She gave a slight start--turned up herbeautiful, but melancholy eyes to heaven, and exclaimed, as if consciousof the moment that had come, --

"Forgive me, O God!" after which she laid herself calmly down by theside of Grace and expired. Grace, by an effort, put her hand out andfelt her heart, but there was no pulsation there--it did not beat, andshe saw by the utter lifelessness of her features that she was dead, andhad been relieved at last from all her sorrows. 

"Nannie, " she said, "your start before me won't be long. I do not wishto live to show a shamed face and a ruined character to my family andthe world. Nannie, I am coming; but where is my child? Where is thatwoman who took it away? My child! Where is my child?"

Whilst this melancholy scene was taking place, another of a verydifferent description was occurring near the cottage. Two poachers, whowere concealed in a hazel copse on the brow of a little glen besideit, saw a woman advance with an infant, which, by its cries, they feltsatisfied was but newly born. 

Its cries, however, were soon stilled, and they saw her deposit it in alittle grave which had evidently been prepared for it. She had coveredit slightly with a portion of clay, but ere she had time to proceedfurther they pounced upon her. 

"Hould her fast, " said one of them, "she has murdered the infant. At allevents, take it up, and I will keep her safe. "

This was done, and a handkerchief, the one with which she had strangledit, was found tightly tied about its neck. That she was the instrumentof Woodward in this terrible act, who can doubt? In the meantime bothshe and the dead body of the child were brought back to Rathfillan, where, upon their evidence, he was at once committed to prison, thehandkerchief having been kept as a testimony against him, for it was atonce discovered to be her own property. 

During all this time Grace Davoren lay dying, in a state of the mostterrible desolation, with the dead body of Nannie Morrissy on the bedbeside her. What had become of her child, and of Caterine Collins, shecould not tell. She had, however, other reflections, for the young, but guilty mother was not without strong, and even tender, domesticaffections. 

"O!" she exclaimed, in her woful solitude and utter desolation, "if Ionly had the forgiveness of my father and mother I could die happy; butnow I feel that death is upon me, and I must die alone. "

A footstep was heard, and it relieved her. "Oh! this is Caterine, " shesaid, "with the child. "

The door opened, and the young tory, Shawn-na-Middogue, entered. Hepaused for a moment and looked about him. 

"What is this?" said he, looking at the body of Nannie Morrissy; "is itdeath?"

"It is death, " replied Grace, faintly; "there is one death, but, Shawn, there will soon be another. Shawn, forgive me, and kiss me for the sakeof our early love. "

"I am an outlaw, " replied the stern young tory; "but I will never kissthe polluted lips of woman as long as she has breath in her body. "

"But Caterine Collins has taken away my child, and has not returned withit. "

"No, nor ever will, " replied the outlaw. "She was the instrument ofyour destroyer. But I wish you to be consoled, Grace. Do you see thatmiddogue? It is red with blood. Now listen. I have avenged you; thatmiddogue was reddened in the heart of the villain that wrought yourruin. As far as man can be, I am now satisfied. "

"My child!" she faintly said; "my child! where is it?"

Her words were scarcely audible. She closed her eyes and was silent. Theoutlaw looked closely into her countenance, and perceived at once thatdeath was there. He felt her pulse, her heart, but all was still. 

[Illustration: PAGE 774-- Kiss you for the sake of our early love]

"Now, " said he, "the penalty you have paid for your crime has taken awaythe pollution from your lips, and I will kiss you for the sake of ourearly love. "

He then kissed her, and rained showers of tears over her now unconsciousfeatures. The two funerals took place upon the same day; and, what wasstill more particular, they were buried in the same churchyard. Theirunhappy fates were similar in more than one point. The selfish andinhuman seducer of each became the victim of his crime; one by the justand righteous vengeance of a heart-broken and indignant father, andthe other by the middogue of the brave and noble-minded outlaw. Who themurderer of Harry Woodward, or rather the avenger of Grace Davoren, was, never became known. The only ears to which the outlaw revealed thesecret were closed, and her tongue silent for ever. 

The body of Woodward was found the next morning lifeless upon themoors; and when death loosened the tongues of the people, and when themelancholy fate of Grace Davoren became known, there was one individualwho knew perfectly well, from moral conviction, who the avenger of herruin was. 

"Uncle, " said Miss Riddle, while talking with him on the subject, "Ifeel who the avenger of the unfortunate and beautiful Grace Davoren is. "

"And who is he, my dear niece?"

"It shall never escape my lips, my lord and uncle. "

"Egad, talking of escapes, I think you have had a very narrow oneyourself, in escaping from that scoundrel of the Evil Eye. "

"I thank God for it, " she replied, and this closed their conversation. 

There is little now to be added to our narrative. We need scarcelyassure our readers that Charles Lindsay and Alice Goodwin were in duetime made happy, and that Ferdora O'Connor, who had been long attachedto Maria Lindsay, was soon enabled to call her his beloved wife. 

The devilish old herbalist, and his equally devilish niece, togetherwith the conjurer and forger, who had assumed the character of theBlack Spectre, were all hanged, through the instrumentality of ValentineGreatrakes, who had acquired so many testimonies of their villainy andtheir crimes as enabled him, in conjunction with the other magistratesof the county, to obtain such a body of evidence against them as no jurycould withstand. It was, probably, well for Woodward that the middogueof the outlaw prevented him from sharing the same fate, and dying adeath of public disgrace. 

Need we say that honest Barney Casey was rewarded by the love of SarahSullivan, who, soon after their marriage, was made housekeeper inMr. Lindsay's family; and that Barney himself was appointed to thecomfortable situation of steward over his property?

Lord Cockletown exercised all his influence with the government of theday to procure a pardon for Shawn-na-Middogue, but without effect. Hefurnished him, however, with a liberal sum of money, with which he leftthe country, but was never heard of more. 

Miss Riddle was married to a celebrated barrister, who subsequentlybecame a judge.