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  <head>
    <title>
      The Purcell Papers, Volume III. by JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU
    </title>
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Purcell Papers, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: The Purcell Papers
       Volume III. (of III.)

Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Release Date: May 24, 2008 [EBook #511]
Last Updated: November 30, 2012

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PURCELL PAPERS ***




Produced by David Widger





</pre>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <h1>
      THE PURCELL PAPERS.
    </h1>
    <h2>
      BY THE LATE <br /> JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU,
    </h2>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <h4>
      AUTHOR OF 'UNCLE SILAS.'
    </h4>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <h4>
      IN THREE VOLUMES.
    </h4>
    <h2>
      VOL. III.
    </h2>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <h4>
      <br /> <br /> LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, <br /> <br /> Publishers in
      Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen. <br /> <br /> 1880. <br /> <br /> Library
      of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data <br /> <br /> LeFanu, Joseph
      Sheridan, 1814-1873. <br /> <br /> The Purcell papers. <br /> <br /> Reprint
      of the 1880 ed. published by R. Bentley, London. <br /> <br /> I. Title.
      PZ3.L518Pu5 (PR4879.L7) 823'.8 71-148813 ISBN 0-404-08880-5 <br /> <br />
      Reprinted from an original copy in the collection of the University of
      Chicago Library. <br /> <br /> From the edition of 1880, London First AMS
      edition published in 1975 Manufactured in the United States of America
      <br /> <br /> International Standard Book Number: Complete Set:
      0-404-08880-5 Volume III: 0-404-08883-X <br /> <br /> AMS PRESS INC. <br />
      <br /> NEW YORK, N. Y. 10003 <br /> <br />
    </h4>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      Contents
    </h2>
    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto">
      <tr>
        <td>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> JIM SULIVAN'S ADVENTURES IN THE GREAT
            SNOW. </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF A TYRONE
            FAMILY </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> AN ADVENTURE OF HARDRESS FITZGERALD, A
            ROYALIST CAPTAIN. </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> 'THE QUARE GANDER.' </a>
          </p>
          <p class="toc">
            <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> BILLY MALOWNEY'S TASTE OF LOVE AND GLORY.
            </a>
          </p>
        </td>
      </tr>
    </table>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      JIM SULIVAN'S ADVENTURES IN THE GREAT SNOW.
    </h2>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     Being a Ninth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis
     Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.
</pre>
    <p>
      Jim Sulivan was a dacent, honest boy as you'd find in the seven parishes,
      an' he was a beautiful singer, an' an illegant dancer intirely, an' a
      mighty plisant boy in himself; but he had the divil's bad luck, for he
      married for love, an 'av coorse he niver had an asy minute afther.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nell Gorman was the girl he fancied, an' a beautiful slip of a girl she
      was, jist twinty to the minute when he married her. She was as round an'
      as complate in all her shapes as a firkin, you'd think, an' her two cheeks
      was as fat an' as red, it id open your heart to look at them.
    </p>
    <p>
      But beauty is not the thing all through, an' as beautiful as she was she
      had the divil's tongue, an' the divil's timper, an' the divil's behaviour
      all out; an' it was impossible for him to be in the house with her for
      while you'd count tin without havin' an argymint, an' as sure as she riz
      an argymint with him she'd hit him a wipe iv a skillet or whatever lay
      next to her hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, this wasn't at all plasin' to Jim Sulivan you may be sure, an' there
      was scarce a week that his head wasn't plasthered up, or his back bint
      double, or his nose swelled as big as a pittaty, with the vilence iv her
      timper, an' his heart was scalded everlastin'ly with her tongue; so he had
      no pace or quietness in body or soul at all at all, with the way she was
      goin' an.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, your honour, one cowld snowin' evenin' he kim in afther his day's
      work regulatin' the men in the farm, an' he sat down very quite by the
      fire, for he had a scrimmidge with her in the mornin', an' all he wanted
      was an air iv the fire in pace; so divil a word he said but dhrew a stool
      an' sat down close to the fire. Well, as soon as the woman saw him,
    </p>
    <p>
      'Move aff,' says she, 'an' don't be inthrudin' an the fire,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, he kept never mindin', an' didn't let an' to hear a word she was
      sayin', so she kim over an' she had a spoon in her hand, an' she took jist
      the smallest taste in life iv the boilin' wather out iv the pot, an' she
      dhropped it down an his shins, an' with that he let a roar you'd think the
      roof id fly aff iv the house.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hould your tongue, you barbarrian,' says she; 'you'll waken the child,'
      says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' if I done right,' says he, for the spoonful of boilin' wather riz him
      entirely, 'I'd take yourself,' says he, 'an' I'd stuff you into the pot an
      the fire, an' boil you.' says he, 'into castor oil,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'That's purty behavour,' says she; 'it's fine usage you're givin' me,
      isn't it?' says she, gettin' wickeder every minute; 'but before I'm
      boiled,' says she, 'thry how you like THAT,' says she; an', sure enough,
      before he had time to put up his guard, she hot him a rale terrible clink
      iv the iron spoon acrass the jaw.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hould me, some iv ye, or I'll murdher her,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Will you?' says she, an' with that she hot him another tin times as good
      as the first.
    </p>
    <p>
      'By jabers,' says he, slappin' himself behind, 'that's the last salute
      you'll ever give me,' says he; 'so take my last blessin',' says he, 'you
      ungovernable baste!' says he&mdash;an' with that he pulled an his hat an'
      walked out iv the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, she never minded a word he said, for he used to say the same thing
      all as one every time she dhrew blood; an' she had no expectation at all
      but he'd come back by the time supper id be ready; but faix the story
      didn't go quite so simple this time, for while he was walkin', lonesome
      enough, down the borheen, with his heart almost broke with the pain, for
      his shins an' his jaw was mighty troublesome, av course, with the
      thratement he got, who did he see but Mick Hanlon, his uncle's sarvint by,
      ridin' down, quite an asy, an the ould black horse, with a halter as long
      as himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Is that Mr. Soolivan?' says the by. says he, as soon as he saw him a good
      bit aff.
    </p>
    <p>
      'To be sure it is, ye spalpeen, you,' says Jim, roarin' out; 'what do you
      want wid me this time a-day?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Don't you know me?' says the gossoon, 'it's Mick Hanlon that's in it,'
      says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh, blur an agers, thin, it's welcome you are, Micky asthore,' says Jim;
      'how is all wid the man an' the woman beyant?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh!' says Micky, 'bad enough,' says he; 'the ould man's jist aff, an' if
      you don't hurry like shot,' says he, 'he'll be in glory before you get
      there,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's jokin' ye are,' says Jim, sorrowful enough, for he was mighty
      partial to his uncle intirely.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh, not in the smallest taste,' says Micky; 'the breath was jist out iv
      him,' says he, 'when I left the farm. "An", says he, "take the ould black
      horse," says he, "for he's shure-footed for the road," says he, "an'
      bring, Jim Soolivan here," says he, "for I think I'd die asy af I could
      see him onst," says he.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well,' says Jim, 'will I have time,' says he, 'to go back to the house,
      for it would be a consolation,' says he, 'to tell the bad news to the
      woman?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's too late you are already,' says Micky, 'so come up behind me, for
      God's sake,' says he, 'an' don't waste time;' an' with that he brought the
      horse up beside the ditch, an' Jim Soolivan mounted up behind Micky, an'
      they rode off; an' tin good miles it was iv a road, an' at the other side
      iv Keeper intirely; an' it was snowin' so fast that the ould baste could
      hardly go an at all at all, an' the two bys an his back was jist like a
      snowball all as one, an' almost fruz an' smothered at the same time, your
      honour; an' they wor both mighty sorrowful intirely, an' their toes almost
      dhroppin' aff wid the could.
    </p>
    <p>
      And when Jim got to the farm his uncle was gettin' an illegantly, an' he
      was sittin' up sthrong an' warm in the bed, an' improvin' every minute,
      an' no signs av dyin' an him at all at all; so he had all his throuble for
      nothin'.
    </p>
    <p>
      But this wasn't all, for the snow kem so thick that it was impassible to
      get along the roads at all at all; an' faix, instead iv gettin' betther,
      next mornin' it was only tin times worse; so Jim had jist to take it asy,
      an' stay wid his uncle antil such times as the snow id melt.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, your honour, the evenin' Jim Soolivan wint away, whin the dark was
      closin' in, Nell Gorman, his wife, beginned to get mighty anasy in herself
      whin she didn't see him comin' back at all; an' she was gettin' more an'
      more frightful in herself every minute till the dark kem an', an' divil a
      taste iv her husband was coming at all at all.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh!' says she, 'there's no use in purtendin', I know he's kilt himself;
      he has committed infantycide an himself,' says she, 'like a dissipated
      bliggard as he always was,' says she, 'God rest his soul. Oh, thin, isn't
      it me an' not you, Jim Soolivan, that's the unforthunate woman,' says she,
      'for ain't I cryin' here, an' isn't he in heaven, the bliggard,' says she.
      'Oh, voh, voh, it's not at home comfortable with your wife an' family that
      you are, Jim Soolivan,' says she, 'but in the other world, you aumathaun,
      in glory wid the saints I hope,' says she. 'It's I that's the unforthunate
      famale,' says she, 'an' not yourself, Jim Soolivan,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' this way she kep' an till mornin', cryin' and lamintin; an' wid the
      first light she called up all the sarvint bys, an' she tould them to go
      out an' to sarch every inch iv ground to find the corpse, 'for I'm sure,'
      says she, 'it's not to go hide himself he would,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, they went as well as they could, rummagin' through the snow, antil,
      at last, what should they come to, sure enough, but the corpse of a poor
      thravelling man, that fell over the quarry the night before by rason of
      the snow and some liquor he had, maybe; but, at any rate, he was as dead
      as a herrin', an' his face was knocked all to pieces jist like an
      over-boiled pitaty, glory be to God; an' divil a taste iv a nose or a
      chin, or a hill or a hollow from one end av his face to the other but was
      all as flat as a pancake. An' he was about Jim Soolivan's size, an'
      dhressed out exactly the same, wid a ridin' coat an' new corderhoys; so
      they carried him home, an' they were all as sure as daylight it was Jim
      Soolivan himself, an' they were wondhering he'd do sich a dirty turn as to
      go kill himself for spite.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, your honour, they waked him as well as they could, with what
      neighbours they could git togither, but by rason iv the snow, there wasn't
      enough gothered to make much divarsion; however it was a plisint wake
      enough, an' the churchyard an' the priest bein' convanient, as soon as the
      youngsthers had their bit iv fun and divarsion out iv the corpse, they
      burried it without a great dale iv throuble; an' about three days afther
      the berrin, ould Jim Mallowney, from th'other side iv the little hill, her
      own cousin by the mother's side&mdash;he had a snug bit iv a farm an' a
      house close by, by the same token&mdash;kem walkin' in to see how she was
      in her health, an' he dhrew a chair, an' he sot down an' beginned to
      convarse her about one thing an' another, antil he got her quite an' asy
      into middlin' good humour, an' as soon as he seen it was time:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'm wondherin', says he, 'Nell Gorman, sich a handsome, likely girl, id
      be thinkin' iv nothin' but lamintin' an' the likes,' says he, 'an'
      lingerin' away her days without any consolation, or gettin' a husband,'
      says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh,' says she, 'isn't it only three days since I burried the poor man,'
      says she, 'an' isn't it rather soon to be talkin iv marryin' agin?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Divil a taste,' says he, 'three days is jist the time to a minute for
      cryin' afther a husband, an' there's no occasion in life to be keepin' it
      up,' says he; 'an' besides all that,' says he, 'Shrovetide is almost over,
      an' if you don't be sturrin' yourself an' lookin' about you, you'll be
      late,' says he, 'for this year at any rate, an' that's twelve months lost;
      an' who's to look afther the farm all that time,' says he, 'an' to keep
      the men to their work?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's thrue for you, Jim Mallowney,' says she, 'but I'm afeard the
      neighbours will be all talkin' about it,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Divil's cure to the word,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' who would you advise?' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Young Andy Curtis is the boy,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'He's a likely boy in himself,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' as handy a gossoon as is out,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, thin, Jim Mallowney,' says she, 'here's my hand, an' you may be
      talkin' to Andy Curtis, an' if he's willin' I'm agreeble&mdash;is that
      enough?' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      So with that he made off with himself straight to Andy Curtis; an' before
      three days more was past, the weddin' kem an', an' Nell Gorman an' Andy
      Curtis was married as complate as possible; an' if the wake was plisint
      the weddin' was tin times as agreeble, an' all the neighbours that could
      make their way to it was there, an' there was three fiddlers an' lots iv
      pipers, an' ould Connor Shamus(1) the piper himself was in it&mdash;by the
      same token it was the last weddin' he ever played music at, for the next
      mornin', whin he was goin' home, bein' mighty hearty an' plisint in
      himself, he was smothered in the snow, undher the ould castle; an' by my
      sowl he was a sore loss to the bys an' girls twenty miles round, for he
      was the illigantest piper, barrin' the liquor alone, that ever worked a
      bellas.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     (1) Literally, Cornelius James&mdash;the last name employed as a
     patronymic. Connor is commonly used. Corney, pronounced
     Kurny, is just as much used in the South, as the short name
     for Cornelius.
</pre>
    <p>
      Well, a week passed over smart enough, an' Nell an' her new husband was
      mighty well continted with one another, for it was too soon for her to
      begin to regulate him the way she used with poor Jim Soolivan, so they wor
      comfortable enough; but this was too good to last, for the thaw kem an',
      an' you may be sure Jim Soolivan didn't lose a minute's time as soon as
      the heavy dhrift iv snow was melted enough between him and home to let him
      pass, for he didn't hear a word iv news from home sinst he lift it, by
      rason that no one, good nor bad, could thravel at all, with the way the
      snow was dhrifted.
    </p>
    <p>
      So one night, when Nell Gorman an' her new husband, Andy Curtis, was snug
      an' warm in bed, an' fast asleep, an' everything quite, who should come to
      the door, sure enough, but Jim Soolivan himself, an' he beginned flakin'
      the door wid a big blackthorn stick he had, an' roarin' out like the divil
      to open the door, for he had a dhrop taken.
    </p>
    <p>
      'What the divil's the matther?' says Andy Curtis, wakenin' out iv his
      sleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Who's batin' the door?' says Nell; 'what's all the noise for?' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Who's in it?' says Andy.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's me,' says Jim.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Who are you?' says Andy; 'what's your name?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Jim Soolivan,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'By jabers, you lie,' says Andy.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Wait till I get at you,' says Jim, hittin' the door a lick iv the wattle
      you'd hear half a mile off.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's him, sure enough,' says Nell; 'I know his speech; it's his
      wandherin' sowl that can't get rest, the crass o' Christ betune us an'
      harm.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Let me in,' says Jim, 'or I'll dhrive the door in a top iv yis.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Jim Soolivan&mdash;Jim Soolivan,' says Nell, sittin' up in the bed, an'
      gropin' for a quart bottle iv holy wather she used to hang by the back iv
      the bed, 'don't come in, darlin'&mdash;there's holy wather here,' says
      she; 'but tell me from where you are is there anything that's throublin'
      your poor sinful sowl?' says she. 'An' tell me how many masses 'ill make
      you asy, an' by this crass, I'll buy you as many as you want,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I don't know what the divil you mane,' says Jim.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Go back,' says she, 'go back to glory, for God's sake,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Divil's cure to the bit iv me 'ill go back to glory, or anywhere else,'
      says he, 'this blessed night; so open the door at onst' an' let me in,'
      says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The Lord forbid,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'By jabers, you'd betther,' says he, 'or it 'ill be the worse for you,'
      says he; an' wid that he fell to wallopin' the door till he was fairly
      tired, an' Andy an' his wife crassin' themselves an' sayin' their prayers
      for the bare life all the time.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Jim Soolivan,' says she, as soon as he was done, 'go back, for God's
      sake, an' don't be freakenin' me an' your poor fatherless childhren,' says
      she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Why, you bosthoon, you,' says Jim, 'won't you let your husband in,' says
      he, 'to his own house?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You WOR my husband, sure enough,' says she, 'but it's well you know, Jim
      Soolivan, you're not my husband NOW,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You're as dhrunk as can be consaved, says Jim.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Go back, in God's name, pacibly to your grave,' says Nell.
    </p>
    <p>
      'By my sowl, it's to my grave you'll sind me, sure enough,' says he, 'you
      hard-hearted bain', for I'm jist aff wid the cowld,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Jim Sulivan,' says she, 'it's in your dacent coffin you should be, you
      unforthunate sperit,' says she; 'what is it's annoyin' your sowl, in the
      wide world, at all?' says she; 'hadn't you everything complate?' says she,
      'the oil, an' the wake, an' the berrin'?' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Och, by the hoky,' says Jim, 'it's too long I'm makin' a fool iv mysilf,
      gostherin' wid you outside iv my own door,' says he, 'for it's plain to be
      seen,' says he, 'you don't know what your're sayin', an' no one ELSE knows
      what you mane, you unforthunate fool,' says he; 'so, onst for all, open
      the door quietly,' says he, 'or, by my sowkins, I'll not lave a splinther
      together,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, whin Nell an' Andy seen he was getting vexed, they beginned to bawl
      out their prayers, with the fright, as if the life was lavin' them; an'
      the more he bate the door, the louder they prayed, until at last Jim was
      fairly tired out.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Bad luck to you,' says he; 'for a rale divil av a woman,' says he. I
      'can't get any advantage av you, any way; but wait till I get hould iv
      you, that's all,' says he. An' he turned aff from the door, an' wint round
      to the cow-house, an' settled himself as well as he could, in the sthraw;
      an' he was tired enough wid the thravellin' he had in the day-time, an' a
      good dale bothered with what liquor he had taken; so he was purty sure of
      sleepin' wherever he thrun himself.
    </p>
    <p>
      But, by my sowl, it wasn't the same way with the man an' the woman in the
      house&mdash;for divil a wink iv sleep, good or bad, could they get at all,
      wid the fright iv the sperit, as they supposed; an' with the first light
      they sint a little gossoon, as fast as he could wag, straight off, like a
      shot, to the priest, an' to desire him, for the love o' God, to come to
      them an the minute, an' to bring, if it was plasin' to his raverence, all
      the little things he had for sayin' mass, an' savin' sowls, an' banishin'
      sperits, an' freakenin' the divil, an' the likes iv that. An' it wasn't
      long till his raverence kem down, sure enough, on the ould grey mare, wid
      the little mass-boy behind him, an' the prayer-books an' Bibles, an' all
      the other mystarious articles that was wantin', along wid him; an' as soon
      as he kem in, 'God save all here,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'God save ye, kindly, your raverence,' says they.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' what's gone wrong wid ye?' says he; 'ye must be very bad,' says he,'
      entirely, to disturb my devotions,' says he, 'this way, jist at
      breakfast-time,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'By my sowkins,' says Nell, 'it's bad enough we are, your raverence,' says
      she, 'for it's poor Jim's sperit,' says she; 'God rest his sowl, wherever
      it is,' says she, 'that was wandherin' up an' down, opossite the door all
      night,' says she, 'in the way it was no use at all, thryin' to get a wink
      iv sleep,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's to lay it, you want me, I suppose,' says the priest.
    </p>
    <p>
      'If your raverence 'id do that same, it 'id be plasin' to us,' says Andy.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It'll be rather expinsive,' says the priest.
    </p>
    <p>
      'We'll not differ about the price, your raverence,' says Andy.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Did the sperit stop long?' says the priest.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Most part iv the night,' says Nell, 'the Lord be merciful to us all!'
      says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'That'll make it more costly than I thought,' says he. 'An' did it make
      much noise?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'By my sowl, it's it that did,' says Andy; 'leatherin' the door wid sticks
      and stones,' says he, 'antil I fairly thought every minute,' says he, 'the
      ould boords id smash, an' the sperit id be in an top iv us&mdash;God bless
      us,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Phiew!' says the priest; 'it'll cost a power iv money.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, your raverence,' says Andy, 'take whatever you like,' says he;
      'only make sure it won't annoy us any more,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh! by my sowkins,' says the priest, 'it'll be the quarest ghost in the
      siven parishes,' says he, 'if it has the courage to come back,' says he,
      'afther what I'll do this mornin', plase God,' says he; 'so we'll say
      twelve pounds; an' God knows it's chape enough,' says he, 'considherin'
      all the sarcumstances,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, there wasn't a second word to the bargain; so they paid him the
      money down, an' he sot the table doun like an althar, before the door, an'
      he settled it out vid all the things he had wid him; an' he lit a bit iv a
      holy candle, an' he scathered his holy wather right an' left; an' he took
      up a big book, an' he wint an readin' for half an hour, good; an' whin he
      kem to the end, he tuck hould iv his little bell, and he beginned to ring
      it for the bare life; an', by my sowl, he rung it so well, that he wakened
      Jim Sulivan in the cowhouse, where he was sleepin', an' up he jumped,
      widout a minute's delay, an' med right for the house, where all the
      family, an' the priest, an' the little mass-boy was assimbled, layin' the
      ghost; an' as soon as his raverence seen him comin' in at the door, wid
      the fair fright, he flung the bell at his head, an' hot him sich a lick iv
      it in the forehead, that he sthretched him on the floor; but fain; he
      didn't wait to ax any questions, but he cut round the table as if the
      divil was afther him, an' out at the door, an' didn't stop even as much as
      to mount an his mare, but leathered away down the borheen as fast as his
      legs could carry him, though the mud was up to his knees, savin' your
      presence.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, by the time Jim kem to himself, the family persaved the mistake, an'
      Andy wint home, lavin' Nell to make the explanation. An' as soon as Jim
      heerd it all, he said he was quite contint to lave her to Andy, entirely;
      but the priest would not hear iv it; an' he jist med him marry his wife
      over again, an' a merry weddin' it was, an' a fine collection for his
      raverence. An' Andy was there along wid the rest, an' the priest put a
      small pinnance upon him, for bein' in too great a hurry to marry a widdy.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' bad luck to the word he'd allow anyone to say an the business, ever
      after, at all, at all; so, av coorse, no one offinded his raverence, by
      spakin' iv the twelve pounds he got for layin' the sperit.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' the neighbours wor all mighty well plased, to be sure, for gettin' all
      the divarsion of a wake, an' two weddin's for nothin.'
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF A TYRONE FAMILY
    </h2>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     Being a Tenth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis
     Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.
</pre>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      INTRODUCTION.
    </h2>
    <p>
      In the following narrative, I have endeavoured to give as nearly as
      possible the ipsissima verba of the valued friend from whom I received it,
      conscious that any aberration from HER mode of telling the tale of her own
      life would at once impair its accuracy and its effect.
    </p>
    <p>
      Would that, with her words, I could also bring before you her animated
      gesture, her expressive countenance, the solemn and thrilling air and
      accent with which she related the dark passages in her strange story; and,
      above all, that I could communicate the impressive consciousness that the
      narrator had seen with her own eyes, and personally acted in the scenes
      which she described; these accompaniments, taken with the additional
      circumstance that she who told the tale was one far too deeply and sadly
      impressed with religious principle to misrepresent or fabricate what she
      repeated as fact, gave to the tale a depth of interest which the events
      recorded could hardly, themselves, have produced.
    </p>
    <p>
      I became acquainted with the lady from whose lips I heard this narrative
      nearly twenty years since, and the story struck my fancy so much that I
      committed it to paper while it was still fresh in my mind; and should its
      perusal afford you entertainment for a listless half hour, my labour shall
      not have been bestowed in vain.
    </p>
    <p>
      I find that I have taken the story down as she told it, in the first
      person, and perhaps this is as it should be.
    </p>
    <p>
      She began as follows:
    </p>
    <p>
      My maiden name was Richardson,(1) the designation of a family of some
      distinction in the county of Tyrone. I was the younger of two daughters,
      and we were the only children. There was a difference in our ages of
      nearly six years, so that I did not, in my childhood, enjoy that close
      companionship which sisterhood, in other circumstances, necessarily
      involves; and while I was still a child, my sister was married.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     (1) I have carefully altered the names as they appear in the
     original MSS., for the reader will see that some of the
     circumstances recorded are not of a kind to reflect honour
     upon those involved in them; and as many are still living,
     in every way honoured and honourable, who stand in close
     relation to the principal actors in this drama, the reader
     will see the necessity of the course which we have adopted.
</pre>
    <p>
      The person upon whom she bestowed her hand was a Mr. Carew, a gentleman of
      property and consideration in the north of England.
    </p>
    <p>
      I remember well the eventful day of the wedding; the thronging carriages,
      the noisy menials, the loud laughter, the merry faces, and the gay
      dresses. Such sights were then new to me, and harmonised ill with the
      sorrowful feelings with which I regarded the event which was to separate
      me, as it turned out, for ever from a sister whose tenderness alone had
      hitherto more than supplied all that I wanted in my mother's affection.
    </p>
    <p>
      The day soon arrived which was to remove the happy couple from Ashtown
      House. The carriage stood at the hall-door, and my poor sister kissed me
      again and again, telling me that I should see her soon.
    </p>
    <p>
      The carriage drove away, and I gazed after it until my eyes filled with
      tears, and, returning slowly to my chamber, I wept more bitterly and, so
      to speak, more desolately, than ever I had done before.
    </p>
    <p>
      My father had never seemed to love or to take an interest in me. He had
      desired a son, and I think he never thoroughly forgave me my unfortunate
      sex.
    </p>
    <p>
      My having come into the world at all as his child he regarded as a kind of
      fraudulent intrusion, and as his antipathy to me had its origin in an
      imperfection of mine, too radical for removal, I never even hoped to stand
      high in his good graces.
    </p>
    <p>
      My mother was, I dare say, as fond of me as she was of anyone; but she was
      a woman of a masculine and a worldly cast of mind. She had no tenderness
      or sympathy for the weaknesses, or even for the affections, of woman's
      nature and her demeanour towards me was peremptory, and often even harsh.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is not to be supposed, then, that I found in the society of my parents
      much to supply the loss of my sister. About a year after her marriage, we
      received letters from Mr. Carew, containing accounts of my sister's
      health, which, though not actually alarming, were calculated to make us
      seriously uneasy. The symptoms most dwelt upon were loss of appetite and
      cough.
    </p>
    <p>
      The letters concluded by intimating that he would avail himself of my
      father and mother's repeated invitation to spend some time at Ashtown,
      particularly as the physician who had been consulted as to my sister's
      health had strongly advised a removal to her native air.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were added repeated assurances that nothing serious was apprehended,
      as it was supposed that a deranged state of the liver was the only source
      of the symptoms which at first had seemed to intimate consumption.
    </p>
    <p>
      In accordance with this announcement, my sister and Mr. Carew arrived in
      Dublin, where one of my father's carriages awaited them, in readiness to
      start upon whatever day or hour they might choose for their departure.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was arranged that Mr. Carew was, as soon as the day upon which they
      were to leave Dublin was definitely fixed, to write to my father, who
      intended that the two last stages should be performed by his own horses,
      upon whose speed and safety far more reliance might be placed than upon
      those of the ordinary post-horses, which were at that time, almost without
      exception, of the very worst order. The journey, one of about ninety
      miles, was to be divided; the larger portion being reserved for the second
      day.
    </p>
    <p>
      On Sunday a letter reached us, stating that the party would leave Dublin
      on Monday, and, in due course, reach Ashtown upon Tuesday evening.
    </p>
    <p>
      Tuesday came the evening closed in, and yet no carriage; darkness came on,
      and still no sign of our expected visitors.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hour after hour passed away, and it was now past twelve; the night was
      remarkably calm, scarce a breath stirring, so that any sound, such as that
      produced by the rapid movement of a vehicle, would have been audible at a
      considerable distance. For some such sound I was feverishly listening.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was, however, my father's rule to close the house at nightfall, and the
      window-shutters being fastened, I was unable to reconnoitre the avenue as
      I would have wished. It was nearly one o'clock, and we began almost to
      despair of seeing them upon that night, when I thought I distinguished the
      sound of wheels, but so remote and faint as to make me at first very
      uncertain. The noise approached; it became louder and clearer; it stopped
      for a moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      I now heard the shrill screaming of the rusty iron, as the avenue-gate
      revolved on its hinges; again came the sound of wheels in rapid motion.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It is they,' said I, starting up; 'the carriage is in the avenue.'
    </p>
    <p>
      We all stood for a few moments breathlessly listening. On thundered the
      vehicle with the speed of a whirlwind; crack went the whip, and clatter
      went the wheels, as it rattled over the uneven pavement of the court. A
      general and furious barking from all the dogs about the house, hailed its
      arrival.
    </p>
    <p>
      We hurried to the hall in time to hear the steps let down with the sharp
      clanging noise peculiar to the operation, and the hum of voices exerted in
      the bustle of arrival. The hall-door was now thrown open, and we all
      stepped forth to greet our visitors.
    </p>
    <p>
      The court was perfectly empty; the moon was shining broadly and brightly
      upon all around; nothing was to be seen but the tall trees with their long
      spectral shadows, now wet with the dews of midnight.
    </p>
    <p>
      We stood gazing from right to left, as if suddenly awakened from a dream;
      the dogs walked suspiciously, growling and snuffing about the court, and
      by totally and suddenly ceasing their former loud barking, expressing the
      predominance of fear.
    </p>
    <p>
      We stared one upon another in perplexity and dismay, and I think I never
      beheld more pale faces assembled. By my father's direction, we looked
      about to find anything which might indicate or account for the noise which
      we had heard; but no such thing was to be seen&mdash;even the mire which
      lay upon the avenue was undisturbed. We returned to the house, more
      panic-struck than I can describe.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the next day, we learned by a messenger, who had ridden hard the
      greater part of the night, that my sister was dead. On Sunday evening, she
      had retired to bed rather unwell, and, on Monday, her indisposition
      declared itself unequivocally to be malignant fever. She became hourly
      worse and, on Tuesday night, a little after midnight, she expired.(2)
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     (2) The residuary legatee of the late Frances Purcell, who
     has the honour of selecting such of his lamented old
     friend's manuscripts as may appear fit for publication, in
     order that the lore which they contain may reach the world
     before scepticism and utility have robbed our species of the
     precious gift of credulity, and scornfully kicked before
     them, or trampled into annihilation those harmless fragments
     of picturesque superstition which it is our object to
     preserve, has been subjected to the charge of dealing too
     largely in the marvellous; and it has been half insinuated
     that such is his love for diablerie, that he is content to
     wander a mile out of his way, in order to meet a fiend or a
     goblin, and thus to sacrifice all regard for truth and
     accuracy to the idle hope of affrighting the imagination,
     and thus pandering to the bad taste of his reader. He begs
     leave, then, to take this opportunity of asserting his
     perfect innocence of all the crimes laid to his charge, and
     to assure his reader that he never PANDERED TO HIS BAD
     TASTE, nor went one inch out of his way to introduce witch,
     fairy, devil, ghost, or any other of the grim fraternity of
     the redoubted Raw-head-and-bloody-bones. His province,
     touching these tales, has been attended with no difficulty
     and little responsibility; indeed, he is accountable for
     nothing more than an alteration in the names of persons
     mentioned therein, when such a step seemed necessary, and
     for an occasional note, whenever he conceived it possible,
     innocently, to edge in a word. These tales have been WRITTEN
     DOWN, as the heading of each announces, by the Rev. Francis
     Purcell, P.P., of Drumcoolagh; and in all the instances,
     which are many, in which the present writer has had an
     opportunity of comparing the manuscript of his departed
     friend with the actual traditions which are current amongst
     the families whose fortunes they pretend to illustrate, he
     has uniformly found that whatever of supernatural occurred
     in the story, so far from having been exaggerated by him,
     had been rather softened down, and, wherever it could be
     attempted, accounted for.
</pre>
    <p>
      I mention this circumstance, because it was one upon which a thousand wild
      and fantastical reports were founded, though one would have thought that
      the truth scarcely required to be improved upon; and again, because it
      produced a strong and lasting effect upon my spirits, and indeed, I am
      inclined to think, upon my character.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was, for several years after this occurrence, long after the violence of
      my grief subsided, so wretchedly low-spirited and nervous, that I could
      scarcely be said to live; and during this time, habits of indecision,
      arising out of a listless acquiescence in the will of others, a fear of
      encountering even the slightest opposition, and a disposition to shrink
      from what are commonly called amusements, grew upon me so strongly, that I
      have scarcely even yet altogether overcome them.
    </p>
    <p>
      We saw nothing more of Mr. Carew. He returned to England as soon as the
      melancholy rites attendant upon the event which I have just mentioned were
      performed; and not being altogether inconsolable, he married again within
      two years; after which, owing to the remoteness of our relative
      situations, and other circumstances, we gradually lost sight of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was now an only child; and, as my elder sister had died without issue,
      it was evident that, in the ordinary course of things, my father's
      property, which was altogether in his power, would go to me; and the
      consequence was, that before I was fourteen, Ashtown House was besieged by
      a host of suitors. However, whether it was that I was too young, or that
      none of the aspirants to my hand stood sufficiently high in rank or
      wealth, I was suffered by both parents to do exactly as I pleased; and
      well was it for me, as I afterwards found, that fortune, or rather
      Providence, had so ordained it, that I had not suffered my affections to
      become in any degree engaged, for my mother would never have suffered any
      SILLY FANCY of mine, as she was in the habit of styling an attachment, to
      stand in the way of her ambitious views&mdash;views which she was
      determined to carry into effect, in defiance of every obstacle, and in
      order to accomplish which she would not have hesitated to sacrifice
      anything so unreasonable and contemptible as a girlish passion.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I reached the age of sixteen, my mother's plans began to develop
      themselves; and, at her suggestion, we moved to Dublin to sojourn for the
      winter, in order that no time might be lost in disposing of me to the best
      advantage.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had been too long accustomed to consider myself as of no importance
      whatever, to believe for a moment that I was in reality the cause of all
      the bustle and preparation which surrounded me, and being thus relieved
      from the pain which a consciousness of my real situation would have
      inflicted, I journeyed towards the capital with a feeling of total
      indifference.
    </p>
    <p>
      My father's wealth and connection had established him in the best society,
      and, consequently, upon our arrival in the metropolis we commanded
      whatever enjoyment or advantages its gaieties afforded.
    </p>
    <p>
      The tumult and novelty of the scenes in which I was involved did not fail
      considerably to amuse me, and my mind gradually recovered its tone, which
      was naturally cheerful.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was almost immediately known and reported that I was an heiress, and of
      course my attractions were pretty generally acknowledged.
    </p>
    <p>
      Among the many gentlemen whom it was my fortune to please, one, ere long,
      established himself in my mother's good graces, to the exclusion of all
      less important aspirants. However, I had not understood or even remarked
      his attentions, nor in the slightest degree suspected his or my mother's
      plans respecting me, when I was made aware of them rather abruptly by my
      mother herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      We had attended a splendid ball, given by Lord M&mdash;&mdash;, at his
      residence in Stephen's Green, and I was, with the assistance of my
      waiting-maid, employed in rapidly divesting myself of the rich ornaments
      which, in profuseness and value, could scarcely have found their equals in
      any private family in Ireland.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had thrown myself into a lounging-chair beside the fire, listless and
      exhausted, after the fatigues of the evening, when I was aroused from the
      reverie into which I had fallen by the sound of footsteps approaching my
      chamber, and my mother entered.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Fanny, my dear,' said she, in her softest tone, 'I wish to say a word or
      two with you before I go to rest. You are not fatigued, love, I hope?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'No, no, madam, I thank you,' said I, rising at the same time from my
      seat, with the formal respect so little practised now.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Sit down, my dear,' said she, placing herself upon a chair beside me; 'I
      must chat with you for a quarter of an hour or so. Saunders' (to the maid)
      'you may leave the room; do not close the room-door, but shut that of the
      lobby.'
    </p>
    <p>
      This precaution against curious ears having been taken as directed, my
      mother proceeded.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You have observed, I should suppose, my dearest Fanny&mdash;indeed, you
      MUST have observed Lord Glenfallen's marked attentions to you?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I assure you, madam&mdash;&mdash;' I began.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, well, that is all right,' interrupted my mother; 'of course you
      must be modest upon the matter; but listen to me for a few moments, my
      love, and I will prove to your satisfaction that your modesty is quite
      unnecessary in this case. You have done better than we could have hoped,
      at least so very soon. Lord Glenfallen is in love with you. I give you joy
      of your conquest;' and saying this, my mother kissed my forehead.
    </p>
    <p>
      'In love with me!' I exclaimed, in unfeigned astonishment.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Yes, in love with you,' repeated my mother; 'devotedly, distractedly in
      love with you. Why, my dear, what is there wonderful in it? Look in the
      glass, and look at these,' she continued, pointing with a smile to the
      jewels which I had just removed from my person, and which now lay a
      glittering heap upon the table.
    </p>
    <p>
      'May there not,' said I, hesitating between confusion and real alarm&mdash;'is
      it not possible that some mistake may be at the bottom of all this?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Mistake, dearest! none,' said my mother. 'None; none in the world. Judge
      for yourself; read this, my love.' And she placed in my hand a letter,
      addressed to herself, the seal of which was broken. I read it through with
      no small surprise. After some very fine complimentary flourishes upon my
      beauty and perfections, as also upon the antiquity and high reputation of
      our family, it went on to make a formal proposal of marriage, to be
      communicated or not to me at present, as my mother should deem expedient;
      and the letter wound up by a request that the writer might be permitted,
      upon our return to Ashtown House, which was soon to take place, as the
      spring was now tolerably advanced, to visit us for a few days, in case his
      suit was approved.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, well, my dear,' said my mother, impatiently; 'do you know who Lord
      Glenfallen is?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I do, madam,' said I rather timidly, for I dreaded an altercation with my
      mother.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, dear, and what frightens you?' continued she. 'Are you afraid of a
      title? What has he done to alarm you? he is neither old nor ugly.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I was silent, though I might have said, 'He is neither young nor
      handsome.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'My dear Fanny,' continued my mother, 'in sober seriousness you have been
      most fortunate in engaging the affections of a nobleman such as Lord
      Glenfallen, young and wealthy, with first-rate&mdash;yes, acknowledged
      FIRST-RATE abilities, and of a family whose influence is not exceeded by
      that of any in Ireland. Of course you see the offer in the same light that
      I do&mdash;indeed I think you MUST.'
    </p>
    <p>
      This was uttered in no very dubious tone. I was so much astonished by the
      suddenness of the whole communication that I literally did not know what
      to say.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You are not in love?' said my mother, turning sharply, and fixing her
      dark eyes upon me with severe scrutiny.
    </p>
    <p>
      'No, madam,' said I, promptly; horrified, as what young lady would not
      have been, at such a query.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'm glad to hear it,' said my mother, drily. 'Once, nearly twenty years
      ago, a friend of mine consulted me as to how he should deal with a
      daughter who had made what they call a love-match&mdash;beggared herself,
      and disgraced her family; and I said, without hesitation, take no care for
      her, but cast her off. Such punishment I awarded for an offence committed
      against the reputation of a family not my own; and what I advised
      respecting the child of another, with full as small compunction I would DO
      with mine. I cannot conceive anything more unreasonable or intolerable
      than that the fortune and the character of a family should be marred by
      the idle caprices of a girl.'
    </p>
    <p>
      She spoke this with great severity, and paused as if she expected some
      observation from me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I, however, said nothing.
    </p>
    <p>
      'But I need not explain to you, my dear Fanny,' she continued, 'my views
      upon this subject; you have always known them well, and I have never yet
      had reason to believe you likely, voluntarily, to offend me, or to abuse
      or neglect any of those advantages which reason and duty tell you should
      be improved. Come hither, my dear; kiss me, and do not look so frightened.
      Well, now, about this letter, you need not answer it yet; of course you
      must be allowed time to make up your mind. In the meantime I will write to
      his lordship to give him my permission to visit us at Ashtown. Good-night,
      my love.'
    </p>
    <p>
      And thus ended one of the most disagreeable, not to say astounding,
      conversations I had ever had. It would not be easy to describe exactly
      what were my feelings towards Lord Glenfallen;&mdash;whatever might have
      been my mother's suspicions, my heart was perfectly disengaged&mdash;and
      hitherto, although I had not been made in the slightest degree acquainted
      with his real views, I had liked him very much, as an agreeable,
      well-informed man, whom I was always glad to meet in society. He had
      served in the navy in early life, and the polish which his manners
      received in his after intercourse with courts and cities had not served to
      obliterate that frankness of manner which belongs proverbially to the
      sailor.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whether this apparent candour went deeper than the outward bearing, I was
      yet to learn. However, there was no doubt that, as far as I had seen of
      Lord Glenfallen, he was, though perhaps not so young as might have been
      desired in a lover, a singularly pleasing man; and whatever feeling
      unfavourable to him had found its way into my mind, arose altogether from
      the dread, not an unreasonable one, that constraint might be practised
      upon my inclinations. I reflected, however, that Lord Glenfallen was a
      wealthy man, and one highly thought of; and although I could never expect
      to love him in the romantic sense of the term, yet I had no doubt but
      that, all things considered, I might be more happy with him than I could
      hope to be at home.
    </p>
    <p>
      When next I met him it was with no small embarrassment, his tact and good
      breeding, however, soon reassured me, and effectually prevented my
      awkwardness being remarked upon. And I had the satisfaction of leaving
      Dublin for the country with the full conviction that nobody, not even
      those most intimate with me, even suspected the fact of Lord Glenfallen's
      having made me a formal proposal.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was to me a very serious subject of self-gratulation, for, besides my
      instinctive dread of becoming the topic of the speculations of gossip, I
      felt that if the situation which I occupied in relation to him were made
      publicly known, I should stand committed in a manner which would scarcely
      leave me the power of retraction.
    </p>
    <p>
      The period at which Lord Glenfallen had arranged to visit Ashtown House
      was now fast approaching, and it became my mother's wish to form me
      thoroughly to her will, and to obtain my consent to the proposed marriage
      before his arrival, so that all things might proceed smoothly, without
      apparent opposition or objection upon my part. Whatever objections,
      therefore, I had entertained were to be subdued; whatever disposition to
      resistance I had exhibited or had been supposed to feel, were to be
      completely eradicated before he made his appearance; and my mother
      addressed herself to the task with a decision and energy against which
      even the barriers, which her imagination had created, could hardly have
      stood.
    </p>
    <p>
      If she had, however, expected any determined opposition from me, she was
      agreeably disappointed. My heart was perfectly free, and all my feelings
      of liking and preference were in favour of Lord Glenfallen; and I well
      knew that in case I refused to dispose of myself as I was desired, my
      mother had alike the power and the will to render my existence as utterly
      miserable as even the most ill-assorted marriage could possibly have done.
    </p>
    <p>
      You will remember, my good friend, that I was very young and very
      completely under the control of my parents, both of whom, my mother
      particularly, were unscrupulously determined in matters of this kind, and
      willing, when voluntary obedience on the part of those within their power
      was withheld, to compel a forced acquiescence by an unsparing use of all
      the engines of the most stern and rigorous domestic discipline.
    </p>
    <p>
      All these combined, not unnaturally, induced me to resolve upon yielding
      at once, and without useless opposition, to what appeared almost to be my
      fate.
    </p>
    <p>
      The appointed time was come, and my now accepted suitor arrived; he was in
      high spirits, and, if possible, more entertaining than ever.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was not, however, quite in the mood to enjoy his sprightliness; but
      whatever I wanted in gaiety was amply made up in the triumphant and
      gracious good-humour of my mother, whose smiles of benevolence and
      exultation were showered around as bountifully as the summer sunshine.
    </p>
    <p>
      I will not weary you with unnecessary prolixity. Let it suffice to say,
      that I was married to Lord Glenfallen with all the attendant pomp and
      circumstance of wealth, rank, and grandeur. According to the usage of the
      times, now humanely reformed, the ceremony was made, until long past
      midnight, the season of wild, uproarious, and promiscuous feasting and
      revelry.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of all this I have a painfully vivid recollection, and particularly of the
      little annoyances inflicted upon me by the dull and coarse jokes of the
      wits and wags who abound in all such places, and upon all such occasions.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was not sorry when, after a few days, Lord Glenfallen's carriage
      appeared at the door to convey us both from Ashtown; for any change would
      have been a relief from the irksomeness of ceremonial and formality which
      the visits received in honour of my newly-acquired titles hourly entailed
      upon me.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was arranged that we were to proceed to Cahergillagh, one of the
      Glenfallen estates, lying, however, in a southern county, so that, owing
      to the difficulty of the roads at the time, a tedious journey of three
      days intervened.
    </p>
    <p>
      I set forth with my noble companion, followed by the regrets of some, and
      by the envy of many; though God knows I little deserved the latter. The
      three days of travel were now almost spent, when, passing the brow of a
      wild heathy hill, the domain of Cahergillagh opened suddenly upon our
      view.
    </p>
    <p>
      It formed a striking and a beautiful scene. A lake of considerable extent
      stretching away towards the west, and reflecting from its broad, smooth
      waters, the rich glow of the setting sun, was overhung by steep hills,
      covered by a rich mantle of velvet sward, broken here and there by the
      grey front of some old rock, and exhibiting on their shelving sides, their
      slopes and hollows, every variety of light and shade; a thick wood of
      dwarf oak, birch, and hazel skirted these hills, and clothed the shores of
      the lake, running out in rich luxuriance upon every promontory, and
      spreading upward considerably upon the side of the hills.
    </p>
    <p>
      'There lies the enchanted castle,' said Lord Glenfallen, pointing towards
      a considerable level space intervening between two of the picturesque
      hills, which rose dimly around the lake.
    </p>
    <p>
      This little plain was chiefly occupied by the same low, wild wood which
      covered the other parts of the domain; but towards the centre a mass of
      taller and statelier forest trees stood darkly grouped together, and among
      them stood an ancient square tower, with many buildings of a humbler
      character, forming together the manorhouse, or, as it was more usually
      called, the Court of Cahergillagh.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we approached the level upon which the mansion stood, the winding road
      gave us many glimpses of the time-worn castle and its surrounding
      buildings; and seen as it was through the long vistas of the fine old
      trees, and with the rich glow of evening upon it, I have seldom beheld an
      object more picturesquely striking.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was glad to perceive, too, that here and there the blue curling smoke
      ascended from stacks of chimneys now hidden by the rich, dark ivy which,
      in a great measure, covered the building. Other indications of comfort
      made themselves manifest as we approached; and indeed, though the place
      was evidently one of considerable antiquity, it had nothing whatever of
      the gloom of decay about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You must not, my love,' said Lord Glenfallen, 'imagine this place worse
      than it is. I have no taste for antiquity&mdash;at least I should not
      choose a house to reside in because it is old. Indeed I do not recollect
      that I was even so romantic as to overcome my aversion to rats and
      rheumatism, those faithful attendants upon your noble relics of feudalism;
      and I much prefer a snug, modern, unmysterious bedroom, with well-aired
      sheets, to the waving tapestry, mildewed cushions, and all the other
      interesting appliances of romance. However, though I cannot promise you
      all the discomfort generally belonging to an old castle, you will find
      legends and ghostly lore enough to claim your respect; and if old Martha
      be still to the fore, as I trust she is, you will soon have a supernatural
      and appropriate anecdote for every closet and corner of the mansion; but
      here we are&mdash;so, without more ado, welcome to Cahergillagh!'
    </p>
    <p>
      We now entered the hall of the castle, and while the domestics were
      employed in conveying our trunks and other luggage which we had brought
      with us for immediate use to the apartments which Lord Glenfallen had
      selected for himself and me, I went with him into a spacious sitting-room,
      wainscoted with finely polished black oak, and hung round with the
      portraits of various worthies of the Glenfallen family.
    </p>
    <p>
      This room looked out upon an extensive level covered with the softest
      green sward, and irregularly bounded by the wild wood I have before
      mentioned, through the leafy arcade formed by whose boughs and trunks the
      level beams of the setting sun were pouring. In the distance a group of
      dairymaids were plying their task, which they accompanied throughout with
      snatches of Irish songs which, mellowed by the distance, floated not
      unpleasingly to the ear; and beside them sat or lay, with all the grave
      importance of conscious protection, six or seven large dogs of various
      kinds. Farther in the distance, and through the cloisters of the arching
      wood, two or three ragged urchins were employed in driving such stray kine
      as had wandered farther than the rest to join their fellows.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I looked upon this scene which I have described, a feeling of
      tranquillity and happiness came upon me, which I have never experienced in
      so strong a degree; and so strange to me was the sensation that my eyes
      filled with tears.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen mistook the cause of my emotion, and taking me kindly and
      tenderly by the hand, he said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Do not suppose, my love, that it is my intention to SETTLE here. Whenever
      you desire to leave this, you have only to let me know your wish, and it
      shall be complied with; so I must entreat of you not to suffer any
      circumstances which I can control to give you one moment's uneasiness. But
      here is old Martha; you must be introduced to her, one of the heirlooms of
      our family.'
    </p>
    <p>
      A hale, good-humoured, erect old woman was Martha, and an agreeable
      contrast to the grim, decrepid hag which my fancy had conjured up, as the
      depository of all the horrible tales in which I doubted not this old place
      was most fruitful.
    </p>
    <p>
      She welcomed me and her master with a profusion of gratulations,
      alternately kissing our hands and apologising for the liberty, until at
      length Lord Glenfallen put an end to this somewhat fatiguing ceremonial by
      requesting her to conduct me to my chamber if it were prepared for my
      reception.
    </p>
    <p>
      I followed Martha up an old-fashioned oak staircase into a long, dim
      passage, at the end of which lay the door which communicated with the
      apartments which had been selected for our use; here the old woman
      stopped, and respectfully requested me to proceed.
    </p>
    <p>
      I accordingly opened the door, and was about to enter, when something like
      a mass of black tapestry, as it appeared, disturbed by my sudden approach,
      fell from above the door, so as completely to screen the aperture; the
      startling unexpectedness of the occurrence, and the rustling noise which
      the drapery made in its descent, caused me involuntarily to step two or
      three paces backwards. I turned, smiling and half-ashamed, to the old
      servant, and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'You see what a coward I am.'
    </p>
    <p>
      The woman looked puzzled, and, without saying any more, I was about to
      draw aside the curtain and enter the room, when, upon turning to do so, I
      was surprised to find that nothing whatever interposed to obstruct the
      passage.
    </p>
    <p>
      I went into the room, followed by the servant-woman, and was amazed to
      find that it, like the one below, was wainscoted, and that nothing like
      drapery was to be found near the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Where is it?' said I; 'what has become of it?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'What does your ladyship wish to know?' said the old woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Where is the black curtain that fell across the door, when I attempted
      first to come to my chamber?' answered I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The cross of Christ about us!' said the old woman, turning suddenly pale.
    </p>
    <p>
      'What is the matter, my good friend?' said I; 'you seem frightened.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh no, no, your ladyship,' said the old woman, endeavouring to conceal
      her agitation; but in vain, for tottering towards a chair, she sank into
      it, looking so deadly pale and horror-struck that I thought every moment
      she would faint.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Merciful God, keep us from harm and danger!' muttered she at length.
    </p>
    <p>
      'What can have terrified you so?' said I, beginning to fear that she had
      seen something more than had met my eye. 'You appear ill, my poor woman!'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Nothing, nothing, my lady,' said she, rising. 'I beg your ladyship's
      pardon for making so bold. May the great God defend us from misfortune!'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Martha,' said I, 'something HAS frightened you very much, and I insist on
      knowing what it is; your keeping me in the dark upon the subject will make
      me much more uneasy than anything you could tell me. I desire you,
      therefore, to let me know what agitates you; I command you to tell me.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Your ladyship said you saw a black curtain falling across the door when
      you were coming into the room,' said the old woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I did,' said I; 'but though the whole thing appears somewhat strange, I
      cannot see anything in the matter to agitate you so excessively.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's for no good you saw that, my lady,' said the crone; 'something
      terrible is coming. It's a sign, my lady&mdash;a sign that never fails.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Explain, explain what you mean, my good woman,' said I, in spite of
      myself, catching more than I could account for, of her superstitious
      terror.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Whenever something&mdash;something BAD is going to happen to the
      Glenfallen family, some one that belongs to them sees a black handkerchief
      or curtain just waved or falling before their faces. I saw it myself,'
      continued she, lowering her voice, 'when I was only a little girl, and
      I'll never forget it. I often heard of it before, though I never saw it
      till then, nor since, praised be God. But I was going into Lady Jane's
      room to waken her in the morning; and sure enough when I got first to the
      bed and began to draw the curtain, something dark was waved across the
      division, but only for a moment; and when I saw rightly into the bed,
      there was she lying cold and dead, God be merciful to me! So, my lady,
      there is small blame to me to be daunted when any one of the family sees
      it; for it's many's the story I heard of it, though I saw it but once.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I was not of a superstitious turn of mind, yet I could not resist a
      feeling of awe very nearly allied to the fear which my companion had so
      unreservedly expressed; and when you consider my situation, the
      loneliness, antiquity, and gloom of the place, you will allow that the
      weakness was not without excuse.
    </p>
    <p>
      In spite of old Martha's boding predictions, however, time flowed on in an
      unruffled course. One little incident however, though trifling in itself,
      I must relate, as it serves to make what follows more intelligible.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon the day after my arrival, Lord Glenfallen of course desired to make
      me acquainted with the house and domain; and accordingly we set forth upon
      our ramble. When returning, he became for some time silent and moody, a
      state so unusual with him as considerably to excite my surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      I endeavoured by observations and questions to arouse him&mdash;but in
      vain. At length, as we approached the house, he said, as if speaking to
      himself:
    </p>
    <p>
      ''Twere madness&mdash;madness&mdash;madness,' repeating the words bitterly&mdash;'sure
      and speedy ruin.'
    </p>
    <p>
      There was here a long pause; and at length, turning sharply towards me, in
      a tone very unlike that in which he had hitherto addressed me, he said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Do you think it possible that a woman can keep a secret?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I am sure,' said I, 'that women are very much belied upon the score of
      talkativeness, and that I may answer your question with the same
      directness with which you put it&mdash;I reply that I DO think a woman can
      keep a secret.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'But I do not,' said he, drily.
    </p>
    <p>
      We walked on in silence for a time. I was much astonished at his unwonted
      abruptness&mdash;I had almost said rudeness.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a considerable pause he seemed to recollect himself, and with an
      effort resuming his sprightly manner, he said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, well, the next thing to keeping a secret well is, not to desire to
      possess one&mdash;talkativeness and curiosity generally go together. Now I
      shall make test of you, in the first place, respecting the latter of these
      qualities. I shall be your BLUEBEARD&mdash;tush, why do I trifle thus?
      Listen to me, my dear Fanny; I speak now in solemn earnest. What I desire
      is intimately, inseparably, connected with your happiness and honour as
      well as my own; and your compliance with my request will not be difficult.
      It will impose upon you a very trifling restraint during your sojourn
      here, which certain events which have occurred since our arrival have
      determined me shall not be a long one. You must promise me, upon your
      sacred honour, that you will visit ONLY that part of the castle which can
      be reached from the front entrance, leaving the back entrance and the part
      of the building commanded immediately by it to the menials, as also the
      small garden whose high wall you see yonder; and never at any time seek to
      pry or peep into them, nor to open the door which communicates from the
      front part of the house through the corridor with the back. I do not urge
      this in jest or in caprice, but from a solemn conviction that danger and
      misery will be the certain consequences of your not observing what I
      prescribe. I cannot explain myself further at present. Promise me, then,
      these things, as you hope for peace here, and for mercy hereafter.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I did make the promise as desired, and he appeared relieved; his manner
      recovered all its gaiety and elasticity: but the recollection of the
      strange scene which I have just described dwelt painfully upon my mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      More than a month passed away without any occurrence worth recording; but
      I was not destined to leave Cahergillagh without further adventure. One
      day, intending to enjoy the pleasant sunshine in a ramble through the
      woods, I ran up to my room to procure my bonnet and shawl. Upon entering
      the chamber, I was surprised and somewhat startled to find it occupied.
      Beside the fireplace, and nearly opposite the door, seated in a large,
      old-fashioned elbow-chair, was placed the figure of a lady. She appeared
      to be nearer fifty than forty, and was dressed suitably to her age, in a
      handsome suit of flowered silk; she had a profusion of trinkets and
      jewellery about her person, and many rings upon her fingers. But although
      very rich, her dress was not gaudy or in ill taste. But what was
      remarkable in the lady was, that although her features were handsome, and
      upon the whole pleasing, the pupil of each eye was dimmed with the
      whiteness of cataract, and she was evidently stone-blind. I was for some
      seconds so surprised at this unaccountable apparition, that I could not
      find words to address her.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Madam,' said I, 'there must be some mistake here&mdash;this is my
      bed-chamber.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Marry come up,' said the lady, sharply; 'YOUR chamber! Where is Lord
      Glenfallen?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'He is below, madam,' replied I; 'and I am convinced he will be not a
      little surprised to find you here.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I do not think he will,' said she; 'with your good leave, talk of what
      you know something about. Tell him I want him. Why does the minx
      dilly-dally so?'
    </p>
    <p>
      In spite of the awe which this grim lady inspired, there was something in
      her air of confident superiority which, when I considered our relative
      situations, was not a little irritating.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Do you know, madam, to whom you speak?' said I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I neither know nor care,' said she; 'but I presume that you are some one
      about the house, so again I desire you, if you wish to continue here, to
      bring your master hither forthwith.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I must tell you, madam,' said I, 'that I am Lady Glenfallen.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'What's that?' said the stranger, rapidly.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I say, madam,' I repeated, approaching her that I might be more
      distinctly heard, 'that I am Lady Glenfallen.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'It's a lie, you trull!' cried she, in an accent which made me start, and
      at the same time, springing forward, she seized me in her grasp, and shook
      me violently, repeating, 'It's a lie&mdash;it's a lie!' with a rapidity
      and vehemence which swelled every vein of her face. The violence of her
      action, and the fury which convulsed her face, effectually terrified me,
      and disengaging myself from her grasp, I screamed as loud as I could for
      help. The blind woman continued to pour out a torrent of abuse upon me,
      foaming at the mouth with rage, and impotently shaking her clenched fists
      towards me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I heard Lord Glenfallen's step upon the stairs, and I instantly ran out;
      as I passed him I perceived that he was deadly pale, and just caught the
      words: 'I hope that demon has not hurt you?'
    </p>
    <p>
      I made some answer, I forget what, and he entered the chamber, the door of
      which he locked upon the inside. What passed within I know not; but I
      heard the voices of the two speakers raised in loud and angry altercation.
    </p>
    <p>
      I thought I heard the shrill accents of the woman repeat the words, 'Let
      her look to herself;' but I could not be quite sure. This short sentence,
      however, was, to my alarmed imagination, pregnant with fearful meaning.
    </p>
    <p>
      The storm at length subsided, though not until after a conference of more
      than two long hours. Lord Glenfallen then returned, pale and agitated.
    </p>
    <p>
      'That unfortunate woman,' said he, 'is out of her mind. I daresay she
      treated you to some of her ravings; but you need not dread any further
      interruption from her: I have brought her so far to reason. She did not
      hurt you, I trust.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'No, no,' said I; 'but she terrified me beyond measure.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well,' said he, 'she is likely to behave better for the future; and I
      dare swear that neither you nor she would desire, after what has passed,
      to meet again.'
    </p>
    <p>
      This occurrence, so startling and unpleasant, so involved in mystery, and
      giving rise to so many painful surmises, afforded me no very agreeable
      food for rumination.
    </p>
    <p>
      All attempts on my part to arrive at the truth were baffled; Lord
      Glenfallen evaded all my inquiries, and at length peremptorily forbid any
      further allusion to the matter. I was thus obliged to rest satisfied with
      what I had actually seen, and to trust to time to resolve the perplexities
      in which the whole transaction had involved me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen's temper and spirits gradually underwent a complete and
      most painful change; he became silent and abstracted, his manner to me was
      abrupt and often harsh, some grievous anxiety seemed ever present to his
      mind; and under its influence his spirits sunk and his temper became
      soured.
    </p>
    <p>
      I soon perceived that his gaiety was rather that which the stir and
      excitement of society produce, than the result of a healthy habit of mind;
      every day confirmed me in the opinion, that the considerate good-nature
      which I had so much admired in him was little more than a mere manner; and
      to my infinite grief and surprise, the gay, kind, open-hearted nobleman
      who had for months followed and flattered me, was rapidly assuming the
      form of a gloomy, morose, and singularly selfish man. This was a bitter
      discovery, and I strove to conceal it from myself as long as I could; but
      the truth was not to be denied, and I was forced to believe that Lord
      Glenfallen no longer loved me, and that he was at little pains to conceal
      the alteration in his sentiments.
    </p>
    <p>
      One morning after breakfast, Lord Glenfallen had been for some time
      walking silently up and down the room, buried in his moody reflections,
      when pausing suddenly, and turning towards me, he exclaimed:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I have it&mdash;I have it! We must go abroad, and stay there too; and if
      that does not answer, why&mdash;why, we must try some more effectual
      expedient. Lady Glenfallen, I have become involved in heavy
      embarrassments. A wife, you know, must share the fortunes of her husband,
      for better for worse; but I will waive my right if you prefer remaining
      here&mdash;here at Cahergillagh. For I would not have you seen elsewhere
      without the state to which your rank entitles you; besides, it would break
      your poor mother's heart,' he added, with sneering gravity. 'So make up
      your mind&mdash;Cahergillagh or France. I will start if possible in a
      week, so determine between this and then.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He left the room, and in a few moments I saw him ride past the window,
      followed by a mounted servant. He had directed a domestic to inform me
      that he should not be back until the next day.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was in very great doubt as to what course of conduct I should pursue, as
      to accompanying him in the continental tour so suddenly determined upon. I
      felt that it would be a hazard too great to encounter; for at Cahergillagh
      I had always the consciousness to sustain me, that if his temper at any
      time led him into violent or unwarrantable treatment of me, I had a remedy
      within reach, in the protection and support of my own family, from all
      useful and effective communication with whom, if once in France, I should
      be entirely debarred.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to remaining at Cahergillagh in solitude, and, for aught I knew,
      exposed to hidden dangers, it appeared to me scarcely less objectionable
      than the former proposition; and yet I feared that with one or other I
      must comply, unless I was prepared to come to an actual breach with Lord
      Glenfallen. Full of these unpleasing doubts and perplexities, I retired to
      rest.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was wakened, after having slept uneasily for some hours, by some person
      shaking me rudely by the shoulder; a small lamp burned in my room, and by
      its light, to my horror and amazement, I discovered that my visitant was
      the self-same blind old lady who had so terrified me a few weeks before.
    </p>
    <p>
      I started up in the bed, with a view to ring the bell, and alarm the
      domestics; but she instantly anticipated me by saying:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Do not be frightened, silly girl! If I had wished to harm you I could
      have done it while you were sleeping; I need not have wakened you. Listen
      to me, now, attentively and fearlessly, for what I have to say interests
      you to the full as much as it does me. Tell me here, in the presence of
      God, did Lord Glenfallen marry you&mdash;ACTUALLY MARRY you? Speak the
      truth, woman.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'As surely as I live and speak,' I replied, 'did Lord Glenfallen marry me,
      in presence of more than a hundred witnesses.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well,' continued she, 'he should have told you THEN, before you married
      him, that he had a wife living, which wife I am. I feel you tremble&mdash;tush!
      do not be frightened. I do not mean to harm you. Mark me now&mdash;you are
      NOT his wife. When I make my story known you will be so neither in the eye
      of God nor of man. You must leave this house upon to-morrow. Let the world
      know that your husband has another wife living; go you into retirement,
      and leave him to justice, which will surely overtake him. If you remain in
      this house after to-morrow you will reap the bitter fruits of your sin.'
    </p>
    <p>
      So saying, she quitted the room, leaving me very little disposed to sleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      Here was food for my very worst and most terrible suspicions; still there
      was not enough to remove all doubt. I had no proof of the truth of this
      woman's statement.
    </p>
    <p>
      Taken by itself, there was nothing to induce me to attach weight to it;
      but when I viewed it in connection with the extraordinary mystery of some
      of Lord Glenfallen's proceedings, his strange anxiety to exclude me from
      certain portions of the mansion, doubtless lest I should encounter this
      person&mdash;the strong influence, nay, command which she possessed over
      him, a circumstance clearly established by the very fact of her residing
      in the very place where, of all others, he should least have desired to
      find her&mdash;her thus acting, and continuing to act in direct
      contradiction to his wishes; when, I say, I viewed her disclosure in
      connection with all these circumstances, I could not help feeling that
      there was at least a fearful verisimilitude in the allegations which she
      had made.
    </p>
    <p>
      Still I was not satisfied, nor nearly so. Young minds have a reluctance
      almost insurmountable to believing, upon anything short of unquestionable
      proof, the existence of premeditated guilt in anyone whom they have ever
      trusted; and in support of this feeling I was assured that if the
      assertion of Lord Glenfallen, which nothing in this woman's manner had led
      me to disbelieve, were true, namely that her mind was unsound, the whole
      fabric of my doubts and fears must fall to the ground.
    </p>
    <p>
      I determined to state to Lord Glenfallen freely and accurately the
      substance of the communication which I had just heard, and in his words
      and looks to seek for its proof or refutation. Full of these thoughts, I
      remained wakeful and excited all night, every moment fancying that I heard
      the step or saw the figure of my recent visitor, towards whom I felt a
      species of horror and dread which I can hardly describe.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was something in her face, though her features had evidently been
      handsome, and were not, at first sight, unpleasing, which, upon a nearer
      inspection, seemed to indicate the habitual prevalence and indulgence of
      evil passions, and a power of expressing mere animal anger, with an
      intenseness that I have seldom seen equalled, and to which an almost
      unearthly effect was given by the convulsive quivering of the sightless
      eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      You may easily suppose that it was no very pleasing reflection to me to
      consider that, whenever caprice might induce her to return, I was within
      the reach of this violent and, for aught I knew, insane woman, who had,
      upon that very night, spoken to me in a tone of menace, of which her mere
      words, divested of the manner and look with which she uttered them, can
      convey but a faint idea.
    </p>
    <p>
      Will you believe me when I tell you that I was actually afraid to leave my
      bed in order to secure the door, lest I should again encounter the
      dreadful object lurking in some corner or peeping from behind the
      window-curtains, so very a child was I in my fears.
    </p>
    <p>
      The morning came, and with it Lord Glenfallen. I knew not, and indeed I
      cared not, where he might have been; my thoughts were wholly engrossed by
      the terrible fears and suspicions which my last night's conference had
      suggested to me. He was, as usual, gloomy and abstracted, and I feared in
      no very fitting mood to hear what I had to say with patience, whether the
      charges were true or false.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was, however, determined not to suffer the opportunity to pass, or Lord
      Glenfallen to leave the room, until, at all hazards, I had unburdened my
      mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      'My lord,' said I, after a long silence, summoning up all my firmness&mdash;'my
      lord, I wish to say a few words to you upon a matter of very great
      importance, of very deep concernment to you and to me.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I fixed my eyes upon him to discern, if possible, whether the announcement
      caused him any uneasiness; but no symptom of any such feeling was
      perceptible.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, my dear,' said he, 'this is no doubt a very grave preface, and
      portends, I have no doubt, something extraordinary. Pray let us have it
      without more ado.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He took a chair, and seated himself nearly opposite to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      'My lord,' said I, 'I have seen the person who alarmed me so much a short
      time since, the blind lady, again, upon last night.' His face, upon which
      my eyes were fixed, turned pale; he hesitated for a moment, and then said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'And did you, pray, madam, so totally forget or spurn my express command,
      as to enter that portion of the house from which your promise, I might say
      your oath, excluded you?&mdash;answer me that!' he added fiercely.
    </p>
    <p>
      'My lord,' said I, 'I have neither forgotten your COMMANDS, since such
      they were, nor disobeyed them. I was, last night, wakened from my sleep,
      as I lay in my own chamber, and accosted by the person whom I have
      mentioned. How she found access to the room I cannot pretend to say.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Ha! this must be looked to,' said he, half reflectively; 'and pray,'
      added he, quickly, while in turn he fixed his eyes upon me, 'what did this
      person say? since some comment upon her communication forms, no doubt, the
      sequel to your preface.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Your lordship is not mistaken,' said I; 'her statement was so
      extraordinary that I could not think of withholding it from you. She told
      me, my lord, that you had a wife living at the time you married me, and
      that she was that wife.'
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen became ashy pale, almost livid; he made two or three
      efforts to clear his voice to speak, but in vain, and turning suddenly
      from me, he walked to the window. The horror and dismay which, in the
      olden time, overwhelmed the woman of Endor when her spells unexpectedly
      conjured the dead into her presence, were but types of what I felt when
      thus presented with what appeared to be almost unequivocal evidence of the
      guilt whose existence I had before so strongly doubted.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a silence of some moments, during which it were hard to
      conjecture whether I or my companion suffered most.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen soon recovered his self-command; he returned to the table,
      again sat down and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'What you have told me has so astonished me, has unfolded such a tissue of
      motiveless guilt, and in a quarter from which I had so little reason to
      look for ingratitude or treachery, that your announcement almost deprived
      me of speech; the person in question, however, has one excuse, her mind
      is, as I told you before, unsettled. You should have remembered that, and
      hesitated to receive as unexceptionable evidence against the honour of
      your husband, the ravings of a lunatic. I now tell you that this is the
      last time I shall speak to you upon this subject, and, in the presence of
      the God who is to judge me, and as I hope for mercy in the day of
      judgment, I swear that the charge thus brought against me is utterly
      false, unfounded, and ridiculous; I defy the world in any point to taint
      my honour; and, as I have never taken the opinion of madmen touching your
      character or morals, I think it but fair to require that you will evince a
      like tenderness for me; and now, once for all, never again dare to repeat
      to me your insulting suspicions, or the clumsy and infamous calumnies of
      fools. I shall instantly let the worthy lady who contrived this somewhat
      original device, understand fully my opinion upon the matter. Good
      morning;' and with these words he left me again in doubt, and involved in
      all horrors of the most agonising suspense.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had reason to think that Lord Glenfallen wreaked his vengeance upon the
      author of the strange story which I had heard, with a violence which was
      not satisfied with mere words, for old Martha, with whom I was a great
      favourite, while attending me in my room, told me that she feared her
      master had ill-used the poor blind Dutch woman, for that she had heard her
      scream as if the very life were leaving her, but added a request that I
      should not speak of what she had told me to any one, particularly to the
      master.
    </p>
    <p>
      'How do you know that she is a Dutch woman?' inquired I, anxious to learn
      anything whatever that might throw a light upon the history of this
      person, who seemed to have resolved to mix herself up in my fortunes.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Why, my lady,' answered Martha, 'the master often calls her the Dutch
      hag, and other names you would not like to hear, and I am sure she is
      neither English nor Irish; for, whenever they talk together, they speak
      some queer foreign lingo, and fast enough, I'll be bound. But I ought not
      to talk about her at all; it might be as much as my place is worth to
      mention her&mdash;only you saw her first yourself, so there can be no
      great harm in speaking of her now.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'How long has this lady been here?' continued I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'She came early on the morning after your ladyship's arrival,' answered
      she; 'but do not ask me any more, for the master would think nothing of
      turning me out of doors for daring to speak of her at all, much less to
      you, my lady.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I did not like to press the poor woman further, for her reluctance to
      speak on this topic was evident and strong.
    </p>
    <p>
      You will readily believe that upon the very slight grounds which my
      information afforded, contradicted as it was by the solemn oath of my
      husband, and derived from what was, at best, a very questionable source, I
      could not take any very decisive measure whatever; and as to the menace of
      the strange woman who had thus unaccountably twice intruded herself into
      my chamber, although, at the moment, it occasioned me some uneasiness, it
      was not, even in my eyes, sufficiently formidable to induce my departure
      from Cahergillagh.
    </p>
    <p>
      A few nights after the scene which I have just mentioned, Lord Glenfallen
      having, as usual, early retired to his study, I was left alone in the
      parlour to amuse myself as best I might.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not strange that my thoughts should often recur to the agitating
      scenes in which I had recently taken a part.
    </p>
    <p>
      The subject of my reflections, the solitude, the silence, and the lateness
      of the hour, as also the depression of spirits to which I had of late been
      a constant prey, tended to produce that nervous excitement which places us
      wholly at the mercy of the imagination.
    </p>
    <p>
      In order to calm my spirits I was endeavouring to direct my thoughts into
      some more pleasing channel, when I heard, or thought I heard, uttered,
      within a few yards of me, in an odd, half-sneering tone, the words,
    </p>
    <p>
      'There is blood upon your ladyship's throat.'
    </p>
    <p>
      So vivid was the impression that I started to my feet, and involuntarily
      placed my hand upon my neck.
    </p>
    <p>
      I looked around the room for the speaker, but in vain.
    </p>
    <p>
      I went then to the room-door, which I opened, and peered into the passage,
      nearly faint with horror lest some leering, shapeless thing should greet
      me upon the threshold.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I had gazed long enough to assure myself that no strange object was
      within sight, 'I have been too much of a rake lately; I am racking out my
      nerves,' said I, speaking aloud, with a view to reassure myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      I rang the bell, and, attended by old Martha, I retired to settle for the
      night.
    </p>
    <p>
      While the servant was&mdash;as was her custom&mdash;arranging the lamp
      which I have already stated always burned during the night in my chamber,
      I was employed in undressing, and, in doing so, I had recourse to a large
      looking-glass which occupied a considerable portion of the wall in which
      it was fixed, rising from the ground to a height of about six feet&mdash;this
      mirror filled the space of a large panel in the wainscoting opposite the
      foot of the bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had hardly been before it for the lapse of a minute when something like
      a black pall was slowly waved between me and it.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh, God! there it is,' I exclaimed, wildly. 'I have seen it again, Martha&mdash;the
      black cloth.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'God be merciful to us, then!' answered she, tremulously crossing herself.
      'Some misfortune is over us.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'No, no, Martha,' said I, almost instantly recovering my collectedness;
      for, although of a nervous temperament, I had never been superstitious. 'I
      do not believe in omens. You know I saw, or fancied I saw, this thing
      before, and nothing followed.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'The Dutch lady came the next morning,' replied she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'But surely her coming scarcely deserved such a dreadful warning,' I
      replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      'She is a strange woman, my lady,' said Martha; 'and she is not GONE yet&mdash;mark
      my words.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, well, Martha,' said I, 'I have not wit enough to change your
      opinions, nor inclination to alter mine; so I will talk no more of the
      matter. Good-night,' and so I was left to my reflections.
    </p>
    <p>
      After lying for about an hour awake, I at length fell into a kind of doze;
      but my imagination was still busy, for I was startled from this
      unrefreshing sleep by fancying that I heard a voice close to my face
      exclaim as before:
    </p>
    <p>
      'There is blood upon your ladyship's throat.'
    </p>
    <p>
      The words were instantly followed by a loud burst of laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      Quaking with horror, I awakened, and heard my husband enter the room. Even
      this was it relief.
    </p>
    <p>
      Scared as I was, however, by the tricks which my imagination had played
      me, I preferred remaining silent, and pretending to sleep, to attempting
      to engage my husband in conversation, for I well knew that his mood was
      such, that his words would not, in all probability, convey anything that
      had not better be unsaid and unheard.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen went into his dressing-room, which lay upon the right-hand
      side of the bed. The door lying open, I could see him by himself, at full
      length upon a sofa, and, in about half an hour, I became aware, by his
      deep and regularly drawn respiration, that he was fast asleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      When slumber refuses to visit one, there is something peculiarly
      irritating, not to the temper, but to the nerves, in the consciousness
      that some one is in your immediate presence, actually enjoying the boon
      which you are seeking in vain; at least, I have always found it so, and
      never more than upon the present occasion.
    </p>
    <p>
      A thousand annoying imaginations harassed and excited me; every object
      which I looked upon, though ever so familiar, seemed to have acquired a
      strange phantom-like character, the varying shadows thrown by the
      flickering of the lamplight, seemed shaping themselves into grotesque and
      unearthly forms, and whenever my eyes wandered to the sleeping figure of
      my husband, his features appeared to undergo the strangest and most
      demoniacal contortions.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hour after hour was told by the old clock, and each succeeding one found
      me, if possible, less inclined to sleep than its predecessor.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was now considerably past three; my eyes, in their involuntary
      wanderings, happened to alight upon the large mirror which was, as I have
      said, fixed in the wall opposite the foot of the bed. A view of it was
      commanded from where I lay, through the curtains. As I gazed fixedly upon
      it, I thought I perceived the broad sheet of glass shifting its position
      in relation to the bed; I riveted my eyes upon it with intense scrutiny;
      it was no deception, the mirror, as if acting of its own impulse, moved
      slowly aside, and disclosed a dark aperture in the wall, nearly as large
      as an ordinary door; a figure evidently stood in this, but the light was
      too dim to define it accurately.
    </p>
    <p>
      It stepped cautiously into the chamber, and with so little noise, that had
      I not actually seen it, I do not think I should have been aware of its
      presence. It was arrayed in a kind of woollen night-dress, and a white
      handkerchief or cloth was bound tightly about the head; I had no
      difficulty, spite of the strangeness of the attire, in recognising the
      blind woman whom I so much dreaded.
    </p>
    <p>
      She stooped down, bringing her head nearly to the ground, and in that
      attitude she remained motionless for some moments, no doubt in order to
      ascertain if any suspicious sound were stirring.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was apparently satisfied by her observations, for she immediately
      recommenced her silent progress towards a ponderous mahogany
      dressing-table of my husband's. When she had reached it, she paused again,
      and appeared to listen attentively for some minutes; she then noiselessly
      opened one of the drawers, from which, having groped for some time, she
      took something, which I soon perceived to be a case of razors. She opened
      it, and tried the edge of each of the two instruments upon the skin of her
      hand; she quickly selected one, which she fixed firmly in her grasp. She
      now stooped down as before, and having listened for a time, she, with the
      hand that was disengaged, groped her way into the dressing-room where Lord
      Glenfallen lay fast asleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was fixed as if in the tremendous spell of a nightmare. I could not stir
      even a finger; I could not lift my voice; I could not even breathe; and
      though I expected every moment to see the sleeping man murdered, I could
      not even close my eyes to shut out the horrible spectacle, which I had not
      the power to avert.
    </p>
    <p>
      I saw the woman approach the sleeping figure, she laid the unoccupied hand
      lightly along his clothes, and having thus ascertained his identity, she,
      after a brief interval, turned back and again entered my chamber; here she
      bent down again to listen.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had now not a doubt but that the razor was intended for my throat; yet
      the terrific fascination which had locked all my powers so long, still
      continued to bind me fast.
    </p>
    <p>
      I felt that my life depended upon the slightest ordinary exertion, and yet
      I could not stir one joint from the position in which I lay, nor even make
      noise enough to waken Lord Glenfallen.
    </p>
    <p>
      The murderous woman now, with long, silent steps, approached the bed; my
      very heart seemed turning to ice; her left hand, that which was
      disengaged, was upon the pillow; she gradually slid it forward towards my
      head, and in an instant, with the speed of lightning, it was clutched in
      my hair, while, with the other hand, she dashed the razor at my throat.
    </p>
    <p>
      A slight inaccuracy saved me from instant death; the blow fell short, the
      point of the razor grazing my throat. In a moment, I know not how, I found
      myself at the other side of the bed, uttering shriek after shriek; the
      wretch was, however, determined if possible to murder me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Scrambling along by the curtains, she rushed round the bed towards me; I
      seized the handle of the door to make my escape. It was, however,
      fastened. At all events, I could not open it. From the mere instinct of
      recoiling terror, I shrunk back into a corner. She was now within a yard
      of me. Her hand was upon my face.
    </p>
    <p>
      I closed my eyes fast, expecting never to open them again, when a blow,
      inflicted from behind by a strong arm, stretched the monster senseless at
      my feet. At the same moment the door opened, and several domestics,
      alarmed by my cries, entered the apartment.
    </p>
    <p>
      I do not recollect what followed, for I fainted. One swoon succeeded
      another, so long and death-like, that my life was considered very
      doubtful.
    </p>
    <p>
      At about ten o'clock, however, I sunk into a deep and refreshing sleep,
      from which I was awakened at about two, that I might swear my deposition
      before a magistrate, who attended for that purpose.
    </p>
    <p>
      I accordingly did so, as did also Lord Glenfallen, and the woman was fully
      committed to stand her trial at the ensuing assizes.
    </p>
    <p>
      I shall never forget the scene which the examination of the blind woman
      and of the other parties afforded.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was brought into the room in the custody of two servants. She wore a
      kind of flannel wrapper which had not been changed since the night before.
      It was torn and soiled, and here and there smeared with blood, which had
      flowed in large quantities from a wound in her head. The white
      handkerchief had fallen off in the scuffle, and her grizzled hair fell in
      masses about her wild and deadly pale countenance.
    </p>
    <p>
      She appeared perfectly composed, however, and the only regret she
      expressed throughout, was at not having succeeded in her attempt, the
      object of which she did not pretend to conceal.
    </p>
    <p>
      On being asked her name, she called herself the Countess Glenfallen, and
      refused to give any other title.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The woman's name is Flora Van-Kemp,' said Lord Glenfallen.
    </p>
    <p>
      'It WAS, it WAS, you perjured traitor and cheat!' screamed the woman; and
      then there followed a volley of words in some foreign language. 'Is there
      a magistrate here?' she resumed; 'I am Lord Glenfallen's wife&mdash;I'll
      prove it&mdash;write down my words. I am willing to be hanged or burned,
      so HE meets his deserts. I did try to kill that doll of his; but it was he
      who put it into my head to do it&mdash;two wives were too many; I was to
      murder her, or she was to hang me; listen to all I have to say.'
    </p>
    <p>
      Here Lord Glenfallen interrupted.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I think, sir,' said he, addressing the magistrate, 'that we had better
      proceed to business; this unhappy woman's furious recriminations but waste
      our time. If she refuses to answer your questions, you had better, I
      presume, take my depositions.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'And are you going to swear away my life, you black-perjured murderer?'
      shrieked the woman. 'Sir, sir, sir, you must hear me,' she continued,
      addressing the magistrate; 'I can convict him&mdash;he bid me murder that
      girl, and then, when I failed, he came behind me, and struck me down, and
      now he wants to swear away my life. Take down all I say.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'If it is your intention,' said the magistrate, 'to confess the crime with
      which you stand charged, you may, upon producing sufficient evidence,
      criminate whom you please.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Evidence!&mdash;I have no evidence but myself,' said the woman. 'I will
      swear it all&mdash;write down my testimony&mdash;write it down, I say&mdash;we
      shall hang side by side, my brave lord&mdash;all your own handy-work, my
      gentle husband.'
    </p>
    <p>
      This was followed by a low, insolent, and sneering laugh, which, from one
      in her situation, was sufficiently horrible.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I will not at present hear anything,' replied he, 'but distinct answers
      to the questions which I shall put to you upon this matter.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Then you shall hear nothing,' replied she sullenly, and no inducement or
      intimidation could bring her to speak again.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen's deposition and mine were then given, as also those of
      the servants who had entered the room at the moment of my rescue.
    </p>
    <p>
      The magistrate then intimated that she was committed, and must proceed
      directly to gaol, whither she was brought in a carriage; of Lord
      Glenfallen's, for his lordship was naturally by no means indifferent to
      the effect which her vehement accusations against himself might produce,
      if uttered before every chance hearer whom she might meet with between
      Cahergillagh and the place of confinement whither she was despatched.
    </p>
    <p>
      During the time which intervened between the committal and the trial of
      the prisoner, Lord Glenfallen seemed to suffer agonies of mind which
      baffle all description; he hardly ever slept, and when he did, his
      slumbers seemed but the instruments of new tortures, and his waking hours
      were, if possible, exceeded in intensity of terrors by the dreams which
      disturbed his sleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen rested, if to lie in the mere attitude of repose were to
      do so, in his dressing-room, and thus I had an opportunity of witnessing,
      far oftener than I wished it, the fearful workings of his mind. His agony
      often broke out into such fearful paroxysms that delirium and total loss
      of reason appeared to be impending. He frequently spoke of flying from the
      country, and bringing with him all the witnesses of the appalling scene
      upon which the prosecution was founded; then, again, he would fiercely
      lament that the blow which he had inflicted had not ended all.
    </p>
    <p>
      The assizes arrived, however, and upon the day appointed Lord Glenfallen
      and I attended in order to give our evidence.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cause was called on, and the prisoner appeared at the bar.
    </p>
    <p>
      Great curiosity and interest were felt respecting the trial, so that the
      court was crowded to excess.
    </p>
    <p>
      The prisoner, however, without appearing to take the trouble of listening
      to the indictment, pleaded guilty, and no representations on the part of
      the court availed to induce her to retract her plea.
    </p>
    <p>
      After much time had been wasted in a fruitless attempt to prevail upon her
      to reconsider her words, the court proceeded, according to the usual form,
      to pass sentence.
    </p>
    <p>
      This having been done, the prisoner was about to be removed, when she
      said, in a low, distinct voice:
    </p>
    <p>
      'A word&mdash;a word, my lord!&mdash;Is Lord Glenfallen here in the
      court?'
    </p>
    <p>
      On being told that he was, she raised her voice to a tone of loud menace,
      and continued:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hardress, Earl of Glenfallen, I accuse you here in this court of justice
      of two crimes,&mdash;first, that you married a second wife, while the
      first was living; and again, that you prompted me to the murder, for
      attempting which I am to die. Secure him&mdash;chain him&mdash;bring him
      here.'
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a laugh through the court at these words, which were naturally
      treated by the judge as a violent extemporary recrimination, and the woman
      was desired to be silent.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You won't take him, then?' she said; 'you won't try him? You'll let him
      go free?'
    </p>
    <p>
      It was intimated by the court that he would certainly be allowed 'to go
      free,' and she was ordered again to be removed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before, however, the mandate was executed, she threw her arms wildly into
      the air, and uttered one piercing shriek so full of preternatural rage and
      despair, that it might fitly have ushered a soul into those realms where
      hope can come no more.
    </p>
    <p>
      The sound still rang in my ears, months after the voice that had uttered
      it was for ever silent.
    </p>
    <p>
      The wretched woman was executed in accordance with the sentence which had
      been pronounced.
    </p>
    <p>
      For some time after this event, Lord Glenfallen appeared, if possible, to
      suffer more than he had done before, and altogether his language, which
      often amounted to half confessions of the guilt imputed to him, and all
      the circumstances connected with the late occurrences, formed a mass of
      evidence so convincing that I wrote to my father, detailing the grounds of
      my fears, and imploring him to come to Cahergillagh without delay, in
      order to remove me from my husband's control, previously to taking legal
      steps for a final separation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Circumstanced as I was, my existence was little short of intolerable, for,
      besides the fearful suspicions which attached to my husband, I plainly
      perceived that if Lord Glenfallen were not relieved, and that speedily,
      insanity must supervene. I therefore expected my father's arrival, or at
      least a letter to announce it, with indescribable impatience.
    </p>
    <p>
      About a week after the execution had taken place, Lord Glenfallen one
      morning met me with an unusually sprightly air.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Fanny,' said he, 'I have it now for the first time in my power to explain
      to your satisfaction everything which has hitherto appeared suspicious or
      mysterious in my conduct. After breakfast come with me to my study, and I
      shall, I hope, make all things clear.'
    </p>
    <p>
      This invitation afforded me more real pleasure than I had experienced for
      months. Something had certainly occurred to tranquillize my husband's mind
      in no ordinary degree, and I thought it by no means impossible that he
      would, in the proposed interview, prove himself the most injured and
      innocent of men.
    </p>
    <p>
      Full of this hope, I repaired to his study at the appointed hour. He was
      writing busily when I entered the room, and just raising his eyes, he
      requested me to be seated.
    </p>
    <p>
      I took a chair as he desired, and remained silently awaiting his leisure,
      while he finished, folded, directed, and sealed his letter. Laying it then
      upon the table with the address downward, he said,
    </p>
    <p>
      'My dearest Fanny, I know I must have appeared very strange to you and
      very unkind&mdash;often even cruel. Before the end of this week I will
      show you the necessity of my conduct&mdash;how impossible it was that I
      should have seemed otherwise. I am conscious that many acts of mine must
      have inevitably given rise to painful suspicions&mdash;suspicions which,
      indeed, upon one occasion, you very properly communicated to me. I have
      got two letters from a quarter which commands respect, containing
      information as to the course by which I may be enabled to prove the
      negative of all the crimes which even the most credulous suspicion could
      lay to my charge. I expected a third by this morning's post, containing
      documents which will set the matter for ever at rest, but owing, no doubt,
      to some neglect, or, perhaps, to some difficulty in collecting the papers,
      some inevitable delay, it has not come to hand this morning, according to
      my expectation. I was finishing one to the very same quarter when you came
      in, and if a sound rousing be worth anything, I think I shall have a
      special messenger before two days have passed. I have been anxiously
      considering with myself, as to whether I had better imperfectly clear up
      your doubts by submitting to your inspection the two letters which I have
      already received, or wait till I can triumphantly vindicate myself by the
      production of the documents which I have already mentioned, and I have, I
      think, not unnaturally decided upon the latter course. However, there is a
      person in the next room whose testimony is not without its value excuse me
      for one moment.'
    </p>
    <p>
      So saying, he arose and went to the door of a closet which opened from the
      study; this he unlocked, and half opening the door, he said, 'It is only
      I,' and then slipped into the room and carefully closed and locked the
      door behind him.
    </p>
    <p>
      I immediately heard his voice in animated conversation. My curiosity upon
      the subject of the letter was naturally great, so, smothering any little
      scruples which I might have felt, I resolved to look at the address of the
      letter which lay, as my husband had left it, with its face upon the table.
      I accordingly drew it over to me and turned up the direction.
    </p>
    <p>
      For two or three moments I could scarce believe my eyes, but there could
      be no mistake&mdash;in large characters were traced the words, 'To the
      Archangel Gabriel in Heaven.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I had scarcely returned the letter to its original position, and in some
      degree recovered the shock which this unequivocal proof of insanity
      produced, when the closet door was unlocked, and Lord Glenfallen
      re-entered the study, carefully closing and locking the door again upon
      the outside.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Whom have you there?' inquired I, making a strong effort to appear calm.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Perhaps,' said he, musingly, 'you might have some objection to seeing
      her, at least for a time.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Who is it?' repeated I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Why,' said he, 'I see no use in hiding it&mdash;the blind Dutchwoman. I
      have been with her the whole morning. She is very anxious to get out of
      that closet; but you know she is odd, she is scarcely to be trusted.'
    </p>
    <p>
      A heavy gust of wind shook the door at this moment with a sound as if
      something more substantial were pushing against it.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Ha, ha, ha!&mdash;do you hear her?' said he, with an obstreperous burst
      of laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      The wind died away in a long howl, and Lord Glenfallen, suddenly checking
      his merriment, shrugged his shoulders, and muttered:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Poor devil, she has been hardly used.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'We had better not tease her at present with questions,' said I, in as
      unconcerned a tone as I could assume, although I felt every moment as if I
      should faint.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Humph! may be so,' said he. 'Well, come back in an hour or two, or when
      you please, and you will find us here.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He again unlocked the door, and entered with the same precautions which he
      had adopted before, locking the door upon the inside; and as I hurried
      from the room, I heard his voice again exerted as if in eager parley.
    </p>
    <p>
      I can hardly describe my emotions; my hopes had been raised to the
      highest, and now, in an instant, all was gone&mdash;the dreadful
      consummation was accomplished&mdash;the fearful retribution had fallen
      upon the guilty man&mdash;the mind was destroyed&mdash;the power to repent
      was gone.
    </p>
    <p>
      The agony of the hours which followed what I would still call my AWFUL
      interview with Lord Glenfallen, I cannot describe; my solitude was,
      however, broken in upon by Martha, who came to inform me of the arrival of
      a gentleman, who expected me in the parlour.
    </p>
    <p>
      I accordingly descended, and, to my great joy, found my father seated by
      the fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      This expedition upon his part was easily accounted for: my communications
      had touched the honour of the family. I speedily informed him of the
      dreadful malady which had fallen upon the wretched man.
    </p>
    <p>
      My father suggested the necessity of placing some person to watch him, to
      prevent his injuring himself or others.
    </p>
    <p>
      I rang the bell, and desired that one Edward Cooke, an attached servant of
      the family, should be sent to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I told him distinctly and briefly the nature of the service required of
      him, and, attended by him, my father and I proceeded at once to the study.
      The door of the inner room was still closed, and everything in the outer
      chamber remained in the same order in which I had left it.
    </p>
    <p>
      We then advanced to the closet-door, at which we knocked, but without
      receiving any answer.
    </p>
    <p>
      We next tried to open the door, but in vain&mdash;it was locked upon the
      inside. We knocked more loudly, but in vain.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seriously alarmed, I desired the servant to force the door, which was,
      after several violent efforts, accomplished, and we entered the closet.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lord Glenfallen was lying on his face upon a sofa.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hush!' said I, 'he is asleep.' We paused for a moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      'He is too still for that,' said my father.
    </p>
    <p>
      We all of us felt a strong reluctance to approach the figure.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Edward,' said I, 'try whether your master sleeps.'
    </p>
    <p>
      The servant approached the sofa where Lord Glenfallen lay. He leant his
      ear towards the head of the recumbent figure, to ascertain whether the
      sound of breathing was audible. He turned towards us, and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'My lady, you had better not wait here; I am sure he is dead!'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Let me see the face,' said I, terribly agitated; 'you MAY be mistaken.'
    </p>
    <p>
      The man then, in obedience to my command, turned the body round, and,
      gracious God! what a sight met my view. He was, indeed, perfectly dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      The whole breast of the shirt, with its lace frill, was drenched with
      gore, as was the couch underneath the spot where he lay.
    </p>
    <p>
      The head hung back, as it seemed, almost severed from the body by a
      frightful gash, which yawned across the throat. The instrument which had
      inflicted it was found under his body.
    </p>
    <p>
      All, then, was over; I was never to learn the history in whose termination
      I had been so deeply and so tragically involved.
    </p>
    <p>
      The severe discipline which my mind had undergone was not bestowed in
      vain. I directed my thoughts and my hopes to that place where there is no
      more sin, nor danger, nor sorrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus ends a brief tale whose prominent incidents many will recognise as
      having marked the history of a distinguished family; and though it refers
      to a somewhat distant date, we shall be found not to have taken, upon that
      account, any liberties with the facts, but in our statement of all the
      incidents to have rigorously and faithfully adhered to the truth.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      AN ADVENTURE OF HARDRESS FITZGERALD, A ROYALIST CAPTAIN.
    </h2>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     Being an Eleventh Extract from the Legacy of the late
     Francis Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.
</pre>
    <p>
      The following brief narrative contains a faithful account of one of the
      many strange incidents which chequered the life of Hardress Fitzgerald&mdash;one
      of the now-forgotten heroes who flourished during the most stirring and,
      though the most disastrous, by no means the least glorious period of our
      eventful history.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was a captain of horse in the army of James, and shared the fortunes of
      his master, enduring privations, encountering dangers, and submitting to
      vicissitudes the most galling and ruinous, with a fortitude and a heroism
      which would, if coupled with his other virtues have rendered the unhappy
      monarch whom he served, the most illustrious among unfortunate princes.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have always preferred, where I could do so with any approach to
      accuracy, to give such relations as the one which I am about to submit to
      you, in the first person, and in the words of the original narrator,
      believing that such a form of recitation not only gives freshness to the
      tale, but in this particular instance, by bringing before me and steadily
      fixing in my mind's eye the veteran royalist who himself related the
      occurrence which I am about to record, furnishes an additional stimulant
      to my memory, and a proportionate check upon my imagination.
    </p>
    <p>
      As nearly as I can recollect then, his statement was as follows:
    </p>
    <p>
      After the fatal battle of the Boyne, I came up in disguise to Dublin, as
      did many in a like situation, regarding the capital as furnishing at once
      a good central position of observation, and as secure a lurking-place as I
      cared to find.
    </p>
    <p>
      I would not suffer myself to believe that the cause of my royal master was
      so desperate as it really was; and while I lay in my lodgings, which
      consisted of the garret of a small dark house, standing in the lane which
      runs close by Audoen's Arch, I busied myself with continual projects for
      the raising of the country, and the re-collecting of the fragments of the
      defeated army&mdash;plans, you will allow, sufficiently magnificent for a
      poor devil who dared scarce show his face abroad in the daylight.
    </p>
    <p>
      I believe, however, that I had not much reason to fear for my personal
      safety, for men's minds in the city were greatly occupied with public
      events, and private amusements and debaucheries, which were, about that
      time, carried to an excess which our country never knew before, by reason
      of the raking together from all quarters of the empire, and indeed from
      most parts of Holland, the most dissolute and desperate adventurers who
      cared to play at hazard for their lives; and thus there seemed to be but
      little scrutiny into the characters of those who sought concealment.
    </p>
    <p>
      I heard much at different times of the intentions of King James and his
      party, but nothing with certainty.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some said that the king still lay in Ireland; others, that he had crossed
      over to Scotland, to encourage the Highlanders, who, with Dundee at their
      head, had been stirring in his behoof; others, again, said that he had
      taken ship for France, leaving his followers to shift for themselves, and
      regarding his kingdom as wholly lost, which last was the true version, as
      I afterwards learned.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although I had been very active in the wars in Ireland, and had done many
      deeds of necessary but dire severity, which have often since troubled me
      much to think upon, yet I doubted not but that I might easily obtain
      protection for my person and property from the Prince of Orange, if I
      sought it by the ordinary submissions; but besides that my conscience and
      my affections resisted such time-serving concessions, I was resolved in my
      own mind that the cause of the royalist party was by no means desperate,
      and I looked to keep myself unimpeded by any pledge or promise given to
      the usurping Dutchman, that I might freely and honourably take a share in
      any struggle which might yet remain to be made for the right.
    </p>
    <p>
      I therefore lay quiet, going forth from my lodgings but little, and that
      chiefly under cover of the dusk, and conversing hardly at all, except with
      those whom I well knew.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had like once to have paid dearly for relaxing this caution; for going
      into a tavern one evening near the Tholsel, I had the confidence to throw
      off my hat, and sit there with my face quite exposed, when a fellow coming
      in with some troopers, they fell a-boozing, and being somewhat warmed,
      they began to drink 'Confusion to popery,' and the like, and to compel the
      peaceable persons who happened to sit there, to join them in so doing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though I was rather hot-blooded, I was resolved to say nothing to attract
      notice; but, at the same time, if urged to pledge the toasts which they
      were compelling others to drink, to resist doing so.
    </p>
    <p>
      With the intent to withdraw myself quietly from the place, I paid my
      reckoning, and putting on my hat, was going into the street, when the
      countryman who had come in with the soldiers called out:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Stop that popish tom-cat!'
    </p>
    <p>
      And running across the room, he got to the door before me, and, shutting
      it, placed his back against it, to prevent my going out.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though with much difficulty, I kept an appearance of quietness, and
      turning to the fellow, who, from his accent, I judged to be northern, and
      whose face I knew&mdash;though, to this day, I cannot say where I had seen
      him before&mdash;I observed very calmly:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Sir, I came in here with no other design than to refresh myself, without
      offending any man. I have paid my reckoning, and now desire to go forth.
      If there is anything within reason that I can do to satisfy you, and to
      prevent trouble and delay to myself, name your terms, and if they be but
      fair, I will frankly comply with them.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He quickly replied:
    </p>
    <p>
      'You are Hardress Fitzgerald, the bloody popish captain, that hanged the
      twelve men at Derry.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I felt that I was in some danger, but being a strong man, and used to
      perils of all kinds, it was not easy to disconcert me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I looked then steadily at the fellow, and, in a voice of much confidence,
      I said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I am neither a Papist, a Royalist, nor a Fitzgerald, but an honester
      Protestant, mayhap, than many who make louder professions.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Then drink the honest man's toast,' said he. 'Damnation to the pope, and
      confusion to skulking Jimmy and his runaway crew.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Yourself shall hear me,' said I, taking the largest pewter pot that lay
      within my reach. 'Tapster, fill this with ale; I grieve to say I can
      afford nothing better.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I took the vessel of liquor in my hand, and walking up to him, I first
      made a bow to the troopers who sat laughing at the sprightliness of their
      facetious friend, and then another to himself, when saying, 'G&mdash;&mdash;
      damn yourself and your cause!' I flung the ale straight into his face; and
      before he had time to recover himself, I struck him with my whole force
      and weight with the pewter pot upon the head, so strong a blow, that he
      fell, for aught I know, dead upon the floor, and nothing but the handle of
      the vessel remained in my hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      I opened the door, but one of the dragoons drew his sabre, and ran at me
      to avenge his companion. With my hand I put aside the blade of the sword,
      narrowly escaping what he had intended for me, the point actually tearing
      open my vest. Without allowing him time to repeat his thrust, I struck him
      in the face with my clenched fist so sound a blow that he rolled back into
      the room with the force of a tennis ball.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was well for me that the rest were half drunk, and the evening dark;
      for otherwise my folly would infallibly have cost me my life. As it was, I
      reached my garret in safety, with a resolution to frequent taverns no more
      until better times.
    </p>
    <p>
      My little patience and money were wellnigh exhausted, when, after much
      doubt and uncertainty, and many conflicting reports, I was assured that
      the flower of the Royalist army, under the Duke of Berwick and General
      Boisleau, occupied the city of Limerick, with a determination to hold that
      fortress against the prince's forces; and that a French fleet of great
      power, and well freighted with arms, ammunition, and men, was riding in
      the Shannon, under the walls of the town. But this last report was, like
      many others then circulated, untrue; there being, indeed, a promise and
      expectation of such assistance, but no arrival of it till too late.
    </p>
    <p>
      The army of the Prince of Orange was said to be rapidly approaching the
      town, in order to commence the siege.
    </p>
    <p>
      On hearing this, and being made as certain as the vagueness and
      unsatisfactory nature of my information, which came not from any authentic
      source, would permit; at least, being sure of the main point, which all
      allowed&mdash;namely, that Limerick was held for the king&mdash;and being
      also naturally fond of enterprise, and impatient of idleness, I took the
      resolution to travel thither, and, if possible, to throw myself into the
      city, in order to lend what assistance I might to my former companions in
      arms, well knowing that any man of strong constitution and of some
      experience might easily make himself useful to a garrison in their
      straitened situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I had taken this resolution, I was not long in putting it into
      execution; and, as the first step in the matter, I turned half of the
      money which remained with me, in all about seventeen pounds, into small
      wares and merchandise such as travelling traders used to deal in; and the
      rest, excepting some shillings which I carried home for my immediate
      expenses, I sewed carefully in the lining of my breeches waistband, hoping
      that the sale of my commodities might easily supply me with subsistence
      upon the road.
    </p>
    <p>
      I left Dublin upon a Friday morning in the month of September, with a
      tolerably heavy pack upon my back.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was a strong man and a good walker, and one day with another travelled
      easily at the rate of twenty miles in each day, much time being lost in
      the towns of any note on the way, where, to avoid suspicion, I was obliged
      to make some stay, as if to sell my wares.
    </p>
    <p>
      I did not travel directly to Limerick, but turned far into Tipperary,
      going near to the borders of Cork.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon the sixth day after my departure from Dublin I learned, CERTAINLY,
      from some fellows who were returning from trafficking with the soldiers,
      that the army of the prince was actually encamped before Limerick, upon
      the south side of the Shannon.
    </p>
    <p>
      In order, then, to enter the city without interruption, I must needs cross
      the river, and I was much in doubt whether to do so by boat from Kerry,
      which I might have easily done, into the Earl of Clare's land, and thus
      into the beleaguered city, or to take what seemed the easier way, one,
      however, about which I had certain misgivings&mdash;which, by the way,
      afterwards turned out to be just enough. This way was to cross the Shannon
      at O'Brien's Bridge, or at Killaloe, into the county of Clare.
    </p>
    <p>
      I feared, however, that both these passes were guarded by the prince's
      forces, and resolved, if such were the case, not to essay to cross, for I
      was not fitted to sustain a scrutiny, having about me, though pretty
      safely secured, my commission from King James&mdash;which, though a
      dangerous companion, I would not have parted from but with my life.
    </p>
    <p>
      I settled, then, in my own mind, that if the bridges were guarded I would
      walk as far as Portumna, where I might cross, though at a considerable
      sacrifice of time; and, having determined upon this course, I turned
      directly towards Killaloe.
    </p>
    <p>
      I reached the foot of the mountain, or rather high hill, called Keeper&mdash;which
      had been pointed out to me as a landmark&mdash;lying directly between me
      and Killaloe, in the evening, and, having ascended some way, the darkness
      and fog overtook me.
    </p>
    <p>
      The evening was very chilly, and myself weary, hungry, and much in need of
      sleep, so that I preferred seeking to cross the hill, though at some risk,
      to remaining upon it throughout the night. Stumbling over rocks and
      sinking into bog-mire, as the nature of the ground varied, I slowly and
      laboriously plodded on, making very little way in proportion to the toil
      it cost me.
    </p>
    <p>
      After half an hour's slow walking, or rather rambling, for, owing to the
      dark, I very soon lost my direction, I at last heard the sound of running
      water, and with some little trouble reached the edge of a brook, which ran
      in the bottom of a deep gully. This I knew would furnish a sure guide to
      the low grounds, where I might promise myself that I should speedily meet
      with some house or cabin where I might find shelter for the night.
    </p>
    <p>
      The stream which I followed flowed at the bottom of a rough and swampy
      glen, very steep and making many abrupt turns, and so dark, owing more to
      the fog than to the want of the moon (for, though not high, I believe it
      had risen at the time), that I continually fell over fragments of rock and
      stumbled up to my middle into the rivulet, which I sought to follow.
    </p>
    <p>
      In this way, drenched, weary, and with my patience almost exhausted, I was
      toiling onward, when, turning a sharp angle in the winding glen, I found
      myself within some twenty yards of a group of wild-looking men, gathered
      in various attitudes round a glowing turf fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was so surprised at this rencontre that I stopped short, and for a time
      was in doubt whether to turn back or to accost them.
    </p>
    <p>
      A minute's thought satisfied me that I ought to make up to the fellows,
      and trust to their good faith for whatever assistance they could give me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I determined, then, to do this, having great faith in the impulses of my
      mind, which, whenever I have been in jeopardy, as in my life I often have,
      always prompted me aright.
    </p>
    <p>
      The strong red light of the fire showed me plainly enough that the group
      consisted, not of soldiers, but of Irish kernes, or countrymen, most of
      them wrapped in heavy mantles, and with no other covering for their heads
      than that afforded by their long, rough hair.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was nothing about them which I could see to intimate whether their
      object were peaceful or warlike; but I afterwards found that they had
      weapons enough, though of their own rude fashion.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were in all about twenty persons assembled around the fire, some
      sitting upon such blocks of stone as happened to lie in the way; others
      stretched at their length upon the ground.
    </p>
    <p>
      'God save you, boys!' said I, advancing towards the party.
    </p>
    <p>
      The men who had been talking and laughing together instantly paused, and
      two of them&mdash;tall and powerful fellows&mdash;snatched up each a
      weapon, something like a short halberd with a massive iron head, an
      instrument which they called among themselves a rapp, and with two or
      three long strides they came up with me, and laying hold upon my arms,
      drew me, not, you may easily believe, making much resistance, towards the
      fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I reached the place where the figures were seated, the two men still
      held me firmly, and some others threw some handfuls of dry fuel upon the
      red embers, which, blazing up, cast a strong light upon me.
    </p>
    <p>
      When they had satisfied themselves as to my appearance, they began to
      question me very closely as to my purpose in being upon the hill at such
      an unseasonable hour, asking me what was my occupation, where I had been,
      and whither I was going.
    </p>
    <p>
      These questions were put to me in English by an old half-military looking
      man, who translated into that language the suggestions which his
      companions for the most part threw out in Irish.
    </p>
    <p>
      I did not choose to commit myself to these fellows by telling them my real
      character and purpose, and therefore I represented myself as a poor
      travelling chapman who had been at Cork, and was seeking his way to
      Killaloe, in order to cross over into Clare and thence to the city of
      Galway.
    </p>
    <p>
      My account did not seem fully to satisfy the men.
    </p>
    <p>
      I heard one fellow say in Irish, which language I understood, 'Maybe he is
      a spy.'
    </p>
    <p>
      They then whispered together for a time, and the little man who was their
      spokesman came over to me and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Do you know what we do with spies? we knock their brains out, my friend.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He then turned back to them with whom he had been whispering, and talked
      in a low tone again with them for a considerable time.
    </p>
    <p>
      I now felt very uncomfortable, not knowing what these savages&mdash;for
      they appeared nothing better&mdash;might design against me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Twice or thrice I had serious thoughts of breaking from them, but the two
      guards who were placed upon me held me fast by the arms; and even had I
      succeeded in shaking them off, I should soon have been overtaken,
      encumbered as I was with a heavy pack, and wholly ignorant of the lie of
      the ground; or else, if I were so exceedingly lucky as to escape out of
      their hands, I still had the chance of falling into those of some other
      party of the same kind.
    </p>
    <p>
      I therefore patiently awaited the issue of their deliberations, which I
      made no doubt affected me nearly.
    </p>
    <p>
      I turned to the men who held me, and one after the other asked them, in
      their own language, 'Why they held me?' adding, 'I am but a poor pedlar,
      as you see. I have neither money nor money's worth, for the sake of which
      you should do me hurt. You may have my pack and all that it contains, if
      you desire it&mdash;but do not injure me.'
    </p>
    <p>
      To all this they gave no answer, but savagely desired me to hold my
      tongue.
    </p>
    <p>
      I accordingly remained silent, determined, if the worst came, to declare
      to the whole party, who, I doubted not, were friendly, as were all the
      Irish peasantry in the south, to the Royal cause, my real character and
      design; and if this avowal failed me, I was resolved to make a desperate
      effort to escape, or at least to give my life at the dearest price I
      could.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was not kept long in suspense, for the little veteran who had spoken to
      me at first came over, and desiring the two men to bring me after him, led
      the way along a broken path, which wound by the side of the steep glen.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was obliged willy nilly to go with them, and, half-dragging and
      half-carrying me, they brought me by the path, which now became very
      steep, for some hundred yards without stopping, when suddenly coming to a
      stand, I found myself close before the door of some house or hut, I could
      not see which, through the planks of which a strong light was streaming.
    </p>
    <p>
      At this door my conductor stopped, and tapping gently at it, it was opened
      by a stout fellow, with buff-coat and jack-boots, and pistols stuck in his
      belt, as also a long cavalry sword by his side.
    </p>
    <p>
      He spoke with my guide, and to my no small satisfaction, in French, which
      convinced me that he was one of the soldiers whom Louis had sent to
      support our king, and who were said to have arrived in Limerick, though,
      as I observed above, not with truth.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was much assured by this circumstance, and made no doubt but that I had
      fallen in with one of those marauding parties of native Irish, who,
      placing themselves under the guidance of men of courage and experience,
      had done much brave and essential service to the cause of the king.
    </p>
    <p>
      The soldier entered an inner door in the apartment, which opening
      disclosed a rude, dreary, and dilapidated room, with a low plank ceiling,
      much discoloured by the smoke which hung suspended in heavy masses,
      descending within a few feet of the ground, and completely obscuring the
      upper regions of the chamber.
    </p>
    <p>
      A large fire of turf and heath was burning under a kind of rude chimney,
      shaped like a large funnel, but by no means discharging the functions for
      which it was intended. Into this inauspicious apartment was I conducted by
      my strange companions. In the next room I heard voices employed, as it
      seemed, in brief questioning and answer; and in a minute the soldier
      reentered the room, and having said, 'Votre prisonnier&mdash;le general
      veut le voir,' he led the way into the inner room, which in point of
      comfort and cleanliness was not a whit better than the first.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seated at a clumsy plank table, placed about the middle of the floor, was
      a powerfully built man, of almost colossal stature&mdash;his military
      accoutrements, cuirass and rich regimental clothes, soiled, deranged, and
      spattered with recent hard travel; the flowing wig, surmounted by the
      cocked hat and plume, still rested upon his head. On the table lay his
      sword-belt with its appendage, and a pair of long holster pistols, some
      papers, and pen and ink; also a stone jug, and the fragments of a hasty
      meal. His attitude betokened the languor of fatigue. His left hand was
      buried beyond the lace ruffle in the breast of his cassock, and the elbow
      of his right rested upon the table, so as to support his head. From his
      mouth protruded a tobacco-pipe, which as I entered he slowly withdrew.
    </p>
    <p>
      A single glance at the honest, good-humoured, comely face of the soldier
      satisfied me of his identity, and removing my hat from my head I said,
      'God save General Sarsfield!'
    </p>
    <p>
      The general nodded
    </p>
    <p>
      'I am a prisoner here under strange circumstances,' I continued 'I appear
      before you in a strange disguise. You do not recognise Captain Hardress
      Fitzgerald!'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Eh, how's this?' said he, approaching me with the light.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I am that Hardress Fitzgerald,' I repeated, 'who served under you at the
      Boyne, and upon the day of the action had the honour to protect your
      person at the expense of his own.' At the same time I turned aside the
      hair which covered the scar which you well know upon my forehead, and
      which was then much more remarkable than it is now.
    </p>
    <p>
      The general on seeing this at once recognised me, and embracing me
      cordially, made me sit down, and while I unstrapped my pack, a tedious
      job, my fingers being nearly numbed with cold, sent the men forth to
      procure me some provision.
    </p>
    <p>
      The general's horse was stabled in a corner of the chamber where we sat,
      and his war-saddle lay upon the floor. At the far end of the room was a
      second door, which stood half open; a bogwood fire burned on a hearth
      somewhat less rude than the one which I had first seen, but still very
      little better appointed with a chimney, for thick wreaths of smoke were
      eddying, with every fitful gust, about the room. Close by the fire was
      strewed a bed of heath, intended, I supposed, for the stalwart limbs of
      the general.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hardress Fitzgerald,' said he, fixing his eyes gravely upon me, while he
      slowly removed the tobacco-pipe from his mouth, 'I remember you, strong,
      bold and cunning in your warlike trade; the more desperate an enterprise,
      the more ready for it, you. I would gladly engage you, for I know you
      trustworthy, to perform a piece of duty requiring, it may be, no
      extraordinary quality to fulfil; and yet perhaps, as accidents may happen,
      demanding every attribute of daring and dexterity which belongs to you.'
    </p>
    <p>
      Here he paused for some moments.
    </p>
    <p>
      I own I felt somewhat flattered by the terms in which he spoke of me,
      knowing him to be but little given to compliments; and not having any plan
      in my head, farther than the rendering what service I might to the cause
      of the king, caring very little as to the road in which my duty might lie,
      I frankly replied:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Sir, I hope, if opportunity offers, I shall prove to deserve the
      honourable terms in which you are pleased to speak of me. In a righteous
      cause I fear not wounds or death; and in discharging my duty to my God and
      my king, I am ready for any hazard or any fate. Name the service you
      require, and if it lies within the compass of my wit or power, I will
      fully and faithfully perform it. Have I said enough?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'That is well, very well, my friend; you speak well, and manfully,'
      replied the general. 'I want you to convey to the hands of General
      Boisleau, now in the city of Limerick, a small written packet; there is
      some danger, mark me, of your falling in with some outpost or straggling
      party of the prince's army. If you are taken unawares by any of the enemy
      you must dispose of the packet inside your person, rather than let it fall
      into their hands&mdash;that is, you must eat it. And if they go to
      question you with thumbscrews, or the like, answer nothing; let them knock
      your brains out first.' In illustration, I suppose, of the latter
      alternative, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe upon the table as he
      uttered it.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The packet,' he continued, 'you shall have to-morrow morning. Meantime
      comfort yourself with food, and afterwards with sleep; you will want,
      mayhap, all your strength and wits on the morrow.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I applied myself forthwith to the homely fare which they had provided, and
      I confess that I never made a meal so heartily to my satisfaction.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a beautiful, clear, autumn morning, and the bright beams of the
      early sun were slanting over the brown heath which clothed the sides of
      the mountain, and glittering in the thousand bright drops which the
      melting hoar-frost had left behind it, and the white mists were lying like
      broad lakes in the valleys, when, with my pedlar's pack upon my back, and
      General Sarsfield's precious despatch in my bosom, I set forth, refreshed
      and courageous.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I descended the hill, my heart expanded and my spirits rose under the
      influences which surrounded me. The keen, clear, bracing air of the
      morning, the bright, slanting sunshine, the merry songs of the small
      birds, and the distant sounds of awakening labour that floated up from the
      plains, all conspired to stir my heart within me, and more like a mad-cap
      boy, broken loose from school, than a man of sober years upon a mission of
      doubt and danger, I trod lightly on, whistling and singing alternately for
      very joy.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I approached the object of my early march, I fell in with a countryman,
      eager, as are most of his kind, for news.
    </p>
    <p>
      I gave him what little I had collected, and professing great zeal for the
      king, which, indeed, I always cherished, I won upon his confidence so far,
      that he became much more communicative than the peasantry in those
      quarters are generally wont to be to strangers.
    </p>
    <p>
      From him I learned that there was a company of dragoons in William's
      service, quartered at Willaloe; but he could not tell whether the passage
      of the bridge was stopped by them or not. With a resolution, at all
      events, to make the attempt to cross, I approached the town. When I came
      within sight of the river, I quickly perceived that it was so swollen with
      the recent rains, as, indeed, the countryman had told me, that the fords
      were wholly impassable.
    </p>
    <p>
      I stopped then, upon a slight eminence overlooking the village, with a
      view to reconnoitre and to arrange my plans in case of interruption. While
      thus engaged, the wind blowing gently from the west, in which quarter
      Limerick lay, I distinctly heard the explosion of the cannon, which played
      from and against the city, though at a distance of eleven miles at the
      least.
    </p>
    <p>
      I never yet heard the music that had for me half the attractions of that
      sullen sound, and as I noted again and again the distant thunder that
      proclaimed the perils, and the valour, and the faithfulness of my
      brethren, my heart swelled with pride, and the tears rose to my eyes; and
      lifting up my hands to heaven, I prayed to God that I might be spared to
      take a part in the righteous quarrel that was there so bravely maintained.
    </p>
    <p>
      I felt, indeed, at this moment a longing, more intense than I have the
      power to describe, to be at once with my brave companions in arms, and so
      inwardly excited and stirred up as if I had been actually within five
      minutes' march of the field of battle.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was now almost noon, and I had walked hard since morning across a
      difficult and broken country, so that I was a little fatigued, and in no
      small degree hungry. As I approached the hamlet, I was glad to see in the
      window of a poor hovel several large cakes of meal displayed, as if to
      induce purchasers to enter.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was right in regarding this exhibition as an intimation that
      entertainment might be procured within, for upon entering and inquiring, I
      was speedily invited by the poor woman, who, it appeared, kept this humble
      house of refreshment, to lay down my pack and seat myself by a ponderous
      table, upon which she promised to serve me with a dinner fit for a king;
      and indeed, to my mind, she amply fulfilled her engagement, supplying me
      abundantly with eggs, bacon, and wheaten cakes, which I discussed with a
      zeal which almost surprised myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having disposed of the solid part of my entertainment, I was proceeding to
      regale myself with a brimming measure of strong waters, when my attention
      was arrested by the sound of horses' hoofs in brisk motion upon the broken
      road, and evidently approaching the hovel in which I was at that moment
      seated.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ominous clank of sword scabbards and the jingle of brass accoutrements
      announced, unequivocally, that the horsemen were of the military
      profession.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The red-coats will stop here undoubtedly,' said the old woman, observing,
      I suppose, the anxiety of my countenance; 'they never pass us without
      coming in for half an hour to drink or smoke. If you desire to avoid them,
      I can hide you safely; but don't lose a moment. They will be here before
      you can count a hundred.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I thanked the good woman for her hospitable zeal; but I felt a repugnance
      to concealing myself as she suggested, which was enhanced by the
      consciousness that if by any accident I were detected while lurking in the
      room, my situation would of itself inevitably lead to suspicions, and
      probably to discovery.
    </p>
    <p>
      I therefore declined her offer, and awaited in suspense the entrance of
      the soldiers.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had time before they made their appearance to move my seat hurriedly
      from the table to the hearth, where, under the shade of the large chimney,
      I might observe the coming visitors with less chance of being myself
      remarked upon.
    </p>
    <p>
      As my hostess had anticipated, the horsemen drew up at the door of the
      hut, and five dragoons entered the dark chamber where I awaited them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Leaving their horses at the entrance, with much noise and clatter they
      proceeded to seat themselves and call for liquor.
    </p>
    <p>
      Three of these fellows were Dutchmen, and, indeed, all belonged, as I
      afterwards found, to a Dutch regiment, which had been recruited with Irish
      and English, as also partly officered from the same nations.
    </p>
    <p>
      Being supplied with pipes and drink they soon became merry; and not
      suffering their smoking to interfere with their conversation, they talked
      loud and quickly, for the most part in a sort of barbarous language,
      neither Dutch nor English, but compounded of both.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were so occupied with their own jocularity that I had very great
      hopes of escaping observation altogether, and remained quietly seated in a
      corner of the chimney, leaning back upon my seat as if asleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      My taciturnity and quiescence, however, did not avail me, for one of these
      fellows coming over to the hearth to light his pipe, perceived me, and
      looking me very hard in the face, he said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'What countryman are you, brother, that you sit with a covered head in the
      room with the prince's soldiers?'
    </p>
    <p>
      At the same time he tossed my hat off my head into the fire. I was not
      fool enough, though somewhat hot-blooded, to suffer the insolence of this
      fellow to involve me in a broil so dangerous to my person and ruinous to
      my schemes as a riot with these soldiers must prove. I therefore, quietly
      taking up my hat and shaking the ashes out of it, observed:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Sir, I crave your pardon if I have offended you. I am a stranger in these
      quarters, and a poor, ignorant, humble man, desiring only to drive my
      little trade in peace, so far as that may be done in these troublous
      times.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'And what may your trade be?' said the same fellow.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I am a travelling merchant,' I replied; 'and sell my wares as cheap as
      any trader in the country.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Let us see them forthwith,' said he; 'mayhap I or my comrades may want
      something which you can supply. Where is thy chest, friend? Thou shalt
      have ready money' (winking at his companions), 'ready money, and good
      weight, and sound metal; none of your rascally pinchbeck. Eh, my lads?
      Bring forth the goods, and let us see.'
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus urged, I should have betrayed myself had I hesitated to do as
      required; and anxious, upon any terms, to quiet these turbulent men of
      war, I unbuckled my pack and exhibited its contents upon the table before
      them.
    </p>
    <p>
      'A pair of lace ruffles, by the Lord!' said one, unceremoniously seizing
      upon the articles he named.
    </p>
    <p>
      'A phial of perfume,' continued another, tumbling over the farrago which I
      had submitted to them, 'wash-balls, combs, stationery, slippers, small
      knives, tobacco; by &mdash;&mdash;, this merchant is a prize! Mark me,
      honest fellow, the man who wrongs thee shall suffer&mdash;'fore Gad he
      shall; thou shalt be fairly dealt with' (this he said while in the act of
      pocketing a small silver tobacco-box, the most valuable article in the
      lot). 'You shall come with me to head-quarters; the captain will deal with
      you, and never haggle about the price. I promise thee his good will, and
      thou wilt consider me accordingly. You'll find him a profitable customer&mdash;he
      has money without end, and throws it about like a gentleman. If so be as I
      tell thee, I shall expect, and my comrades here, a piece or two in the way
      of a compliment&mdash;but of this anon. Come, then, with us; buckle on thy
      pack quickly, friend.'
    </p>
    <p>
      There was no use in my declaring my willingness to deal with themselves in
      preference to their master; it was clear that they had resolved that I
      should, in the most expeditious and advantageous way, turn my goods into
      money, that they might excise upon me to the amount of their wishes.
    </p>
    <p>
      The worthy who had taken a lead in these arrangements, and who by his
      stripes I perceived to be a corporal, having insisted on my taking a dram
      with him to cement our newly-formed friendship, for which, however, he
      requested me to pay, made me mount behind one of his comrades; and the
      party, of which I thus formed an unwilling member, moved at a slow trot
      towards the quarters of the troop.
    </p>
    <p>
      They reined up their horses at the head of the long bridge, which at this
      village spans the broad waters of the Shannon connecting the opposite
      counties of Tipperary and Clare.
    </p>
    <p>
      A small tower, built originally, no doubt, to protect and to defend this
      pass, occupied the near extremity of the bridge, and in its rear, but
      connected with it, stood several straggling buildings rather dilapidated.
    </p>
    <p>
      A dismounted trooper kept guard at the door, and my conductor having,
      dismounted, as also the corporal, the latter inquired:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Is the captain in his quarters?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'He is,' replied the sentinel.
    </p>
    <p>
      And without more ado my companion shoved me into the entrance of the small
      dark tower, and opening a door at the extremity of the narrow chamber into
      which we had passed from the street, we entered a second room in which
      were seated some half-dozen officers of various ranks and ages, engaged in
      drinking, and smoking, and play.
    </p>
    <p>
      I glanced rapidly from man to man, and was nearly satisfied by my
      inspection, when one of the gentlemen whose back had been turned towards
      the place where I stood, suddenly changed his position and looked towards
      me.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as I saw his face my heart sank within me, and I knew that my life
      or death was balanced, as it were, upon a razor's edge.
    </p>
    <p>
      The name of this man whose unexpected appearance thus affected me was Hugh
      Oliver, and good and strong reason had I to dread him, for so bitterly did
      he hate me, that to this moment I do verily believe he would have
      compassed my death if it lay in his power to do so, even at the hazard of
      his own life and soul, for I had been&mdash;though God knows with many
      sore strugglings and at the stern call of public duty&mdash;the judge and
      condemner of his brother; and though the military law, which I was called
      upon to administer, would permit no other course or sentence than the
      bloody one which I was compelled to pursue, yet even to this hour the
      recollection of that deed is heavy at my breast.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as I saw this man I felt that my safety depended upon the accident
      of his not recognising me through the disguise which I had assumed, an
      accident against which were many chances, for he well knew my person and
      appearance.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was too late now to destroy General Sarsfield's instructions; any
      attempt to do so would ensure detection. All then depended upon a cast of
      the die.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the first moment of dismay and heart-sickening agitation had passed,
      it seemed to me as if my mind acquired a collectedness and clearness more
      complete and intense than I had ever experienced before.
    </p>
    <p>
      I instantly perceived that he did not know me, for turning from me to the
      soldier with all air of indifference, he said,
    </p>
    <p>
      'Is this a prisoner or a deserter? What have you brought him here for,
      sirra?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Your wisdom will regard him as you see fit, may it please you,' said the
      corporal. 'The man is a travelling merchant, and, overtaking him upon the
      road, close by old Dame MacDonagh's cot, I thought I might as well make a
      sort of prisoner of him that your honour might use him as it might appear
      most convenient; he has many commododies which are not unworthy of price
      in this wilderness, and some which you may condescend to make use of
      yourself. May he exhibit the goods he has for sale, an't please you?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Ay, let us see them,' said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Unbuckle your pack,' exclaimed the corporal, with the same tone of
      command with which, at the head of his guard, he would have said 'Recover
      your arms.' 'Unbuckle your pack, fellow, and show your goods to the
      captain&mdash;here, where you are.'
    </p>
    <p>
      The conclusion of his directions was suggested by my endeavouring to move
      round in order to get my back towards the windows, hoping, by keeping my
      face in the shade, to escape detection.
    </p>
    <p>
      In this manoeuvre, however, I was foiled by the imperiousness of the
      soldier; and inwardly cursing his ill-timed interference, I proceeded to
      present my merchandise to the loving contemplation of the officers who
      thronged around me, with a strong light from an opposite window full upon
      my face.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I continued to traffic with these gentlemen, I observed with no small
      anxiety the eyes of Captain Oliver frequently fixed upon me with a kind of
      dubious inquiring gaze.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I think, my honest fellow,' he said at last, 'that I have seen you
      somewhere before this. Have you often dealt with the military?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I have traded, sir,' said I, 'with the soldiery many a time, and always
      been honourably treated. Will your worship please to buy a pair of lace
      ruffles?&mdash;very cheap, your worship.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Why do you wear your hair so much over your face, sir?' said Oliver,
      without noticing my suggestion. 'I promise you, I think no good of thee;
      throw back your hair, and let me see thee plainly. Hold up your face, and
      look straight at me; throw back your hair, sir.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I felt that all chance of escape was at an end; and stepping forward as
      near as the table would allow me to him, I raised my head, threw back my
      hair, and fixed my eyes sternly and boldly upon his face.
    </p>
    <p>
      I saw that he knew me instantly, for his countenance turned as pale as
      ashes with surprise and hatred. He started up, placing his hand
      instinctively upon his sword-hilt, and glaring at me with a look so
      deadly, that I thought every moment he would strike his sword into my
      heart. He said in a kind of whisper: 'Hardress Fitzgerald?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Yes;' said I, boldly, for the excitement of the scene had effectually
      stirred my blood, 'Hardress Fitzgerald is before you. I know you well,
      Captain Oliver. I know how you hate me. I know how you thirst for my
      blood; but in a good cause, and in the hands of God, I defy you.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'You are a desperate villain, sir,' said Captain Oliver; 'a rebel and a
      murderer! Holloa, there! guard, seize him!'
    </p>
    <p>
      As the soldiers entered, I threw my eyes hastily round the room, and
      observing a glowing fire upon the hearth, I suddenly drew General
      Sarsfield's packet from my bosom, and casting it upon the embers, planted
      my foot upon it.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Secure the papers!' shouted the captain; and almost instantly I was laid
      prostrate and senseless upon the floor, by a blow from the butt of a
      carbine.
    </p>
    <p>
      I cannot say how long I continued in a state of torpor; but at length,
      having slowly recovered my senses, I found myself lying firmly handcuffed
      upon the floor of a small chamber, through a narrow loophole in one of
      whose walls the evening sun was shining. I was chilled with cold and damp,
      and drenched in blood, which had flowed in large quantities from the wound
      on my head. By a strong effort I shook off the sick drowsiness which still
      hung upon me, and, weak and giddy, I rose with pain and difficulty to my
      feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      The chamber, or rather cell, in which I stood was about eight feet square,
      and of a height very disproportioned to its other dimensions; its altitude
      from the floor to the ceiling being not less than twelve or fourteen feet.
      A narrow slit placed high in the wall admitted a scanty light, but
      sufficient to assure me that my prison contained nothing to render the
      sojourn of its tenant a whit less comfortless than my worst enemy could
      have wished.
    </p>
    <p>
      My first impulse was naturally to examine the security of the door, the
      loop-hole which I have mentioned being too high and too narrow to afford a
      chance of escape. I listened attentively to ascertain if possible whether
      or not a guard had been placed upon the outside.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not a sound was to be heard. I now placed my shoulder to the door, and
      sought with all my combined strength and weight to force it open. It,
      however, resisted all my efforts, and thus baffled in my appeal to mere
      animal power, exhausted and disheartened, I threw myself on the ground.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was not in my nature, however, long to submit to the apathy of despair,
      and in a few minutes I was on my feet again.
    </p>
    <p>
      With patient scrutiny I endeavoured to ascertain the nature of the
      fastenings which secured the door.
    </p>
    <p>
      The planks, fortunately, having been nailed together fresh, had shrunk
      considerably, so as to leave wide chinks between each and its neighbour.
    </p>
    <p>
      By means of these apertures I saw that my dungeon was secured, not by a
      lock, as I had feared, but by a strong wooden bar, running horizontally
      across the door, about midway upon the outside.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Now,' thought I, 'if I can but slip my fingers through the opening of the
      planks, I can easily remove the bar, and then&mdash;&mdash;'
    </p>
    <p>
      My attempts, however, were all frustrated by the manner in which my hands
      were fastened together, each embarrassing the other, and rendering my
      efforts so hopelessly clumsy, that I was obliged to give them over in
      despair.
    </p>
    <p>
      I turned with a sigh from my last hope, and began to pace my narrow prison
      floor, when my eye suddenly encountered an old rusty nail or holdfast
      sticking in the wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      All the gold of Plutus would not have been so welcome as that rusty piece
      of iron.
    </p>
    <p>
      I instantly wrung it from the wall, and inserting the point between the
      planks of the door into the bolt, and working it backwards and forwards, I
      had at length the unspeakable satisfaction to perceive that the beam was
      actually yielding to my efforts, and gradually sliding into its berth in
      the wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have often been engaged in struggles where great bodily strength was
      required, and every thew and sinew in the system taxed to the uttermost;
      but, strange as it may appear, I never was so completely exhausted and
      overcome by any labour as by this comparatively trifling task.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again and again was I obliged to desist, until my cramped finger-joints
      recovered their power; but at length my perseverance was rewarded, for,
      little by little, I succeeded in removing the bolt so far as to allow the
      door to open sufficiently to permit me to pass.
    </p>
    <p>
      With some squeezing I succeeded in forcing my way into a small passage,
      upon which my prison-door opened.
    </p>
    <p>
      This led into a chamber somewhat more spacious than my cell, but still
      containing no furniture, and affording no means of escape to one so
      crippled with bonds as I was.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the far extremity of this room was a door which stood ajar, and,
      stealthily passing through it, I found myself in a room containing nothing
      but a few raw hides, which rendered the atmosphere nearly intolerable.
    </p>
    <p>
      Here I checked myself, for I heard voices in busy conversation in the next
      room.
    </p>
    <p>
      I stole softly to the door which separated the chamber in which I stood
      from that from which the voices proceeded.
    </p>
    <p>
      A moment served to convince me that any attempt upon it would be worse
      than fruitless, for it was secured upon the outside by a strong lock,
      besides two bars, all which I was enabled to ascertain by means of the
      same defect in the joining of the planks which I have mentioned as
      belonging to the inner door.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had approached this door very softly, so that, my proximity being wholly
      unsuspected by the speakers within, the conversation continued without
      interruption.
    </p>
    <p>
      Planting myself close to the door, I applied my eye to one of the chinks
      which separated the boards, and thus obtained a full view of the chamber
      and its occupants.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was the very apartment into which I had been first conducted. The outer
      door, which faced the one at which I stood, was closed, and at a small
      table were seated the only tenants of the room&mdash;two officers, one of
      whom was Captain Oliver. The latter was reading a paper, which I made no
      doubt was the document with which I had been entrusted.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The fellow deserves it, no doubt' said the junior officer. 'But,
      methinks, considering our orders from head-quarters, you deal somewhat too
      hastily.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Nephew, nephew,' said Captain Oliver, 'you mistake the tenor of our
      orders. We were directed to conciliate the peasantry by fair and gentle
      treatment, but not to suffer spies and traitors to escape. This packet is
      of some value, though not, in all its parts, intelligible to me. The
      bearer has made his way hither under a disguise, which, along with the
      other circumstances of his appearance here, is sufficient to convict him
      as a spy.'
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a pause here, and after a few minutes the younger officer said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Spy is a hard term, no doubt, uncle; but it is possible&mdash;nay,
      likely, that this poor devil sought merely to carry the parcel with which
      he was charged in safety to its destination. Pshaw! he is sufficiently
      punished if you duck him, for ten minutes or so, between the bridge and
      the mill-dam.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Young man,' said Oliver, somewhat sternly, 'do not obtrude your advice
      where it is not called for; this man, for whom you plead, murdered your
      own father!'
    </p>
    <p>
      I could not see how this announcement affected the person to whom it was
      addressed, for his back was towards me; but I conjectured, easily, that my
      last poor chance was gone, for a long silence ensued. Captain Oliver at
      length resumed:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I know the villain well. I know him capable of any crime; but, by &mdash;&mdash;,
      his last card is played, and the game is up. He shall not see the moon
      rise to-night.'
    </p>
    <p>
      There was here another pause.
    </p>
    <p>
      Oliver rose, and going to the outer door, called:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hewson! Hewson!'
    </p>
    <p>
      A grim-looking corporal entered.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hewson, have your guard ready at eight o'clock, with their carbines
      clean, and a round of ball-cartridge each. Keep them sober; and, further,
      plant two upright posts at the near end of the bridge, with a cross one at
      top, in the manner of a gibbet. See to these matters, Hewson: I shall be
      with you speedily.'
    </p>
    <p>
      The corporal made his salutations, and retired.
    </p>
    <p>
      Oliver deliberately folded up the papers with which I had been
      commissioned, and placing them in the pocket of his vest, he said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Cunning, cunning Master Hardress Fitzgerald hath made a false step; the
      old fox is in the toils. Hardress Fitzgerald, Hardress Fitzgerald, I will
      blot you out.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He repeated these words several times, at the same time rubbing his finger
      strongly upon the table, as if he sought to erase a stain:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I WILL BLOT YOU OUT!'
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a kind of glee in his manner and expression which chilled my
      very heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You shall be first shot like a dog, and then hanged like a dog: shot
      to-night, and hung to-morrow; hung at the bridgehead&mdash;hung, until
      your bones drop asunder!'
    </p>
    <p>
      It is impossible to describe the exultation with which he seemed to dwell
      upon, and to particularise the fate which he intended for me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I observed, however, that his face was deadly pale, and felt assured that
      his conscience and inward convictions were struggling against his cruel
      resolve. Without further comment the two officers left the room, I suppose
      to oversee the preparations which were being made for the deed of which I
      was to be the victim.
    </p>
    <p>
      A chill, sick horror crept over me as they retired, and I felt, for the
      moment, upon the brink of swooning. This feeling, however, speedily gave
      place to a sensation still more terrible. A state of excitement so intense
      and tremendous as to border upon literal madness, supervened; my brain
      reeled and throbbed as if it would burst; thoughts the wildest and the
      most hideous flashed through my mind with a spontaneous rapidity that
      scared my very soul; while, all the time, I felt a strange and frightful
      impulse to burst into uncontrolled laughter.
    </p>
    <p>
      Gradually this fearful paroxysm passed away. I kneeled and prayed
      fervently, and felt comforted and assured; but still I could not view the
      slow approaches of certain death without an agitation little short of
      agony.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have stood in battle many a time when the chances of escape were
      fearfully small. I have confronted foemen in the deadly breach. I have
      marched, with a constant heart, against the cannon's mouth. Again and
      again has the beast which I bestrode been shot under me; again and again
      have I seen the comrades who walked beside me in an instant laid for ever
      in the dust; again and again have I been in the thick of battle, and of
      its mortal dangers, and never felt my heart shake, or a single nerve
      tremble: but now, helpless, manacled, imprisoned, doomed, forced to watch
      the approaches of an inevitable fate&mdash;to wait, silent and moveless,
      while death as it were crept towards me, human nature was taxed to the
      uttermost to bear the horrible situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      I returned again to the closet in which I had found myself upon recovering
      from the swoon.
    </p>
    <p>
      The evening sunshine and twilight was fast melting into darkness, when I
      heard the outer door, that which communicated with the guard-room in which
      the officers had been amusing themselves, opened and locked again upon the
      inside.
    </p>
    <p>
      A measured step then approached, and the door of the wretched cell in
      which I lay being rudely pushed open, a soldier entered, who carried
      something in his hand; but, owing to the obscurity of the place, I could
      not see what.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Art thou awake, fellow?' said he, in a gruff voice. 'Stir thyself; get
      upon thy legs.'
    </p>
    <p>
      His orders were enforced by no very gentle application of his military
      boot.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Friend,' said I, rising with difficulty, 'you need not insult a dying
      man. You have been sent hither to conduct me to death. Lead on! My trust
      is in God, that He will forgive me my sins, and receive my soul, redeemed
      by the blood of His Son.'
    </p>
    <p>
      There here intervened a pause of some length, at the end of which the
      soldier said, in the same gruff voice, but in a lower key:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Look ye, comrade, it will be your own fault if you die this night. On one
      condition I promise to get you out of this hobble with a whole skin; but
      if you go to any of your d&mdash;&mdash;d gammon, by G&mdash;, before two
      hours are passed, you will have as many holes in your carcase as a
      target.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Name your conditions,' said I, 'and if they consist with honour, I will
      never balk at the offer.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Here they are: you are to be shot to-night, by Captain Oliver's orders.
      The carbines are cleaned for the job, and the cartridges served out to the
      men. By G&mdash;, I tell you the truth!'
    </p>
    <p>
      Of this I needed not much persuasion, and intimated to the man my
      conviction that he spoke the truth.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, then,' he continued, 'now for the means of avoiding this ugly
      business. Captain Oliver rides this night to head-quarters, with the
      papers which you carried. Before he starts he will pay you a visit, to
      fish what he can out of you with all the fine promises he can make. Humour
      him a little, and when you find an opportunity, stab him in the throat
      above the cuirass.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'A feasible plan, surely,' said I, raising my shackled hands, 'for a man
      thus completely crippled and without a weapon.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I will manage all that presently for you,' said the soldier. 'When you
      have thus dealt with him, take his cloak and hat, and so forth, and put
      them on; the papers you will find in the pocket of his vest, in a red
      leather case. Walk boldly out. I am appointed to ride with Captain Oliver,
      and you will find me holding his horse and my own by the door. Mount
      quickly, and I will do the same, and then we will ride for our lives
      across the bridge. You will find the holster-pistols loaded in case of
      pursuit; and, with the devil's help, we shall reach Limerick without a
      hair hurt. My only condition is, that when you strike Oliver, you strike
      home, and again and again, until he is FINISHED; and I trust to your
      honour to remember me when we reach the town.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I cannot say whether I resolved right or wrong, but I thought my
      situation, and the conduct of Captain Oliver, warranted me in acceding to
      the conditions propounded by my visitant, and with alacrity I told him so,
      and desired him to give me the power, as he had promised to do, of
      executing them.
    </p>
    <p>
      With speed and promptitude he drew a small key from his pocket, and in an
      instant the manacles were removed from my hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      How my heart bounded within me as my wrists were released from the iron
      gripe of the shackles! The first step toward freedom was made&mdash;my
      self-reliance returned, and I felt assured of success.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Now for the weapon,' said I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I fear me, you will find it rather clumsy,' said he; 'but if well
      handled, it will do as well as the best Toledo. It is the only thing I
      could get, but I sharpened it myself; it has an edge like a skean.'
    </p>
    <p>
      He placed in my hand the steel head of a halberd. Grasping it firmly, I
      found that it made by no means a bad weapon in point of convenience; for
      it felt in the hand like a heavy dagger, the portion which formed the
      blade or point being crossed nearly at the lower extremity by a small bar
      of metal, at one side shaped into the form of an axe, and at the other
      into that of a hook. These two transverse appendages being muffled by the
      folds of my cravat, which I removed for the purpose, formed a perfect
      guard or hilt, and the lower extremity formed like a tube, in which the
      pike-handle had been inserted, afforded ample space for the grasp of my
      hand; the point had been made as sharp as a needle, and the metal he
      assured me was good.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus equipped he left me, having observed, 'The captain sent me to bring
      you to your senses, and give you some water that he might find you proper
      for his visit. Here is the pitcher; I think I have revived you
      sufficiently for the captain's purpose.'
    </p>
    <p>
      With a low savage laugh he left me to my reflections.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having examined and adjusted the weapon, I carefully bound the ends of the
      cravat, with which I had secured the cross part of the spear-head, firmly
      round my wrist, so that in case of a struggle it might not easily be
      forced from my hand; and having made these precautionary dispositions, I
      sat down upon the ground with my back against the wall, and my hands
      together under my coat, awaiting my visitor.
    </p>
    <p>
      The time wore slowly on; the dusk became dimmer and dimmer, until it
      nearly bordered on total darkness.
    </p>
    <p>
      'How's this?' said I, inwardly; 'Captain Oliver, you said I should not see
      the moon rise to-night. Methinks you are somewhat tardy in fulfilling your
      prophecy.'
    </p>
    <p>
      As I made this reflection, a noise at the outer door announced the
      entrance of a visitant. I knew that the decisive moment was come, and
      letting my head sink upon my breast, and assuring myself that my hands
      were concealed, I waited, in the attitude of deep dejection, the approach
      of my foe and betrayer.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I had expected, Captain Oliver entered the room where I lay. He was
      equipped for instant duty, as far as the imperfect twilight would allow me
      to see; the long sword clanked upon the floor as he made his way through
      the lobbies which led to my place of confinement; his ample military cloak
      hung upon his arm; his cocked hat was upon his head, and in all points he
      was prepared for the road.
    </p>
    <p>
      This tallied exactly with what my strange informant had told me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I felt my heart swell and my breath come thick as the awful moment which
      was to witness the death-struggle of one or other of us approached.
    </p>
    <p>
      Captain Oliver stood within a yard or two of the place where I sat, or
      rather lay; and folding his arms, he remained silent for a minute or two,
      as if arranging in his mind how he should address me.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hardress Fitzgerald,' he began at length, 'are you awake? Stand up, if
      you desire to hear of matters nearly touching your life or death. Get up,
      I say.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I arose doggedly, and affecting the awkward movements of one whose hands
      were bound,
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well,' said I, 'what would you of me? Is it not enough that I am thus
      imprisoned without a cause, and about, as I suspect, to suffer a most
      unjust and violent sentence, but must I also be disturbed during the few
      moments left me for reflection and repentance by the presence of my
      persecutor? What do you want of me?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'As to your punishment, sir,' said he, 'your own deserts have no doubt
      suggested the likelihood of it to your mind; but I now am with you to let
      you know that whatever mitigation of your sentence you may look for, must
      be earned by your compliance with my orders. You must frankly and fully
      explain the contents of the packet which you endeavoured this day to
      destroy; and further, you must tell all that you know of the designs of
      the popish rebels.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'And if I do this I am to expect a mitigation of my punishment&mdash;is it
      not so?'
    </p>
    <p>
      Oliver bowed.
    </p>
    <p>
      'And what IS this mitigation to be? On the honour of a soldier, what is it
      to be?' inquired I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'When you have made the disclosure required,' he replied, 'you shall hear.
      'Tis then time to talk of indulgences.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Methinks it would then be too late,' answered I. 'But a chance is a
      chance, and a drowning man will catch at a straw. You are an honourable
      man, Captain Oliver. I must depend, I suppose, on your good faith. Well,
      sir, before I make the desired communication I have one question more to
      put. What is to befall me in case that I, remembering the honour of a
      soldier and a gentleman, reject your infamous terms, scorn your
      mitigations, and defy your utmost power?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'In that case,' replied he, coolly, 'before half an hour you shall be a
      corpse.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Then God have mercy on your soul!' said I; and springing forward, I
      dashed the weapon which I held at his throat.
    </p>
    <p>
      I missed my aim, but struck him full in the mouth with such force that
      most of his front teeth were dislodged, and the point of the spear-head
      passed out under his jaw, at the ear.
    </p>
    <p>
      My onset was so sudden and unexpected that he reeled back to the wall, and
      did not recover his equilibrium in time to prevent my dealing a second
      blow, which I did with my whole force. The point unfortunately struck the
      cuirass, near the neck, and glancing aside it inflicted but a flesh wound,
      tearing the skin and tendons along the throat.
    </p>
    <p>
      He now grappled with me, strange to say, without uttering any cry of
      alarm; being a very powerful man, and if anything rather heavier and more
      strongly built than I, he succeeded in drawing me with him to the ground.
      We fell together with a heavy crash, tugging and straining in what we were
      both conscious was a mortal struggle. At length I succeeded in getting
      over him, and struck him twice more in the face; still he struggled with
      an energy which nothing but the tremendous stake at issue could have
      sustained.
    </p>
    <p>
      I succeeded again in inflicting several more wounds upon him, any one of
      which might have been mortal. While thus contending he clutched his hands
      about my throat, so firmly that I felt the blood swelling the veins of my
      temples and face almost to bursting. Again and again I struck the weapon
      deep into his face and throat, but life seemed to adhere in him with an
      almost INSECT tenacity.
    </p>
    <p>
      My sight now nearly failed, my senses almost forsook me; I felt upon the
      point of suffocation when, with one desperate effort, I struck him another
      and a last blow in the face. The weapon which I wielded had lighted upon
      the eye, and the point penetrated the brain; the body quivered under me,
      the deadly grasp relaxed, and Oliver lay upon the ground a corpse!
    </p>
    <p>
      As I arose and shook the weapon and the bloody cloth from my hand, the
      moon which he had foretold I should never see rise, shone bright and broad
      into the room, and disclosed, with ghastly distinctness, the mangled
      features of the dead soldier; the mouth, full of clotting blood and broken
      teeth, lay open; the eye, close by whose lid the fatal wound had been
      inflicted, was not, as might have been expected, bathed in blood, but had
      started forth nearly from the socket, and gave to the face, by its fearful
      unlikeness to the other glazing orb, a leer more hideous and unearthly
      than fancy ever saw. The wig, with all its rich curls, had fallen with the
      hat to the floor, leaving the shorn head exposed, and in many places
      marked by the recent struggle; the rich lace cravat was drenched in blood,
      and the gay uniform in many places soiled with the same.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is hard to say, with what feelings I looked upon the unsightly and
      revolting mass which had so lately been a living and a comely man. I had
      not any time, however, to spare for reflection; the deed was done&mdash;the
      responsibility was upon me, and all was registered in the book of that God
      who judges rightly.
    </p>
    <p>
      With eager haste I removed from the body such of the military
      accoutrements as were necessary for the purpose of my disguise. I buckled
      on the sword, drew off the military boots, and donned them myself, placed
      the brigadier wig and cocked hat upon my head, threw on the cloak, drew it
      up about my face, and proceeded, with the papers which I found as the
      soldier had foretold me, and the key of the outer lobby, to the door of
      the guard-room; this I opened, and with a firm and rapid tread walked
      through the officers, who rose as I entered, and passed without question
      or interruption to the street-door. Here I was met by the grimlooking
      corporal, Hewson, who, saluting me, said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'How soon, captain, shall the file be drawn out and the prisoner
      despatched?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'In half an hour,' I replied, without raising my voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      The man again saluted, and in two steps I reached the soldier who held the
      two horses, as he had intimated.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Is all right?' said he, eagerly.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Ay,' said I, 'which horse am I to mount?'
    </p>
    <p>
      He satisfied me upon this point, and I threw myself into the saddle; the
      soldier mounted his horse, and dashing the spurs into the flanks of the
      animal which I bestrode, we thundered along the narrow bridge. At the far
      extremity a sentinel, as we approached, called out, 'Who goes there?
      stand, and give the word!' Heedless of the interruption, with my heart
      bounding with excitement, I dashed on, as did also the soldier who
      accompanied me.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Stand, or I fire! give the word!' cried the sentry.
    </p>
    <p>
      'God save the king, and to hell with the prince!' shouted I, flinging the
      cocked hat in his face as I galloped by.
    </p>
    <p>
      The response was the sharp report of a carbine, accompanied by the whiz of
      a bullet, which passed directly between me and my comrade, now riding
      beside me.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hurrah!' I shouted; 'try it again, my boy.'
    </p>
    <p>
      And away we went at a gallop, which bid fair to distance anything like
      pursuit.
    </p>
    <p>
      Never was spur more needed, however, for soon the clatter of horses'
      hoofs, in full speed, crossing the bridge, came sharp and clear through
      the stillness of the night.
    </p>
    <p>
      Away we went, with our pursuers close behind; one mile was passed, another
      nearly completed. The moon now shone forth, and, turning in the saddle, I
      looked back upon the road we had passed.
    </p>
    <p>
      One trooper had headed the rest, and was within a hundred yards of us.
    </p>
    <p>
      I saw the fellow throw himself from his horse upon the ground.
    </p>
    <p>
      I knew his object, and said to my comrade:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Lower your body&mdash;lie flat over the saddle; the fellow is going to
      fire.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I had hardly spoken when the report of a carbine startled the echoes, and
      the ball, striking the hind leg of my companion's horse, the poor animal
      fell headlong upon the road, throwing his rider head-foremost over the
      saddle.
    </p>
    <p>
      My first impulse was to stop and share whatever fate might await my
      comrade; but my second and wiser one was to spur on, and save myself and
      my despatch.
    </p>
    <p>
      I rode on at a gallop, turning to observe my comrade's fate. I saw his
      pursuer, having remounted, ride rapidly up to him, and, on reaching the
      spot where the man and horse lay, rein in and dismount.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was hardly upon the ground, when my companion shot him dead with one of
      the holster-pistols which he had drawn from the pipe; and, leaping nimbly
      over a ditch at the side of the road, he was soon lost among the ditches
      and thornbushes which covered that part of the country.
    </p>
    <p>
      Another mile being passed, I had the satisfaction to perceive that the
      pursuit was given over, and in an hour more I crossed Thomond Bridge, and
      slept that night in the fortress of Limerick, having delivered the packet,
      the result of whose safe arrival was the destruction of William's great
      train of artillery, then upon its way to the besiegers.
    </p>
    <p>
      Years after this adventure, I met in France a young officer, who I found
      had served in Captain Oliver's regiment; and he explained what I had never
      before understood&mdash;the motives of the man who had wrought my
      deliverance. Strange to say, he was the foster-brother of Oliver, whom he
      thus devoted to death, but in revenge for the most grievous wrong which
      one man can inflict upon another!
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      'THE QUARE GANDER.'
    </h2>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
     Being a Twelfth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis
     Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.
</pre>
    <p>
      As I rode at a slow walk, one soft autumn evening, from the once noted and
      noticeable town of Emly, now a squalid village, towards the no less
      remarkable town of Tipperary, I fell into a meditative mood.
    </p>
    <p>
      My eye wandered over a glorious landscape; a broad sea of corn-fields,
      that might have gladdened even a golden age, was waving before me; groups
      of little cabins, with their poplars, osiers, and light mountain ashes,
      clustered shelteringly around them, were scattered over the plain; the
      thin blue smoke arose floating through their boughs in the still evening
      air. And far away with all their broad lights and shades, softened with
      the haze of approaching twilight, stood the bold wild Galties.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I gazed on this scene, whose richness was deepened by the melancholy
      glow of the setting sun, the tears rose to my eyes, and I said:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Alas, my country! what a mournful beauty is thine. Dressed in loveliness
      and laughter, there is mortal decay at thy heart: sorrow, sin, and shame
      have mingled thy cup of misery. Strange rulers have bruised thee, and
      laughed thee to scorn, and they have made all thy sweetness bitter. Thy
      shames and sins are the austere fruits of thy miseries, and thy miseries
      have been poured out upon thee by foreign hands. Alas, my stricken
      country! clothed with this most pity-moving smile, with this most
      unutterably mournful loveliness, thou sore-grieved, thou
      desperately-beloved! Is there for thee, my country, a resurrection?'
    </p>
    <p>
      I know not how long I might have continued to rhapsodize in this strain,
      had not my wandering thoughts been suddenly recalled to my own immediate
      neighbourhood by the monotonous clatter of a horse's hoofs upon the road,
      evidently moving, at that peculiar pace which is neither a walk nor a
      trot, and yet partakes of both, so much in vogue among the southern
      farmers.
    </p>
    <p>
      In a moment my pursuer was up with me, and checking his steed into a walk
      he saluted me with much respect. The cavalier was a light-built fellow,
      with good-humoured sun-burnt features, a shrewd and lively black eye, and
      a head covered with a crop of close curly black hair, and surmounted with
      a turf-coloured caubeen, in the packthread band of which was stuck a short
      pipe, which had evidently seen much service.
    </p>
    <p>
      My companion was a dealer in all kinds of local lore, and soon took
      occasion to let me see that he was so.
    </p>
    <p>
      After two or three short stories, in which the scandalous and supernatural
      were happily blended, we happened to arrive at a narrow road or bohreen
      leading to a snug-looking farm-house.
    </p>
    <p>
      'That's a comfortable bit iv a farm,' observed my comrade, pointing
      towards the dwelling with his thumb; 'a shnug spot, and belongs to the
      Mooneys this long time. 'Tis a noted place for what happened wid the
      famous gandher there in former times.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'And what was that?' inquired I.
    </p>
    <p>
      'What was it happened wid the gandher!' ejaculated my companion in a tone
      of indignant surprise; 'the gandher iv Ballymacrucker, the gandher! Your
      raverance must be a stranger in these parts. Sure every fool knows all
      about the gandher, and Terence Mooney, that was, rest his sowl. Begorra,
      'tis surprisin' to me how in the world you didn't hear iv the gandher; and
      may be it's funnin me ye are, your raverance.'
    </p>
    <p>
      I assured him to the contrary, and conjured him to narrate to me the
      facts, an unacquaintance with which was sufficient it appeared to stamp me
      as an ignoramus of the first magnitude.
    </p>
    <p>
      It did not require much entreaty to induce my communicative friend to
      relate the circumstance, in nearly the following words:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Terence Mooney was an honest boy and well to do; an' he rinted the
      biggest farm on this side iv the Galties; an' bein' mighty cute an' a
      sevare worker, it was small wonder he turned a good penny every harvest.
      But unluckily he was blessed with an ilegant large family iv daughters,
      an' iv coorse his heart was allamost bruck, striving to make up fortunes
      for the whole of them. An' there wasn't a conthrivance iv any soart or
      description for makin' money out iv the farm, but he was up to.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, among the other ways he had iv gettin' up in the world, he always
      kep a power iv turkeys, and all soarts iv poultrey; an' he was out iv all
      rason partial to geese&mdash;an' small blame to him for that same&mdash;for
      twice't a year you can pluck them as bare as my hand&mdash;an' get a fine
      price for the feathers, an' plenty of rale sizable eggs&mdash;an' when
      they are too ould to lay any more, you can kill them, an' sell them to the
      gintlemen for goslings, d'ye see, let alone that a goose is the most manly
      bird that is out.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, it happened in the coorse iv time that one ould gandher tuck a
      wondherful likin' to Terence, an' divil a place he could go serenadin'
      about the farm, or lookin' afther the men, but the gandher id be at his
      heels, an' rubbin' himself agin his legs, an' lookin' up in his face jist
      like any other Christian id do; an' begorra, the likes iv it was never
      seen&mdash;Terence Mooney an' the gandher wor so great.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' at last the bird was so engagin' that Terence would not allow it to
      be plucked any more, an' kep it from that time out for love an' affection&mdash;just
      all as one like one iv his childer.
    </p>
    <p>
      'But happiness in perfection never lasts long, an' the neighbours begin'd
      to suspect the nathur an' intentions iv the gandher, an' some iv them said
      it was the divil, an' more iv them that it was a fairy.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, Terence could not but hear something of what was sayin', an' you
      may be sure he was not altogether asy in his mind about it, an' from one
      day to another he was gettin' more ancomfortable in himself, until he
      detarmined to sind for Jer Garvan, the fairy docthor in Garryowen, an'
      it's he was the ilegant hand at the business, an' divil a sperit id say a
      crass word to him, no more nor a priest. An' moreover he was very great
      wid ould Terence Mooney&mdash;this man's father that' was.
    </p>
    <p>
      'So without more about it he was sint for, an' sure enough the divil a
      long he was about it, for he kem back that very evenin' along wid the boy
      that was sint for him, an' as soon as he was there, an' tuck his supper,
      an' was done talkin' for a while, he begined of coorse to look into the
      gandher.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, he turned it this away an' that away, to the right an' to the left,
      an' straight-ways an' upside-down, an' when he was tired handlin' it, says
      he to Terence Mooney:
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Terence," says he, "you must remove the bird into the next room," says
      he, "an' put a petticoat," says he, "or anny other convaynience round his
      head," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"An' why so?" says Terence.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Becase," says Jer, says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Becase what?" says Terence.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Becase," says Jer, "if it isn't done you'll never be asy again," says
      he, "or pusilanimous in your mind," says he; "so ax no more questions, but
      do my biddin'," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Well," says Terence, "have your own way," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' wid that he tuck the ould gandher, an' giv' it to one iv the
      gossoons.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"An' take care," says he, "don't smother the crathur," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, as soon as the bird was gone, says Jer Garvan says he:
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Do you know what that ould gandher IS, Terence Mooney?"
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Divil a taste," says Terence.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Well then," says Jer, "the gandher is your own father," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"It's jokin' you are," says Terence, turnin' mighty pale; "how can an
      ould gandher be my father?" says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"I'm not funnin' you at all," says Jer; "it's thrue what I tell you, it's
      your father's wandhrin' sowl," says he, "that's naturally tuck pissession
      iv the ould gandher's body," says he. "I know him many ways, and I
      wondher," says he, "you do not know the cock iv his eye yourself," says
      he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Oh blur an' ages!" says Terence, "what the divil will I ever do at all
      at all," says he; "it's all over wid me, for I plucked him twelve times at
      the laste," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"That can't be helped now," says Jer; "it was a sevare act surely," says
      he, "but it's too late to lamint for it now," says he; "the only way to
      prevint what's past," says he, "is to put a stop to it before it happens,"
      says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Thrue for you," says Terence, "but how the divil did you come to the
      knowledge iv my father's sowl," says he, "bein' in the owld gandher," says
      he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"If I tould you," says Jer, "you would not undherstand me," says he,
      "without book-larnin' an' gasthronomy," says he; "so ax me no questions,"
      says he, "an' I'll tell you no lies. But blieve me in this much," says he,
      "it's your father that's in it," says he; "an' if I don't make him spake
      to-morrow mornin'," says he, "I'll give you lave to call me a fool," says
      he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Say no more," says Terence, "that settles the business," says he; "an'
      oh! blur and ages is it not a quare thing," says he, "for a dacent
      respictable man," says he, "to be walkin' about the counthry in the shape
      iv an ould gandher," says he; "and oh, murdher, murdher! is not it often I
      plucked him," says he, "an' tundher and ouns might not I have ate him,"
      says he; and wid that he fell into a could parspiration, savin' your
      prisince, an was on the pint iv faintin' wid the bare notions iv it.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, whin he was come to himself agin, says Jerry to him quite an' asy:
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Terence," says he, "don't be aggravatin' yourself," says he; "for I have
      a plan composed that 'ill make him spake out," says he, "an' tell what it
      is in the world he's wantin'," says he; "an' mind an' don't be comin' in
      wid your gosther, an' to say agin anything I tell you," says he, "but jist
      purtind, as soon as the bird is brought back," says he, "how that we're
      goin' to sind him to-morrow mornin' to market," says he. "An' if he don't
      spake to-night," says he, "or gother himself out iv the place," says he,
      "put him into the hamper airly, and sind him in the cart," says he,
      "straight to Tipperary, to be sould for ating," says he, "along wid the
      two gossoons," says he, "an' my name isn't Jer Garvan," says he, "if he
      doesn't spake out before he's half-way," says he. "An' mind," says he, "as
      soon as iver he says the first word," says he, "that very minute bring him
      aff to Father Crotty," says he; "an' if his raverince doesn't make him
      ratire," says he, "like the rest iv his parishioners, glory be to God,"
      says he, "into the siclusion iv the flames iv purgathory," says he,
      "there's no vartue in my charums," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, wid that the ould gandher was let into the room agin, an' they all
      bigined to talk iv sindin' him the nixt mornin' to be sould for roastin'
      in Tipperary, jist as if it was a thing andoubtingly settled. But divil a
      notice the gandher tuck, no more nor if they wor spaking iv the
      Lord-Liftinant; an' Terence desired the boys to get ready the kish for the
      poulthry, an' to "settle it out wid hay soft an' shnug," says he, "for
      it's the last jauntin' the poor ould gandher 'ill get in this world," says
      he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, as the night was gettin' late, Terence was growin' mighty sorrowful
      an' down-hearted in himself entirely wid the notions iv what was goin' to
      happen. An' as soon as the wife an' the crathurs war fairly in bed, he
      brought out some illigint potteen, an' himself an' Jer Garvan sot down to
      it; an' begorra, the more anasy Terence got, the more he dhrank, and
      himself and Jer Garvan finished a quart betune them. It wasn't an imparial
      though, an' more's the pity, for them wasn't anvinted antil short since;
      but divil a much matther it signifies any longer if a pint could hould two
      quarts, let alone what it does, sinst Father Mathew&mdash;the Lord purloin
      his raverence&mdash;begin'd to give the pledge, an' wid the blessin' iv
      timperance to deginerate Ireland.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' begorra, I have the medle myself; an' it's proud I am iv that same,
      for abstamiousness is a fine thing, although it's mighty dhry.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, whin Terence finished his pint, he thought he might as well stop;
      "for enough is as good as a faste," says he; "an' I pity the vagabond,"
      says he, "that is not able to conthroul his licquor," says he, "an' to
      keep constantly inside iv a pint measure," said he; an' wid that he wished
      Jer Garvan a good-night, an' walked out iv the room.
    </p>
    <p>
      'But he wint out the wrong door, bein' a thrifle hearty in himself, an'
      not rightly knowin' whether he was standin' on his head or his heels, or
      both iv them at the same time, an' in place iv gettin' into bed, where did
      he thrun himself but into the poulthry hamper, that the boys had settled
      out ready for the gandher in the mornin'. An' sure enough he sunk down
      soft an' complate through the hay to the bottom; an' wid the turnin' and
      roulin' about in the night, the divil a bit iv him but was covered up as
      shnug as a lumper in a pittaty furrow before mornin'.
    </p>
    <p>
      'So wid the first light, up gets the two boys, that war to take the
      sperit, as they consaved, to Tipperary; an' they cotched the ould gandher,
      an' put him in the hamper, and clapped a good wisp iv hay an' the top iv
      him, and tied it down sthrong wid a bit iv a coard, and med the sign iv
      the crass over him, in dhread iv any harum, an' put the hamper up an the
      car, wontherin' all the while what in the world was makin' the ould burd
      so surprisin' heavy.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, they wint along quite anasy towards Tipperary, wishin' every minute
      that some iv the neighbours bound the same way id happen to fall in with
      them, for they didn't half like the notions iv havin' no company but the
      bewitched gandher, an' small blame to them for that same.
    </p>
    <p>
      'But although they wor shaking in their skhins in dhread iv the ould bird
      beginnin' to convarse them every minute, they did not let an' to one
      another, bud kep singin' an' whistlin' like mad, to keep the dread out iv
      their hearts.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, afther they war on the road betther nor half an hour, they kem to
      the bad bit close by Father Crotty's, an' there was one divil of a rut
      three feet deep at the laste; an' the car got sich a wondherful chuck
      goin' through it, that it wakened Terence widin in the basket.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Bad luck to ye," says he, "my bones is bruck wid yer thricks; what the
      divil are ye doin' wid me?"
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Did ye hear anything quare, Thady?" says the boy that was next to the
      car, turnin' as white as the top iv a musharoon; "did ye hear anything
      quare soundin' out iv the hamper?" says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"No, nor you," says Thady, turnin' as pale as himself, "it's the ould
      gandher that's gruntin' wid the shakin' he's gettin'," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Where the divil have ye put me into," says Terence inside, "bad luck to
      your sowls," says he, "let me out, or I'll be smothered this minute," says
      he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"There's no use in purtending," says the boy, "the gandher's spakin',
      glory be to God," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Let me out, you murdherers," says Terence.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"In the name iv the blessed Vargin," says Thady, "an' iv all the holy
      saints, hould yer tongue, you unnatheral gandher," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Who's that, that dar to call me nicknames?" says Terence inside, roaring
      wid the fair passion, "let me out, you blasphamious infiddles," says he,
      "or by this crass I'll stretch ye," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"In the name iv all the blessed saints in heaven," says Thady, "who the
      divil are ye?"
    </p>
    <p>
      '"Who the divil would I be, but Terence Mooney," says he. "It's myself
      that's in it, you unmerciful bliggards," says he, "let me out, or by the
      holy, I'll get out in spite iv yes," says he, "an' by jaburs, I'll wallop
      yes in arnest," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"It's ould Terence, sure enough," says Thady, "isn't it cute the fairy
      docthor found him out," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      '"I'm an the pint iv snuffication," says Terence, "let me out, I tell you,
      an' wait till I get at ye," says he, "for begorra, the divil a bone in
      your body but I'll powdher," says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' wid that, he biginned kickin' and flingin' inside in the hamper, and
      dhrivin his legs agin the sides iv it, that it was a wonder he did not
      knock it to pieces.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, as soon as the boys seen that, they skelped the ould horse into a
      gallop as hard as he could peg towards the priest's house, through the
      ruts, an' over the stones; an' you'd see the hamper fairly flyin' three
      feet up in the air with the joultin'; glory be to God.
    </p>
    <p>
      'So it was small wondher, by the time they got to his Raverince's door,
      the breath was fairly knocked out of poor Terence, so that he was lyin'
      speechless in the bottom iv the hamper.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, whin his Raverince kem down, they up an' they tould him all that
      happened, an' how they put the gandher into the hamper, an' how he
      beginned to spake, an' how he confissed that he was ould Terence Mooney;
      an' they axed his honour to advise them how to get rid iv the spirit for
      good an' all.
    </p>
    <p>
      'So says his Raverince, says he:
    </p>
    <p>
      '"I'll take my booke," says he, "an' I'll read some rale sthrong holy bits
      out iv it," says he, "an' do you get a rope and put it round the hamper,"
      says he, "an' let it swing over the runnin' wather at the bridge," says
      he, "an' it's no matther if I don't make the spirit come out iv it," says
      he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, wid that, the priest got his horse, and tuck his booke in undher
      his arum, an' the boys follied his Raverince, ladin' the horse down to the
      bridge, an' divil a word out iv Terence all the way, for he seen it was no
      use spakin', an' he was afeard if he med any noise they might thrait him
      to another gallop an finish him intirely.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, as soon as they war all come to the bridge, the boys tuck the rope
      they had with them, an' med it fast to the top iv the hamper an' swung it
      fairly over the bridge, lettin' it hang in the air about twelve feet out
      iv the wather.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' his Raverince rode down to the bank of the river, close by, an'
      beginned to read mighty loud and bould intirely.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' when he was goin' on about five minutes, all at onst the bottom iv
      the hamper kem out, an' down wint Terence, falling splash dash into the
      water, an' the ould gandher a-top iv him. Down they both went to the
      bottom, wid a souse you'd hear half a mile off.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' before they had time to rise agin, his Raverince, wid the fair
      astonishment, giv his horse one dig iv the spurs, an' before he knew where
      he was, in he went, horse an' all, a-top iv them, an' down to the bottom.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Up they all kem agin together, gaspin' and puffin', an' off down wid the
      current wid them, like shot in under the arch iv the bridge till they kem
      to the shallow wather.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The ould gandher was the first out, and the priest and Terence kem next,
      pantin' an' blowin' an' more than half dhrounded, an' his Raverince was so
      freckened wid the droundin' he got, and wid the sight iv the sperit, as he
      consaved, that he wasn't the better of it for a month.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' as soon as Terence could spake, he swore he'd have the life of the
      two gossoons; but Father Crotty would not give him his will. An' as soon
      as he was got quiter, they all endivoured to explain it; but Terence
      consaved he went raly to bed the night before, and his wife said the same
      to shilter him from the suspicion for havin' th' dthrop taken. An' his
      Raverince said it was a mysthery, an' swore if he cotched anyone laughin'
      at the accident, he'd lay the horsewhip across their shouldhers.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' Terence grew fonder an' fonder iv the gandher every day, until at
      last he died in a wondherful old age, lavin' the gandher afther him an' a
      large family iv childher.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' to this day the farm is rinted by one iv Terence Mooney's lenial and
      legitimate postariors.'
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      BILLY MALOWNEY'S TASTE OF LOVE AND GLORY.
    </h2>
    <p>
      Let the reader fancy a soft summer evening, the fresh dews falling on bush
      and flower. The sun has just gone down, and the thrilling vespers of
      thrushes and blackbirds ring with a wild joy through the saddened air; the
      west is piled with fantastic clouds, and clothed in tints of crimson and
      amber, melting away into a wan green, and so eastward into the deepest
      blue, through which soon the stars will begin to peep.
    </p>
    <p>
      Let him fancy himself seated upon the low mossy wall of an ancient
      churchyard, where hundreds of grey stones rise above the sward, under the
      fantastic branches of two or three half-withered ash-trees, spreading
      their arms in everlasting love and sorrow over the dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      The narrow road upon which I and my companion await the tax-cart that is
      to carry me and my basket, with its rich fruitage of speckled trout, away,
      lies at his feet, and far below spreads an undulating plain, rising
      westward again into soft hills, and traversed (every here and there
      visibly) by a winding stream which, even through the mists of evening,
      catches and returns the funereal glories of the skies.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the eye traces its wayward wanderings, it loses them for a moment in
      the heaving verdure of white-thorns and ash, from among which floats from
      some dozen rude chimneys, mostly unseen, the transparent blue film of turf
      smoke. There we know, although we cannot see it, the steep old bridge of
      Carrickadrum spans the river; and stretching away far to the right the
      valley of Lisnamoe: its steeps and hollows, its straggling hedges, its
      fair-green, its tall scattered trees, and old grey tower, are disappearing
      fast among the discoloured tints and haze of evening.
    </p>
    <p>
      Those landmarks, as we sit listlessly expecting the arrival of our modest
      conveyance, suggest to our companion&mdash;a bare-legged Celtic brother of
      the gentle craft, somewhat at the wrong side of forty, with a
      turf-coloured caubeen, patched frieze, a clear brown complexion, dark-grey
      eyes, and a right pleasant dash of roguery in his features&mdash;the tale,
      which, if the reader pleases, he is welcome to hear along with me just as
      it falls from the lips of our humble comrade.
    </p>
    <p>
      His words I can give, but your own fancy must supply the advantages of an
      intelligent, expressive countenance, and, what is perhaps harder still,
      the harmony of his glorious brogue, that, like the melodies of our own
      dear country, will leave a burden of mirth or of sorrow with nearly equal
      propriety, tickling the diaphragm as easily as it plays with the
      heart-strings, and is in itself a national music that, I trust, may never,
      never&mdash;scouted and despised though it be&mdash;never cease, like the
      lost tones of our harp, to be heard in the fields of my country, in
      welcome or endearment, in fun or in sorrow, stirring the hearts of Irish
      men and Irish women.
    </p>
    <p>
      My friend of the caubeen and naked shanks, then, commenced, and continued
      his relation, as nearly as possible, in the following words:
    </p>
    <p>
      Av coorse ye often heerd talk of Billy Malowney, that lived by the bridge
      of Carrickadrum. 'Leum-a-rinka' was the name they put on him, he was sich
      a beautiful dancer. An' faix, it's he was the rale sportin' boy, every way&mdash;killing
      the hares, and gaffing the salmons, an' fightin' the men, an' funnin' the
      women, and coortin' the girls; an' be the same token, there was not a
      colleen inside iv his jurisdiction but was breakin' her heart wid the fair
      love iv him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, this was all pleasant enough, to be sure, while it lasted; but
      inhuman beings is born to misfortune, an' Bill's divarshin was not to last
      always. A young boy can't be continially coortin' and kissin' the girls
      (an' more's the pity) without exposin' himself to the most eminent parril;
      an' so signs all' what should happen Billy Malowney himself, but to fall
      in love at last wid little Molly Donovan, in Coolnamoe.
    </p>
    <p>
      I never could ondherstand why in the world it was Bill fell in love wid
      HER, above all the girls in the country. She was not within four stone
      weight iv being as fat as Peg Brallaghan; and as for redness in the face,
      she could not hould a candle to Judy Flaherty. (Poor Judy! she was my
      sweetheart, the darlin', an' coorted me constant, ever antil she married a
      boy of the Butlers; an' it's twenty years now since she was buried under
      the ould white-thorn in Garbally. But that's no matther!)
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, at any rate, Molly Donovan tuck his fancy, an' that's everything!
      She had smooth brown hair&mdash;as smooth as silk-an' a pair iv soft
      coaxin' eyes&mdash;an' the whitest little teeth you ever seen; an', bedad,
      she was every taste as much in love wid himself as he was.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, now, he was raly stupid wid love: there was not a bit of fun left in
      him. He was good for nothin' an airth bud sittin' under bushes, smokin'
      tobacky, and sighin' till you'd wonder how in the world he got wind for it
      all.
    </p>
    <p>
      An', bedad, he was an illigant scholar, moreover; an', so signs, it's
      many's the song he made about her; an' if you'd be walkin' in the evening,
      a mile away from Carrickadrum, begorra you'd hear him singing out like a
      bull, all across the country, in her praises.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, ye may be sure, ould Tim Donovan and the wife was not a bit too well
      plased to see Bill Malowney coortin' their daughter Molly; for, do ye
      mind, she was the only child they had, and her fortune was thirty-five
      pounds, two cows, and five illigant pigs, three iron pots and a skillet,
      an' a trifle iv poultry in hand; and no one knew how much besides,
      whenever the Lord id be plased to call the ould people out of the way into
      glory!
    </p>
    <p>
      So, it was not likely ould Tim Donovan id be fallin' in love wid poor Bill
      Malowney as aisy as the girls did; for, barrin' his beauty, an' his gun,
      an' his dhudheen, an' his janius, the divil a taste of property iv any
      sort or description he had in the wide world!
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, as bad as that was, Billy would not give in that her father and
      mother had the smallest taste iv a right to intherfare, good or bad.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' you're welcome to rayfuse me,' says he, 'whin I ax your lave,' says
      he; 'an' I'll ax your lave,' says he, 'whenever I want to coort
      yourselves,' says he; 'but it's your daughter I'm coortin' at the
      present,' says he, 'an that's all I'll say,' says he; 'for I'd as soon
      take a doase of salts as be discoursin' ye,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      So it was a rale blazin' battle betune himself and the ould people; an',
      begorra, there was no soart iv blaguardin' that did not pass betune them;
      an' they put a solemn injection on Molly again seein' him or meetin' him
      for the future.
    </p>
    <p>
      But it was all iv no use. You might as well be pursuadin' the birds agin
      flying, or sthrivin' to coax the stars out iv the sky into your hat, as be
      talking common sinse to them that's fairly bothered and burstin' wid love.
      There's nothin' like it. The toothache an' cholic together id compose you
      betther for an argyment than itself. It leaves you fit for nothin' bud
      nansinse.
    </p>
    <p>
      It's stronger than whisky, for one good drop iv it will make you drunk for
      one year, and sick, begorra, for a dozen.
    </p>
    <p>
      It's stronger than the say, for it'll carry you round the world an' never
      let you sink, in sunshine or storm; an', begorra, it's stronger than Death
      himself, for it is not afeard iv him, bedad, but dares him in every shape.
    </p>
    <p>
      But lovers has quarrels sometimes, and, begorra, when they do, you'd
      a'most imagine they hated one another like man and wife. An' so, signs
      an', Billy Malowney and Molly Donovan fell out one evening at ould Tom
      Dundon's wake; an' whatever came betune them, she made no more about it
      but just draws her cloak round her, and away wid herself and the
      sarvant-girl home again, as if there was not a corpse, or a fiddle, or a
      taste of divarsion in it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, Bill Malowney follied her down the boreen, to try could he deludher
      her back again; but, if she was bitther before, she gave it to him in
      airnest when she got him alone to herself, and to that degree that he
      wished her safe home, short and sulky enough, an' walked back again, as
      mad as the devil himself, to the wake, to pay a respect to poor Tom
      Dundon.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, my dear, it was aisy seen there was something wrong avid Billy
      Malowney, for he paid no attintion the rest of the evening to any soart of
      divarsion but the whisky alone; an' every glass he'd drink it's what he'd
      be wishing the divil had the women, an' the worst iv bad luck to all
      soarts iv courting, until, at last, wid the goodness iv the sperits, an'
      the badness iv his temper, an' the constant flusthration iv cursin', he
      grew all as one as you might say almost, saving your presince, bastely
      drunk!
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, who should he fall in wid, in that childish condition, as he was
      deploying along the road almost as straight as the letter S, an' cursin'
      the girls, an' roarin' for more whisky, but the recruiting-sargent iv the
      Welsh Confusileers.
    </p>
    <p>
      So, cute enough, the sargent begins to convarse him, an' it was not long
      until he had him sitting in Murphy's public-house, wid an elegant dandy iv
      punch before him, an' the king's money safe an' snug in the lowest wrinkle
      of his breeches-pocket.
    </p>
    <p>
      So away wid him, and the dhrums and fifes playing, an' a dozen more
      unforthunate bliggards just listed along with him, an' he shakin' hands
      wid the sargent, and swearin' agin the women every minute, until, be the
      time he kem to himself, begorra, he was a good ten miles on the road to
      Dublin, an' Molly and all behind him.
    </p>
    <p>
      It id be no good tellin' you iv the letters he wrote to her from the
      barracks there, nor how she was breaking her heart to go and see him just
      wanst before he'd go; but the father an' mother would not allow iv it be
      no manes.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' so in less time than you'd be thinkin' about it, the colonel had him
      polished off into it rale elegant soger, wid his gun exercise, and his
      bagnet exercise, and his small sword, and broad sword, and pistol and
      dagger, an' all the rest, an' then away wid him on boord a man-a-war to
      furrin parts, to fight for King George agin Bonyparty, that was great in
      them times.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, it was very soon in everyone's mouth how Billy Malowney was batin'
      all before him, astonishin' the ginerals, an frightenin' the inimy to that
      degree, there was not a Frinchman dare say parley voo outside of the
      rounds iv his camp.
    </p>
    <p>
      You may be sure Molly was proud iv that same, though she never spoke a
      word about it; until at last the news kem home that Billy Malowney was
      surrounded an' murdered by the Frinch army, under Napoleon Bonyparty
      himself. The news was brought by Jack Brynn Dhas, the peddlar, that said
      he met the corporal iv the regiment on the quay iv Limerick, an' how he
      brought him into a public-house and thrated him to a naggin, and got all
      the news about poor Billy Malowney out iv him while they war dhrinkin' it;
      an' a sorrowful story it was.
    </p>
    <p>
      The way it happened, accordin' as the corporal tould him, was jist how the
      Jook iv Wellington detarmined to fight a rale tarin' battle wid the
      Frinch, and Bonyparty at the same time was aiqually detarmined to fight
      the divil's own scrimmidge wid the British foorces.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, as soon as the business was pretty near ready at both sides,
      Bonyparty and the general next undher himself gets up behind a bush, to
      look at their inimies through spyglasses, and thry would they know any iv
      them at the distance.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Bedadad!' says the gineral, afther a divil iv a long spy, 'I'd bet half a
      pint,' says he, 'that's Bill Malowney himself,' says he, 'down there,'
      says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Och!' says Bonypart, 'do you tell me so?' says he&mdash;'I'm fairly
      heart-scalded with that same Billy Malowney,' says he; 'an' I think if I
      was wanst shut iv him I'd bate the rest iv them aisy,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'm thinking so myself,' says the gineral, says he; 'but he's a tough
      bye,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Tough!' says Bonypart, 'he's the divil,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Begorra, I'd be better plased.' says the gineral, says he, 'to take
      himself than the Duke iv Willinton,' says he, 'an' Sir Edward Blakeney
      into the bargain,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'The Duke of Wellinton and Gineral Blakeney,' says Bonypart, 'is great for
      planning, no doubt,' says he; 'but Billy Malowney's the boy for ACTION,'
      says he&mdash;'an' action's everything, just now,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      So wid that Bonypart pushes up his cocked hat, and begins scratching his
      head, and thinning and considherin' for the bare life, and at last says he
      to the gineral:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Gineral Commandher iv all the Foorces,' says he, 'I've hot it,' says he:
      'ordher out the forlorn hope,' says he, 'an' give them as much powdher,
      both glazed and blasting,' says he, 'an' as much bullets do ye mind, an'
      swan-dhrops an' chain-shot,' says he, 'an' all soorts iv waipons an'
      combustables as they can carry; an' let them surround Bill Malowney,' says
      he, 'an' if they can get any soort iv an advantage,' says he, 'let them
      knock him to smithereens,' says he, 'an' then take him presner,' says he;
      'an' tell all the bandmen iv the Frinch army,' says he, 'to play up
      "Garryowen," to keep up their sperits,' says he, 'all the time they're
      advancin'. An' you may promise them anything you like in my name,' says
      he; for, by my sowl, I don't think its many iv them 'ill come back to
      throuble us,' says he, winkin' at him.
    </p>
    <p>
      So away with the gineral, an' he ordhers out the forlorn hope, all' tells
      the band to play, an' everything else, just as Bonypart desired him. An'
      sure enough, whin Billy Malowney heerd the music where he was standin'
      taking a blast of the dhudheen to compose his mind for murdherin' the
      Frinchmen as usual, being mighty partial to that tune intirely, he cocks
      his ear a one side, an' down he stoops to listen to the music; but,
      begorra, who should be in his rare all the time but a Frinch grannideer
      behind a bush, and seeing him stooped in a convanient forum, bedad he let
      flies at him sthraight, and fired him right forward between the legs an'
      the small iv the back, glory be to God! with what they call (saving your
      presence) a bum-shell.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, Bill Malowney let one roar out iv him, an' away he rowled over the
      field iv battle like a slitther (as Bonypart and the Duke iv Wellington,
      that was watching the manoeuvres from a distance, both consayved) into
      glory.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' sure enough the Frinch was overjoyed beyant all bounds, an' small
      blame to them&mdash;an' the Duke of Wellington, I'm toult, was never all
      out the same man sinst.
    </p>
    <p>
      At any rate, the news kem home how Billy Malowney was murdhered by the
      Frinch in furrin parts.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, all this time, you may be sure, there was no want iv boys comin' to
      coort purty Molly Donovan; but one way ar another, she always kept puttin'
      them off constant. An' though her father and mother was nathurally anxious
      to get rid of her respickably, they did not like to marry her off in spite
      iv her teeth.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' this way, promising one while and puttin' it off another, she
      conthrived to get on from one Shrove to another, until near seven years
      was over and gone from the time when Billy Malowney listed for furrin
      sarvice.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was nigh hand a year from the time whin the news iv Leum-a-rinka bein'
      killed by the Frinch came home, an' in place iv forgettin' him, as the
      saisins wint over, it's what Molly was growin' paler and more lonesome
      every day, antil the neighbours thought she was fallin' into a decline;
      and this is the way it was with her whin the fair of Lisnamoe kem round.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a beautiful evenin', just at the time iv the reapin' iv the oats,
      and the sun was shinin' through the red clouds far away over the hills iv
      Cahirmore.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her father an' mother, an' the boys an' girls, was all away down in the
      fair, and Molly Sittin' all alone on the step of the stile, listening to
      the foolish little birds whistlin' among the leaves&mdash;and the sound of
      the mountain-river flowin' through the stones an' bushes&mdash;an' the
      crows flyin' home high overhead to the woods iv Glinvarlogh&mdash;an' down
      in the glen, far away, she could see the fair-green iv Lisnamoe in the
      mist, an' sunshine among the grey rocks and threes&mdash;an' the cows an'
      the horses, an' the blue frieze, an' the red cloaks, an' the tents, an'
      the smoke, an' the ould round tower&mdash;all as soft an' as sorrowful as
      a dhrame iv ould times.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' while she was looking this way, an' thinking iv Leum-a-rinka&mdash;poor
      Bill iv the dance, that was sleepin' in his lonesome glory in the fields
      iv Spain&mdash;she began to sing the song he used to like so well in the
      ould times&mdash;
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
          'Shule, shule, shale a-roon;'
</pre>
    <p>
      an' when she ended the verse, what do you think but she heard a manly
      voice just at the other side iv the hedge, singing the last words over
      again!
    </p>
    <p>
      Well she knew it; her heart flutthered up like a little bird that id be
      wounded, and then dhropped still in her breast. It was himself. In a
      minute he was through the hedge and standing before her.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Leum!' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Mavourneen cuishla machree!' says he; and without another word they were
      locked in one another's arms.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, it id only be nansinse for me thryin' an' tell ye all the foolish
      things they said, and how they looked in one another's faces, an' laughed,
      an' cried, an' laughed again; and how, when they came to themselves, and
      she was able at last to believe it was raly Billy himself that was there,
      actially holdin' her hand, and lookin' in her eyes the same way as ever,
      barrin' he was browner and boulder, an' did not, maybe, look quite as
      merry in himself as he used to do in former times&mdash;an' fondher for
      all, an' more lovin' than ever&mdash;how he tould her all about the wars
      wid the Frinchmen&mdash;an' how he was wounded, and left for dead in the
      field iv battle, bein' shot through the breast, and how he was discharged,
      an' got a pinsion iv a full shillin' a day&mdash;and how he was come back
      to liv the rest iv his days in the sweet glen iv Lisnamoe, an' (if only
      SHE'D consint) to marry herself in spite iv them all.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, ye may aisily think they had plinty to talk about, afther seven
      years without once seein' one another; and so signs on, the time flew by
      as swift an' as pleasant as a bird on the wing, an' the sun wint down, an'
      the moon shone sweet an' soft instead, an' they two never knew a ha'porth
      about it, but kept talkin' an' whisperin', an' whisperin' an' talkin'; for
      it's wondherful how often a tinder-hearted girl will bear to hear a purty
      boy tellin' her the same story constant over an' over; ontil at last, sure
      enough, they heerd the ould man himself comin' up the boreen, singin' the
      'Colleen Rue'&mdash;a thing he never done barrin' whin he had a dhrop in;
      an' the misthress walkin' in front iv him, an' two illigant Kerry cows he
      just bought in the fair, an' the sarvint boys dhriving them behind.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh, blessed hour!' says Molly, 'here's my father.'
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'll spake to him this minute,' says Bill.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh, not for the world,' says she; 'he's singin' the "Colleen Rue,"' says
      she, 'and no one dar raison with him,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' where 'll I go, thin?' says he, 'for they're into the haggard an top
      iv us,' says he, 'an' they'll see me iv I lep through the hedge,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Thry the pig-sty,' says she, 'mavourneen,' says she, 'in the name iv
      God,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, darlint,' says he, 'for your sake,' says he, 'I'll condescend to
      them animals,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' wid that he makes a dart to get in; bud, begorra, it was too late&mdash;the
      pigs was all gone home, and the pig-sty was as full as the Burr coach wid
      six inside.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Och! blur-an'-agers,' says he, 'there is not room for a suckin'-pig,'
      says he, 'let alone a Christian,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Well, run into the house, Billy,' says she, 'this minute,' says she, 'an'
      hide yourself antil they're quiet,' says she, 'an' thin you can steal
      out,' says she, 'anknownst to them all,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'll do your biddin', says he, 'Molly asthore,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Run in thin,' says she, 'an' I'll go an' meet them,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      So wid that away wid her, and in wint Billy, an' where 'id he hide himself
      bud in a little closet that was off iv the room where the ould man and
      woman slep'. So he closed the doore, and sot down in an ould chair he
      found there convanient.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, he was not well in it when all the rest iv them comes into the
      kitchen, an' ould Tim Donovan singin' the 'Colleen Rue' for the bare life,
      an' the rest iv them sthrivin' to humour him, and doin' exactly everything
      he bid them, because they seen he was foolish be the manes iv the liquor.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, to be sure all this kep' them long enough, you may be sure, from
      goin' to bed, so that Billy could get no manner iv an advantage to get out
      iv the house, and so he sted sittin' in the dark closet in state, cursin'
      the 'Colleen Rue,' and wondherin' to the divil whin they'd get the ould
      man into his bed. An', as if that was not delay enough, who should come in
      to stop for the night but Father O'Flaherty, of Cahirmore, that was buyin'
      a horse at the fair! An' av course, there was a bed to be med down for his
      raverence, an' some other attintions; an' a long discoorse himself an'
      ould Mrs. Donovan had about the slaughter iv Billy Malowney, an' how he
      was buried on the field iv battle; an' his raverence hoped he got a dacent
      funeral, an' all the other convaniences iv religion. An' so you may
      suppose it was pretty late in the night before all iv them got to their
      beds.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, Tim Donovan could not settle to sleep at all at all, an' so he kep'
      discoorsin' the wife about the new cows he bought, an' the stripphers he
      sould, an' so an for better than an hour, ontil from one thing to another
      he kem to talk about the pigs, an' the poulthry; and at last, having
      nothing betther to discoorse about, he begun at his daughter Molly, an'
      all the heartscald she was to him be raison iv refusin' the men. An' at
      last says he:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I onderstand,' says he, 'very well how it is,' says he. 'It's how she was
      in love,' says he, 'wid that bliggard, Billy Malowney,' says he, 'bad luck
      to him!' says he; for by this time he was coming to his raison.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Ah!' says the wife, says she, 'Tim darlint, don't be cursin' them that's
      dead an' buried,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'An' why would not I,' says he, 'if they desarve it?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Whisht,' says she, 'an' listen to that,' says she. 'In the name of the
      Blessed Vargin,' says she, 'what IS it?' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' sure enough what was it but Bill Malowney that was dhroppin' asleep in
      the closet, an' snorin' like a church organ.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Is it a pig,' says he, 'or is it a Christian?'
    </p>
    <p>
      'Arra! listen to the tune iv it,' says she; 'sure a pig never done the
      like is that,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Whatever it is,' says he, 'it's in the room wid us,' says he. 'The Lord
      be marciful to us!' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I tould you not to be cursin',' says she; 'bad luck to you,' says she,
      'for an ommadhaun!' for she was a very religious woman in herself.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Sure, he's buried in Spain,' says he; 'an' it is not for one little
      innocent expression,' says he, 'he'd be comin' all that a way to annoy the
      house,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, while they war talkin', Bill turns in the way he was sleepin' into
      an aisier imposture; and as soon as he stopped snorin' ould Tim Donovan's
      courage riz agin, and says he:
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'll go to the kitchen,' says he, 'an' light a rish,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' with that away wid him, an' the wife kep' workin' the beads all the
      time, an' before he kem back Bill was snorin' as loud as ever.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh! bloody wars&mdash;I mane the blessed saints about us!&mdash;that
      deadly sound,' says he; 'it's going on as lively as ever,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'I'm as wake as a rag,' says his wife, says she, 'wid the fair anasiness,'
      says she. 'It's out iv the little closet it's comin,' says she.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Say your prayers,' says he, 'an' hould your tongue,' says he, 'while I
      discoorse it,' says he. 'An' who are ye,' says he, 'in the name iv of all
      the holy saints?' says he, givin' the door a dab iv a crusheen that
      wakened Bill inside. 'I ax,' says he, 'who are you?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, Bill did not rightly remember where in the world he was, but he
      pushed open the door, an' says he:
    </p>
    <p>
      'Billy Malowney's my name,' says he, 'an' I'll thank ye to tell me a
      betther,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, whin Tim Donovan heard that, an' actially seen that it was Bill
      himself that was in it, he had not strength enough to let a bawl out iv
      him, but he dhropt the candle out iv his hand, an' down wid himself on his
      back in the dark.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, the wife let a screech you'd hear at the mill iv Killraghlin, an'&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      'Oh,' says she, 'the spirit has him, body an' bones!' says she. 'Oh, holy
      St. Bridget&mdash;oh, Mother iv Marcy&mdash;oh, Father O'Flaherty!' says
      she, screechin' murdher from out iv her bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, Bill Malowney was not a minute remimberin' himself, an' so out wid
      him quite an' aisy, an' through the kitchen; bud in place iv the door iv
      the house, it's what he kem to the door iv Father O'Flaherty's little
      room, where he was jist wakenin' wid the noise iv the screechin' an'
      battherin'; an' bedad, Bill makes no more about it, but he jumps, wid one
      boult, clever an' clane into his raverance's bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      'What do ye mane, you uncivilised bliggard?' says his raverance. 'Is that
      a venerable way,' says he, 'to approach your clargy?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Hould your tongue,' says Bill, 'an' I'll do ye no harum,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Who are you, ye scoundhrel iv the world?' says his raverance.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Whisht!' says he? 'I'm Billy Malowney,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'You lie!' says his raverance for he was frightened beyont all bearin'&mdash;an'
      he makes but one jump out iv the bed at the wrong side, where there was
      only jist a little place in the wall for a press, an' his raverance could
      not as much as turn in it for the wealth iv kingdoms. 'You lie,' says he;
      'but for feared it's the truth you're tellin',' says he, 'here's at ye in
      the name iv all the blessed saints together!' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' wid that, my dear, he blazes away at him wid a Latin prayer iv the
      strongest description, an', as he said himself afterwards, that was iv a
      nature that id dhrive the divil himself up the chimley like a puff iv
      tobacky smoke, wid his tail betune his legs.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Arra, what are ye sthrivin' to say,' says Bill; says he, 'if ye don't
      hould your tongue,' says he, 'wid your parly voo;' says he, 'it's what
      I'll put my thumb on your windpipe,' says he, 'an' Billy Malowney never
      wint back iv his word yet,' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      'Thundher-an-owns,' says his raverance, says he&mdash;seein' the Latin
      took no infect on him, at all at all an' screechin' that you'd think he'd
      rise the thatch up iv the house wid the fair fright&mdash;'and thundher
      and blazes, boys, will none iv yes come here wid a candle, but lave your
      clargy to be choked by a spirit in the dark?' says he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, be this time the sarvint boys and the rest iv them wor up an' half
      dressed, an' in they all run, one on top iv another, wid pitchforks and
      spades, thinkin' it was only what his raverence slep' a dhrame iv the
      like, by means of the punch he was afther takin' just before he rowl'd
      himself into the bed. But, begorra, whin they seen it was raly Bill
      Malowney himself that was in it, it was only who'd be foremost out agin,
      tumblin' backways, one over another, and his raverence roarin' an' cursin'
      them like mad for not waitin' for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, my dear, it was betther than half an hour before Billy Malowney
      could explain to them all how it raly was himself, for begorra they were
      all iv them persuadin' him that he was a spirit to that degree it's a
      wondher he did not give in to it, if it was only to put a stop to the
      argiment.
    </p>
    <p>
      Well, his raverence tould the ould people then, there was no use in
      sthrivin' agin the will iv Providence an' the vagaries iv love united; an'
      whin they kem to undherstand to a sartinty how Billy had a shillin' a day
      for the rest iv his days, begorra they took rather a likin' to him, and
      considhered at wanst how he must have riz out of all his nansinse
      entirely, or his gracious Majesty id never have condescinded to show him
      his countenance that way every day of his life, on a silver shillin'.
    </p>
    <p>
      An' so, begorra, they never stopt till it was all settled&mdash;an' there
      was not sich a weddin' as that in the counthry sinst. It's more than forty
      years ago, an' though I was no more nor a gossoon myself, I remimber it
      like yestherday. Molly never looked so purty before, an' Billy Malowney
      was plisant beyont all hearin,' to that degree that half the girls in it
      was fairly tarin' mad&mdash;only they would not let on&mdash;they had not
      him to themselves in place iv her. An' begorra I'd be afeared to tell ye,
      because you would not believe me, since that blessid man Father Mathew put
      an end to all soorts of sociality, the Lord reward him, how many gallons
      iv pottieen whisky was dhrank upon that most solemn and tindher occasion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Pat Hanlon, the piper, had a faver out iv it; an' Neddy Shawn Heigue,
      mountin' his horse the wrong way, broke his collarbone, by the manes iv
      fallin' over his tail while he was feelin' for his head; an' Payther
      Brian, the horse-docther, I am tould, was never quite right in the head
      ever afther; an' ould Tim Donovan was singin' the 'Colleen Rue' night and
      day for a full week; an' begorra the weddin' was only the foundation iv
      fun, and the beginning iv divarsion, for there was not a year for ten
      years afther, an' more, but brought round a christenin' as regular as the
      sasins revarted.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">





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