THE BOYJSTE WATER.
CHAPTER I.
It was in the summer of 1685, that a party of travellers,
suggesting, in the group, some remarkable contrast, held then-
way from Belfast to the more northern and ancient fortress of
Carrickfergus.
First came on a jennet and steed, of the best kind the
country afforded, a maiden and a youthful cavalier, well clad,
well favoured, and exhibiting in their air that certain, though
indefinable something which proclaims the habits and feelings,
if not the birth and lineage, of gentle maidens and gallant
cavaliers. The damsel, in her tight, grass-green, long-waisted
jerkin, laced and fringed with silver; in her ample cloth
riding-skirt, of a graver colour, showing, through certain
openings, glimpses of a rich silk under-dress; in her low-
crowned, broad-leafed, riding-hat, flapped down, to be secured
under the chin; and, above all, in the very delicate, if not
very beautiful face beneath it, shaded by loose tresses of a
pale gold-colour; she, in particular, asserted, at a glance, her
pretensions to gentle rank. And, if her marbly cheek and
melancholy brow did not well become a sylph-like girl of six-
teen, perhaps they touched the bosom of a beholder with
more interest than could the radiance of a sunny face, and a
laughter-looking glance.
He who rode at her-side, and, with an air of brotherly and
affectionate protection, occasionally touched her rein, was not
so prepossessing in visage or figure, though he was almost as
young as his sweet charge. His features were, perhaps, too
rigidly marked, though by no means of a common cast;
seriousness, without pensiveness, seemed, at all events now
B
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2 THE BOYNE WATER.
that he remained unexcited, their predominant character.
But his figure, though, even in boyhood, more square and
manly than round or graceful, had in it a gallant hardihood
that recommended him to notice, and seemed particularly to
fit the brother and protector of a girl so delicate and fragile
as she who rode beside him. This impression was well sus-
tained by the brave dress he wore; by his fawn-coloured
cavalier hat, looped up obliquely in front, and adorned with
a long feather; by his close-buttoned green surcoat, mode-
rately slashed in the upper-sleeve, and sufficiently .short to
show the knees tightly fitted by hose; while a graceful full-
topped half-boot fell mid-way down the leg, and a riding-
cloak, hung off one shoulder, flowed over the saddle, or flut-
tered in the light breeze.
Some distance behind this youthful pair, on a peaceably-
shaped animal, of that class which one would assign to parish
clergymen of all sects who do not hunt, followed a very short,
round, elderly man, whose legs, though not crippled by
stirrup-leathers, unusually scanty, reached scarce more than
half-way down the sides of the beast he bestrode. And those
legs looked still shorter, on account of the descent upon them
of the over-abundant skirts of the good old-fashioned English
coat, whidh, even ere Charles I. imported the costume of the
court whose infanta he failed to charm away, was popular in
the sister-country. Again, their full proportion was inter-
rupted by the square-toed, high-heeled, high-mouthed shoes,
something of the cut of the Blucher boots of our day:
so that, altogether, not more than a few inches of leg
were visible, covered by clocked sky-blue woollen stockings.
A full tie wig, topped by that curious-shaped, broad-
brimmed, pan-crowned hat, which one cannot call round,
square, or angular, completed the costume of this remark-
able person. His little paunchlittle in comparison with
paunches, but huge in comparison with his own propor-
tionsrested on the brazen-nosed pummel of his pad.
There appeared, in the oozing of his vacant purply face, in
the distension and rolling of his grey eyes, in the hard com-
pression of his lips, and in his desperate grasping of the bridle,
indications of a mind not well at ease, and as if it were to him
a task of some difficulty, and much bodily torture, to sustain,
decently, the character of a cavalier.
By his side, on a steed also of very grave conformation and
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THE BOTOE WATER. 3
habits, rode a man, his senior in years, and his contrary in
person, being tall, gaunt, and spare in the limbs. Behind
him, on a pillion, sat a second female, quite as tall, though of
a bulk promising, if fairly divided, to make three of such as
he; the profusion of cloth in which, down to the toes, she
was enveloped, serving to give even an exaggerated notion of
her colossal figure.
From the vulgar hardness of his sharp features, as well as
from his antique coat of livery, buttoned but too closely, as
far down as the hips (thence it spread into voluminous
skirts), over his greyhound body, this good lady's conductor,
although his great trooper's boots and roundhead hat insinuated
a foregone military character, might easily be recognised
as an attendant. The Amazonian lady herself might as easily
pass for a considerable personageat least in her own
estimation. The impression was not, indeed, conveyed by
dignity of deportment, or even the affectation of it, but rather
by a solemn, fussy expression of countenance, generally seen
with good dames who talk and do a great deal in circles
which are bound to admit their preponderance, and who,
assisted by worldly as well as natural requisites, have a
talent, without positive vociferation, of ruling their humble
friends, and sometimes their husbands. Behind the whole
party, followed a bare-legged peasant-boy leading a sorrow-
ful donkey, across whose back hung two large, well-laden
hampers.
The travellers had left behind the curious Cave-hill, that
almost overhangs Belfast. They had come in view of Carrick-
fergus, with its ancient and well-fortified castle, standing out in
the bay, on a nearly insulated rockan object by no means defi-
cient in importance or picturesque interest, and sympathising
so well, in rudeness and largeness of parts, with the primitive
pile on which it was based, that thus beheld at a distance,
both masses seemed one. For some time all had been silent.
Except that, now and then, any increased motion of his steed
called from the little round man an involuntary groan, imme-
diately after which he might be seen turning his head over
his shoulder, as quickly as he could, to observe whether or
no the dame on the pillion took notice of his ejaculation.
And if, as was indeed the case, during all such accidents, he
found her head also turned, and her eyes fastened, half in
amaze, half in severity upon him, he never failed, after
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4 THE BOYNE WATER.
another twitch of feature, to look on straight before him,
with a face as composed and unconscious as he could well
assume. These interruptions excepted, silence reigned
among the party, until they had gained the first unobstructed
view of Carrickfergus.
Then the two young persons in front found words to express
their sentiments on the interesting picture; and, that topic
exhausted, continued to converse together. It appeared from
their discourse, that they were orphan brother and sister;
that the elderly little man, behind them, was their uncle and
guardian, and the gigantic lady his spouse. In remark upon
a new piece of information with which her brother supplied
her, the maiden proceeded to ask" Our guardian's dame is
of London city, then V When a shrill exclamation of " Paul,
Paul!" from the lady herself, in consequence of an unusually
loud groan from him who, nominally at least, was her lord
and husband, interrupted the brother's answer, and, had
Esther Evelyn been skilled in accents, might have fully pro-
claimed to her the genuine city derivation of her aunt-in-law.
Both turned their horses' heads to the rear; and "Paul,
Paul!" the dame continued"What's to do with thee, now,
sweetheart V
"Nought, coney," replied Paul, in such imperfect delivery
as denoted the almost total absence of teeth"nought, truly;
only my beast stumbled."
"And let him stumble," Mrs. Evelyn went on, contemp-
tuously, "over every stock and stone on this wild road;
could'st not hold thy hand tight on the rein, and the breath
tight in thy body, and not fright folk with such a holloring f'
"I but feared he might fall outright, Janet. And it
seemeth to me," venturing a glance downward, " I am at such
a height above the road, that it might have done me an injury
forsooth."
"Tut, no, sweetheart," she said affectionately; "thanks to
thy good wife's care, thy bones are so well wrapped up, it
would have done no more hurt to thee than to a bale of
broadcloth."
He made no answer, contenting himself with keeping up a
decent composure of face, notwithstanding the refined torture
conferred by eveiy step, even the gentlest, of his steed. The
dame continued:
"Tho' much, doubtless, is the peril of journeying ov<
ree^k.
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THE BOYNE WATER. 0
roads, in such a country, and on beasts such, only, as it can
afford us."
"They're jest too good fur hur likes," said one of the few
native peasants of the district, who was passing, and heard
the observation.
"There," remarked Mrs. Evelynusing gross language, no
doubt, yet the common language of her day, even in parlia-
ment" there goes a Murdering and Damnable Papist."
"An' there hur sits, a Heretic Jade, wid the fire ready
kindled an' roarin' fur hur," retorted the man, also using the
charitable expressions in vogue amongst the vulgar and
bigoted of his persuasion. At the same time he turned up a
wild bridle-road, and left them.
"Ah!" resumed Mrs. Evelyn, airing a set speeteh, the con-
clusion of which she had learned from public manifestoes,
and, for many years had been in the habit of rehearsing;
"Never can the land have roads or ways, men or beasts, as it
should have them, until Popery and Slavery be rooted out,
with all Jesuits, Plotters, and Suspected Persons."
"Never," said her attendant, who rode before her, also
indulging in some favourite allusions, while his sentiments
imparted to his long and wrinkled face its hardest expression;
"never, till the auld Forty-One comes round again. Whilk
time, as an humble doer for the Lord, forbye a Corporal muc-
kle in favour wi' that zealous man, tho' an Erastian, Charles
Coote, I returned to the Papists and Malignants, hilt-deep,
the Sword they had unsheathed amang the Lord's people."
"The Papists," Mrs. Evelyn went on, not at all indulging
in commonplace, "who plotted their Damnable plot to poison
the King, murder us, and make us subjects of Antichrist, the
Pope ; who ran thro' the body, with his own sword, that good
magistrate, Godfrey, at Primrose-hill; and who burned down
the city, till the flames stopped at London Bridge, as may be
seen on the Monument to this day." (The lady spoke
truly, not only of her own day, by the way, but of ours; for
there, indeeda century at least after all men who can read
or think have laughed at the misstatement, there it remains
graven in stone, to be spelt over by the mere ignorance and
folly of the land, and perpetuated on minds as hard as the
stone itself.)
Youn.* Ta-",1vn had not been indifferent to the conversation
here '17ith a tone he might properly assume to an
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6 THE BOYNE WATER.
old attendant of his father, though, in reality, he intended the
remonstrance for his Aunt-in-law, now said
"Oliver, it were wiser, more seemly, and more Christian,
that you forbore such observations. The times are altered-
and altered, I hope, for the bettersince they afford oppor-
tunity to men of all parties to hold out to each other the hand
of Brotherhood. A Popish Sovereign now fills the throne of
these realms; he has ascended that seat of his fathers in
peace; and in welcome, too, from persons of every persua-
sion"
"From 'Backsliders, Papists, and Malignants" "From
Plotters, Papists, and Jesuits," interrupted Oliver and Mrs.
Evelyn, in a breath.
"We owe him our allegiance," young Evelyn went on;
"with it our honour and respect. And it cannot be respect-
fulno, nor lawfulto insult with our speech the Religion
our Sovereign chooses, and is permitted to profess."
"Doubtless, no," said uncle Paul, anxious for peace.
"What, Paul!what say'st thou V exclaimed his consort;
and Paul winced more than if his fat horse hadwhich it
could not dobounded under him;" honour and respect for
that which is damnable and idolatrous, plotting and murder-
ous, poisoning, burning, and jesuiticalsay'st thou, man?"
"No such thing do I say," replied the husband, meekly.
"He wha touches pitch is denled thereby," said Oliver, "and
he wha denies the Lord will, in his day, he denied by Him.
Wherefore, anent yon man James, whom Malignants and
Papists, Erastians and Prelatists, cail King"
"What mean'st thou by Prelacy, fellow?" interrupted Mrs.
Evelyn; "what mean'st thou by joining that with Papists and
Jesuits, Plo"
"And," continued Oliver, raising his voice, and in his turn
interrupting, as the better way to get out of the mistake he
soon saw he had committed; "and whom they go forth to pro-
claim with the sounding of brazen trumpets, and the tinkling
of timbrels, and with a loud voice thro' the city, and a cry
among the people, saying"
"Good fellow," here interposed a stranger, wearing a close,
black cap, and a full riding-cloak; the voice sounding just at
Oliver's ear, and startling him, although the speaker had fo
some time accompanied the party unperceived" Qpod felkrv
if you do not hold your neck to be too straifT "Vtb.elr
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THE BOYNE WATER. 7
your back to require a clawing, best keep silence so near yon
loyal town." The travellers had, indeed, now approached very
near to Carrickfergus.
"What have I said, that I should keep silent V asked
Oliver, wrathfully, and still half nervous.
"Treason," replied the other, "if 'twere worth the telling."
"Truth," retorted Oliver, "and the words of truth. Per-
adventure you be, yourself, of the children of abomination,
the sons of darkness and of Belial; but even to thee will I
testify against this breaking into the fold, this slumbering and
backsliding of the shepherds"
"This introducing of popery and slavery;" echoed, Mrs.
Evelyn.;
"Silence, Oliver!" cried her nephew-in-law.
"Fools !"exclaimed the stranger, in a tone as intemperate
as that usqd by those he addressed"Fools, as well as Blasphe-
mers and Heretics."
"Heretics!" said Oliver, stopping his horse to confront
his new companion; "whom call you by that name, brother?"
"You, and all like you, who have departed from the bosom of
holy Church, to set up the false lights of your own weak judg-
ment, and bowdown before theminpresumptuous self-worship?"
"You, and all like you," rejoined Oliver, "whether Papists
or Prelatists."
"Sirrah !"exclaimed his burden, turning fiercely on her
conductor ; "again I ask what would' st thou by that word?"
"Even those," he replied, forgetting, in extreme zeal, his
former caution; "wha, against the voice of the Covenant,
give ear to the words of men in sleeves of lawn, and long
garments, sic as are called Bishops and Archbishops, Deans,
Deacons, and Rectors; poor remnants of the tricks of Satan,
and the deceptions of the Scarlet"
"Beshrew thy knave's heart! thou art worse than a Papist,
thyself!" cried Mrs. Evelyn, "none but such could hold such
language of the pure, Reformed Religion."
"No !" said the stranger, "alas, he is no more of the true,
holy Faith, than thou, thyself, unhappy woman !I know
you, now, old Noll; you were yon, at the Gobbins heughs, in
the Forty-One;" alluding to the massacre of Roman Catholics,
differently accounted for, which took place in Island Magee
during the ^ JA'l year of 1641, or 1642.
'- the Lord, I was," said Oliver. "Wi'
K
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8 THE BOYNE WATER.
mickle sorrow that on that good night you stood not before me.
For now I no longer doubt you; you are a professed Papist."
"I am an unworthy son of holy Church," answered the
stranger, devoutly crossing himself; "and now, of the tri-
umphant Church, tooHark to that! Long live King James!"
he continued, as a shout, that he seemed apt at interpreting,
reached them, through a gate of the town, from the far end
of a street, the suburb extremity of which they were just
entering. At the same time, the speaker, letting go the folds
of his cloak, which he had hitherto kept closely grasped, dis-
played the habit of a Roman Catholic ecclesiastic of the
regular order.
"A travelling friar!" exclaimed Oliver.
"A Jesuit! a Jesuit!" screamed Mrs. Evelyn.
"And now I know you, too," resumed the old trooper,
"your name is O'Haggerty; a fire-brand amang the people; a
sore affliction to the Covenant; and weel disposed to do scaith
on my head for the words I have spoken. Do thy bestI
defy thee."
"Heretical Idiot!" said the young friar, for young he was,
and of a tall, robust person, and rather coarse features, "for
the sake of the well-intentioned youth who is thy master, and
whose remonstrance with thee I have heard; and also for the
sake of yon sweet and delicate young lady, whose health and
spirits do not seem well to brook such wrangling; I will spare
you. Your ancient companion I spare for her own sake;
this is a day of triumph, not of struggle. Attend to what is
now to be acted, and suffer in spirit all I could wish to inflict."
At these words, the ecclesiastic gave spurs to his horse, and
was soon lost in the crowd that, amid a great din of shouting,
accompanied by the squeak of a cracked trumpet, and the
rub-a-dub of an old kettledrum, on which a fresh sheep-skin
had just been badly strained for the occasion, advanced
towards the travellers.
Our party were obliged to draw up inside the rude gate of
the town, which they had just entered, in order to give place
to the throng, that almost immediately halted about the spot.
Thus, however, they were afforded opportunity to observe
what was going forward. In the centre of the concourse,
Evelyn could recognise the mayor of the town, attended by
the recorder, sheriffs, aldermen, burgesses, and the other coi
porate and official persons, all in their "formalities," and
I
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THE BOYNE WATER. 9
horseback. Before them was the town-clerk, accompanied by
the trumpeter, as crazy as his instrument, and the drummer, as
wrinkled as his sheep-skin; and, after a pause, this important
officer crying silence, proceeded to read, in a loud voice, and
with vile pronunciation, made up of two parts of Scotch, and
one of Irish brogue, a paper that proclaimed James the Second,
King. All had stood uncovered during his oration; and, at
the end, the mayor, recorder, &c., joined in his "God save
King James!" waving their cocked hats, their wands, and
other badges of office; whilst, at the same time, the ever-
willing crowd threw up their greasy caps, and contributed
three separate shouts.
Evelyn looked attentively to try if he could discover in the
faces of the officials, or of the crowd, much hidden opinion at
variance with this outward manifestation of joy; but, among
the former, his physiognomic skill did not enable him to detect
any contradiction. Even the crowd, though in that northern
town chiefly Protestants of one sect or other, seemed generally
sincere and gratified. On their outskirts, indeed, might be
observed more than one inferior group of old and young, male
and female, individuals after the hearts of Noll and Mrs.
Evelyn, who joined but faintly, or not at all, in the common
shout, their heads turned, and their eyes fixed scoffingly on
the corporate officers, or as scoffingly, and more expressively,
on each other. But such variations from the prevalent feel-
ing, Evelyn did not fail to set down as the exceptions that
attend every general rule, and most particularly every general
rule in religious politics. He omitted, indeed, to consider
them as the unnoticed sparks that, after a half-consumed city
is supposed to be safe from further harm, still live in the
midst of security, awaiting but the breath of a fresh wind, or
merely the progress of their own ignition, to burst forth in
treble vigour.
But, so far as his calculations at present went, Evelyn was
correct. Since the monstrous excesses committed on both
sides in the year 1641, and afterwards on one side only, by
the ruthless Cromwell, Ireland had, down to the moment we
speak of, enjoyed more peace, or, at all events, rest, than
could be recollected in her previous history, from the time of
Henry II. The efforts to set aside Cromwell's settlement,
gave, indeed, a slight ruffle to the national tranquillity. But
when that great question became decided, and that the disap-
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10 THE BOYNE WATER.
pointed Catholics were content to bear in silence the bit-
terness of the arbitrary decision which, from the son of
Charles L, they saw little reason to expect, all parties re-
lapsed into quietness, and seemed willing to tolerate, if not
esteem each other. In aid of this sentiment, now came the
lively declarations of intended impartiality and protection,
made by the new King to his privy council, on behalf of his
Protestant subjects; the good hopes of a happy reign derived
therefrom by all sects in the mother country, and the sincere
expressions of loyalty and attachment consequently manifested
in addresses from each, could not fail to command a corres-
pondent feeling throughout Ireland. Men were tired, too,
of a mere religious struggle, principally, perhaps, on account
of the hopelessness, at any side, and after considerable efforts
on all sides, of religious extermination. Since they could
trust their Prince, they seemed indifferent to his worshipping
God after his own fancy. And thus the mixed crowd, that,
in a small town in the north of Ireland, shouted up James
the Second, might be heard re-echoing the watchword of
security which then ran through all the British realms"We
have the word of a Princea pledge never brokenLong live
King James!"
Yet were there noncontents: amongst them, none more
consistent than Oliver and Mrs. Evelyn, and, so long as he
remained under her jurisdiction, Paul, her spouse. As the
party stood looking on, Evelyn waved his hat and cheered;
but his aunt-in-law scowled at the town-clerk, and once, when
in some evident return of displeasure he met her eye, she
shook her head and hand at him, uttering words that it was
perhaps well for her the noise of acclamation completely
drowned. Oliver, too, though contenting himself with severe
silence, remained covered, till a person, passing on horse-
back, twitched off his hat, and cried, "Shout, roundhead,
shout!"
"There's na muckle treason in a guarded mouth," replied
the old Covenanter, coolly taking his hat from some benevo-
lent person who had stooped to pick it up.
"Look on, and you shall soon know," resumed the voice of
the young friar, now recognisable; and he again turned off to
join the crowd.
The corporate procession had begun to return down the
street, in progress to some other established place from which
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THE BOYNE WATER. 11
to make its proclamation, when a portion of the people whom
the friar joined and spoke to for a moment, separated from
the rest, and, hoisting an individual astride on a pole, ad-
vanced with him, borne on their shoulders, towards the tra-
vellers.
"That's ridin' the stang," observed the urchin who had in
charge the donkey and hampers.
"And what means it f' inquired Evelyn.
We answer for the boy, by informing the reader, first, that
the phrase, translated into English, meant riding upon a sting,
as, we presume, the galling seat of the rider might justly be
called; second, that it was a local, popular punishment, inflicted
by proxy for such offences as were not cognizable at common
law. Some low fellow, representing the offender, was mounted,
as in the instance to be noticed, upon a pole, and thus making
avowals, in the name of the real aggressor, of his adopted
guilt, was carried about the streets, until at last he reached
the house of the delinquent, where he proclaimed anew the
misdemeanor which had given offence, and then, with loud
shouts, the ceremonial ended.
"An' its ridin' the stang," continued the donkey's guardian,
"only yon thief isn't the true one," and he looked up sig-
nificantly at Oliver.
The minor crowd approached with their burden, a very
nasty, ill-looking fellow; and, ere our travellers could follow
down the street the main body of the people, they were again
surrounded.
"Wha are you 1 wha are you V cried many voices to him
on the pole, as they halted before the party.
"Wha am I but auld Noll, that was a militia trooper in the
Forty-One V he answered.
"Thou liest, even as the prince of lies, wha is thy father,"
said Oliver, cahnly scowling at his ragged representative. The
crowd took no notice, but continued: "Make full and peni-
tent proclamation of the guilt whilk gars you ride the stang!"
"And what for no, since I hae gotten the grace to repent
me 1 I just ride the stang anent yon time when I would na
doff my bonnet for good King Jamie, foul fa' me for a grace-
less loon, that did na better mind it!"
"And do ye mind it noo 1 and wha is King noo?"
"King Jamie the Second is King, and I, Noll Whittle, of
the Forty-One, I mind it weelhuzza for King Jamie!"
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12 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Huzza! huzza! huzza!" echoed the crowd, as releasing
their substitute criminal, they followed rapidly, and with
loud peals of laughter, the main concourse. Oliver just com-
manding as much prudence as made him feel that it might
be inconvenient to suffer himself to be provoked into overt
words of disloyalty. But, not so Mrs. Evelyn, who, de-
spite the mortal fears of her husband (in suspicion that
a trot over the paving-stones, on the dang, would be more
inconvenient even than the paces of his steed), and the
earnest expostulations of her husband's nephew, continued to
vent her zeal and wrath as the party moved down the street,
in quest of a house of entertainment.
"Cross me not, nephew," she said, as they passed by the
pier, or quay wall, and rather near to it, "a woman, at least,
can use her tongue." ,
"Troth can she," said the barelegged attendant, coming
back from a group of people whom he had interrogated as to
the meaning of a second approaching clamour" Troth can
she, if she likes the rest o't; mind this, jest," pointing to the
noisy throng that now passed our travellers.
In the centre was an old woman of very low stature, and
mean apparel, whom the united efforts of three strong men,
obviously town-bailiffs, could scarce drag onward towards
the quay wall: although two of them held each a hand
of the pigmy furya necessary measure to prevent a re-
newal of the favours which it was evident those hands, as-
sisted by their proper nails, had recently conferred on their
facesand although the third exerted, by passing a rope
round her waist, considerable influence over her motions, she
tugged and twisted, and jumped up and down, and to one
side and the other, making various attempts to bite with the
few teeth she had left; or, bonding her body, and opposing
the amazing resistance of her strength and weight, little as
both might appear to be, mi tiered herself to be trailed a few
stops on her heels or knees; her features all the while dis-
torted with frenzy; her stringy nock swollen like a bundle
of small ropes \ her clothes torn mid bemired, and her once
shrill pipe grown hoarse with execration.
"Let me go ! let me go !" she exclaimed in passing, " ye tools
and ministers of linitlxuhuh, ye nphiuulers of abomination, ye
servants mid torturer* lor Hiilhmi! -To the water's brink ye
shall never gar me go !! will hne strength for resistanceyea,
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THE BOYNE WATER. 13
the strength. that comes frae above is given me ; let me go, ye
outcasts !ye cast-a-ways !ye Papists and Malignants! I
say to you he is no king, but a fause idol set up for saul-
killing worship! I uplift my voice"
"On with her! on with her!" cried a person higher in
authority than the bailiffs, and looking like the mayor's clerk.
"Come along, old Alice, and be thankful for the mercy that
decrees you but this punishment; to-day you have spoken
treason, for which the twisting of your old neck were proper
reward, only that his worship's honour is too Christian-like,
and judging your clack but as the clack of a common scold,
wills you no more than the quieting of one. Silence in the
court till the town law for such offence be read!"
And thereupon this person read from a paper he held in his
hand, often interrupted by the violence of Alice, the following
Carrickfergus statute:
"October, 1575, Ordered and agreede, by the whole court,
that all manner of skoldes which shal be openly detected of
skolding, or evil wordes in manner of skolding, and for the
same shal be condemned before Mr. Maior and his brethren,
shal be drawne at the sterne of a boate in the water, from die
end of the peare rounde abought the queenes majesties casteO,
in manner of ducking, and after, when a cage shal be made"
("ithas been ready these hundred years," remarked the mayor's
officer, parenthetically), "the party so condemned for a skolde
shall be therein punished at the discretion of the maior."
A general shout followed the promulgation of this salutary-
law; and once more, Alice, who had had the advantage of a
halt, while it was reading, expeiienced the attentions of the
bailiffs, her voice now completely unheard in the grand up-
roar, and her resistance proving, from exhaustion, less than
before. Yet, ere she quite passed from the place on which
our travellers had drawn up, she made one final effort,
in the shape of an appeal for the intercession of all the Lord's
people.
"To so many of ye as have heard the word, and now, hear
me, I uphaud my voice for a deliverance! Tak me out of
captivity, and let your hands undo the bonds of a hard bon-
dage! Ha!" she continued, recognising an old acquaintance,
"sit you there on a war-horse, armed to go forth and conquer,
and winna you smite wi' the sword, Oliver Whittle, in my
cause, and in the cause of a broken Covenant 1" another long
## p. 14 (#42) ##############################################
14 THE BOYNE WATER.
-
tug forward, which, notwithstanding his sincere zeal, Oliver
did not regret, "and the winsome leddy that bides on the
back part of the steed ahint you."The bailiffs looked omi-
nously at Mrs. Evelyn; Paul also looked at his consortshe
was pale as death; "oh, winna she uplift her voice for the
Lord's bondswoman? Avoid ye, evil ones !" another successful
tug" Agents of darkness !hell-servants !let me go! let
me go!"
Her voice here became finally lost, and all resistance, too,
seemed at an end, for the bailiffs, and the whole crowd around
her, hurried on with increased rapidity, amid the screaming of
women, the piping of children, and the barking of a hundred
curs. Evelyn and his sister then turned their horses towards
a house of entertainment; and Mrs. Evelyn, uncle Paul, and
Oliver, followed in profound silence; the titter of the donkey's
guide, and almost at the same time, a lengthened bray from
the donkey's self, being the only sounds uttered by any of the
crestfallen party.
CHAPTER II.
As evening approached, the travellers resolved to spend that
night in Carrickfergus. After they had together partaken of
an early supper, Oliver being allowed to sit at a corner of the
table, they separated into distinct parties. Mrs. Evelyn and
her husbandwe always put, by impulse, the dame's name
firstfell asleep, opposite each other, in two rude arm-chairs;
Oliver Whittle stalked out of the room to seek his own
chamber, and there pour forth his soul in extempore prayer;
and*young Evelyn and his sister adjourned to a private sitting-
room, where some discourse occurred between them, which,
as during this evening of inaction we think it useful for our
purposes, the reader will be pleased to peruse, in a very short
chapter.
"Nothing interests you, Esther," said the young gentleman;
"that is too evident. You answer my questions, indeed, or
agree in my remarks, or even start one of your own, but the
sigh that always closes your lips, tells how indifferent to your
## p. 15 (#43) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 15
thoughts is the passing discourse; and despite my assurance
of your affection, almost tempts me to fear that even my own
presence is indifferent."
The young lady smiled faintly, but very sweetly, as she
answered: "Robert, that you must not say; God knows,
except yourself, there is now no being on earth dear to the
heart of Esther Evelyn."
"Again that heavy sigh, dearest Esther, and that sad
drooping of your headhow shall I reconcile these symptoms
with your words 1 Were we not brother and sister, I might
be at liberty to reconcile them by, doubtless, a very flattering
inference; but you know you must not be in love with me," he
added, in a little effort to rally her spirts. She smiled again
with more animation than before, and her brother continued:
"And this minds me of a question I have once or twice
intended; but look honestly at me, Esther, that I may judge
from your eyes and cheeks, rather than from your words, of
the fact;" she turned her face up in calm surprise, and looked
fully at her brother. "Aye," he resumed, "excellently acted;
be sure, all this convinces "me, you do not even guess what I
would ask. Well, well, no use of any more amazement, I am
convinced; and now, fair sister, is your little heart still your
own?"
"You mean, am I in love, as it is called, with any one V
she asked, simply and quietly.
"Even so; in love, as it is called."
"Indeed, indeed, brother, I am not."
"Never yet saw the man you could love?
"
"Yourself apartfor we talk not now of brother's and
sister's love; and since an event I cannot name"tears
gushed from her eyes, "never, brother, never."
"My dearest Esther," the brother continued, much affected
also, "this endless and unavailing sorrow is sinful and selfish
No, not selfish, I did not mean that; but how unfortunate I
am in all my little efforts, Esther, to amuse you !Even
now I believed I had chosen a theme as wide as possible
from any afflicting recollection, yet how unhappy it has proved.
For God's sake, sister, for both our sakes, take up the conso-
lation that religion enjoins, and that your duties and affections
make imperative."
"I have struggled to take it up, brother; but you know I
am not in very good health. Along with being, or having cause
## p. 16 (#44) ##############################################
16 THE BOYNE WATER.
to be, unhappy. And the weakness of the body increases the
weakness of the mind, and the sorrows of the heart. But
when I get better you shall see a change."
"Thanks, Esther, I expected no less from you; and you
shall, you must, get well. Your youth, your prospects, and the
advantage of this seashore residence, whither we are journey-
ingeverything, to say nought of a brother's love and duty
everything must give you the health and spirits you merit to
enjoy. But how now?"
Notwithstanding the maiden's effort to suppress her feelings,
the string of her griefs having been once touched, she could not
check its vibration. While her brother spoke, her head
drooped on her bosom, her hands on her knees, and, in a
shower of tears, she exclaimed" My poor father!"
Evelyn was instantly at her side; but he did not now offer
a word of a consolation or remonstrance, content to let nature
exhaust her own paroxysm. And his silence was, perhaps,
the best appeal to his sister's recollections, which, in a little
time, overcame her extreme sorrow, while she continued to
address him.
"I am weak, Robert, very weak and blameable; but to me,
who have no recollection of a mother, what a loss was that
father !mother and father, together! Never had child
that child a girlsuch a parent. You, who, for your educa-
tion and improvement by travel, were often away from us-
you cannot imagine half his tenderness and goodness; besides
you are a man, and cannot feel half so desolate."
"Being a man, Esther, the more my joy and pride, and the ,
less should you feel desolate, when I am your brother, too."
She admitted the force of this remark, and once more looked
up, while, although it came through tears, her smile was
unusually brilliant, as she replied:
"It is so, dearest brother, it is so; and I am truly selfish
and sinful not to prove I know it; for my natural return of
affection for affection, aparthow much heavier, indeed, might
be my lot, had I not such a protectorfriendrelative. I
know not how, Robert," she continued, "but, although his
connexions must ever command my respect and esteem, I
cannot love our uncle and auntnot with the fulness of heart
that gives satisfaction and happiness."
"And you know, dear sister, how I answer you on that
head Nothing bad, or even unkind, have I seen in either;
## p. 17 (#45) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 17
yet assuredly, enough to suppress warm affection. It is dis-
agreeable to observe the unwomanly sway our aunt holds over
our uncle; and still more offensive to note his unmanly taking
of it. Then, her religious prejudices are too strong; much too
strong for the good opinions that persons of all creeds, except
the ignorant and violent on every side, begin to entertain, or
wish to entertain of each other. I did not think that one
professing the same mild reformed faith with yon and me,
could hold such rancour as our aunt does hold against papist
fellow-subjects, especially in this kingdom, whichalthough
here in the north, Presbyterians, with a few Episcopalians, be
the majorityis almost wholly possessed by people of that
persuasion. Such unchristian and unseemly opinions, if,
indeed, opinions they may be called, ought to be left to the
very ignorant among the Covenanters, some of whom live
around us, and who have been as remarkable for hostility to
our own Church, as to that which our aunt denounces."
"I understand little of these matters, Robert, but would
gladly be guided by your information and instructions. He
who is gone, never cared to bring such subjects before me ; or
when he did, his words only breathed charity and forbearance
to all God's creatures. Nevertheless, many have instilled into
my mind a fear of danger to our good religion from the crown-
ing of a popish King;much dislike, I know, has lately been
shown against the Duke."
"The King, now, Esther."
"And many struggles made to keep him from the succes-
sion ;was there no real danger 1 And now that, as you say,
the obnoxious Duke is King, is there none V
"Wise and good men of different sects see none. The cry
of danger was raised by the heads of a party, and caught up
by their prejudiced and credulous adherents. But that party
is now silenced in the general voice of the nation, which hath
at length broke out; and, strengthened by King James's own
promises, all welcome to the throne of his fathers a King,
whose only crime, as yet, it is to run the risk of their displea-
sure rather than lay down his conscience."
"But, had he not part in the plot, brother V
"Even when the plot was believed to exist, his worst ene-
mies did not directly charge him with a part in it; now that
it and its promulgators have passed into disrepute, there can
be less reason for objection to King James on that head. I
'c7
c
## p. 18 (#46) ##############################################
18 THE BOYNE WATER.
gee, sister, you have taken no notealas! why should you 1
of what has lately chanced in the world; but learn, that since
the trial and acquittal of Sir George Wakeman, in the teeth
of the depositions of that human monster, Oates, no man of
ordinary reflection or honour places reliance on his assertions.
So that his whole plot, with its circumstances, now seems but
a terrible fabrication, badly and clumsily put together, with
all the flagrancy, but with not a particle of the consistence of
imposture."
"Alas ! and is it only now, after the spilling of much noble
blood, the desolation of many noble families, and the wrong-
fully accusing of millions of fellow-creaturesis it only
now that wise and good men find out that which, had they
eyes in season, might have saved them bitter and awful
recollections V
"Only now ; and doubtless, the credulity that blinded them,
heretofore, and the rancour that begot such credulity, make
the foremost stain on the reflective and merciful character of
the great nation, whence we derive our ancestry. Mayhap,
too, of its kind, we should say, the only one."
"Yet, even now, brother, I rejoice to be set right on this
matter; for it will teach me a kinder thought and more
Christian bearing towards the people I have wronged in my
ill-formed judgment. Would that our aunt could hear
patiently the words I have heard from you !yet, living in the
world, she ought to have heard them, with profit, from many
other tongues; and that she still maintains her unchristian
temper, is a certain cause for my withholding the love I before
told you I could not pay. Indeed, though from the beginning
I knew my feelings towards her, this is the first true ground
I could assign to rest them on. I have seen so little of our
aunt and uncle, that my knowledge of them must be little.
En) you could return from your travels, after our sudden loss,
! mourned alone in our desolate house, by fair Lough Neagh:
when you came, we mourned together. Our father's brother,
and his lady, were then in America, as I was told, and a year
elapsed before they visited us, since when, only some weeks
have passed to make my observations in. But you often saw
them in Kngland and in Derry-citydid you not?"
"(M'ten: yet my sentiments of them are the same with
yours."
"How chanced it that, over sinco I was a giddy child
## p. 19 (#47) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 19
infant almostI did not see my uncle in our father's house,
until his late visit, made to assert his duties, as our guar-
dian r
"You know, sister, that, as eldest brother, our father suc-
ceeded to the almost entire possession of the estate bequeathed
to him by the brave ancestor, who, in 1172, at the side of the
great De Courcy, Lord of Ulster, won it with his good sword
from the uncivilized natives of this northern country. Our
uncle being, therefore, without competent independence, was
forced to push his fortunes in the world by means of mercan-
tile pursuits and honest industry. Many years ago he settled
in London, and there, marrying his present lady, acquired by
her, and by his own efforts, much wealth, and also became
possessed of ships, which our uncle Jeremiah, still younger
than he, long commanded in their voyages to and from the
western continent and islands."
"I remember uncle Jeremiah well; indeed, I know him
well; and, I believe, love him, too, better than our newly-
arrived relations: for, although somewhat too much of a
humorist, I think his heart warmer, and his manner kinder.
But our guardians have been some time in Ireland, residing
in Derry-city, as I have heard V
"Yes; settled there, two years, or thereabouts. Before their
last western voyage, their wealth was applied to the purchase
of lands and houses, and our uncle became an alderman of that
city. But what with their frequent visits to England; the
retired habits, and different style of mind of our father; and,
withal, the bad state of the northern roads lying between
Derry and our residence, so irksome, as you may have seen, to
any but youthful travellersit is not matter of wonder that,
since their removal to Ireland, our uncle and aunt should not
have visited us."
## p. 20 (#48) ##############################################
THE BOTNZ WATER.
CHAPTER III.
The travellers left Carrickfergus next morning. in prosecution
of their route along the coast to the little village where Esther
was to reside for the advantages of change of air and sea-
bathing.
Passing out of the town through Glenarm. or Spittal-gate,
one of four then existing in the old walls, the party continued
their way along the district called "Scotch quarters." from a
colony of Argyle and Gallowayshire fishers, who came over in
1665. These visitors might be heard alluding to "the Irish
folk," in their neighbourhood, with a mixed air of indifference
and toleration, such as would have been more natural on the
part of the natives towards themselves: this, however, was
only a specimen of the solemn self-conceit of the old Puritans.
After a few miles' riding, our friends passed the limits of the
county corporate, or county palatine of Carrickfergus; for the
district, although included in the County Antrim, and extend-
ing only about four miles square, has an independent civil
existence, thus variously designated. With respect to the
last designation, it may be proper to inform the reader, on
the authority of Spencer, that counties palatine were formed
after the first colonization, and granted "great priviledges,"
. to enable the settlers, "subject to continuall invasions," to
defend themselves against "the wilde Irish." And, perhaps,
this way of putting the question of colonial residence, will
not, on reflection, seem a whit less modest, than the view
subsequently taken of the matter by the Scotch adventurers,
which has been mentioned.
The road onward, as well as that from Belfast to Carrick-
fergus, lay very near the coast. It passed, at Kilroot, a
quarry of columnar basalt, as perfect as any specimen at the
Giant's Causeway, although the distance between both places
is, at least, forty miles; but, at the time of this tale, the
quarry had not been discovered. Leaving Island Magee to
the right, it then wound, rather more interiorly, towards the
village of Larne. Of Island Mageewhich, by the way, is,
now at least, no islandnotice has already been taken, as the
## p. 21 (#49) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 21
scene, about the year 1641, of a midnight massacre, perpe-
trated by some Scotch troops, regardless of sex or age, on the
primitive and unarmed inhabitants. It has also been men-
tioned, that different parties give different accounts of this
affair, their differences chiefly applying to its date; and this
date involving the question of whether or no it was retalia-
tion or unprovoked aggressionone of the consequences, or
one of the causes of the Irish massacre, upon which Hume is
so indignantly and truly eloquent. In the main facts, how-
ever, that the slaughter took place, and that those slaughtered
were unoffending and unwarlike people, all writers agree;
except, indeed, Hume himself, who, amid the splendour of
his angry rhetoric, while holding up to the detestation of ages
the atrocities of Irish bigots, omits to mention the atrocities
(committed at the very same time) of Scotch bigots. Though,
before he gave way to passion, and indulged in his imperfect
statement, it might be supposed that historical dignity called
on him to seek out or recollect the attendant truths that
might have served to check the one and enlarge the other :
but we digress. The principal facts admitted on all hands,
men whose views of human nature are not controlled by the
prejudices of a country, a time, or a sect, will care little about
the minor contradictions, however fervently they may be
urged. The side that retaliates a barbarity, is surely little
better than the side that originates one; and we allude to the
circumstance only for the purpose (as is our duty, or the
necessity of our plan) of placing before the reader a true and
real picture of the general state of men's minds and feelings
some years previous to the time in which the events and per-
sons of our story are to occur and act. Perhaps the unhappy
matter should not at all have been noticed, but that in
gettingacross the little gulf that separates Island Magee
from the main landa glance at the spot on which it hap-
pened, a grim and recollective smile struggled through the
hard features of Oliver Whittle.
At about the same moment, others of the party were enjoy-
ing another view, of, at least, more harmless and agreeable
impression. It was formed by different points of the main-
land to the right, and of the promontory, as it may more truly
be called, to the left, sweeping into the gulf, at different
distances, and all wearing the family likeness that, not
disagreeably however, characterizes basalt hills. That is to say,
## p. 22 (#50) ##############################################
22 THE BOYNE WATER.
an almost flatness on the tops, continued along the extent of the
outline, and, just when they are about to shoot into the water,
or dip to the plain, an abrupt convex curve. The point that,
nearer than the middle distance, concealed the village of
Larne, also concealed, from its stretching out to meet the
opposite headland, a continuous view of the sea. And
thus, the gulf had quite the appearance of an extensive
lake, bound up by those successive piles of precipice, of which
Ballygelly Head and Garron Point, were the most imposing.
Continuing their route, the travellers, leaving to the left
some close scenery of mixed beauty and ruggedness, halted
and took refreshments at Larne; and soon after proceeded
towards Glenarm. The road from Belfast to Carrickfergus,
hadto do common justice to Mrs. Evelyn's past observations
been bad enough; from Carrickfergus to Larne it was worse;
but from Larne onward it was worst of all. Not to speak of
its ruggedness, it scaled, in the first instance, the barrier (a
little inward) of Ballygelly Head, looking, when seen even
from the brow of an introductory ascent, as if it ran zig-zag
for mere wantonness higher than birds of grave habits need
desire to fly. Then there was a descent of course; again,
a tremendous rise; and, more provoking than all, a second
descent into the village, upon the slope of which, the fat horses
of the elder party, particularly that which bore the double
weight of Oliver and Mrs. Evelyn, could scare find footing.
Of the increased contortions of face and multiplied groans of
Paul, little, therefore, need be said; or, except when a moment
of utter peril caused her to keep in her breath, of the incalcu-
lable velocity of his good lady's tongue. There never
were such roads, she averred, nor such a country, up and
down, hill and hollow, nor such a people, that would not
level it. In the neighbourhood of London, from one side to
the other, there was but one hill, and that you need not climb
if you did not like; except that during the plague the
citizens were fain have recourse to it for safety, being forced to
run out of the city; and when (according to an old poet,
rather than Mrs. Evelyn)
"Homo climbed Higbgate-hill, and there they see
The world so largo, that they amazed be."
But what chiefly inconvenienced Mrs. Evelynand, indeed,
## p. 23 (#51) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 23
irritated her so much that she often repeated itwas the
reflection of the utter uselessness, to say the least, of creeping
up one mountain, and scrambling down at the far side, solely for
the purpose of creeping up and scrambling down another and
another. But, perhaps, the frequent appearance, to her right,
of the great sea, caught through partial depressions of a con-
tinued line of rock or swelling grounds, very near at hand, and
a dizzy height above itperhaps this, suggesting a recollection
of the real peril of her situation, struck into Mrs. Evelyn's
heart a more appalling sensation, although it was too sincerely
felt to require the usual avowal.
No selfishness, or ignorance, or even misgivings of personal
safety, had, however, the effect of closing the eyes and minds
of Evelyn and his gentle sister to the interest of their situa-
tion. With feelings of mingled awe and delight, they
found themselves shut in, as they gradually ascended,
between precipices and swelling grounds of amazing magni-
tude. The solitude, the ruin, and the savageness of their
mountain-road, had due effect upon them. From about the
summit of the last fatiguing ascent between them and Glen-
arm, the scenery had expanded, only to assume a more vast
and entrancing character. To their left, swept the mighty hill
that bounds the Great deer-park of Antrim Castle, crossed
and overtopped, at the distance of some miles, by another of
a more sterile and blacker aspect. To their right, the land
fell down to the level of the unlimited oceanextent, though
of a varied kind, being still the character of the scene. With,
at the opposite side of Glenarm's beautiful bay, the huge
headland of Garron Point, now beginning to show its rude
variety of feature; ships and little boats ploughing or
glancing across, or resting near the shorethe little village
itself, newly rebuilt after the burning by Robert Munroe and
his puritanical soldiers, and now, therefore, looking more neat
and cheery; and the old castellated mansion of the Earl of
Antrim, detached from the village, and standing in a great
solitude. When this picture at last came on their view,
the brother and sister felt more than repaid for any incon-
venience that might have attended their progress towards it.
Another rest at Glenarm, and, notwithstanding the advanced
hour of the day, our travellers remounted, to gain, after eight
. additional Irish miles, the little hamlet of Cushindoll, which
was the object of their journey. The crossing of Garron
## p. 24 (#52) ##############################################
24 THE BOYNE WATER.
Point proved a task of such difficulty, and, to the heavier
mounted of the party, danger, as even their former experience
of the road could not have enabled them to anticipate. The
way clambered with difficulty at the bases of the last preci.
pices which, a little inland, topped the point; and those
terrific precipices were rent into a thousand masses of rock,
great and small, toppling over, or clustering down the side
of the descent, in all that primitive and awful state of rest in
which, during the mighty convulsion that shaped them, they
had caught, and, no eye could tell how, balanced and sustained
each other. Often, too, they jutted out upon, and prescribed
the course of the only strip of ground available as a road over
the point. And through the minor inequalities to the right,
one could always behold the tremendous descent that, at only
a short distance, still shot down to the sea, sometimes pushing
it too fearfully forward.
At about the place where, in consequence of those intru:
sions, the road grew narrowest, and approached nearest to
the precipice on the right, was the termination of the clamber
up. Then, almost immediately, commenced a descent nearly
to the level of the sea, so very abrupt, that before any of the
party would venture, upon it, all halted and held a consul-
tation. The result, in the first instance, was a determination
to have the horses led down, whilst, one by one, the travellers
should follow them. First, then, the barelegged boy volum-
teered, with a sneer at the precautions adopted, to show the
perfect safety of the road. Allowing his donkey to follow at
his leisure, the imp ran headlong from side to side, in the
kind of movement always preferred by sagacious horses in
similar situations; with the exception that they creep, while
he bounded as freely as if the ground were quite level under
his feet. When safe at the bottom, he cut some self-flattering
capers; and, after waiting, a few minutes, the arrival of his
charge, who followed exactly in his track, though ten times
more slowly, he joined the party at nearly the same speed in
which he had left them. Young Evelyn then led down his
own horse, while the boy accompanied him with those of
uncle Paul and of Oliver. Both presently returning, it
was finally arranged that, after such encouragement, Paul
himself should be conveyed by the urchin, and his lady
by Oliver, while Evelyn should render Esther the same
assistance.
## p. 25 (#53) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 25
Operations commenced by Paul reluctantly giving his left
hand to the hoy, while he further propped himself on a cane
held in his right. The first few steps were favourable; but
.when the poor little man found himself launched on the very
sudden declivity, with a vast extent yet to be got over, and
from the rocky smoothness of the roadno hope of retracing
his way upward, courage forsook his heart. His little legs
at the coolest moments none of the most steadytottered
under him; his purple face strove to grow pale; he himself
strove to stand still. At this his consort assailed him from
above, and the little guide (though, as they stood together,
no difference could be observed in height, at least), at his ear,
with cries of expostulation to proceed ; the one exerting a loud
voice of command, the other speaking and laughing in a
hreath. Paul growing more nervous and confused, yet tried
to do as he was bid, and immediately put his feet in motion;
but whether he was in too relaxed a state to govern their
motions, or that the mischievous imp pulled him downward
instead of checking his natural readiness to descend rapidly,
true it is, that the moment he trusted them from under him,
his legs set off at a pitch of speed too amazing to be voluntary,
until at last they failed him altogether, and down came uncle
Paul, grasping the guide in Ids arms, and rolling with him,
over and over, to the bottom of the declivity.
The party above were necessarily much alarmed at this ac-
cident; Mrs. Evelyn screamed incessantly as her lord continued
in motion; and it was not till the boy, starting to his feet, on
the level road, and raising uncle Paul with him, repeatedly
asserted the safety of both, that tranquillity could be restored.
But these assurances, and, at length, even their confirmation
by Paul himself, could not now prevail on Mrs. Evelyn to take
her turn down the hill with Oliver. The brother and sister
tried to urge her, but in vain. No ; it was a plain tempting of
Providence; a plain hazarding of precious life ;Mrs. Evelyn
would never stir a step farther on such avile roadsuch a papist
roadback she might go,though even that was foolhardy
and presumptuousjust to enable herself to get out of the
country altogether: but down !down that precipice !
never. And to manifest her determination, the lady squatted
herself on a low flat stone by the road-side.
Evening had for some time been approaching; but now, a
shade of twilight, too deep to be in regular gradation with
## p. 26 (#54) ##############################################
20 THE BOYNK WATER.
any that had preceded it, fell suddenly over the mountain-way.
Evelyn, looking on the sky, saw it assume a lurid, bronzed
aspect; and, at the same time, his eye caught and followed up
a fearful phenomenon. Upon the summit of a hill, some
distance before him, he observed a large black cloud to settle,
the only one that intruded on the dull monotonous colour of
the heavens. Presently, dividing into two parts, one part re-
tired from his view behind the hill, while the other approached
towards the party, marking its course with horror, and so far
as the almost uninhabited state of the country can permit the
term, with devastation. It was a tornado cloud, then not un-
known in Ireland. Even at a distance Evelyn could note its
effect along the sandy beach, or over the fern-clothed bosom
of the hills. The sand rose in clouds or pillars; the fern, first
uprooted, and then collected, ascended high into the air. As
it came nearer, the few old trees on its course were torn from
the rocks to which they clung, and whisked about like straws,
and many of the rocks themselves unbedded, and hurled to
the sea; while the roof of a cabin, perched on the superior
precipice to the left, was uplifted, on the wings of the cloud,
to an amazing elevation.
Terror, at this unusual sight, seized on all. Evelyn, en-
deavouring to chock his own sensations, held tight the rein of
his sister's jennet, as she was the only individual of the party
who had not yet dismounted. Oliver and Mrs. Evelyn (at
last silent) foil on their knees, imagining to themselves the
end of the world, or else conjuring the very top of Garron
Point into the valley of Jehoshaphat. The cries of Paul and
of the boy, their common tears and childish lamentation might
he heard from the road underneath, and perhaps, as they were
rattier nearer to the danger, they had most immediate cause
for outcry : particularly when tho crash of falling rocks came
very closely on their ears.
Still (he black and giant cloud sailed on to the travellers,
although occasionally diverted by its own wayward impulse to
the right or the !nlt, On !on !and it hovered over tho
Bpot where uncle !'mil Minl !mm treacherous guide were stationed.
Fortunately l'"r them, the mountain to their left presented, on
its sides or Atunmil, hut lew tree* or rocks to the fury of the
tornado; hut their friend* above could see them, first pros-
trated, and then caught up novum] feet from the ground
dropped, again raised, nud again dropped, as an eagle might
## p. 27 (#55) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 27
tantalize a lambkin. Long before Paul was a second time
treated in this rude fashion, he had become insensible to his
danger and sufferings, so that the tornado might almost as
well have vented itself on a bunch of fern, the stump of a
tree, or any other passive subject.
The terrible wonder began to ascend to the summit on
which rested the remainder of the travellers. Increased dark-
ness attended it, and the tumbling and crash of loose rock,
again found on its course, showed its unabated power. Evelyn
and his sister, Mrs. Evelyn, and Oliver, saw death approach
them; one and all they conceived, from what had already been
manifest, that in its passage over their heads, the huge masses
of rock, which before seemed to require but an infant's touch
to get downward motion, must inevitably become loosened,
and so whelm them in destruction. As the certainty of im-
mediate fate closed on allall, except Mrs. Evelyn, prepared
for it in silence. Her uninterrupted scream rose among the
rocks and hills around, and she fell prostrate, as if, by anti-
cipation, she would bury herself in the earth, and so shorten
the period of suffering. But, half way only over the ascent
the cloud had advanced, when it became stationaryopened
belched forth a sheet of flameexploded in a tremendous
thunderclap, and, rolling over the precipice to the right of
the party, and hurrying with it many masses of rock, spent
itself in the ocean. The quailing waters rose at its summons,
in unnatural intrusion into the region of another element, or,
heaving laboriously and blackly, seemed to evince their terror
at a visitation so ominous.
Though, with the first thunderburst, all certain danger re-
moved from the travellers,'still was their consternation rather
increased than diminished. The explosion was so near, and
the reverberations through the rocks and mountains were so
astounding, as almost to add frenzy to their despair. As the
fragments of precipice continued, even after the passage of
the tornado, to crash downward to the sea, it seemed to
them that the solid bulwark under their feet, and all around
them, was torn piecemeal by tempest and thunderbolt, and
about to crumble into one general ruin. Nor had they much
pause to relieve themselves from this state of overexcitement,
whenas if the one tongue of flame which had issued from the
cloud only served to ignite the whole surcharged atmosphere
flash followed flash, and peal followed peal, the one fiercely
## p. 28 (#56) ##############################################
28 THE BOY5E WATER.
relieved by the increasing darkness, and the other sustained
and exaggerated by the voices of mountain and precipice, until
nothing but blaze and noise could be seen or heard.
At the moment in which such effects were working most
powerfully on the feelings of all, and of Mrs. Evelyn in par-
ticular, Esther's horse became ungovernable in its fright, and,
despite the resistance of young Evelyn. backed from the place
where it had hitherto tremblingly stood. The brother called
to Esther to throw herself off;her limbs were strapped, for
safety, to the saddle, and she could not possibly do so. Still
the animal pranced and backed; and now, for the first time,
its fair rider screamed. Mrs. Evelyn caught up the signal,
and recommenced her own shrill vociferations. They were
answered, among the heights over her head, by a scream also,
but of a cadence so wild and unnatural, that, for an instant, she
held her breath to look up. Standing upon the edge of a large
rock, in an attitude and manner of the most violent energy,
she there saw a man, of, it might be, about fifty, with a pro-
fusion of wild hair streaming about eyes of almost maniac cha-
racter, and holding a gun in his hand, while he beckoned
rapidly, and, she thought, angrily, to Evelyn. One look at
this person, who appeared so suddenly but a few yards above
her, was enough for Mrs. Evelyn; she instantly uttered a
louder cry than ever, and darted across the road in the direc-
tion whither Evelyn and his sister were forced by the affrighted
horse. Almost as instantly, the wild-looking man sprang like
a beast of prey after hercast away his gunseized her by
the arms, and pulled her back. Mrs. Evelyn resisted; and,
gigantic as was the strength of her captor, he had a struggle
for it, before he succeeded in gaining sufficient mastery over
her actions, to whisk her round, and rush headlong with her
down the steep road. At the very time that this scene was
enacting, and while Esther's horse still plunged backwark, two
other voices cried out, exactly in the quarter from which Mrs.
Evelyn had been startled, and two other figures sprang up ex-
actly where she had seen the first; but two others of a very
different kinda girl and youth, about fifteen and eighteen.
The lad also held a carbine in his hand, and wore the Scotch
bonnet and trews; the girl was prettily attired; both had
an air of interest, if not rank, about them. And, both start-
ing up on the ledge of rock, together directed their looks and
voices towards Evelyn and his sister, in the expression of
## p. 29 (#57) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 29
utter alarm and horror. "Keep back the horse! keep back
the horse!" they exclaimed in a breath, the very instant they
appeared.
"Keep him back!" continued the beautiful girl, clapping
her hands in agony, "his hoof is almost on the last sod be-
tween ye and your ruin!"
"The sea-precipice !the precipice !"re-echoed her young
and nearly as handsome companion, as he bounded like a wild
deer from his place, and rushed towards the brother and
sister.
Upon the first announcement of the dreadful peril they had
before only apprehended, Esther swooned in her saddle, still
held in it by the straps, and Evelyn, abandoning the rein,
made a last desperate and instinctive attempt to catch at one
of the animal's fore feet, and thus, if possible, bring him to the
ground. The horse reared up the moment he was touched
for the brother so far succeeded in his first effortand flinging
Evelyn a good distance from him, moved back more alarmed
than before. Again, the young girl cried out in treble terror,
and, abandoning her station, descended after the youth.
Evelyn, starting up from the confusion of a moment, found
himself too far to re-attempt instantaneous assistance; yet he
ran, or rafher staggered onward; the horse still backed; he
could now, himself, see the edging horror, and he could see
the animal step another step towards itwhen, like an arrow,
the youth shot across the road, came up with the horse, put
his carbine to its headdischarged itand the animal fell,
quite dead, going down on the side that left Esther free of
his fall. She was safe.
In a moment the young man released her from her fettered
situation in the saddle, and, kneeling, presented her to the
attention of the girl, who was now by his side, and who,
kneeling also, tenderly and anxiously received the charge.
Evelyn, tottering forward, had fallen almost senseless by his
sister; the youth raised him also, and supported him in his
arms. Oliver had remained praying since the first appearance
of the storm, and in pious abstraction, selfishness, or cowardice,
never moved till all the succeeding dangers were over. Now
rising from his knees, he approached the group of young per-
sons, and forced down Evelyn's throat some brandy, which he
produced, in a black bottle, from a side-pocket. He wished
Esther to have a little also, but her youthful supporter would
## p. 30 (#58) ##############################################
30 THE BOYNE WATER.
only use some in chafing her temples. Both applications did
good service; the sister and brother revived almost together,
and flew to each other's embrace. When they sufficiently
recovered their recollections, and that Esther learned by what
means she had escaped a dreadful death, she turned, with
Evelyn, in all the gratitude of human nature for life preserved,
to thank the stranger, but he was gone.
"My brother," said the girl, "has walked down the hill,
to inquire after the dame who accompanied you."
"He should have waited to accept our warmest and most
grateful acknowledgments," said Esther.
"They would please him, I am sure, but still he thought
not of them," resumed the girl; "his service had been Offered
here, and while another occasion might elsewhere happen for
it, was he not right to go V
"Then, you, at least, maiden, will take, in your brother's
name, all the thanks, the tears of thankfulness, that are his
due. For yourself, too, accept our thanks; now I can recol-
lect that your kind arms were around me when I revived."
"My brother is overpaid in your words," replied the young
stranger; "and as for myself, the highest pleasure you could
do me, I had felt in receiving thanks for him, even before you
noticed my own petty service, which was nought, nought, in-
deed. I did not even attempt a good; I but cried out to
fright him when he was about to do one; and I have but the
pride of seeing such a brother act as became him."
"A noble young creature," whispered Evelyn to his sister.
"Yes, and withal a pretty and graceful," Esther replied.
Their observations were, indeed, called for. Although rather
below the middle size of woman, and not promising ever to
reach it, the sister of their young deliverer looked, while thus
speaking, what they had described her. Standing straight as
a poplar, with her head elevated, her neck curving like a
swan's, and her shoulders so knit as to produce a fine curve in
her back, there was about her figure and air, and in the all
but haughty out-turning and curling of her parted lips, as well
as in her slightly aquiline nose, her full quick eye, straight
eyebrows, and broad forehead, much that would have well
characterized a girlish Juno. When she moved, too, her step
was firm, though graceful; and, child as she might be, she
commanded interest, and enforced respect.
"I can honour your sentiments, dear girl," Esther smilingly
## p. 31 (#59) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATEE. 31
resumed, anxious to continue the conversation. "And if you
will come and sit by me, and a while longer give me your
sweet support, you shall know particularly why."
Their former attitude was in a moment resumed, the
younger lady complying with the request of Esther with a
manner as smiling and as kind as it had before been dignified,
and perhaps distant. But her little attentions were by her
offered, and by her new friend received, in a way that was a
tacit assumption of something superior, either in rank or
spirit, on her part, and a quiet admission of it on the part of
Esther. In fact, it was the immediate ascendancy which a
stronger mind asserts, even at the first moment of contact,
over a weaker one.
"Now, know," Esther continued, "that I have especial
cause to love and honour your admiration of your brother,
because I, too, am a sisteraye, sitting by my brother's side
and can therefore feel your feeling."
"I saw this young cavalier strive for your safety like a
brother, indeed; and should he not, for so fair and sweet a
sister V
"Aye; but we have, moreover, the ties of sorrow as well
as of love to bind us. We are orphan brother and sister,"
said Esther, while her eyes filled with tears, and she instinc-
tively pressed the hand of her new friend, as if to prefer a
claim on her sympathy. The pressure was gently returned,
as the other said, in a soft, rather than a sad voice:
"We, too, have known an early sorrow; but not to such
an extent. In the last fall of the leaf, Edmund and I lost a
mother!" She paused a moment, closed, and then lifted up
her eyes, as if silently repeating a prayer, and added, "May
she rest in peace!"
The wild-looking man, who had before terrified and roughly
treated Mrs. Evelyn, here started up on the bit of level road
which afforded rest to the young party, and with continued
energy of action, looked earnestly around him. Seeing the
group, he uttered a cry of the same strange kind which had hurt
that lady's ears, and quickly advanced to them. Neither Evelyn
nor Esther had seen him on his first appearance, and while the
one now rose in some alarm, to prevent his too near approach,
the other clung in terror to her companion.
"Fear him not," said the girl; "he is my father's brother,
and comes on a good intent. Some service he has already
## p. 32 (#60) ##############################################
32 THE BOYNE WATER.
done you, by placing out of the reach of danger, on the level
road below, your matronly friend. Do not mind his looks,
or action either; God has afflicted himhe is deaf and dumb;
and, like most in his situation, the earnestness of his looks and
motions seem wild, perhaps dangerous, at the very moment
that they mean a service."
The gesticulation of the man when be came up to the group
seemed, although extravagant, to prove the truth of these
observations. He first ran to his niece and kissed her, utter-
ing strange, and, to him, unconscious sounds; then he took
Evelyn's hand, and shook it violently; then Esther's; and,
having first raised it to his lips, he passed it, where he had
found it, round the neck of the young girl, causing her also
to pass her arms around Esther; all this affording him, as was
evident by his smiles, and the vivacity of his eyes, the greatest
pleasure.
After a few moments, his niece and he rapidly conversed by
signs; and she gave her friends to understand that her uncle
had been sent by her brother to warn them of the necessity
of immediately descending the hill, rejoining their party, and
seeking shelter for the night, which, although the thunder-
storm had long since ceased, now set in, black and lowering,
with a threat of heavy rain. Indeed, the big drops which,
rather unusually, had, during the thunder, omitted to fall,
now began to recommend this advice to Evelyn. So that,
with all possible despatch, he led his sister down the steep
descent, the fair young girl following unassisted, and Oliver,
after the manifestation of some timidity, encouraged by the
dumb man, almost in as rough a manner as that which had
marked his offer of service to Mrs. Evelyn.
On the level, or nearly level ground, they found uncle Paul
already re-mounted, and awaiting, in silent consternation, the
further will of fate and the elements; Mrs. Evelyn, too, was
on her pillion, awaiting Oliver, though not in a mood quite
as silent. Esther was lifted to her brother's horse, while be
assumed bin place on foot, at her bridle; the other sister
locked her arm in that of the other brother; and all were
very noon ready to start, when the young man inquired
whither ho should have the pleasure of conducting them.
"To a cottage they had lately engaged, by the seacoast,"
Evelyn replied, "which could not now be far distant; but the
boy would anwsr particularly,"
## p. 33 (#61) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATEK. 33
The boy, however, did not appear.
"Paul, Paul, what hast thou done with the stripling, sir V
asked Mrs. Evelyn, losing patience. Paul did not know. He
believed he had run away in fright; and thankful he ought
to be for the ability to run away. That the urchin had at
least played no trick in this instance was evident, as the
donkey still attended with his hampers, although his master
was gone.
"This is most embarrassing," Evelyn continued; "we have
never been to this place, contenting ourselves with sending
forward a friend, indeed a relative, to take charge of it for us;
the urchin was by that friend despatched from the neighbour-
hood, chiefly to guide us hither; now that he has disappeared,
we only know that the residence is in the vicinity of Cushin-
doll."
"And on such imperfect information, would it be well to
wander about in such a night?' asked the youth. "See, the
rain begins to thicken ; we can offer you a roof, though an
humble one."
"And, however humble, it is certain, and to be gained in a
certain time," added his sister. "Good lady, consent; you are
not formed for ill-weather."
Esther did consent, and her brother too; and the young
girl then asked, "Edmund, what think you of sending our
poor uncle to announce us at Glenarriff?" Edmund assented;
she made a few signs to the dumb man, who, the moment he
understood the nature of the arrangement, showed the most
excessive symptoms of gratification and welcome-making.
Then, though by no means a young man, he hurried off at a
very rapid and bouyant pace, leaving his nephew to conduct
slowly, over the rough mountain-road, the fatigued and
frightened party.
## p. 34 (#62) ##############################################
34 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTER IV.
Immediately after crossing Garron Point, and falling, as
before observed, nearly to the level of the sea, the road, fol-
lowing the indentures of the coast, turned quickly to the
right, almost at a right angle with its former course, and held
that line for a considerable way, thus describing one side, and
that the longest one, of Red Bay, of which the figure is, very
nearly, three sides of a square. All along this line, the tra-
vellers kept parallel to the inland continuation of the point;
but at the next sudden and angular turn, which followed
nearly to its edge the second side of the bay, their backs
were to that chain of mountain and precipice; on their right
was the open bay, and to their left a spacious valley, formed on
the one side by the running, still more inland, of the continu-
ation of Garron Point, and on the other, by a range of hills,
of equal, if not superior, magnitude.
After pursuing this course for some time, their conductor
halted and informed the party, that with little deviation their
present road would bring them, round the bay, to Cushindoll;
but that they must again turn to the left, into the glen, to
insure the asylum he had offered them. He added, that the
glen-road was less fatiguing, and, indeed, less dangerous than
that by which they must go in search of their own residence.
Accordingly, all turned off the coast with him.
Nearly at the moment of thus changing their route, they
were faced by considerable precipices of earth and soft stone,
which had fallen down upon the road they should have taken
to their cottage: these formed its left-hand limit, for some dis-
tance running with it, and at their bases showing two or three
large excavations, the work of the adjacent sea, when at some
former period its tides and storms had perseveringly lashed
the precipice that must then have been its boundary. Through
the larger of these caves issued a red glare of light, which,
from the dimmed effect at the entrance, seemed to come a
good way from the inside, and thus gave the idea of a rather
extensive interior. In turning upon the glen-road, the tra-
vellers were leaving to their right these caves, and a little
## p. 35 (#63) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 35
behind them, when a voice was heard in that from which the
light appeared, speaking loudly and dictatorially, but in a
language unknown to the strangers of the party. Immediately
after, the light increased in the mouth of the excavation:
finally a woman approached from the entrance, with a piece
of flaming wood in her hand, continuing to speak, and now
evidently addressing the group.
"We may just stop and speak to her, Edmund," said the
young girl, "for the rain blows off."
"Why f asked Evelyn, "and why does she speak to us?'
"She asks us," Edmund replied, translating literally from
the Irish, in which the woman had addressed them, "on pain of
the anger of her whose anger is a cloud and a blast, not to pass
her house without bidding, God save her."
"And this cavern is her house? Who or what is she ? and
why this unusual interruption T
"She is a creature without friend or relation, fortune or
home, except that the charitable or credulous administer to
her wants, and that this seacave, whence she has lately ex-
pelled the owls and bats, affords her a chilly shelter. What
she thinks of herself, and what others concur in thinking her,
it would not be for her safety to declare. For my own part,
I .sometimes think her mad, although more close observation
banishes the idea: perhaps, to extreme ignorance, her mind
joins much enthusiasm and more cunning; and hence is she
able to impress the character she generally bears, and to
-which, for your information, I have, doubtless, sufficiently
alluded."
During this speech, the woman had advanced to meet, half
way, the party who were in motion to her. In age she was
about twenty-five. In height rather tall, in person slight, in
feature spare and pallid. Her black hair was uncovered; and
over the vulgar female dress, that scarce ever varies in any
time or country, fell the old Irish mantle, heavily hooded, and
of a dark colour.
Having stood before the young man, her flaming brand held
up, she asked him, in Irish, to bid God saVe her. He did so.
She made the same request, with the same success, of his
sister, and then turned to Mrs. Evelyn ; but that lady's " go,
woman, go," uttered half in fear, half in anger and disgust,
was all she could in this instance accomplish. As to Paul, he
was completely silent.
## p. 36 (#64) ##############################################
36 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Then," said the woman, in Irish, "the heaviest suffering
you can both feel, be upon ye !Starve !"and she turned
from them. The young man and his sister, who understood
what she had uttered, laughed at a malediction that, to all
appearance, could never have effect; but neither Mrs. Evelyn
nor her husband felt so comfortable, when it was translated
for their advantage.
The strange woman passed Oliver without stopping to com-
mand his benison, as if she made very light of it, and omr
more halted before Esther, holding high in her hand the blaz-
ing wood, in order to afford herself a good view of the yoim;'
lady's face, who, it will be remembered, was on horseback
But no sooner had she got a glimpse of Esther's features, than
she uttered a low howl, and running back to Edmund, spoke
to him in a very animated tone and manner, as if endeavouring
to impress upon him something which he seemed either carele-s
or unwilling to admit. Again she returned to Esther, and again
manifested the same unaccountable sensation. Finally, sin-
stood before Evelyn, and with more respectful demeanour than
she had hitherto shown, asked, and under the instructions of
Edmund, received his "God save you :"and then she con-
tinued to speak in Irish, which we still translate.
"Now go your ways, and let nothing fright you through
the clouds of the night; I have your good word, and it will
rest with me; they say it does not rest with me, and thai
I often need it, from the Christians, to charm me against
what does. Go your ways,unless that you cross the cold
threshold of my house, and taste the cup, or break the bread,
to speed you on your road, or sit down with the old and
crippled who talk to me all night long, and tell me what I
should not listen to, tho' 'tis known I do."
"And who are they, Onagh? " asked Edmund.
"One that, when I came to my house, I found already in
it; and another that was sent far to us. But go your ways,
since you will not enter; go, with a curse for some, a sorrow
for more, and a blessing for a few!" She walked slowly
and heavily to her cavern, thus leaving behind her a prophecy
that, inspiration apart, any one might venture to apply to the
future fortunes of any half-dozen of human beings.
The party entered the solitary valley of Glenarriff, just as
the moon was risen to faintly show as much of its general
aspect as mist and shadow did not envelope. A short distance
## p. 37 (#65) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. . 37
up the glen, Edmund and his sister were rather startled by
the re-appearance, at their side, of Onagh of the cavern.
They had for a moment fallen behind the party, and she came
up with them unperceived by the strangers.
"What means this, Onagh?" asked Edmund.
"I speak not to him," she replied, addressing his sister,
"for he has already scorned my -words. But you, Eva M'Don-
uell, who, tho' you love and like me not, have ever shown the
open hand to Onagh, you I command to remind him of my
warning. Tell him it is the very face I saw, tho' he could not
see it, last Allhallow-Eve, when, together, we sowed the rape-
seed by the river-side, while the moon was shining for us ; and
tell him to shun that face."
"What face, Onagh 1 and what warning am I to repeat to
my brother?"
"He will remember it; for yourself, Eva,"she took the
young girl's hand, drew her aside, and added in a low whisper
" your fate is near you, too, but you need not shun it. You
will love him, and you may."
"Absurd !" Eva said, and was about to add more comment,
when the self-important Onagh rapidly left her.
"Dear brother, what of all this 1" she then asked, rejoining
Edmund.
"I care not; nor should you care to know or ask, Eva;
certainly not now, when yon strangers require our guidance to
the Strip of Burne. Let us forward to them."
Up to this moment Evelyn had been observing the features
of the glen, so far as they were revealed by the moonlight.
Close at the right, arose from the very level of the road, piles
of swelling ground, upon which, midway, a thick white mist
rested, but not so steadily as to withhold, when occasionally
agitated by the high wind, faint indications of immense preci-
pices, shooting up behind into the loftier clouds. On the left,
the ground fell to the bottom of the glen, until it met a river,
of which some sparkling glimpses were to be had, some rippling
sounds to be heard: beyond the river, uprose, again, vast
mountain swells; the mist here interrupting, likewise, a con-
tinued view of their utmost ascents; or, as at the other side,
only permitting a dreamy glapce of cold pale summits, half
touched by moonshine. Straight onward, the glen spread out
and ran to a distance. Its sides, as they curved, appeared to
meet; the moon settling, with an undisturbed breadth of light,
## p. 38 (#66) ##############################################
38 THE BOYNE WATER.
on the top of a distant hill, that seemed to close the grand,
the silent, and shadowy vista.
As he looked down the valley, Evelyn's observations wejt
broken by the glare of a number of lights, and the sound of
many voices.
"Yonder is the Strip of Burne," said Edmund M'Donnell.
"and these are my father's people come out to welcome us.
But let my father's son first have the honour of welcoming yon
to a home too humble for your apparent rank, and, indeed, for
the early fortunes of his own family."
The lad, with a blush so positive as to be visible even in the
imperfect light, yet with a grace and ease that more than ba-
lanced such a departure from courtly manners, took off his
Scotch bonnet, and bowed separately to the travellers.
"And you, lady," said Eva, "welcome with all possible joy
to a night's rest under a roof that I am still too proud to call
too humble ;"she playfully waved her hand, and Esther as
gaily stooped from her saddle to kiss the young girl's cheek.
"Our father himself is, as he should be, at the head of his
own people," Eva resumed, as the advancing party came np;
and soon, indeed, the old man was visible, with his dura'1
brother by his side, his white head uncovered, his hale, fresl;-
coloured cheeks glowing with unusual brightness, and his mild
and still fine eyes anticipating the expression of the sentiment-
he was about to speak. Bending low to the strangers, he first
uttered a sentence in Irish,which Edmund thus rendered:
"My father says, that, while he joyfully welcomes you to a
house he might once have been ashamed of, he blesses the day
on which his brother and son, going out to shoot sea-fowl,
have been so happy and honoured as to do you a service."
While Mrs. Evelyn, her husband, and Oliver held profound
and, it might be, uncourteous silence, the younger strangers
fitly expressed themselves in return to this address. Then
the rudedooking kerne in attendance shouted joyfully; old
M'Donnell, taking Evelyn's hand, led, with the other, Esther's
palfrey; his son led the horse that bore Mrs. Evelyn and
Oliver ; the dumb man took in charge Paul and his steed; and
the two united parties proceeded to the "Strip of Burne."
This name seemed to be given to a spot of broken, though
not very abrupt ground, lying, as Evelyn could indistinctly
observe, immediately under a tremendous precipice, perhaps
the steepest part of the range they had found on their right
## p. 39 (#67) ##############################################
THE BOYXE WATER. 39
since entering the glen. A small streamlet, deriving its source
from the rocks above, made way through a deep rock-strewn
channel in the middle of this ground: on the near side of it
stood the lone residence of the M'Donnells, a thatched dwell-
ing, of about three times the size of those inhabited by the
peasantry of the country, with a few pines and mountain-ash
behind, that, at different heights, found root in the barren
soil, or in the crevices of the rock. The house was nearly at
the edge of the road by which it was approached, and some
distance from the precipice.
With repeated, yet not irksome, assurances of welcome, the
strangers were ushered into a large apartment, that seemed
to serve as kitchen and common residence, except during the
hours of rest, to the servants as well as the heads of the
family. At the end blazed a turf fire, lighted on the hearth,
and finding vent up a capacious chimney, over and about
which hung, interspersed with sides of bacon and haunches
of dried venison, many old swords and pistols, otter-skins,
fox-brushes, and the antlers of the deer. Along the walls
stood a dresser, containing the then necessary articles of culi-
nary and table equipage, two rudely-shaped presses, a few
chairs, as rudely fashioned, and a range of forms. The floor
was earthen; and, overhead, appeared the joists, wattles, and
thatch, as naked as the interior of a peasant's cabin, with the
sole difference, that they were not blackened with smoke and
soot. Otherwise, from its extent, furniture, and particular
cleanliness, the apartment bore little resemblance to the more
humble huts that were sparingly strewed in the district
about.
At the fire, an old woman, assisted, or rather interrupted,
by one or two wenches, comely and barelegged, was em-
ployed in cooking. Around her, at by no means a respectful
distance, sat some men, retainers or servants of the family,
who had not, for special reasons, accompanied old M'Donnell
to meet the strangers. The hobs were also occupied. On one
reposed a tall, gaunt man, about sixty years of age, whose
haggard face and sunken eye bespoke an. ill state of health,
while his manner, and a slight peculiarity in his dress, be-
tokened a person distinct from, if not superior to, those around
him. On the other, his knees crippled up to his chin, a large
piece of oaten-cake in his hand, and his jaws employed with
the celerity of those of a rabbit in making way through it, sat
## p. 40 (#68) ##############################################
40 THE BOYNE WATER.
the chief cause of almost all the delays and perils that had
overtaken the strangersthe donkey's guardian.
The moment Evelyn entered, the little rascal's eyes met his,
and he instantly ceased the rapid motions of his jaws, looking
as conscious as a monkey detected amid the sweets of a pantry.
Evelyn instantly closed on him, whip in hand, with an angry
query as to the cause of his sudden disappearance at Garron
Point. But ere he proceeded to inflict any real punishment,
the boy flippantly explained, that having first run for his lift
from, as he called it, "the muckle mirk cloud"a proceeding
that no gentle or Christian could blame him for-he thought
his better plan then was to hasten to Evelyn's uncle, Jere-
miah, who kept possession of the cottage at Cushindoll, and
inform him of the distress of his friends. That, Jeremiah
being out (he believed supping with the priest), he was re-
turning to Evelyn, accompanied by friends of his own, when,
passing by Onagh's house, he saw the party, along with their
new acquaintances, whom he knew well, speaking to her. And
that, not liking to come in her way, he just bid his friends
good night, and ran on to Randall M'Donnell's house, whither,
he plainly perceived, all were travelling.
This statement appearing, on the whole, reasonable, Evelyn
restrained his hand, and as the imp, with a self-gratulatory
chuckle, recommenced his attack on the oaten-cake, he turned
to his host to request from him a guide, by whose assistance
he might immediately visit his uncle Jeremiah, and ascertain
at the same time whether or no the road between them per-
mitted a speedy departure to his own cottage, in which, if
possible, he was now determined, with his friends, to lodge
for the night. At this intimation, when he understood it, old
M'Donnell looked blank, his son grieved, and his daughter
haughty; while the dumb man, as soon as he read their coun-
tenances, looked every kind of extreme astonishment, anxiety,
and it seemed impatience, if not anger. Mrs. and Miss Evelyn,
with uncle Paul, just entering, he sprang to the fire, at which,
as before noticed, some men were seated, hurled them from
it to the other end of the apartment, returned to the ladies,
and, seizing a hand of each, led them to the seats the former
had occupied. Uncle Paul he also twirled to a seat at the
blaze, with a hospitable energy rather inconsiderate; and,
finally, having placed Oliver on the hob, with the boy, and
Eva by the side of Esther, he took his station at the back of
## p. 41 (#69) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 41
his brother, seemingly in a mood at once offended and de-
termined.
But, for the time, disapprobation or entreaty were equally
ineffectual to prevail on Evelyn to alter his plan. He averred
that, all along, it had been his intention to avail himself of
the hospitality of M'Donnell's roof, only during the time ne-
cessary to ascertain the situation of his own, and whether or
no he could that night properly conduct his sister to it. Per-
haps his glance at the seeming want of accommodation for so
large a party, might have served to confirm this resolve; and,
perhaps, he was further assisted in it by a disposition natu-
rally distant, averse to accept unnecessary favours, and fixed
in its bent by an English education. So, with a manner that
appeared somewhat churlish, though he was really uncon-
scious of the appearance, Evelyn, pressing his request for a
guide, obtained one in the person of the dumb man, whose
offer of service was voluntary, and not to be refused.
Both instantly got on horseback, and, retracing the road
through the glen, passed Onagh's cavern, and then encountered
-an up-and-down and rock-strewn road, which, ere Evelyn
had half mastered it, made him speedily come to the opinion
that, until morning, and recovery from her previous terrors
.and fatigue, he dare not venture to convey Esther to her own
home. An interview with his uncle Jeremiah he was, however,
resolved to obtain, and therefore continued on to the little
hamlet of Cushindoll, then consisting of a few wretched cabins,
lying at the bottom of the rugged ascents over which he and his
dumb guide had, for some time, been journeying, although
the curious traveller of the present day will find it a smart,
neat village, with, by the way, more than usual facilities' to
." take his ease in his inn-" with a smooth seashore road
leading to it, sometimes cut through vast rocks, or having
them scooped out into an archway over his head; and, alto-
gether, holding out to him the attraction of a most delightful
residence on one of the grandest coasts in the world.
Before leaving his brother's home, the dumb man had
understood, on the report of the boy, that he was first to lead
Evelyn to the priest's house, in search of his uncle. Thither
he accordingly bent his course, Evelyn, though all along not
"without a mixture of vexation, misgiving, and a sense of the
ludicrous, passively following in his track.
. They gained and dismounted before a thatched dwelling,
## p. 42 (#70) ##############################################
42 THE BOYXE WATER.
which bore, however, some appearance of comfort and neat-
ness superior to the cabins around it, having a wall in front,
with a cross-barred gate, that the visitors found well secured.
The dumb man knocked loudly, but no one came in answer;
he knocked again and again, and still they remained at the
wrong side of the house; until, losing all patience, lie tied
his own and Evelyn's horses to the gate, and rapidly beckon-
ing him to follow, approached the back of the cottage, where,
by a stile, he introduced himself into a little kitchen-garden,
and, through it, to a poultry-yard and back-door.
The moment Evelyn entered the garden, he heard his
uncle Jeremiah's cracked voice performing, at its loudest
pitch, a favourite song, of which the well-known chorus rau
as follows:
"So let old ship go up or down,
And her flag be of red, or black, or brown,
Blazing away, or sailing merrilie,
Merry, merry, ever let her jolly-hands be."
In this he was faintly, and as if only through courtesy, joined
by a voice still more cracked than his own, although, between
them, they made a good shrill chorus of it; and, at the end,
two persons might be heard quaffing, separately, a long
draught, and afterwards smacking their lips.
Evelyn's conductor seemed, almost as soon as himself, to
become aware, though it was hard to tell how, of the scene
that was going on within; for he had scarce entered the yard,
when, pointing to an open window, through which light
issued, he made signs to his follower to step cautiously; and
setting the example he wished to have imitated, stole
towards the window, with strange convulsions of feature, that
betokened great, though checked delight. Both thus gained
a spot from which, unseen, they might easily observe those
inside.
Evelyn's uncle Jeremiah sat, with his jovial side-face to
them, at a small table, on which was provision for the good-
humour he so earnestly inculcated. A little man he was,
clad in a sailor's tight-bodied blue cloth dress, gathered round
the hips into something of the shape of a kilt, and just
allowing to be seen the origin of his Jersey carnation stock-
ings, with great clocks in them: he was nearly as short and
as round as his brother Paul, and had, like him, a button-
## p. 43 (#71) ##############################################
THE BOYNE AVATEK. 43
nose, studded with grey bristles. But in the twinkle of his
merry and sensual black eye; in the half-gaping bacchanalian
expression of his mouth; in his placid forehead, hale.
weather-tanned cheeks, and long, white locks, despising a
periwig, as well as in the well-braced air of his limbs and
body, no further likeness appeared.
Opposite to him sat his host, seemingly an unwilling one.
A very little man, too, as chance would have it, and nearly
twice the age of his guest. That is, he could not be less than
ninety. His features were of a large intellectual order; hi*
head (covered with a black skull cap, of some hard, rough
substance, having an iron ring in the top, large enough for a
trap-door) sunk between his shoulders; his neck and body
stooped; and a violent palsy shaking every joint, limb, and
part of his body. This old gentleman seemed, we say, as if
he had not invited Jerry that evening ; as if the visit at suppev-
time had been unlooked for and unwelcome; but, now that
the matter was to be got over, as'if he strove to make a
virtue of a necessity; and lastly, as if it was not in his nature
or habits to express chagrin or dislike in an uncourteou*
manner.
"That's a spice of a good song, holy brother," continued
Jeremiah, "tho' it be none of thy business to say me yea.
Ye would fain ever hold us sorrowful, ye chaplains, with your
preaching up a bit of a good life; never a hearty one ;but
hark thee again:
"The black-gown swears 'tis wail and woe,
And raves if we drink and doubt him;
But let him to his prayers go,
And we'll be merry without him;
For a merry, merry, we will ever be,
Tho' he lay on his back at the bottom of the sea;"
"Never meaning so much of your reverence, seeing that thou
art a hearty old mate, too good to work ship with the galley-
foist crew of 'em; and seeing, moreover, that I be merry here,
this night, under favour of thy locker. Fill, brother."
"Fill thou for me, admiral," answered his host, " and mind
not my cloth if I pledge thee. I dislike two things in this
mortal estate; sin, firstausterity, second; with mayhap, a
third, and that is an over-indulgence in good liquor. But for
a healthful cup, especially when the blood grows old, and
## p. 44 (#72) ##############################################
44 THE BOYNE WATER.
requireth gentle nourishing, why, I can give it or take it. I
have seen Franceah, la, belle France!her velvet claret
o'ervalues all other beverage; and even there found reasonable
potations an esteemed fashion. I have seen the world near
to one of its crazy centuries, and never found any but fools
or knaves to say it was bad. Does not king Solomon himself
aver that no pleasure surpasseth, in the heart of man, that of
fair wine, with the face of a friend 1Buvons Done!"
With these words of mixed encouragement and caution,
the fine old gentleman surrounded his cup with his ever-
shaking hands, and scarce venturing to lift it from the table,
gradually bore down his lips to the brim, at last made
a successful lodgment on it, and then quaffed the grateful
beverage.
"To voire sanU, Monsieur cure"," replied Jeremiah, in broken
French, which, along with scraps of many other tongues, he
had picked up during his roaming life : at the same time that
he drained to the dregs his own mantling measure. "And I
have seen France, holy brother, and mayhap touched at
Portugal and the Canaries, to speak nought of a bit of a
cruize about the main, long before I turned skipper to brother
Paul, where, peradventure, I saw spilt some good red stuff,
that was not red wine, neitherbut let that pass; a closed
mouth mars no secrets. I was only a saying, that wherever old
ship tackedwhosoever were my mates, Dutch, English,
French, orno matter whomlet it pass, I say ; a good flagon
and a pretty faceno treason meant, though your reverence
guess of what sexand, 'hearty and merry for ever and a
day,' (singing) that was my word, and never have I seen the
man I could love that did not steer by just such another
fill, I entreat thee, brother."
"Thou shalt fill thine own cup for mine, this round, admiral,
if it be not irksome," answered his host, vainly hoping to
-convey a hint in a hospitable guise.
"Think not of it, holy brother; I would obligate thee more,
in the way of a real service, credit me;" and Jerry's cup was
Again filled and emptied. "But," sounding it against .the
table, as to provoke anew some courteous entreaty, "touching
pretty faces, saw'st thou ever such a lack of 'em as is encoun-
tered in this northern country 1
"
"What, sir !" cried his host, very simply taking fire at any,
no matter what slight, cast on the place of his birth and
## p. 45 (#73) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 45
affections; while his disguised impatience of his guest assisted,
perhaps, the sudden humour. Jeremiah went on.
"Why, beshrew my merry heart, if I met, from Lough
Neagh to this port, a bit of a sail that was worth the hailing-
Not one that an old seaman would board for the asking; to
say nought of a chase, which all the world knows is the very
sweet of the action. Credit me, holy brother, never met I on
any seaexcept, mayhap, while we touched at the Cape
such ill-built, ill-rigged, ili-mizened"
"What, what the deuce, sir!" again interrupted his host,
looking flushed and angry, while excitement added to the
palsy of his hands and arms, as he strove to gesticulate with
them, "what would'st thou say % pretty faces !Sir, I will get
thee, in my own parishsir, if thou hast the grace to attend
my congregation, the next sabbath, I will show thee such
featuressuch faces, angel ones, divine ones!" the simple-
hearted old man went on, unconscious of the questionable
zeal with which he expressed his raptures, and volunteered his
services" Yes, sir, and this moment have I under my roof"
a cherub, sir, my own great grand-niecewhose motherand
whose mother's motherhere, Peggy !and whose aunts, sir,
and relatives, to the twentiethPeggy, I say!"
While speaking, the old gentleman arose to approach the
interior door, as a light foot came tripping from the remote
part of the house towards it; but a stop was put to his further
speech and demonstrations, by a prodigious laugh, of un-
natural sound, which burst from the dumb man, just outside
the window ; and at nearly the same moment, Evelyn knocked
at the back-door. The host started; and ere he would reply
to the knocking, strove, requesting Jeremiah's assistance, to
huddle together and remove out of view, all evidences of
unseasonable merrymaking; Jeremiah only tardily assisting,
however, and repeatedly urging the retaining, without cere-
mony or pother, in the face of any serious fellow who might
enter, the means and the disposition to be merry.
When the door was at last opened, the dumb man, pushing
in first, and receiving a hearty welcome from the priest, to.
whom he was known, proceeded to acquaint him, in his own
language, with the cause of the visit of Evelyn and himself-
While thus engaged, the young gentleman also entered, and
advanced with a grave brow to greet his uncle Jeremiah. ,
"A-hoy! ship, a-hoy! welcome, nephew, welcome to port 1""
## p. 46 (#74) ##############################################
40 THE BOYNE WATER.
-cried the really good-hearteil little sailor, grasping his hand
-' Whatart thou hearty, man? art thou merry ?eh! what's
to do here ?no, hearty nor merry thou art notis all square
and tight, eh? How's Essy? safe in port, too? eh, nephewf
"I fear, uncle Jerry, any evil might have befallen her, or
any of us, while you were revelling it here, instead of looking
out for us on the road, or, at least, remaining to welcome us
in, for the time, your own house."
"Tut, now, be not serious, goodman nephew ; thou knowest
I hate it, and thou wert wont to be the last to bear a hard
hand. Uncle Jerry I may be, a poor tar paid off without
pension, and threatened with the hulks; but no matter for
that
"While his name is Jerry, he will be merry,
Without a sous in poke, still merry, merry Jerry."
"Thou knowest I hate it; and thou knowest, too, I could
not tell when thou might'st ha' hove in view. An' as to
manning the new sloop by myself, and looking out a-head.
day and night, for the whole fleet o' you, beshrew my heart,
'twas what would never do me no great good. So I even
scuttled across to the chaplain, here, to rack off a little; and
every one must rack off a little, now and then; 'tis natural,
isn't it?"
The clergyman, having derived sufficient information of the
case from the conversation of the uncle and nephew, as well
as from the mute statement of the dumb man, advanced to pay
his respects to Evelyn ; regretting that his poor house
But here he was unseasonably interrupted by his dumb
friend, who, first shaking violently by the hand the astonished
and yet pleased Jerry, ran to the very cupboard in which the
bottle and wine-cups had been deposited, and, with extra-
vagant gestures and cries, meant to be a pleasant attack on
the priest's caution, replaced them on the table, sat down, and
motioned all to join him in a hearty draught. Evelyn
requested their host to express his disinclination to a carouse,
on account of his great anxiety to return to his sister ; but
Jerry, his eyes fixed on his new acquaintance, in admiration
of his movements, readily took a seat at the table.
"Be not surprised at his manner," said the old clergyman,
supposing Jerry's attentive observation to proceed from mis-
## p. 47 (#75) ##############################################
THE BOYXE WATER. 47
skiving, of some kind, and notas it really didfrom pure
tlelight"the man is deaf and dumb, but harmless."
"Be he deaf as a mast, and dumb as the sea in' a calm, I
*ay he is hearty; your health, my tight lad," Jerry continued,
nodding graciously, a full cup in hand, to his companion, who
returned the salution with many, many nods, and many
grimaces, too, of excessive pleasure.
But this could not last. A few words of emphatic request
from Evelyn, and uncle Jerry was soon sprawling on the back
of the priest's horse, attending his nephew and guide back
again to the Strip of Burne.
They had scarce begun to ascend the first toilsome and,
now and then, perilous inequalities on their road, when a
stranger, also on horseback, joined them at a brisk trot. By
the light of the moon, he appeared to be a young man of about
Evelyn's own age, but shorter, perhaps, and slighter, with a
pale face, and features which, although not by any means of
a handsome cast, yet wore an impression of grave, abstracted,
and intellectual melancholy, that was interesting. At his back
hung something enveloped in a dark cloth. "The blessing of
the night on ye," he said, as he drew up and joined the
party.
"This fellow is not hearty," said uncle Jeremiah, after look-
ing in his face ; and again, when he had seen the appendage at
his back" a poor serious pedlar, I reckon."
But the dumb guide cried out joyfully, the moment he per-
ceived the stranger, and stretched forth his hand to greet him;
and, as soon as he heard the cry, the young man as joyfully
shook the proffered hand, and said
"Ah, my poor Con M'Donnell, is it you ?Dieu-uth, Dieu-
uth, and God look down on you!"
"Do you take our road, friend V asked Evelyn.
"If your road lies straight to Randall M'Donnell's house, in
the glen, as I suppose it does, by finding this afflicted creature
in your company, then we are to be together," answered the
stranger.
"I am glad of it," resumed Evelyn; "as, however good his
intentions may be, it is rather comfortless to be guided on such
.a road as this by a man deaf and dumb."
"He has a quick eye, sir," said their new comrade.
"Doubtless, sir; but I should prefer the guidance of one
## p. 48 (#76) ##############################################
48 THE BOYNE WATER.
that can speak to me with sufficient plainness and quickness
to point out a danger ; yourself, for instance."
"I shall do my best to serve you," resumed the young man,
smiling expressively, "but do not depend on me too far."
"You know the road, do you not V asked Evelyn.
"Well, sir, every stock and stone on it; or I could not ven-
ture out alone in such a wild quarter."
"May I inquire if you are a native of this part V still ques-
tioned Evelyn.
"No," answered the other, with a sigh that spoke deep
feelings and sad recollections of home" I was born far from
the black North. But, to begin my safe guiding, mind your-
self, now, sir," he continued, altering his tone" as we have
got under the darkness of the rocks, and there is a large
black stone, hardly visible, just to your right."
Evelyn looked, and saw, indeed, by attentive observation,
the almost hidden danger.
"Thanks," he then resumed; "and you have spoken but
lightly of your own ability as a guide; for, tho' Con M'Don-
nell has, truly, a keen eye, and tho' my own may serve a
turn, I should have been on that rock but for your warn-
**"
The young stranger smiled again with peculiar meaning,
and rejoined: "Be it as it may, sir, I say I shall do my best
to please you; and now, again, hold to the right as much as
you can ; for at this place the road has no left-hand fence,
and slants very suddenly over the edge of the hill; but per-
haps I had better lead the way."
Spurring his horse, he accordingly took the lead, and so
continued, during the rest of the journey to M'Donnell's
house, occasionally exhorting Evelyn, over his shoulder, to
pull up in one place, and turn aside in another; and Evelyn,
feeling all along much gratified to have, at last, for a guide,
a person who could intelligibly point out dangers, and use his
eyes so well.
When all halted together, at the Strip of Burne, his guide
fell back, to disengage from its envelope whatever it was that
hung at his shoulders. The noise of the horses' hoofs brought
out, to the door, old M'Donnell, his son, and a crowd of
people. Just as they appeared, the young man had got a
small harp in his hand; he touched its chords; they stood as
if spellbound on the thresholdlistened a moment to catch
## p. 49 (#77) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 49
the continuation of the airthen at once recognised the
visitorand
"Carolan! Carolan !" was shouted by every voice
"Cead-mille-pltalteagh, Carolan!"
Evelyn's late judgment of the efficacy of his guide's eyes,
misgave him as the name struck on his ear. He had before
heardas who in Ireland had not 1of young Carolan, and
always as a man blind from his early age: now, by the full
light of the flaming stakes the men bore, he gazed attentively
at him. The eye-balls of the youthful bard were, indeed,
blank; and Evelyn had the mortification to know, that he
had been indebted for safe guidance over a perilous road, not
merely to a dumb man, but to the deaf and dumb, and to the
blind, together. , 
"Am I a good guide, sir V Carolan asked, as they entered
the cottage, turning to him with one of his expressive
smiles.
CHAPTER V.
"Carolan !" said Jeremiah, as all entered; "a right hearty
fellow, doubtless; I have heard his name, and more than that
of him, too;there is Carolan's Receipta merry air as
man ever drank or danced to;Master Carolan, your hand."
Having received from the harper a warm return of his
greeting, Jerry's eye lighted on Esther; and" Aha! fair
niece, bless the little heart in its body, art thou well, womanr
he went on, kissing her chirpingly" welcome to port. Not
yet safe landed, indeed; but yon's land, and its only putting
off in the jolly-boat on the turn of tide to-morrow morning;
eh ?art better? art merry? that's the word. Sister Janet,
art thou hearty V
"No, Jeremiah, I am not" answered the lady, bitterly, who,
since his entrance, had been
"Nursing her wrath to keep it warm."
"Then thou might'st have been, for once in a whole voyage,
E
## p. 50 (#78) ##############################################
50 THE BOYNE WATER.
were it only to try how thou hadst liked itdeep sea take mj
tongue to pipe the word to her," he continued, between his
teeth, but still in pure good humour; "when she knows not
even its meaning. Well, brother Paul," (cautiously) "art
thou?
"
"I believe," answered Paul, glancing inquiringly at his
spouse, "I believeI am, brother Jerry."
"Marrycome up and amen!" observed Mrs. Evelyn;
"and why should not all ruffle it bravely, who can, for-
sooth 1"
Jerry understood this allusion, but, for the hundredth time.
let it pass without any notice. Just then, Carolan, after
speaking a moment with the other members of the familr.
approached Eva, his little harp in his hand, and asking her, in
a rallying tone, how many hearts she had subdued since their
last meeting, struck up a sprightly air, which, he said, he had
composed while thinking of her, and of which the accompany
ing words may be thus translated from the Irish:
My bright young eyes, my bright young eyes,
No earthly use they be;
From morn to night they make no prize,
For none they ever see. 
My cherry lips, my rose-red cheek,
My bosom, lily white;
No lover's heart for them wilt break,
For none comes morn or night.
With my bright young eyes, my bright young eyes,
So swimming, soft, and blue,
My lips and cheeks and simple sighs
What shall I, shall I do?
Supper was now laid out upon the table, and old M'Don-
nell, standing at the head, pronounced in Irish, and with much
earnestness, a thanksgiving. Immediately around him sat
intermixed with the strangers, his brother, son, and daughter.
The table reached to the other end of the extensive apart-
ment, and at the bottom, with a little space between them and
the party at the top, clustered almost all the rude men who
had attended M'Donnell up the glen, together with those
whom the travellers had found in the house, the household
women, old and young, and him of the donkey. The mate-
rials of the supper were fresh red trout, dried salmon, veni
son, from the deer-park of Glenarm, and oaten cake and por-
ridge in superabundance; qualified, at pleasure, by a stoup
M
## p. 51 (#79) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 51
of canary, and brandy and hollands of such a flavour as Jerry
well knew could have been had only in a certain way.
The meal proceeded, if not in great order, at least in har-
mony. Even Mrs. Evelyn, whose nerves had been much out-
raged by witnessing the cooking of it, and who could there-
fore promise herself little enjoyment from a participation in
such a Scotch-Irish hodge-podge, silently acknowledged to her
own heartassisted, perhaps, in the concession by a keen
appetitethat, ultimately, it was worth tasting. The meal
was donethe table clearedthe cups and horns filled to the
brim; and old M'JJonnell rose, and, with him, all his family
and people, to give(Edmund supplying a translation)
"Welcome and honour to the strangers in Glenarriff!" He
was pledged in a joyful echo of voices, that rose almost to a'
cheer. Again the cups were mantling; and again the old man
rose:
"Welcome and honour in Glenarriff to the bard: may he
that gives joy in song, never know sorrow in the heart!"
All, including the travellers, rose to acknowledge this pledge
also. Even the ladies of the party, following the example of
young Eva, stood up, and raised high their cups; and she
the enthusiasm of her heart coming in tears to her eyes
added, ere her lips touched the brim:
"The praise of women and the honour of men! Sorrow
should .not darken his soul, who can change into Pleasure the
Sorrow of others."
The old man looked fondly and proudly at his daughter,
and tears filled his own eyes. Without speaking, he extended
his arms, drew her towards him, and placing her head on his
shoulder, as he sat, and as, when she was more a child, he used
to do, kissed her, and once more uplifting his cup, gave:
"Chorra-ma-chree, ma colleen !"" The pulse of my heart,
my child!"
Evelyn, surprised into an enthusiasm rather unusual with
him, started to his feet, along with every man present, and as
Carolan exclaimed, and all echoed him" M'Donnell's only
daughterthe place and the wealth she has lost, for her !a
throne for her to do her honour !"he drained to the bottom
his overflowing cup, and waved it again and again. As he
sat down, he caught Eva's eye fixed on his, with a depth of
expression that found way to his soul. But, in an instant, she
removed her glance, kissed her father's cheek, and resumed
## p. 52 (#80) ##############################################
52 THE BOYNE WATER.
her seat at the table, gracefully taking the hand of her new
friend, Esther. Carolan spoke on. We must he candid
enough to declare, that we do not follow him, word for word,
as he delivered himself. Having rather advanced in boyhood
before he began to learn English, Carolan, to the time of his
death, spoke that language but indifferently; and as other in-
dividuals of less interest than he may serve to illustrate the
blundersalways attended by a portion of the ridiculous
into which one so situated must fall, endeavouring, while he
thinks in one tongue, and speaks in another, to express the
conceptions of a rapid and poetical mind, we may be allowed
so far to show our respect for the bard, as to save him, by
passing over his verbal errors, the chance of a dishonouring
smile; not wholly giving up, meantime, the native phraseology
of his discourse. Nearly as follows, then, he continued to
speak :
"For my own welcome, M'Donnell, thanks to yau and
yours; and thanks for the kind wish, too;but you know it
is spoken in vainGod frees none of his creatures,the King
no more than the Beggarthe Batd no more than him whose
soul is dark to songfrom the common lot of sorrow and
suffering. You know why I am away from the pleasant
places, the hills and rivers of my childhoodthe only hills
and rivers I ever saw, or, now, can ever see! You know I
am in the north, and in your house to-night, because, for a
time, I would strive to forget sorrow, by wandering far from
the old haunts and the old voices thai make it ever flow afresh.
You know that he who gave me the songthat was the light
to my clouded mindmy old master, friend, and brother, is
gone from me; you know that O'Kief is dead:" he added,
tears gushing quickly from his sightless eyes, as, his voice
sinking, he let his head fall on his breast.
There was a pause, which no one interrupted by a word;
the young bard's sorrows were too sacred for commonplace
condolence. He continued:
"We parted but one summer; I came back to meet him;
to take his hand, to hear his pleasant voice, to join him in the
song again. My heart was happy within me on the road; I
felt the breeze blowing from his glen, fresher on my brow than
the breeze of any other spot the sky covers. At the turn of
the churchyard 1 mot a peasant, and asked him for O'Kief;
'I am looking on his grave,' ho said, and wept."
## p. 53 (#81) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 53
Again there was an unbroken pause of some length ; even
the strangers of the party, with, perhaps, one or two excep-
tions, sufficiently estimating what they heard to pay it the
proper respect. The appearance alone of all conveyed their
feelings. Eva, holding Esther by one hand, had passed her
left arm round her neck; and now, while the pale cheeks of
her companion were moist with tears, and her head drooped
in the expression of the native softness and tenderness of her
character, Eva herself looked wistfully at Carolan, through
brimming eyes, that scarce ever gave a full loose to womanly
showers. Old M'Donnell, sitting back in his chair, turned
away his face, as if in shame of what he felt. Edmund had
grasped the young bard's arm, as they sat together, andhis
figure twisted almost roundseemed closely to watch his
sorrow (they were affectionate friends, and brother-minstrels,
too, since Carolan's arrival in the north). Evelyn looked
downward, his hand resting on the table. Con M'Donnell
gazed, like his niece, on the features of the blind musician,
plentiful tears rolling over his harsh cheeks. While the rude
group, in their mixed Irish and Scotch costume, leaning across
the board, also fixed their eyes on the same person, or else
sorrowfully and expressively on each other. Eva first spoke.
"Since the cause that brought Carolan to ouy glen is sorrow
to him, we must regret even the coming of the joy of his harp,
altho', else, we should never have felt that joy.'
"Is not the instrument well known in this country V Evelyn
ventured to ask.
"No," Eva replied; "the common music in our glen is, I
suppose on account of our old Highland descent, the bagpipe."
Evelyn, for the first time getting a clue to many novel ap-
pearances of dress, manners, and habits, which, in contrast
with the general aspect of the north, well known to him, had,
in this mountain district, forcibly struck him, wished to con-
tinue his questions; but Eva anticipated it by more directly
addressing the young harper.
"Did your time pass pleasantly in the castle of the old
M'Donnell of Glenarm, Carolan 1and how is our noble cousin
of Antrim 1"
"It was not that good lord's fault if my days were clouded
under his roof; and he is well, Eva, in peace, plenty, and a
green old age."
"His lordship is also of Highland descent, then, being your
## p. 54 (#82) ##############################################
54 THE BOYNE WATER.
relative?" Evelyn inquired, again endeavouring to lead the
conversation.
"The answer is a long one," said Edmund, "and involves
the fortunes of our family. The ancestor of the present An-
trim, Surlebuoy, or yellow Charles, was a Scottish Highland
chieftain, who, in the old feudal times, coming over at the
head of his clan, M'Donnell, wrested, from native possessor;.
what has since continued to be the property of his descendants.
and the descendants of his people."
"It was a great battle the two chieftains fought," said Ca
rolan, "the battle of Orra; and on the top of Orra mountain.
only a few miles from the house we sit in, the cairns of those
who fell are to be seen to this day. I know a story, Edmund,
about that battle; it was told me yesterday by the old lord.
One of your name, and of his own name, toofor you are all
M'Donnell'scame suing to him for a new grant of land, the
first grant being worn out; the earl was fretted with some
thing else, and spoke short words to put the man off. But
he was not to be put off; he asked him the boon again
and again, saying he was a M'Donnell. The earl lost
temper, and told him there were too many M'Donnells. But
the man, fixing his eyes on him, answered, 'There were not
too many at the battle of Orra;' and so turned off and left
him."
"M'Donnell is not the right name," observed the tall, sickly-
looking man we have before taken notice of, when he sat on
the hob;-he spoke in Irish, which was translated for the
strangers, as we translate it for our readers;" neither was
Surlebuoy a true Highland chieftain, nor his clan Highlanders.
Here is the story :' The great grandfathers of those who lost
the lands to Surlebuoy, had, a long time before, taken the same
lands from his great grandfather, and driven him to the High-
lands, with his sept. Both were Irish septs then, and the
conquered sept were O'Donnells, part of the great O'Donnells
of Innishowen, not M'Donnells. But their children's children,
and the children of them again, living so long in the Highlands.
took the Scotch Mac, and laid down the Irish 0. So that when
Surlebuoy came over to fight a battle for his right, he was a
M'Donnell, instead of an O'Donnell. Sure he brought other
marks of the Highlands as well as that; his philibegs and his
bonnets, that are hardly yet worn out; and his half Gaelic
Irish, to corrupt our pure tongue.'"
## p. 55 (#83) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 55
"The words of Manus Oge have weight," said Eva, address-
ing Evelyn; "he is a descendant of the undoubted old Irish
who, before the battle of Orra, wholly possessed this glen.
His fathers have, for centuries, been famous for correct tra-
dition. As authentic reciters of the poems of Ossian, they
are also celebrated; and he inherits their lore and their
character."
"However authentic his tradition may be as to the origi-
nal derivation of our ancestors," resumed Edmund, "or the
true sounding of our name, I believe I have correctly informed
this gentleman of the manner in which the present Antrim
estate came into the hands of the first known possessor. To
continue :One of the most powerful of Surlebuoy's clan, and
one of his nearest relatives, was the founder of our family in
Ireland. He received a good portion of the conquered lands,
after the chief had possessed himself of enough for an earldom.
He had his castle, his estate, and his own clan, a short dis-
tance from our present home; and they continued in the
hands of his successors, descending to my father, the old man
who sits there before you, until Cromwell, because my father
fought for his liege King against a bigotted and bloody con-
spiracy, took them from him, and bestowed them, up and
down, upon some of the very rabble of his army."
Young M'Donnell began this statement with the modesty,
hesitation, and even blushes, which marked his usual de-
meanour ; but, as he proceeded, his voice grew firm, his words
flowed, his mild blue eyes opened and kindled, his round,
boyish cheeks reddened with a blush different from that which
usually dyed them; he sat erect in his chair, shaking his yel-
low hair in parted curls about his face and forehead; and, in
an instant, started into such interest and importance of cha-
racter, as fixed upon him the regards of his whole auditory.
"Yes," Eva added, with calmer energy; "and now, Edmund,
you must touch your bonnet, on your own lands, to the son of
an old trooper, and I mustthat is, it is expected I must, if I
couldabase my eyes before a trooper's daughter."
"Anent that righteous division of lands," Oliver began, from
the end of the table, when, the moment he had so far pro-
ceeded, Con M'Donnell, directed by the eyes of the party,
sprang from his seat, gained his side, and seizing him furiously
by the arm with one hand,' and with the other covering
his mouth, signified, by shakings of the head, frowns, and
## p. 56 (#84) ##############################################
56 THE BOYNE WATER.
abominable grimaces, that he should on no account utter
another word.
"This," Oliver tried to mumble, notwithstanding" this is
a plain"but immediately experiencing such a shake by the
arm as set the bones rattling throughout his body, and catch-
ing, at the same time, the expressive observations of the
group of wild fellows who sat about him, he held bis tongue in
good earnest, contenting himself with despatching a long look
to Mrs. Evelyn, who sat as pale as death. The dumb man
then released his arm, and took a seat by his side.
"But," Evelyn rejoined, too deeply interested with the pre-
vious conversation to take much notice of the interruption,
"why was not your family assisted by the act of royal grace.
towards his suffering Irish subjects, which marked the resto-
ration of the late King? Many noblemen and gentlemen
then recovered their properties from the confiscations of the
Protector."
"Not many, after all," replied Edmund, " and few of them
Roman Catholic families, although to Roman Catholics, almost
exclusively, Charles owed gratitude for the struggle made, and
the miseries and losses incurred, in Ireland, on behalf of his
father. Their Lordships of Clanricard, Carlingfr>rd, Cloncarthy.
and Lord Dillon, of Costelloe Gallen, received back, I grant ye,
as much land as they had possessed before 1641; more, per-
haps,if the truth were known, and justice done. But what shall
we say of the great body of the rightful proprietors of three
provinces out of the four, which make up our kingdom, 'whom
Cromwell had, nearly to a man, disinherited, and driven into
Connaught and the county of Clare 1 The very statement,
issued in the name of the restored Prince, of the reasons for
confirming the dispossession of this great majority, says, that
such a measure was called for, because the most powerful and
armed party in the country were the usurpers, and necessary
to support English ascendancy amongst us. And that those
whose lands they had usurped, though they did not merit to
lose their birthrights for the cause alleged by Cromwell,
namely, their support of Charles I., yet merited it, because,
long before that struggle, they had stood up on their own
account against the tyranny of the very government that, a
few years after, cut off Charles's head.' Was this reasoning
for the son of Charles 1 or if, speaking generally, it washow
can it stand when limited by this particularity,' that, in 1647,
i,;
## p. 57 (#85) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 57
the Irish Catholics, chief movers in the insurrection against
that government, concluded with the lieutenant of Charles I.,
the great and good Ormonde, a treaty sanctioned by his
master's name, and which conferred on them pardon and in-
demnity for all that had gone before 1 Be assured, sir," con-
tinued the youth, now naturally warmed with his subject,
"that the best English ascendancy to have kept over us,
would have been a sense of English justice, if not grati-
tude."
"Yea," said Evelyn, "supposing Irishmen to have natural
affections for liege fealty, or common reason to calculate then-
own interests."
"One of our relations," old M'Donnell here observed,
having been all along aware, partly by Eva's assistance, partly
by a general comprehension, though he never attempted to
speak in English, of the subject of discourse, "one of our
relations was more fortunate, though not more deserving than
we of Cromwell's indulgence. He got back his estate for
giving him a good hard blow on the head: and it is well-
known we did our best to give as good a one."
"I know that story, too." said the chronicler of Glenarriff
we scarce pause to say that, he, as well as old M'Donnell,
continued to speak in Irish, which, as usual, was rendered for
the strangers, and this shall be our last notice of the fact
"I know that story, too, Randall M'Donnell. The cousin
you speak of is Daniel M'Donnell, who holds Layd from
M'Donnell Antrim, the cousin to Loth of you, again, for five
hundred years. Layd," he continued, addressing the strangers,
"is on the north side of this glen, divided from us by the
river. Well, when Black Noll first came over, no hand was
so hard against him as Daniel M'Donnell; he made a vow to
look for him all over the field, whenever there was a battle,
and take his life, or do his best to take it. And, sure enough,
they met often in the fight; Cromwell, in time, knowing him
well; until, at last, Daniel gave him a sharp cut in the top
of the head, but no more. Soon after they met again, in the
same way, and had another trial for it, but this time Black
Noll was the man; for he struck the sword out of Daniel
M'Donnell's hand, brought hirn to his knee, and uncovering
his own head with one arni, and with the other holding him
tight, asked, 'What ought to be done to the man who gave that
blow V 'The devil confound him,' answered Darnel, 'for not
## p. 58 (#86) ##############################################
58 THE BOYNE WATER.
sending it down through skull and jaw, to the chink!' upon
which, they say, his land was left him."
"Since we lost ours," resumed Edmund, "we have lived
in this glen, among a people the most congenial to us of any
in the north, endeavouring to support life by such agricul-
tural pursuits as the times, and the aspect of the country,
render available. That is, my father and uncle have resided
here more than thirty years. But when my sister and I
were children, we went to Spain, to a relative of some impor-
tance in that country, for the purpose of receiving an educa-
tion, such as our reduced circumstances, and, alas ! our religion,
did not permit at home. We have also been in England."
"It was mostly as a husbandman," said old M'Donnell,
"that I strove to make a poor living for my poor children;
and we prospered well enough, as long as we were allowed to
send our cattle to England. But since the churlish law
passed by the English parliament against us, in that trade,
even our little cabin often felt distress, and the most we could
do has not always kept the wolf from the door."
"It was indeed a churlish law," said Evelyn, "calculated
to keep this country poor, while it could not enrich the other,
at least to any extent; and also serving, as I believe my lord
of Ormonde represented to his master, to cut the bond of
mutual interests, if not kindnesses, between both."
"It was, sir," said Edmund, "a tacit declaration that they
would hold us only at the point of the sword; that, if they
kept us at all, they would keep us down. It came, too, imme-
diately after the final decision that dispossessed us of our
hereditary estates; thus seeming to intimate that we should
not live independent, either by our fortunes, as gentles, or
afterwards even by the humbler efforts of buying and selling.
That having, without one just or generous pleawithout even
the right of conquestmade us poor, they would, by any
means, hold us so. We were even cruelly and tyrannically
insulted by hearing that parliament call our trade ' a nuisance;'
and this language was addressed to mento men of gentle
bloodwho, without one disrespectful murmur, had just sub-
mitted to the decree that, on account of their loyalty to
Charles I., made them paupers, and who, manfully resisting the
struggles of old pride and old recollections, had just conde-
scended to embrace the industry of which the law, containing
that insult, forbid them the practice. But well did such acts
## p. 59 (#87) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 61
and words become the spirit of almost the same men who mur-
dered their sovereign, and who, when Ireland sent over her best
soldiers to fight for that sovereign, on his own ground, passed
another law forbidding any quarter to be shown to Irish royal-
istsa bloody mandate, well obeyed by the Roundheads, until
the gallant Prince Rupert made some terrible retaliations."
"Least of all people in Ireland," said Eva, who, with glis-'
tening eyes fastened on her young brother, had heard his
unusual warmth of statement; nor was the gentle Esther
indifferent to it or to him" Least of all people in Ireland
did the northern M'Donnells merit ingratitude from the re-
stored son of Charles I.is it not so, father?"
"Many of them," answered old M'Donnell, "were in the
army that the English parliament doomed to be slaughtered
in cold blood. And Montrose could not raise his head in
Scotland, till he received an Irish levy, mostly from this part
of the northwho, when all other friends fell off, stuck to
him through every change of fortune."
"My father," said Edmund, "was the King's soldier on both
the occasions he speaks of. He fought under Montrose, in |
that very army, sent to him by our cousin, the old Earl of i
Antrim, which, with a reinforcement only equal to its own
number, defeated the Lord Elcho, at Perth; and which, by the
falling off of Scottish allies, afterwards left almost alone, put
to route the great chieftain of the Campbells, at Innerlochy,
although he had nearly three times as many as they were,
and although Seaforth, at the head of six thousand men, was
within hearing of the battle that day."
"I put a sudden question," resumed Evelyn, "but my
interest in all the information you have given me, will, I hope,
excuse it. Have the people of this immediate district ever
changed their religion since the possession acquired by the
chieftain Surlebuoy?"
"No," Eva answered, emphatically; "while the banishment
or extermination of the natives took place, at different periods,
all around them, the inhabitants of Glenarriff remained, and
still held, at least, their religion, their manners, and their
native simplicity of character. While colonies of strangers
overran, almost entirely, every other part of Ulster, or became
so mixed up with the remnant of the old people as, in a few
years, to confound all distinctions between both, this glen
continued shut out from them, and has since continued shut out,
## p. 60 (#88) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER.
keeping its own customs, its own language, and its own
race."
"That is singular; I was, indeed, struck with the difference,
even in the dress of the people, from that worn throughout
other parts of Ulster I have seen. It closely resembles the
costume of the peasantry of Louth, and of counties more
southern, except that there is some intermixture of Highland
dress, which your former anecdotes explain. But nothing I
have yet heard explains the chief wonder, that during repeated
colonizations and transfers of property and inhabitants, in this
northern province, I should here meet a considerable number
of people who have never been affected by such changes."
"I admit it is singular," said Edmund, "and, perhaps, am
at a loss, as well as yourself, to explain it. The fact of the
lands, themselves, having never changed their head proprie-
tor, would, however, much assist in resolving the question.
As my lord of Antrim had the luck to be recognised by
Charles II. for his good services in Scotland, he might also
have had the power of saving from expatriation, or worse, his
own people, and the inhabitants of Gleuarriff among the
number. And, thus permitted to cling together, perhaps the
isolated situation of the place, its remoteness from large towns,
and, withal, its mountain aspect, held out no inducement to
the new settlers, whether Scotch or English, to intermix, in
the prosecution of manufacture or agriculture, with the
old natives."
"What kind of Irishman are you at all, from your own
story?" asked Carolan ; "Irish-Scotch or Scotch-Irish,or what f
"Irish," answered Eva, "to the last drop in our hearts."
"I was sure of the women. Eva, as long as you are among
them," he resumed ; "it was of the men I put the question."
"Irish, then," cried Edmund, "and, as poor Eva says, to the
last drop of blood within us. If, indeed, our first derivation
was from Scotland, the memory of it has passed away ;
this," stamping his foot on the ground" this is our native
land. Irish we are, in feeling, and, I will say, in generosity;
Irish enough to forgive and forget all the wanton cruelties that
have been practised upon us;to forget the rank we have
lost, and be content with that which we toil and sweat to
earn, if, indeed, that poor privilege of humanity be left to us.
I would not draw a sword, this moment, for the recovery of
my old right, when blood and convulsion must be the conse-
## p. 61 (#89) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 61
quence. Sensible of my father's loss I must be, and prompt
to speak of it, Warmly. But I find myself born under a new
order of things : the voice of law, and of a king, have sounded
in my infantine ears, to command obedience to that new order; i
and I say to myself: As my ancestors gained their lands, so |
I forfeit them. It is the chance of the world, and I am!
content." )
"The words of a good man, a wise man, and a Christian,"
sairJ r'-- ' a, who, by the way, was remarkable for the
/ and piety of his character; " and I do not mean to
xiyself when I so agree with you, Edmund: as you
gO that I was born at Nobber, on the lands of Carolans-
nthe very lands taken from my people in a time farther
ack than you speak of, and given to the family of the
Nugents. But what have I to do with that 1I never en-
joyed those lands, and so never miss them; and God has
given me a gift I can enjoy, andlet the poor harper speak
am more proud of. For, does it not get me the praise of
lords, andlook at me, Eva M'Donnellthe smiles of ladies 1
Does it not make my welcome from the castle of the chief to
the cabin of the peasant? And sit ye not here around me,
this night, who will swear, and, if need be, fight to prove,
that already it has hung a wreath on my harp, which shall hang
green, there, in the days to come, and call me to mind among
the unborn children of my native land 1Oh !" the minstrel
continued, excited by the theme he had thought but to sport
with" Oh! let that be the fate of Carolanlet him have
fame in green Irelandlet him leave behind some strains that
will gladden or touch the hearts of her future sons and her
fair daughters, and little will he think of1 any loss beside."
All, except Mrs. Evelyn and her husband, who had both
fallen asleep, rose, delightfully affected with the simple pathos
of the harper's feelings, and once more pledged his health.
"I am poor, and I am blind," he continued, and, worst of
all, I have lost a friend. But, come!I will try to be
merryEdmund, put the cup in my hand."
"Thou need'st not try, thou art merry," said Jeremiah, his
eyes running over with good feeling.
"Well, I am, then. What is it to be poor in wordly
wealth %give me the riches it cannot buy. What is it to be
blind tmy eyes have only passed into my ears, to give them
a double sense of soft sound. And why should I even grieve
## p. 62 (#90) ##############################################
62 THE BOYNE WATER.
for my old master! he is happier than he was here. So,
come some toast, now, to outdo the lastfill!" He stood
up, his face, and particularly his lips, eloquent with expres:
sion, that made the want of eyes forgotten"I give the
father of Irish songthe son of Fionthe son of Comhal
Oisin, Oisin " -
It was quaffed in a roar, to which Evelyn himself contri.
buted. Carolan buoyantly spoke on:
"Manus Oge come here, old Manus Oge." The chronicle
of the glen rose and advanced ; his very tall figure was some.
what stooped from illness, his long limbs moved gracelessly,
his long arms swung or fidgetted about, and his shoulders
often shrugged up and down, perhaps from an inward in:
patience of indisposition"Sit down here, near me, and sing
us the Laoidh of Oisin that we all like best;" the bard went
on : "Edmund, get your large harp, and accompany him;
you know, the old chaunt; I will help you, now and then,
with this little Clarseech; tho' no man can play even my own
airs worse than myself. I have often told you I only use the
harp to assist me in composition; running over it with my
fingers, in search of the melody that is in my brain and
heart. Come, your harp, and sit down by Manus Oge."
"Is it the Laoidh of Con-More-mac-an Deirgh, you want,
ins
i.
n
: i.
ul
i
isi
*
s
W
il,
:
s
Carolan'" asked Manus" or the Laoidh of Cagavra, where
Oscar was killed by Cairbre, the king? or of Conloach-Mac,
Cuchullin?" and so he continued to run over the names of
poems, others of which, as well as those mentioned, were on
subjects which another chronicler has since given, in an
adapted shape, to the world.
"It is Conloach-Mac-Cuchullin I want, Manus Oge," re.
plied Carolan; and the selection being thus made, and
Edmund's harp ready, Manus began the recitation of a poem,
which, in a different style of language and arrangement, may
be found among the collection of Ossian's poems, before
alluded to ; but which, it is our impression, has not been
improved in the hands of the Scotch editor, or in the hands
of those from whom he received it ; though, even at this day,
it may be obtained in Irish, very nearly word for word as it
shall now be translated, from the lips of the descendant of
Manus Oge, and on the very spot which is the present scene
of our story.
## p. 63 (#91) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER, 63
3. "CONLOACH-MAC-CUCHULLIN.
"From Scotland came a haughty young hero, the valiant
- champion, Conloach, unto the grand court of pleasure, Trach-
tisha, in Ireland.
"Connor, Ulster's king, quickly sent a messenger to inquire
the cause of his visit, whence he journeyed, and what was his
* T ||3|18, -
* "I am a messenger sent by Ulster's king, to thee, young
* Warrior, to inquire the cause of thy visit, whence thou comest,
and what is thy name.' -
"The cause of my visit does not concern your king; my
name is of little import ; yet there lives no king or champion
* to whom I will disclose it.'
* "The king, when he heard these bold words, to his valiant
f heroes spoke again: . -
"'Who will force this youth to answer? who will make
him tell his name?
"Out spoke Connell, the ever-dauntless hero: -
"I will bring back a true answer; I will tell you why he
has come to Trachtisha.'
"Welcome, gay glittering warrior, brave youth, the come-
liest of men; but I see, by thy coming towards us, thou art
Out of thy intended way.' -
"I come from the east; from the brightest bower of the
resolving to try my arm amongst the chieftains of
*
"Shun that dangerous course, in which great heroes have
fallen, or else your tomb will soon be raised where theirs
have arisen.'
"Is it thus ye have done in former days' did no hero
escape your sword!yet will I subdue ye, for all others, from
this day to the day of doom.' -
"Connell of the mighty hand arose upon hearing the
young man's speech; but before his mighty hand was lifted,
Conloach, the fierce and nimble, at Trachtisha, (tho' it should
not be told) bound Connell, and part of his men.
"Then the king spoke again"A messenger from us to
Cuchullin "
"'I am a messenger sent from Ulster's king, to thee, great
## p. 64 (#92) ##############################################
64 THE BOYNE WATER.
Cuohullin, the victorious, to tell thee that Connell and part of
his men are bound by the stranger at Trachtisha.'
"Cuchullin instantly moved: he came from Dhoon-Gallagan,
of the pleasant bowers, to Trachtisha, of the great warriors.
"' Welcome to thee, noble hero; but too late hast thou
come to our aid; for Connell, and many of his men, are
bound, unless you give them freedom.'
"' "lis hard for me to see in bondage the friend who would
free me in distress; but 'tis harder to combat with the sword
the heroic man who has conquered Connell.'
"' Refuse not with him to combat; let thy spear and sword
be reddened for Connell's bondage.'
" Conloach spoke as he came' Peace between us, noble
hero; look not on me as an enemy; let our tongues speak
in prudence, and thou need'st not fear our combating.'
"' I never feared; and surely must I fight with thee, unless
thou showest thyself a friend; tell thy name, young man, or
combat with me.'
"' The voice of a parent has bound me not to tell my
name to any; if I could tell it to one under the sun, thou
should'st be the man.'
"Then the two heroes engaged. Equally strong and brave
was the desperate conflict: for of equal courage and great
mind were the two most mighty champions.
"When Cuchullin saw that he could not soon quell the
stranger, he a sudden spring made to the stream, and return-
ing swift as an arrow, then cast the fatal spearwith all his
might and strength he cast itand pierced was the youth's
body thro'.
"'Brave young hero of the east, behold thy mortal wound;
thy tomb will now soon be raised, thy name concealed no
longer.'
"' I am Conloachnever,tho' 'tis my own boastnever
before overcome in fight, and who would never yield to any
hero, tho' I yielded to theefather!'
"Conloach !the son of Cuchullin 1the rightful heir of
Dhoon-Gallagan?the sacred pledge of fame I left in the
womb, when from Skiach I parted V
"' Conloach I am, the son of Cuchullin; the rightful heir
of Dhoon-Gallagan; the pledge thou didst leave in the womb,
when from Skiach you fatally parted.'
"Oh, my dark fate!Oh, my mild Conloach!heir of a
## p. 65 (#93) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 65
crownbravepeerless !oh, that I had met a dreadful death
before I pierced thy beauteous body!" 
"' Oh, Cuchullin, my gentle father !now is thy knowledge
of me too late; but I knew thee, and therefore weakly raised
my sword, and let it fall harmlessly! Oh, Cuchullin, my
great and wise father !who ever overcame difficulties!
Now that thou may'st know thou shalt be without a son,
behold the ring on my finger !oh, Cuchullin, the most active
and mighty, since I am weak and dying, take off the ring
and chain, and bear them with thee; my sharp spear, and my
keen sword, and my red shield, that lies low and lonely!.
Cuchullin !father !how hard a lot is mine !accurst be my
mother! she it was who laid me under a vow, and sent me to
thee, Cuchullin, to try my persuasion on thee!'
"'A second curse attend thy mother! ever was she evil
and deceitful: it is the greatness of her many faults that has
covered my son with blood. Oh, that she was now here to'
behold the fatal end of her counsels! Still lean on me,
Conloach.'
"' Let me now fall forward, since thou hast said thou art
truly my father !altho' no other man lives in Innisfail for
whom I could yield or fly! My blessing with thee, loving
father; it is all thou canst now have of Conloach. I am
devoured by a raging agony : I came to meet and to love thee,
father!'
"' Oh, that thou wert still safe without a wound, in any
wide country of the earth, still absent from me, so that thou
cam'st not to kill thy father's soul! But it is good for the
Daneor for Spain, of the armed kingor for the chieftains
of fair Scotlandthat my mild Conloach by them did not
fall! And it is good for Connor of the Red Branch, the chief
of thehost of championsit is good for him and for them, that -
it was not by his means my only son did perish! Hadst thou
fallen by any other hero, from any other quarter of the world,
I would, to satisfy thy death, sacrifice countless thousands!
or if I and my beautiful Conloach were in one cause, no two
heroes of the earth, without treachery, could do us harm! If
I and my beloved Conloach were together on a hill-side,
united Erin, from shore to shore, between us we would
make tremble!
"' Five heroes have been born to me; the last, under my
eyes, lies cold and mangled! The other four fell in many
p
## p. 66 (#94) ##############################################
66 THE BOYNE WATEB.
fields: but I am the miserable father that has slain his only
child, with the spear that overcame the mighty! From the
hour that this black deed is done, as black be my heart for
ever! Oh! the dark grief chokes my voice, and smothers my
bosom. The head of my only son hangs lifeless on one arm,
and his bright shield and weapons on the other !'"
CHAPTER VI.
Notwithstanding some anticipations of want of room in
M'Donnell's humble abode, Evelyn, when the party separated
for the night, found himself well disposed of. Mrs. Evelyn
and her husband had first retired; and as the lady remained
quiet after leaving the sitting apartment, it was to be taken
for granted that she condescended to put up with her accom-
modation. Jeremiah, heedless of the weather, returned to
Cushindoll, to keep .possession of the cottage; and Eva led
Esther into her own chambera small one, indeed, but deco-
rated in a style of neatness and simple ornament that argued
well of the taste of the young and fair possessor. As it
was the season of flowers, every fragrant one that gave out
its perfume to the dells and mountains of Glenarriff had been
culled to grace the lowly bower of the hill-maiden, and lay in
bunches around, and even hung wreathed in garlands over
her couch. The pale primrose, flower of mildest scent,
abounded, and looking still paler and more delicate by the
light of a lamp, seemed fitly to adorn the midnight solitude
of a girl so young, so pure, and so innocent. On the walls
hung some shelves, containing books, a picture of the cruci-
fixion, and a Spanish guitar.
After a little pretty gossip, which the fair reader may be
assured was even then in fashion between two young ladies
preparing for slumber, the maidens knelt to perform in silent
prayer, though not in the very same words, or according to
the same prescribed form, their sincere devotions to their
common Creator, and then lay down to take their innocent
sleep, sweetly kissing each other's lips (sweet creatures!),
Esther held in the arms, and pillowed on the bosom of her
## p. 67 (#95) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 67
new friend. It is amazing how suddenly young ladies hate
or love one another; they would seem, indeed, by their prompt-
ness in coming to the point with their own sex, to make up
for their unintelligible dallying with ours; but, however that
may be, never was seen a more sudden friendship than, ere
they closed their damask eyelids, this night, sprang up in the
bosoms of Esther and Eva. Perhaps, simple and sincere as
both were, they had their own little reasons for fully en-
couraging the separate impulse. But, as this supposition is
treason to the magnanimity of disinterested female friendship,
we shall, for the present, press it no further.
It should have been before noticed, that, from the return
of Evelyn to M'Donnell's house, until the hour of repose, the
rain that, during the early part of the evening, had been blow-
ing off and on at intervals, had come down with constancy,
though not with violence. At the grey break of morn,
Evelyn's ears were filled with a tremendous noise of rushing
waters, that, as he sprung up in alarm to ascertain the cause,
he recollected was not to have been heard the previous night.
Running to the little window of his apartment, which was at
the back of the house, and looking up to the precipice that, at
but a short distance, overhung the glen, he saw a torrent
shooting down its perpendicular face, with a fall of more than
a hundred feet. The mists of the previous evening had
ascended nearly to the summit of the wall of rock; but as they
still hid the topmost outline, extending themselves, in mono-
tonous grey, over the sky, Evelyn, unacquainted with the real
boundaries of the great objects around him, could not calculate
bow much more of the precipice remained hidden from his
view. And as the origin of the cataract was also concealed by
those wreaths of mist,. imagination began to refer it to an
illimitable height, or else to suggest that it was poured forth
by the swollen clouds, from the bosom of which it took, in-
deed, its first apparent source. In removing his eye to the
bottom of the precipice, a like mystery enveloped the certain
depth of the torrent's fall; for it glanced and disappeared,
behind a natural parapet of rock, in a sheet so unbroken as to
give no idea of any rest or interruption, a considerable way
downwards. The noise was, to an ear unused to it, appalling;
but, after some observation, Evelyn became aware that the
chief roar of waters was caused by the furious stream that
straggled along, over rock and inequality, in the deep gully
## p. 68 (#96) ##############################################
68 THE BOYNE WATER.
beside which the house stood, and which, the evening before,
contained but a puny rill, that, almost unheard and unper-
ceived, wrought its way to the distant river.
He was interrupted by the entrance of, Oliver Whittle, in
much solemn agitation, for which it is convenient, under the
reader's favour, to account at some length.
The house that gave shelter to the benighted personages of
our story, did not appear to have been the work of a first simple
idea, but rather as if it were constructed at different times, as
whim, necessity, or reflection, caused the proprietors to recon-
sider, after a part had been perfected, the plan in hand. The
middle of the building, that which inclosed the common apart-
ment, or room of all work, seemed to have been the primary
structure : at the end of it, and facing the huge fire-place, a door
as nearly in the middle of the wall as could reasonably be ex-
pected, opened into a narrow passage, at either side of which,
four others gave admission into four opposite chambers. Al-
though it could now afford lodging to all the immediate mem-
bers of the family, together with their guests of the night, this
wing appeared a second thought.
At the right-hand side of the fire-place, a small door also led
into a second narrow passage, which again opened to the night
chambers of the menialsa large apartment, at the back of the
fire-place, receiving the males; and one as large, divided from
this by a good substantial wall, inclosing the females.. Into
the latter it is none of our business to enter; but into the
former, preceded by a grey-headed retainer of the family, who
had been with old M'Donnell in the wars of Montrose, and
who, after the peace, had taken upon himself, without any
special appointment, but by a kind of acknowledged right, a
general superintendence of everything about the reduced estab-
lishment of his old commanderpreceded, we say, by this
aged follower, bearing a rude lamp, and using much dumb
show of courtesy, stalked Oliver Whittle, whom we are at
liberty to accompany anywhere.
He strode into the room with a face as long and as sus-
picious as if he were about to put up his quarters among the
spirits of those he had helped to slay at the Gobbins Heughs.
The large chimney of the outer apartment protruded into this
chambre-drcoucker; and at one side of the bulk, where the heat
penetrated for his benefit, nestled, on a bed of fresh heather,
the donkey's driver, in what he denominated "a cosey nook."
## p. 69 (#97) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 69
While around the rough walls, as Oliver stood erect in the
middle of the floor, he could discern some dozen large heads
of hair, shading as many harsh visages, pushed from under
coarse coverlids, which screened the giant limbs of a like
number of stalwart kernes of the sept M'Donnell.
"Whilk is to be my place of repose, brother V he asked,
solemnly, after a pause.
"Phat will hur say V asked his seneschal in return.
"Wbar maun I stretch my limbs 1 "Wbar am I to taste
sleep r
"Kaw shee aim suh," (here it is) thrusting his lamp
under the waggon-like structure intended for a bedstead,
the sole resemblance of that article in the place. Oliver
only understood the accompanying action. While'looking at
his couch,' his glance became riveted, and he resumed, in
mixed gruffness and nausea, "Tak' away from 'my eyes yon
symbol of idolatry," pointing to a roughly-sculptured crucifix
that dangled over the head of the bed.
The major-domo stared; and "hear til him, noo," said the
donkey's driver, in the corner. One of the listening kernes
inquired in Irish what Oliver had said, and on a translation
given by the young promoter of mischief, three or four
jumped, primitively naked, from their heather couches,
muttering no very peaceable intent. Oliver's brow assumed
a deeper curl, but it was a valiant one; his hand flew to his
sword; he confronted the row of hideous apparitions before
him; and blood might have flowed, had not the old man
compelled them, by a few words in Irish, once more to en-
sconce themselves beneath their coverlids. Then he placed
the lamp on a large box near at hand, and after hemming,
and stopping more than once in his effort to speak
English, " God lend hur the good night's shleep," he said,
and retired.
Oliver bent his knees against the bedstead, and giving his
shoulders a prepatory shrug, and swallowing his saliva before
he began, performed, in a loud dolorous pitch of voice, a
long-winded extemporaneous prayer. Then throwing a sus-
picious glance around, and ascertaining that all slept, or
appeared to sleep, he drew off his great trooper's boots, and,
his eye again scowling around, stole his great sword under
his head, and crept, Uke an old wasted spider, into the recesses
of his nightly habitation.
## p. 70 (#98) ##############################################
70 THE BOYNE WATER.
Notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, his fears and
disgust kept him waking; and, some time after he lay down,
he perceived the old servant steal in, shut the door softly, and
walk watchfully across the room. Half-closing his eyes,
Oliver closely followed the motions of this person. The old
man approached the bedside, and reached his arms over him;
then Oliver grasped firmly the basket-hilt of his sword; but
the aged servant only took down the rude crucifix, placed it
on the box, knelt before it, and with a prefatory flourish of
his arm, that Oliver construed into determined insult, went
through the ceremony of, as it is technically denominated,
"blessing himself," while the accompanying words were uttered
in Irish:
"In-om-in-a. naigh, augus a-vich, augus arspridth naiv,
amin;" an invocation, separately, of the persons of the
Trinity; and then he continued to pray fervently, in the same
language, often thumping his breast.
"Idolatrypapistryabomination;" groaned Oliver; the
words, however, indistinct. The object of his aversion
turned his eyes towards the bed; another loud "in-om-irirOr
naigh" finished his orisons, exciting another "abomination,"
and another groan from the bowels of Oliver. Finally, the
old man arose from his knees, took an earthen jar off a shelf,
spilt some water from it into the hollow of his hand, sprinkled
his own forehead, then the couches of the kernes, then all
round the room, and then giving the jar a second good stoop
into his palm, he approached Oliver, his evil intent manifested
by the zeal of his glances.
"Aye, jest sprinkle him weel wi' the holy wather, to kill
the muckle de'il that's in him," remarked the imp of the
donkey from his " cosey neuk."
"Holy water !the waters of filth !I'll have nane o't!"
roared Oliver, springing up in a sitting posture. But the
words came too late. The man conceiving he had moaned in
his sleep, in consequence of some bad dream, charitably came
to drive away the fiend with an ablution that he deemed a
specific for the purpose; and, ere Oliver could prevent it, the
deed was done. A good splash visited his face; he sputtered,
shut his eyes, made various grimaces, and hastily wiping away
the water
"Defilement!" he exclaimed" the waters of the sink of
Sathan !I say, begone awa' wi' your abominations, or the
## p. 71 (#99) ##############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 71
hilt o' this sword "here he was stopped by the re-appearance
at his bedside of two gigantic kernes, each with a rude dagger,
or skeine, in his hand; and again there might have been
bloodshed, but that the old servant, as on the former occasion,
impressed on his allies, that, according to the command of
their chief, no insult must be offered to the stranger. So,
they a second time retired, muttering, to their repose;
while he, in unintelligible English, proceeded to offer an
apology to Oliver, and moved him to lie down. After some
time, his intreaties were successful; and at last he extinguished
the lamp, and, to Oliver's continued annoyance, took a place
by the side of his guest.
The old man's snore sqpn gave testimony of deep sleep;
the other sharers of the apartment were not long in supplying
evidence of the same fact; the donkey's lord contributed his
minor note to the grand bass concert around; and, through
the solid thickness of the far wall, the gentle maids and
matrons of the neighbouring apartment, sent in an echoing
chorus. But the unlucky Oliver closed not his eyes. He was
haunted by the nightmare of popery; he imagined he still
felt the holy water trickling over his denled brows; he panted
for the cleansing facilities of some ample, clear, running-
stream; and the summer morning found him still waking.
As, with the light of day, children lose the terrors of super-
natural appearances, so the morning beams gave bim a little
confidence, and he just hoped to settle himself Jo repose,
when his mates of the night jumped up, hastily donned their
rude gartments, and, along with the boy and his own bed-
fellow, withdrew from the chamber. During this disturbance,
it was impossible to sleep. When he was left in solitude,
sweet visions again began to float round his pillow, but the
sharp tinkle of a little bell once more roused him; he started
at the sound; it was incontestably popish; his ears opened to
listen; and, just then, the imp of the donkey re-entered.
"Come to the Mass, Oliver Whittle," he said, "the Mass is
going to be said, mon; and it will mak a gude body o' you
that and the holy wather."
"Awa' wi' you, limb of darkness!" cried the tortured
trooper, bounding out of bed; and his grinning tormentor
skipped off.
It was Sunday morning. The celebration of Mass was, by
law, a serious offence, subjecting the officiating clergyman to
## p. 72 (#100) #############################################
72 THE BOYNE WATER.
heavy punishment. Of late, however, the matter, if done
privately, had been tolerated; and the priest, either not
having a regular place of worship, or else afraid to use it,
generally attended at the house of some one of his more
considerable parishioners, to honour the Sabbath according to
the rights of the /Roman Catholic Church.
In the large apartment of the house, old priest M'Donnell
had furnished up a rude kind of altar. A high chest was
covered with white drapery; on it were laid candles, the
chalice, and the book, with the other essentials used in the
performance of the Mass. The aged priest stood before it in
coloured silk vestment, having a large cross described on .the
back; two little boys, in white surplices, kneeling at each
side, attended him for the purpose of making the prescribed
responses, of occasionally adjusting the book, or of giving the
elementary wine, or the water of ablution. Around knelt old
M'Donnell, his brother, son, daughter, servants, and followers;
while a considerable group, collected from' every cabin in
the glen, reached past the door, which faced the temporary
altar.
The deliberate clang of Oliver's boots announced his
approach to the little congregation ; and presently he strode in
among them, scowling around, his face more haggard even
than usual, and his eyes bleared for want of sleep. Assuming
the kind of superiority which impudence accords to such as
he, and indulging in the terms of insult and threat which im-
proved good sense has since rejected, but which, by the way,
were perpetuated in that day by a sense of impunitythe
members of the degraded creed not daring to utter a word
. "I set up my face," he cried, "against this open idolatry
this unloosed wantonness of- the scarlet strumpet. Retire ye
to your homes: gi' ower; avoid ye ! or verily I say unto ye,
my voice shall be raised in testimony against ye, before the
counsellors of the land."
All eyes were instantly fixed on Oliver; some half under-
stood himsome not at all; but his manner was intelligible
to every one. Edmund M'Donnell arose and approached
him.
"You must needs retire, good fellow," he said, "nor disturh
nor insult the devotions of the household."
"It is to retire that I cam hither," returned Oliver. "Whar
is the chamber of the youth, Robert Evelyn P
## p. 73 (#101) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 73
Edmund took him by the arm, and led him to the
Evelyn's observations, from his window, of the novel and
interesting objects we left him contemplating, were, even pre-
vious to the entrance of Oliver, interrupted by the voice of his
aunt-in-law, sounding through the partition that divided him
from her room.
"Paul, Paul," she cried, in a tone of steady authority;
"awake thee, man; thou'rt but a drowsy knave, and sleepest
the morning away."
"I am awake, Janet, dear wife," snuffled Paul.
"Open those eyes of thine, then."
"They are open, Janet."
Evelyn guessed she had already arisen." Hear'st thou
nought to stir alarm in thee V
"What should alarm me, dear wife, and thou so"
"Ask you what, man? Hear you not waters rushing and
roaring, as tho' they would sweep the dwelling hence V
"In sooth I believe there be such noises, Janet," putting on
a childish face of mock terror.
"Rise, man; rise, and let us speed away, then, from the
dangers of this wild place."
Oliver here entered Evelyn's apartment.
"It is not good to abide here," he said ; "the wrath of the
Lord may, peradventure, overtake us for the same."
"What mean you, now, Oliver V
"I mean," he replied, raising his voice, "that the idol of
the Massthe calfthe Dago^i, is set up beneath the very
roof wi' us."
"Mind me, sir," observed Evelyn, angrily, "neither you,
nor I, nor any man, holds a right to scoff at the devotions of
others: therefore address me not, in such language, and
beware how you offend those whose roof gives us a hospitable .
shelter. Begone, sir."
"If it likes you to sojourn here," Oliver answered, "you
canna' mak me abide by your shouther; wherefore I will
awa' frae the accurst hoose;" and he stalked out of the
room.
"And hear you that, too, husband V resumed the voice of
Mrs. Evelyn, who had overheard this discourse, as she ran to
meet Oliver at the door of her chamber.
"Dinna come forth," he said, addressing her; " rest you in
## p. 74 (#102) #############################################
74 THE BOYNE WATER.
your ain place of secrecy, that your eyes may not be defiled by
saul-killing abominations."
He strode on, but Mrs. Evelyn strode by him, and entered
the outer apartment, Oliver closely following. The old priest
had just commenced, as they made their appearance. Mrs.
Evelyn stared about her with a look which she intended should
convey dignified importance, but which might be construed
into vulgar arrogance. She beckoned slowly to Edmund, who
was again on his knees; he arose and approached her,
modestly wishing her a good morrow, in a low voice, out of
respect to the occupation in which all the others were
engaged.
"Youth," said she, coolly, and without deigning to answer
his courtesy, "is not this the superstition of the Mass I see
before me?"
"The Sacrifice of the Mass is about to be celebrated, madam,"
he replied, colouring with indignation, yet his boyish respect
for the catechist's sex curbing the expression of it.
"And is not yonder the Jesuit Priest to minister in the
idolatry?"
"Yea," said Oliver, "robed in the robes of"
"And is this Treason and Superstition to be done under
our very eyes ?" interrupted Mrs. Evelyn. "Could you not have
tarried, youth, with your damnable practices, till we had
retired from hence tPaul!Paul!"striding back, and
thrusting her neck into his chamber, "speed you, man, speed;
and now, at the least, let us take the road."
Evelyn came, at this instant, upon the scene of foolish insult.
The old clergyman had turned round when the first words
met his ear; and the hectic of unwilled resentment flushed his
pale cheek, and his frame shook with more than age's palsy.
Eva started to her feet, and stood with her brow bent, her
head erect, her cheeks and lips blanched, and her bosom pant-
ing, while she grasped her father's arm, who, also standing,
and one hand catching his long white beard, frowned on the
intruders. Con M'Donnell approached Oliver, as usual, with
ominous looks, till he was beckoned back by Edmund; while
a group of harsh-featured mountaineers more obstinately sur-
rounded the old trooper, seeming to await but a signal to
punish him for his temerity.
"What is the meaning of this, madam V asked Evelyn of
his aunt, at this juncture.
## p. 75 (#103) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 75
"The rather do I ask where be your eyes, nephew," she
answered, " that they see not here the popish"
"Madam, madam," he began, abashed and confounded.
"The jesuitical treason of the Mass," his aunt-in-law con-
tinued
"Madam, this must not beallow me to lead you to your
chamber."
"No, nephew ; I will depart forthwith from the roof that
covers them. Paul! Paul! I saylazy churl, why tarryest
thou?
"
"I am heTe, dear wife," he answered, just then tottering in.
"Hie thee, hie thee, man," Mrs. Evelyn went on, striding
through the crowd, that, aware of the danger heretofore in-
curred by attending a prohibited mode of worship, quailed
under the frown of the Amazonian lady. It was an evidence
of the terror arising from acting by stealth, which, with other
causes, has broken the spirit and debased the demeanour of
the peasantry of their country.
"Oliver !" Mrs. Evelyn resumed, outside the door, with her
husband.
"Abomination!" cried Oliver, striding through the crowd,
after her" Stench !the scarlet woman!"
"Niece! nephew!" continued the lady.
"Your husband's niece and nephew will stay where they
are," answered Evelyn, " and endeavour to make some apology
for the rudenessyour pardon, madam, for the most fitting
wordwhich you have shown to the hospitality of this roof."
"Young sir," demanded his aunt-in-law, "darest thou in-
sult a lady, and thy relative ?darest thou afford countenance
to Jesuits and plotters ?mayhap, it is thy intention to con-
form : but, have acare, young sir," her wrath somewhat aroused
by a resistance she did not expect, and was not in the habit
of experiencing ; "fly not in the face of your lawful guardians,
I say; hither with thee, presently, or my lord the Chancellor
the parliamentthe Kingno, not the Kingbut all else
you should fear, shall hear of it."
"Madam, I rest where I am; you are not my guardian."
"Command him forth, Paul."
"I do command him, Janet," but with a voice and a face
little expressive of authority; in fact, he looked about to cry.
"Take thy sister's hand now, youngster, and come forth,
or abide the consequence."
## p. 76 (#104) #############################################
76 THE BOYNE WATER.
"I will not stir, madam; neither shall my sister; and I
will abide the consequence."
"Naught is this, stripling, but Papistry, and Treason, and
Conforming; and all because of yonder jesuit maiden, on whom
I saw thee look so loosely last night."
"Come, madam," he replied, at last provoked beyond
bounds, "we here interrupt most indecently the devotions of
people whose creed is only between their God and them-
selves; you are welcome* to depart in search of my house, as
soon as you list, and I wish you a pleasant ride so early in
the morningcome in, poor people."
He waited till that part of the crowd who were without
had got under the roof of the dwelling, and then closed the
door; his aunt-in-law bursting at the moment into bitter tears,
in which Paul joined her.
"Excuse this, M'Donnell," Evelyn then resumed, as young
Edmund met him in the middle of the apartment; "come
into our sleeping chamber"they gained it" excuse this,"
extending his hand; "it has happened in none of mine or of
my sister's feeling; nor in my uncle's feeling either, if he
dared assert himself. Forgive us if you can; and do not let
woman's freak come between you and me, and the high esteem
I must ever feel for those who have borne themselves towards
us all so kindly."
"It is entirely forgotten," answered Edmund, his face
brightening up ;" we are, alas! too well used to such un-
thinking slights, for I use no harsher name. I am only sorry
the observance of our duty should have caused any disquiet
to your aunt : indeed, the Mass was begun very early, in
order, if possible, to be done with it ere she or any of you
had left your chambers."
"And, believe me, she would have slept long enough but
for her fright of the falling waters. Please now to return to
the outer apartment: I shall stay here till you can again
conveniently join me. Hark ! there my aunt rides off, with my
, uncle and attendantcan my sister and I break our fast here f'
A ready and pleased assent naturally came from Edmund.
"And tax you for an afternoon repast Vhis young host
looked more and more gratified. "Then let my aunt enter-
tain herself till the evening at least; some show of spirit it is
necessary to make to her folly. Thanks, M'Donnell, and
farewell till you are at leisure."
## p. 77 (#105) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 77
The Mass was said; Edmund returned to the sleeping
chamber, and, accompanied by Esther and Eva, the young men
went out to enjoy the morning air and prospect. Esther's
statue-like beauty of face, and her usually sad eye, were now
excited into some glow and sparkle" from the novelty of her
situation.
All mist had by this time rolled away from the mountains
and precipices; the sun was up; the sky blue and fleecy; the
glen visible in all its extent and grandeur; the river, almost
unseen the evening before, swelled into a wide inundation;
the hoarse voice's of many other torrents than the near one
Evelyn had seen from his apartment, heard at different dis-
tances around; and, altogether, the character of great moun-
tain scenery fully developed. "With their back turned to the
house, the young party looked down the glen, as it swept and
opened to the bay; its far side running out into the expanse
of the ocean, and ending in Garron Point; the barrier to the
left turning before its termination could be seen, but taken up
at a distance by other heights, on which stood the ruined
fragment of Redbay Castle, and. also running into the blue
sea; while the remote distance gave glimpses of the sister
country of Scotland.
They returned to the house, and met, at breakfast, old
"Priest M'Donnell," of whose irritability of the former night
Evelyn could perceive no symptom, in the bland and venerable
demeanour which now marked the .character of, with all his
age and infirmities, a travelled and educated man. Break-
fastdinner was done ; and, ere the evening should overtake
them on the road, Evelyn and his sister mounted their horses,
at last to join Mrs. Evelyn's family circle. Their parting from
the M'Donnells was warm on both sides; some tears, even,
were dropped between the maidens; those of Esther coming
most abundantly. Eva Was besought to name a day to make
her a long visit at her cottage; Edmund was also prevailed
upon by Evelyn to accompany his sister on that future oc-
casion; and Carolan, repeatedly solicited by the young
strangers, consented to accompany both. Finally, they left
the Strip of Burne, convoyed through the glen by even a
greater body of people, with the M'Donnells at their head,
than had come out to welcome them on their arrival. As the
road approached the coast, farewells were renewed, and, with
a single guide, they thence proceeded to their own cottage.
## p. 78 (#106) #############################################
78 THE BOYXE WATER.
Mrs. Evelyn received them with sullenness, intended for
dignity; but Evelyn could perceive that this was only a dis-
guise to cover the real crestfallen consciousness of his good
relative. He had expected such a pleasing result; for, young
as he was, he knew human nature sufficiently welleven
that half of it which is honoured by being of the fair sexto
calculate on a victory over noise and words by a seasonable
show of resolution. In fact, he now had, what is called, the
upper-hand; and he wisely determined to keep it, in his own
house; trusting that, for the time he was compelled to live
with his uncle, and therefore with his aunt-in-law, it might
serve to obtain him some quiet. Nor was he mistaken in his
views. Still wrapping herself up in much dignity, Mrs. Evelyn
grew meek as a child If she was sublime, she was, at the
same time, silent; or, in their hours of connubial retirement,
satisfied herself with revenging everything on her husband
.
The day appointed for the visit of the M'Donnells brought
them, even with the full assent of Evelyn and Esther's guar-
dian, to the seashore cottage of their young friends; and the
harper accompanied them. The weather was now beautifully
fine; the walks by the coast delightful: Esther rapidly im-
proved in spirits and health. Carolan composed airs to words
of Edmund's writing, and both played, while Esther and Eva
sung them; peace was with them, and about them, as well as
over the whole landeven the rare peace of sectarian tolera-
tion. They were all young; all, in different shades of feeling
enthusiastic; all imaginative and simple-hearted; andthey
all loved.
"lis an old tale, and often told,"
and a curious thing to account for, how young hearts get en-
tangled with each other, and beating and swelling for each
other. Apart even from the great solution of the riddle pro-
posed in speeches about sympathetic minds and souls, by which
is meant minds and souls very like each other, it has remained
for us, we think, to discover the true solutionproximity. They
were together, and they loved; that is our syllogism. If it
be combated in favour of the old doctrine, we rejoin* by first
asking, rather tritely indeed, how could they ever have loved,
had they never come together ?Next, if similarity of cha-
racter was to have done everything, and proximity nothing,
how could the fiery-spirited Eva have loved the matter-of-fact
## p. 79 (#107) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 79
Evelyn? And the weak, tender Esther have loved the bold,
manly, although modest Edmund? And how could the poor
harper have pinedwe were about to say, indiscreetly, for
whom he pined; but as it was not so quickly ascertained, in
the reality, neither should it be all at once declared in the
story. Moreover, since his own tardy declaration of his feel-
ings was the immediate cause why others admitted the state
of their own, the whole matter seems to require a progressive
and circumstantial development.
Evelyn and Edmund had gone for a day to hunt the deer
in the great chasse belonging to Antrim Castle; and their
sisters thus left without any company but that of Carolan
(they did not admit that Jerry, Mrs. Evelyn, or her husband,
were company)walked out, arm in arm, to enjoy the air
and the shade in one of their usual haunts. It was a little
dell, formed by high and sloping ground on every side, which
entirely shut out, at certain points, the sea, the mountains,
everything but the sky. The hoarse roar of the ocean came
subdued to the lonely place, and its own insect-buzz, and the
hum of the wild bee among its primroses and buttercups, were
the predominant sounds that filled the ear. The young
harper, acknowledging a fit of musical impulse, had parted
from them to reach a favourite retreat, which was sacred to
his hours of melodious study; so that they were completely
alone.
Hitherto the maidens had never trusted to one another a
hint on the state of their hearts; each plainly seeing the love
of each, yet sure that her own bosom was perfectly disguised.
They had been unusually silent during their little walk; and
having gained their resting-place, they sat down without a
word. At last Esther asked rather suddenly:
"Do you remember the strange woman we met on the
way*to your house, Eva, the first evening I saw you and your
brother V
"Yes; but I have since scarce thought of her."
"I have, often. You remember her extraordinary manner
when she looked in my face?What was her cause for
that?
"
"Something very absurd, doubtless, dear girl."
"But why did she speak of .me to your brother, after her
strange scrutiny of my features 1 You were near enough to
hear what she said, and you knowher languagewhat said she?"
## p. 80 (#108) #############################################
80 THE BOYNE WATER.
"It is not worth the while to know, Esther; and it would
be idle in me to inform you."
"Anything is worth the while to ask or tell on this idle
dayinform me, pretty Eva."
"Never a word, for that base flattery."
"Then, Eva only, or dear Eva, let me hear; the matter has
lain on my mind, and made me uneasy."
"And for that reason I must not tell you a foolish story.
Had you thought nothing on the matterhad you a mind in-
different to such childishnessI would freely impart what
that idle woman said; but, as it is, I will save you from
imaginary flights, that cannot increase your happiness,
Esther."
"Now, indeed, you startle me. The occurrence I witnessed
had no such effect as your reasons for remaining silent, Eva;
nor can your free confidence and speech, whatever you may
disclose, do half the injury to my mind and spirits, that your
allusions have done already."
"I see, indeed, I used an injudicious method of discourse
with you, and am sorry for it, dear Esther; and perhaps my
speaking freely will, as you say, now do less real harm than
my silence: but can you faithfully promise me to laugh, as I
do, at the whole you shall hear 1'Tis silly, Esther, from be-
ginning to end, with nothing to depend on but the ravings,
or, perhaps, wilful falsehood, of that poor woman."
"Be assured I shall treat it as lightly as, on such showing,
it deserves, or as you do; but go on."
"You know that on the eve of All-Saints' Day, along with
acting some harmless pastimes, it is the weak, and indeed
sinful, custom of the peasantry, to invoke the Evil name, that,
by its influence, they may see the shadowy resemblance of the
person they are doomed to love. Well; on the last coming
of that blessed eve, as my brother and I, and a circle of
young friends, sat around the fire in my father's house, Onagh
of the cavern lifted the latch of our door, entered, and sat
down silently amongst us. She had great fame with the poor
people, for her knowledge of the little ceremonies to be gone
through on All-Saints' Eve, and it was her custom to visit
diflerent houses that she might direct them; but this was her
first visit to us. Her pale, undisturbed face, and her silence,
had a disagreeable effect on our sports ; yet we proceeded in
them, while Onagh looked on. We hid the ring, melted the
## p. 81 (#109) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 81
lead, sent the blindfolded seeker of his fate to the four plates
of salt, ashes, water, and earth, burned the nuts in the names
of any two we destined for each other, with other like things.
Still Onagh did not speak a word; and at last, affected by
her strange demeanour, we became as silent and inactive as
herself. Then, however, she found her tongue. 'All is done
that you can do,' she said, 'and yet nothing that was worth
the doing. I can show, any time, till the cock crows for mid-
night, the man or the woman any of ye are to love.' A girl
of the house, taking her at her word, rose with Onagh, and
both retired into a chamber, dark but for a dull fire that was
allowed to burn out in it. I suppose you know as well as I
the various forms in which the wicked invocation is made ;
in the present instance, Onagh caused the young girl to take
off and wash a part of her dress, and then spread it out on
a chair to dry before the fire. Soon after they had retired,
we heard a scream, and the silly girl ran to us from the dark
chamber, saying, that a strange man had, while she and
Onagh stood with their backs to the door, advanced to the
fire, and turned the article of dress, which was spread out on
the chair. Of course, she either wilfully told a falsehood, or
else the terrors of imagination had imposed on her.
"My brother and I asserted our disbelief of what she said;
and Onagh offered to convince me, in my own person, of the
efficacy of her invocations, if I would retire into the chamber
with her ; but I refused, not indeed in fear, Esther, but in
contempt, and a dislike to do, idly and uselessly, a sinful
thing. Edmund, in a bantering tone, challenged her to show
him the lady he was to love ; and Onagh assented, on condi-
tion that he would.go out with her to the river side, as, to
convince him, another kind of form was to be gone through:
he did so against my entreaties, and left the house, laughing
and light-hearted.
"In some time he came back, alone, with an altered air;
but, when we asked him of what had happened, and why he
looked so, he answered, again in good spirits, that he was only
tired from clambering over such uneven ground as lay between
him and the river, and that Onagh had shown him nothing
for all his trouble, but a white-faced horse. The subject
dropped; and till the evening we met you, Esther, was never
renewed."
"But it was, then1!and it was to it that Onagh made
a
## p. 82 (#110) #############################################
82 THE BOTXE WATER.
allusion, when she looked on me? Did not your brother report
truly of his adventure?
"
"He told the truth, but not the whole truth; and what he
suppressed did not seem to him worth mentioning. But he
forgot to say that Onagh warmly insisted there had been an
apparition visible to hera pale and beautiful young lady;
and this he told me since your coming to our glen; for I, as
well as you, wished to understand the allusions of Onagh,
though I made so light of them, and therefore asked him to
tell me."
"Go on, dear Eva," said Esther, wishing to hear recited
the application that was obvious to herself.
"There is nothing to be added but what you witnessed:
when Onagh saw your face, at the cavern, she told him it was
the face of the apparition by the river-side."
"What, Eva %--my face ?'blushing deep as scarlet, and
affecting as much simple astonishment as was possible
"now, indeed, I see the absurdity you promised me. And
yet, another question. There was, in Onagh's recognition of
her old acquaintance, anything but pleasure, or good-will, or
satisfaction in such a face for the very improbable destiny
to which she was pleased to doom it. I thought she started
back in alarm and dislike of me; and her violent manner,
when she ran to speak with your brother, the sound and pitch
of her voice, certainly denoted more than a simple declara-
tion that I was the reality of her spectre. Can you explain
this? Again I recollect you were near enough to catch her
wordswhat did she say V
"I need not disguise, no more than any other part of
the foolery, that Onagh certainly expressed dislike of you,
for, as you say, the purposes to which she first destined you,
and earnestly commanded my brother to keep his heart
guarded against your infatuations."
"He has not followed her advice; that I have plainly seen,
a thousand times," thought Esther. "Well, Eva, it was at
least very inconsistent, you will admit : can you now tell me
the cause of her aversion V
"Onagh, herself, must there satisfy you, as I do not pre-
tend ability to find, according to the calculations of the little
common sense I have, good reasons for the raving or mis-
statement of a fool or impostor -" yet Eva was here guilty of
a little ingenuous reservationshe really knew the cause of
## p. 83 (#111) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 83
Onagh's dislike to Esther as the lady of Edmund's love, but,
.with a general appearance of confidence, thisthe chief point
on which she feared to give uneasiness to her friendshe was
resolved not to communicate.
Esther grew silent, and Eva, too, fell into a reverie, of a
nature not unlike that of her companion. When they again
spoke, it was on a subject seemingly disconnected with the
former one, yet really associated by it.
CHAPTER VII.
"Have you noticed the harper's melancholy of late f asked
Esther, by-and-bye.
"I have, indeed," answered Eva.
"Do you guess what is the matter with him V
"I do, as well as you;he loves."
"Whom?"
"Either of us."
"But which V
"That I cannot positively say; but I think it may be
yourself."
"You speak this seriously V
"Seriously; from my heart."
"Then, as seriously I say that I believe you are the object
of his devotion."
"Your reasons V
"Why, you form the theme of his discourse whenever he
and I are alone; he sighs at each mention of your name; he
has addressed a sweet air to you; and he knows you longer
than me."
"But he scarce ever finds a topic for my ear but Esther ; if
he sighs, it is in your company; he walks ever with you; he
has framed as sweet an air for you; and," Eva added, with a
sigh of her own, "he knows you long enough to love eter-
nally."
"Here he comes, however, to afford us more observations,"
said Esther. Carolan, indeed, appeared in the narrow, but
## p. 84 (#112) #############################################
84 THE BOYNE WATER.
level way, that led into the little retreat, -walking erectly, and
with the measured firmness of step that marks the gait of a
blind man, although his pace seemed less spirited than usual.
He was without his harp, and guided himself merely by tap-
ping a switch on the ground before him, as he had grown
quite familiar with the roads and paths generally walked over
by the young party.
"He looks sadder than ever," said Esther. Carolan caught,
at some distance, the very low tone in which she spoke, and
his pensive expressive of face instantly brightened up, and his
mouth wore its beautiful smile, as he said : "Aye, here I knew
I should find you both."
"I sincerely hope you may err, Eva, in believing me beloved
by this poor young harper," Esther continued, in a whisper,
ere he had quite reached them.
"And why do you hope so, Esther V
"I should not wish," anwered Esther, blushing under the
expressive glance which accompanied the question, "I should
not wish to see him love where he cannot find love in return."
"Carolan has many captivations; it is not impossible to
love him."
"For me it is."
"Whyf
"I do not know ; we cannot compel love."
"Is that the only reason V Eva continued to ask with a
smile, when, fortunately for Esther, Carolan came too near to
permit her answer; we say fortunately, for we believe the
answer would have been a little sin, in the shape of a little
we shall not say what.
"I could not draw the tune out of my head," he said, stand-
ing straight before them, equally balanced on both feet; "it
would not come for me; or else there is no good in my clar-
seech, or my fingers, this day; yet, in my head and heart it
is, if ever I had one in them ; the music of a calling to battle,
and the gathering for a battle, and the battle itself, fought by
fine proud soldiers, on fine steeds, and the victory, the shout-
ing, and the glory."
"Idle, idle Carolan," said Eva; "you could have put it all
on your harp, if you would; and now it will grow cold in your
head and heart, and we shall lose it for ever."
"I could not put it on the harp, indeed," he resumed; "my
fingers strayed over and over the strings, but brought no
## p. 85 (#113) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER.
85
sounds that I wanted; only, instead of such, came sad
thrillings and low tones of the wire, that made me weep for
company."
"Sit down by Esther, here, and now smile to her, for com-
pany ; I am wanted, for a little space, by your aunt, Esther,
but shall return to seek you."
"Of friendless youth and hopeless love," the young minstrel
continued, taking Eva's place, as she left them, "were the
only sounds of my clarseech."
"And why should they be the only sounds, Carolan?"
"They made the echo of my fortunes," he said, sighing
sadly.
"Nay, friendless you must not call yourself; and when you
love, Carolan, why should it be all hopelessly V
"First, sweet lady, I am a poor harper, and women's love
asks, and should get, more honours than my poverty can
bestow. I could honour her love in the song," he continued
proudly, though mildly; then, with another sigh, "but even
she who can feel proud at the minstrel's praise, will slight the
minstrel. I am blind, too ; do you think it has ever happened
that a beautiful lady loved a blind man V
"I know not that it has happened," Esther replied, "for
my experience is little; but I see no reason it should not.
Blindness, though a great visitation, is the least disagreeable
of bodily infirmities ; indeed, it is soon and entirely forgotten,
when he who is afflicted by it has gentle manners, and, above
all, great talents."
"Then you, dear lady," Carolan asked, in much simplicity,
"you could listen to the suit of a blind harper V
"I could; but, Carolan, this matter now requires from me
an honourable and prompt avowal, for I must not seem to
misunderstand you, and it is a woman's part to end, as soon as
she has an opportunity, the pain she unwittingly causes. I
esteem and honour you, for your talents, your manners, and
your good qualities ; nor is your person disagreeable. And I
could have feltit is possible I might have felt another
sentiment, but that" she hesitated, "I may seem to make
an unmaidenly avowal; I think I owe you the full expla-
nation it conveys. Therefore, Carolan, hear me saybut that
I loved another."
"I have erred," he resumed, with little of the agitation the
gentle maiden supposed should be visible after her repulse
## p. 86 (#114) #############################################
86 THE BOYNE WATER.
"T must have greatly erred in my words to make you think
this confidence necessary ; and I crave your pardon, dear lady,
for the imperfection of my English speech. Alas ! alas! Eva
M'Donnell it is that has put the sorrow on my heart, this
day."
"Then, Carolan," said Esther, rising, and not half so
pleased with her exemption from the harper's devotions, as
her former avowals to her friend would seem to make certain,
"Why not at once afford Eva M'Donnell the occasion of
speaking to you as plainly as I have done, and which, however
she may regard your love, I know she will do V
"I fear to offend her; I feared, all along, to show her that I
dared to love. Her grand spirit, if she knew it, would crush
and kill my heart."
"I will engage for my friend, that no word she utters,
whatever may be her answer, will hurt your ear. I will do
more ; if you permit me to save you an intimation of your
feelings, I will, this moment, seek her, and engage that she
shall come hither to reply to them."
"Oh, that would be too sudden," he said, greatly agitated;
"but, do you thinkdo you know, as from your speech I fear
you do, that the flower of Glenarriff has already seen, and
already despised my love?"
"I know that she is unconscious you love her; what may
be her affections towards you I cannot tell. But I see her
approaching us at a distanceshall I speak to Eva, for you,
Carolan V
"Oh, no, no," he exclaimed, clasping his hands. But after
a pause, "yet dodo, sweet lady; I will know my lot at
once, do, and "taking her hand and kissing it, while his tears
fell fast" the joy of this life, and the blessing of God be
upon the wish of your own heart!"
Esther accordingly went to meet Eva. The young ladies
spoke but a short time, when Eva M'Donnell parted from her
friend, swept along the little approach to the dell, and entered
it with a rapid step, an erect figure, an arching neck, and a
flushed cheek.
"That is her foot," said Carolan, "treading the earth as
she would on me, and bruising its tender flowers as she comes
to bruise my hope."
Eva found him standing ; the state of his feelings did not
permit him to remain at rest, and he still stood upright,
## p. 87 (#115) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 87
although his limbs shook, his face was pale, and his features
showed the despairing anticipations of his spirit.
"Carolan!" she began, the moment she entered the dell:
"but sit down, dear Carolan, this affects you too much; take
my hand, sit down, and grow calmer ere we speak."
He did take, or rather touch her hand; she led him to a
bank of wild flowers; sat by his side; and there was a long
pause, which the minstrel did not interrupt, even by one of
the sighs that were breaking his heart for utterance. At last
Eva went on:
"You, dear Carolan, of all men upon the earth, have
honoured me in this matter; you, of all men upon the earth,
shall not suffer a moment's uncertainty which I can pre-
vent. Esther Evelyn has told me. you love me; my bosom
fills with pride to hear it said; I thank you; I am grateful;
but let one word end itI, too, loveand, alas! alas! not
Carolan."
"Well," he said, in a low, almost inaudible voice" Well,
it is, and it is not what I expected. I knew you could never
think of me, Eva; so far, your answer agrees with my despair.
But I feared also you would have .spurned me, harshly and
cruellyandand this kindness, goodness "tears now suf-
fused his blank eyes and streamed over his cheeks" Oh, Eva,
it is too much; I did not deserve it!"
"Not, Carolan! what unworthy opinion do you hold of
yourself or me 1 how could you fear that any woman would
not own herself honoured by the love of him whose soul is
made more noble by song, than by their station are belted
earls or crowned kings? whose heart is virtuous and pure,
and whose name, even while he is yet green in youth, has
gone forth towards futurity 1 Least of all, how could you
suppose, in Eva M'Donnell, such a woman? Nay, by my
mother's sainted soul," she continued, in high and sincere
enthusiasm, "I say again, I am prouder of your love, this
day, the first, as it is, that has ever graced the almost childish
years of Eva, than if the world's highest hero, or greatest
prince, knelt, where you sit, an humble suitor at my feet."
The poor harper could only weep on.
"And, Carolan, you shall love me stillas I love youas
brother and sister love, when their hearts are truly knit in
nature's purest affection. This you shall promise me ; because,
to lose your esteem, the happiness and the honour of your
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88 THE BOYNE WATER.
friendship, by what it has here been my duty to say, would,
indeed, cloud the days of Eva for ever. Let me still have the
joy of your harp; and when I speak, in social discourse, the
sentiments of an ardent heart, let me still see your bright
smile applaud me. For the rest,the love of some more
worthy maiden shall be your reward; you deserve it : forget
this chance; chance it has been. When you first came to
Glenarriff, I was the only maiden you often met, and so it
happened. But forget it; you are very young, and it must
soon fade away in the brighter light that the tenderest love
of another and a more deserving shall pour upon your heart."
"I thank you, Eva," he said at last, in a calmer melancholy;
"I thank and bless you ; but it will never fade away; and it
was not chance. More than a year has passed since first I ,
heard your voice under your father's roof, and it thrilled over
the strings of my soul, like lofty music struck by the hand of
some great master. I cannot see your facealas! scarce can
I even imagine what makes a face beautiful. Early in my
childhood the blight came on my eyes; and though I have
since often tried to discern, with the inward eye of memory,
the faces that bent over my cradle, they are blank and shape-
less, without a difference between them; and, after all, I
believe they come to my mind, a little distinct from my cloudy
notion of other objects, only by the touch that has since en-
abled me to tell any one thing from another."
"But the face of nature is not a blank to your memory,
Carolan," Eva said, willing to fix him in the unconscious
digression he had made.
"I fear it is," he answered, sighing; " the great forms of the
hills around my father's l^ouse sometimes, indeed, are in my
mind; but all smaller ones, little observed by infancy, have
died away. The trees, that I have heard you speak of, as
beautiful in summer, the rocks, the shrubs, and the flowers,
are imperfect to me. I know not the rose by its colour.
When I have thought to learn its shape by my fingers, alas!
Eva, it has stung me to the quick. Even the mountains,
whose form I think I recollect, are not green or blue, as you
describe other mountains, when seen at different distances, nor
know I the meaning of your words ;one only appearance of
nature dwells strongly in my mind; it was the dark red light
in an evening sky, rolled over by clouds as black as my for-
tunes, and reflected in the wide water. No, dearest Eva, he who
## p. 89 (#117) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 89
loves you better than any other man can ever love, knows
not the beauty of your face. But when I turn mine to-
wards it, and am sure that it is shining on me, I think it is
an air, sweet and grand as ever harper playedoh! it makes
music round about me. And now, Eva, I will never more
speak to you of love; you allow me to be your friend; I
thank you, and I will be your friend. I thank you, over and
over, for all your goodness, this day; you shall see me smile, too.
And, if you like, you may even believe that smile to have been
lighted up by another love, and that the poor harper is happy."
"Then, take my hand, Carolan; take it freelynay, turn
your lips to my cheekto my lips, even, if you will. Brother
and sister may so meet and part; and where honour lives in
two hearts, actions cannot be misunderstood. Be happy, dear
Carolan; as happy as you merit, or as my prayers can make
you."
He took her hand; he kissed, almost reverently, her brow
and cheek, his tears wetting Eva's face, and calling from her
eyes a fuller shower than, since her mother's death, they had
sent forth.
A scream reached them from another little valley, separated
from that in which they sat only by the rising ground that
was a common division to both. Eva knew it was Esther's
voice, as they had agreed she should there await the con-
clusion of the interview with Carolan. Seizing his arm, she
rapidly conveyed her blind companion, by a level way, to the
spot. Esther was alone, but greatly agitated.
"That woman!" she exclaimed, the moment her friends
appeared" that terrible woman!"
"Whom V they asked her, in a breath.
"I was sitting in this lonely and noiseless place, busied
with deep, and, perhaps, sad thoughts, and some frightful
onesin fact, dearest Eva, I was thinking of her, and, I
know not why, of the matters you and I talked over, in con-
nexion with hermy head rested on my handsmy eyes
buried in the groundwhen, raising them, Onagh of the
cavern sat, immediately before me, on that low flat stone;
her shockingly pale face turned fully to mine, and her dead
black eye watching me. How she entered the dell, and
came so near without startling me, I cannot imagine.
When our looks first met I did not scream; nor for some time
after. Until, wrought upon by her fixed glare and terrible
## p. 90 (#118) #############################################
90 THE BOYNE WATER.
Bilence, fear gradually chilled my heart, and at last I cried
out in frenzy. Then, in the act of going away, she spoke
oh, Eva, such words!"
"Of what import can they be, dearest Esther, coming from
such a person, whatever they were 1yet "drawing her
friend aside, and whispering her" let me hear them faith-
fully."
"Dearest Eva," replied Esther, falling, in tears, on her
neck, and all her presence of mind fled"I will faithfully
tell you' You are thinking of Mm,' she said, 'but, think first
of your winding-sheet.'"
"Tush!idle raving, all," Eva cried, disdainfully ; "and to
prove it is, Estherdear Esthersisterhe loves you as
fondly as you love him, and asas I love your brother."
"And that," added Esther, as the maidens embraced each
other" that is only as well as my brother loves you."
As fate would have it, this happened to be a day of general
explanations. Whilst, in the first shade of twilight, the young
sisters thus confessed to each other the mighty secret, that, how-
ever, was no secret at all to either, though each thought it was,
their young brothers stood in the same shadow of nightfall,
surrounded by the noble solitude of what is called the Great
Deer-park of Antrim Castle, a stag lying dead at their feet,
and their large, round-headed, long-eared, black-muzzled Irish
stag-hounds, crouching, tired and contented, around. They
had outridden, a considerable distance, the rest of the hunts-
men, at whose head was the old Earl of Antrim, and were the
only two of a numerous party in at the death. Their horses,
blown and jaded, stood, with drooping heads, near them; for
they had just alighted to despatch with their hunting-knives
the baffled chase.
"It is but a poor triumph, after all, Evelyn," said Edmund,
after they had for some time, and in silence, regarded the
dead stag" while the game is up, and the horns and cheering
echoed by the hills, I like a hunting well; nay, there is hot
pleasure in bounding from the saddle to give, at the risk of
one's own life or limb, the noble animal his death-wound.
But to see him lie there, butchered at our hands, while we
stand holding these bloody knivesthis is not pleasant. I
wish the other hunters would come up."
"I wish they would," said Evelyn, "and I agree it is a
sorry prowess. Yet better that the peace of the land allows
## p. 91 (#119) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 91
us such a pastime, than that we should be called, by the voice
of civil discord, to another butchering. Had we met only
some years sooner, M'Donnell, perhaps our different preju-
dices, made active by the spirit of the times, would not have
allowed us to unsheath a blade in the same hunting."
"Alas ! perhaps not, Evelyn; yet I own no prejudices, in
my heart, that could, or ever can, make me indifferent to the
happiness of your friendship."
"Nor I, M'Donnell, that could ever make me regret yours."
They clasped hands.
"It is in such pauses of civil frenzy, that men get calmness
and reason to enable them almost to laugh at the imaginary
distinctions which they would before have given or taken a
life to uphold, and which, I fear, are only preached up into
unreal existence by the knave in politics, and the griping or
bigoted in the ministry of different religions. What, to you
or me, is the creed of the other?"
"Nothing, for a quarrel, Evelyn," said Edmund, smiling.
"Then, let them rave as they willthere can be faith in
friendship between idolaters and heretics, Edmund."
"And why not in love, too, Evelyn V
"Indeed, I see no reason," his friend answered, a little out
of countenance.
"So, you dare love a papist maiden V
"I dareEdmund, I do."
"I know you do, Evelyncome, it is well that this has
chanced as it has; and let it be despatched as quickly as it
springs up; nay, quickly it must be; for, hark to the call of
the earl's bugle from the next valleyfirst let me answer it;"
he put his own bugle to his lips, and blew an answering note
"And now, Evelyn, you love Eva M'Donnell V
"I dowell and'dearly."
"There can be no question honourably?"
"Nonewhile I live to answer it."
"I never doubted: you honour us much, Evelyn, humbled
as we are, and almost portionless as Eva isyou know she is V
"Perhaps I knew; but I cared not."
"And, in a word, you would wed her, papists as we are, and
knowing this V His friend emphatically and warmly assented.
"My permission, then, to address her, and my service with
her father and herself to join their permission also, you shall
have, on a condition."
## p. 92 (#120) #############################################
92 THE BOYNE WATER.
Evelyn stood more erect; he had never observed Edmund's
love for Esther, as it was better disguised than his own for
Eva, and the condition he expected to hear named was
having heard much of the efforts of Roman Catholics to make
proselytesthus conveyed in his answer:
"You know I am a Protestant, on conviction, Edmund."
"Yes, and mean nothing to change it."
"And what, then twhat condition 1"
"You have a sister, too, Evelyn."
"Hold you there, now !Is that it?"
"That is it," said Edmund, his rallying tone failing him, as
he blushed deeply.
"Take your condition thena bargain V Once more he
thrust out his hand.
"A bargain," M'Donnell answered; and palm met palm
with so loud a smack, that the slumbering stag-hounds opened
their eyes and pricked up their heavy ears at it.
The earl brought up his huntsmen ; the stag was quartered;
and all turned their horses' heads from the hunting-valley,
the old nobleman reminding the two friends that they were
to share his board on that evening. In a breath, they pro-
tested, however, that it was now impossible for them to have
the honour; that something had just occurred to require their
speedy departure from Glenarm"; something of deep moment.
In fact, they urged, with no appearance of consistency, such fiery
speed, that the earl observed as they spurred from him
"There go two gallants who may be found in the nest, con-
venient glen, with skeins at each other's throats; a brawl
about field-craft, I reckon."
But the friends turned into no glen on the road, till they
had reached Esther's cottage, just as a young moon rose
above the waning twilight. They entered the cottage so'
flushed and agitated*, that their sisters held for a moment
something of the same opinion as that believed by the old
nobleman; but when they sat down to supper laughing and
rallying each other, and when the maidens saw the confident
sparkling of their eyes, as they exchanged glances, or ven-
tured to bestow them elsewhere, Eva, at least, began to
guess the true reason for such excitement. And with the
suspicion, Eva looked as chill and as haughty as could, in
her teens, the little goddess to whom we have once compared
her.
## p. 93 (#121) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 93
This corrected the exuberance of the young men's spirits;
to divert particular thoughts and appearances, Carolan was,
over and over, called on for the music of his harp. He
complied readily, but with unusual silence, if not reserve of
manner. Poor Carolan ! he knew, though he wanted eyes, the
meaning of the scene around him. Strains of young and
hopeful love, Evelyn and Edmund asked for, unconscious of
the agony at the minstrel's heart. But, as has been since better
said, by him whose poetry is a happy, though a late echo of
notes Carolan this evening dwelt on
"Ah, little they think who delight in his strains,
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!"
A seashore walk in the moonlight was proposed, upon an
evening so mild and beautiful, and Carolan asked to join it,
with the strong hope, truth compels us to own, that he would
refuse; but the happy youths need not have done their warm
esteem for Carolan such a violence, as, for the first time, to fear
his consent to be of their party. He did refuse; and the two
sisters and the two brothers rose to take the walk that, ere
its close, was to shape their fates for ever.
As they went out at the door, Carolan could understand
that, with more than usual pertinacity, each sister clung to the
arm of her own brother. He remained alone in his blindness
and his sorrow. His little harp hung neglected at his arm,
and for some time he sat motionless, and, outwardly, not agi-
tated. But it was the boiling up within him of stronger and
worse feelings than he had ever yet experienced, that kept the
young harper outwardly quiet. He saw, in his mind, Eva
relinquishing, after the party had left the house, the arm of
her brother, and taking that of Evelyn; they spoke but briefly,
together : her acknowledgment of love, made to Carolan him-
self, and the spirited candour of her disposition, left Eva no
room to hesitate; she surrendered her hand to Evelyn, his
arm stole, unforbidden, round her waisther neckshe
yielded to her chosen lover the first kiss of assured love.
Carolan started to his feet; he hatedloathed his happy
rival.'
But a better nature soon asserted itself. He sat down again
he touched his harphe wept. Playing softly to himself, he
was found by his friends, on their return from their walk,
## p. 94 (#122) #############################################
94 THE BOYNE WATER.
each with, not the same lady on his arm as when they had
left the cottage. Of this change he also became conscious the
moment they crossed the threshold; and he arose to meet
them, for the first time, without a smile.
"Now," he said, "ye are as happy as any of God's creatures,
this night, and my peace and my blessing be with you"turn-
ing to the door. All asked in surprise or sorrow whither he
was going.
"To be happy, too," he answered, "thinking of the joy of
this house. Give me one cup of wine." He held it in his hand
on the threshold. "As there is a judge to judge me, I drink
this toast from the bottom of my heart. May the joy of love
returned, which you all know, never meet a blight in this
world!" He drained the cup. "And now farewell, and toy
blessing, againI know the road to the village."
"Carolan ! dear Carolan !" cried Eva, catching his arm.
"No, Eva," he said; "I will return ; we shall meet again;
but I cannot stay here to-night. I have done enough, and it
was not easily done, to say what I have said, from the bottom
of heart. God bless you, and him you love!"
She resumed her entreaties for him to stay, and was joined
by Esther and the young men. But Carolan would not be
prevailed on; they saw him turn off from the door; they
stood at the door and watched him moving alone in the moon-
light, along the narrow road. He disappeared, and all sat down,
more soberly than accorded with the new and happy situation
of their hearts.
CHAPTER VIII.
But the sincerest grief for others is gradually, if not very soon,
forgotten in the selfishness of personal joy. The young lovers
quickly lost sight of every thing and person on the earth,
except themselves ; and many delicious months elapsed in the
uncloying enjoyment of walking together over the same scenes,
sitting together in the same places, and repeating and hearing,
over and over, the same vows, protestations, and flattery. By
mere chance they bestowed a little occasional thought on the
## p. 95 (#123) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 95
peculiarity of their relative worldly situations, and the plan
according to which they were ultimately toget married.
And thus was the matter arranged.
In the first place, neither uncle Paul nor his lady was to
be made acquainted with their loves and engagements, until
Evelyn should gain his twenty-first year. Then his own master,
and also, according to his father's will, the guardian of Esther,
a communication might be vouchsafed, and, merely as matter
of form, a consent asked, with slight anxiety as to whether
the little gentleman should applaud or disapprove. It seemed
worth while to secure, however, the approbation of their
nearest relative; and in this view, Evelyn planned to invent
some means of breaking the business to Paul, when he should
be separated from immediate collision with his good lady, and
least in dread of her rebuke. Under such circumstances,
Evelyn did not doubt being able to obtain, merely by a little
plausibility, and the presenting his uncle with a new idea,
a prompt assent to everything he asked. Such permission
reduced to writing, as the nephew resolved should happen,
any subsequent recantations of the party, made under the
influence of threat and terror, would go for nothing. Or even
should he fail altogether in this quarter, Evelyn was sure of
success in another. Should uncle Paul refuse, there was as
good a consent to be had from uncle Jerry. So, the full coun-
tenance of old M'Donnell being already obtained, the lovers
loved on, with scarce a shade of doubt to dim the noontide
brightness of their young hopes and prospects.
Having brought them to this happy state, we own, as nearly
three years are yet to elapse before Evelyn comes of age, that
we must omit a good deal of their raptures. But it is grati-
fying not to be obliged altogether to lose sight for so long a
period of persons in whom, apart from their tiresome love-
making, we feel really interested. With considerable pleasure,
we therefore announce, whatever may have been the feelings of
the parties concerned, that, in about a year, or perhaps more,
after the coming of Evelyn and his sister to Glenariff, he received
such an account of the state of certain properties in the
West Indies, as forced him, in some alarm, to open his eyes to
the world, its base dross, and ungenerous concerns, and finally
to decide on a voyage across the Atlantic.
Here, again, is a pleasing situation for a renewal of lovers'
vows, with, for the first time, the relief of their tears,
## p. 96 (#124) #############################################
96 THE BOYNE WATER.
regrets, and lamentations. But all this we again pass by, or
leave to be supplied by imaginations more tender than Our
own. Supposing Evelyn, therefore, clear of such scenes, we
hurry him, with Edmund as his companion, to the point of
embarkation, over the long and bad road, then lying between
Cushindoll and Belfast, between Belfast and Dublin. And, Ol
the evening of a day early in the year 1687, we find the two
friends entering Dublin on horseback.
Not Dublin of the present day, spreading, almost equally,
north and south of the Anna Liffey (Auin Louffa, "the swift
river,"), with her spacious squares, broad streets, her clusters
of public buildings, her seven beautiful bridges, and her u.
rivalled quays; but Dublin of 1687, a scattering of ill-built
houses, lying nearly on the south side of the river only;
with no buildings of import except its two old cathedrals, its
churches, and its castle, the seat of the Viceroy; with but two
ugly bridges of stone, since, pulled down ; with no squares,
no Stephen's-green, no Sackville-street. One of the finest
piles that now adorn the city, was then "Trinity College,
near Dublin." Finally, Dublin with scarce ten thousand inha.
bitants; for, a census having been taken not twenty years
before, the population amounted to little more than eight
thousand.
The travellers, approaching from the northern road, entered
the city through Church-street and Bridge-street, leaving to
their right a half peopled district, boasting, however, one
church, St. Michael's. They crossed the river at Old Bridge;
and then, by Bridge Gate, got into the outskirts of the only
important part of Dublin. Continuing along High-street, they
passed, at the right hand corner of Skinner's-row, a hand.
some, modern-looking structure, built, indeed, only four year;
before, that is, in 1683, by the corporation of the city, and
called the Tholsel. Here the worthy men held their "courts."
Though every trace of the building has passed away, yet the
proceedings of the loyalists of Skinner's-row, doand 0
their collateral descendants, the aldermen of Skinner's-alley
find some record in the minds of even the present gene.
ration.
While approaching the castle, the friends met a crowd of
men issing from one of its gates, who, as they walked together
in some military order, and wore military uniform, seemed
although now unarmed, to have recently been soldiers, and
## p. 97 (#125) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 97
this presumption was assisted by seeing at their head, or
mixed up with them, many gentlemen in the full attire of
officers of different rank, except that, like the crowd, they
had no arms. While these passed our travellers, they showed,
in the expression of their faces, much discontent, astonishment,
or dejection; or else bitterer and more angry feelings, as they
turned to scowl at a mob of brats and women who walked
by their sides, and saluted them with groans, hisses, and
revilings.
Evelyn and M'Donnell regarded this scene in complete
ignorance of what it meant, until a gentleman, one of a few
in civil costume, who accompanied, as if in condolence, those
who seemed officers, fixed his eyes on Evelyn, saluted him,
and received his salute, and hastily shaking hands with his
companion, advanced to welcome him to Dublin: Evelyn
introduced this individual to Edmund as Mr. Robert Fitz-
gerald, the old friend of his father, and the person on whose
account he had come out of his way to embark at Dublin for
England. Evelyn inquired the meaning of the scene of which
they were spectators, and his new companion answered,
in an emphatic whisper, and while he trembled with agita-
tion:
"You see some of the flower of our loyal Protestant army,
and our only protectors, disbandedstrippedplundered,
by the bigoted Papist, Talbot, and thrust out, unprovided for,
and almost naked, to make room for an army of his own
choosing."
Both the young men expressed their unfeigned astonish-
ment at this explanation. Living in a remote and insulated
district, as, for the last year, they had done, enjoying the idle
dreams of love alone, and voluntary shutting out even the
echoes of the great world, they were completely ignorant of
the political aspect of things, and of the changes that had
taken place in the meantime. They only recollected that,
ere the commencement of their dreamy existence, a new king
had ascended in peace the throne of Great Britain, and in
welcome, too, from all classes and sects of his people. Con-
tinuing at peace themselves, they took it for granted that so
did the world also; that nothing could occur to dash the
national quiet, at first so apparently certain, and, by the way,
so sympathetic with the union of hearts and hands they expe-
rienced and proposed to further amplify. . But here was a
H
## p. 98 (#126) #############################################
98 TftE BOTNE WATER,
stern reality to shake them from their dream; here was a
scene sufficient to kindle anew the most violent flames of
national discord; nay, here was a gentleman describing it
with an energy and agitation characteristic of party-spirit
already roused to its full sensitiveness, on the one side, while
the feelings evinced by the mob indicated an equal vivacity
of the other side.
"Hark to the hootings of the Papist rabble!" Mr. Fitz-
gerald continued" hark to their cur-like triumph over the
disarming and downfall of the only men able and willing
to preserve us from their venom and barbarityfrom plun-
dering, murdering, and exterminationfrom another Forty-
one!"
"What is the meaning of all this V Edmund asked, his
face reddening; and, "When did these changes begin to occur?"
asked Evelyn.
"Not so very lately^norsince you are so astonished at
what you here seeis this all," answered Mr. Fitzgerald.
"But I perceive, buried in the country as you have been, you
require proper information on the true state of thingsso,
come with me to my house, young gentlemena party of
sorrowful friends take supper. with me this eveningcome;
dismount, and let us walk together." Accordingly, the
travellers accompanied to his residence the not uncelebrated
man, who afterwards secured to William III. his good
city of Dublin, the ancestor of Ireland's only duke
Leinster.
A sorrowful party, indeed, and, withal, an indignant one,
surrounded our young friends at supper. Silence prevailed,
almost entirely, during the meal; but when the host had
given, "The King, and better councils to his Majesty !"
and when the servants in attendance had received orders to
go away, they being almost all Roman Catholics, Mr. Fitz-
gerald, addressing himself to Evelyn, resumed the conversa-
tion he had broken off in the street.
"More, much more than what you have seen, remains to
be told, my good young friend "
"But first, if you please," interrupted Evelyn, "why are
the soldiers disbanded?
"
"On a pretence that the rebellion of Monmouth, just put
down in England, has spread to the old militia in this king-
dom, we have received from the King and the English council
## p. 99 (#127) #############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 99
an order to collect in, through the whole country, their arms,
and deposit them in the several stores of each county. I was,
myself, one of the first victims to this order; but our Popish
general-in-chief, Talbot, now, forsooth, Earl of Tyrconnel,
lately applying it according to his own construction, has pro-
ceeded to cashier all officers who have been of the Parliament
army, or of Oliver's army, or the sons of such; Captain Coote,
Sir Oliver St. George, and my Lord Shannon, here, for in-
stance."
"Before the Lord, sir," said the notorious Coote, "more
than two hundred of our most godly have been stripped of
their commissions, and more than five thousand old soldiers
of the Parliament beggared."
"The men even to be deprived of their clothing, and no
equivalent offered for the commissions we had purchased,"
said the needy Irish nobleman.
"While," said Sir Oliver, "the refined cruelties practised
in cold blood, on the unfortunate adherents of the gallant and
royal Monmouth, by the infamous Kirke, in the field, and by
the as infamous Jeffries on the bench, seem to give us a spe-
cimen of what defenceless men are to expept from the
tyrannical spirit of the times."
"Then a new levy of Papists is proposed, I warrant you,"
resumed Fitzgerald.
"The most extraordinary and dangerous act of power we
have yet seen," said the Reverend William King, President
of the Chapter of St. Patrick's, "is the arbitrary dispensing
with the test oaths, by taking of which alone the law had
contemplated the admissibility of any man into any situation
of trust. No greater safeguard had we for our lives and
liberties, as I have shown, at some length, in my reply, 'to
the considerations' that have induced that arch-apostate,
Peter Manby, late Dean of Deny, to conform to the abomina-
tions of the Popish creed."
"No greater safeguard, indeed," remarked Sir Richard
Reynel, ex-Justice of the King's Bench; "since, in consequence
of its being so illegally dispensed with, Alexander Fitten now
sits Lord Chancellor, in the room of a worthy man, and he
an apostate, and convicted of forgery at Chester assizes, and
in Westminster Hall, and afterwards fined as such by the
English House of Lords. While creatures no better than him-
self rule the courts of law under him; such as Sir Bryan
## p. 100 (#128) ############################################
100 THE BOYNE WATER.
O'Neale, in the King's Bench, a man crippled in mind and
body, but of venom and zeal; and elsewhere, that able knave,
Stephen Rice, one who deports himself as if he feared no after-
reckoning, and who has sworn to drive a coach and six
through the acts of settlement."
"But what," asked a stout gentleman, "can equal in
abuse and vexation the dissolving of the charter of the corpo-
ration of this city, first vainly attempted last year, and man-
fully resisted by myself, John Knox, then Lord Mayor, but
now fully effected, whereby professed Papists are admitted to
civic places and honours, power and emolument V
"Nothing can equal it," answered a slim gentleman, who
had once been sheriff-electcalled, indeed, but never chosen
" except it may be the measures that are on foot to return
Popish sheriffs for every county in Ireland."
"What is to be done?" said more than one of the company,
speaking together.
"What, indeed," echoed the reverend President of Chapter,
"when Protestants are thus jostled in all their immunities in
Church and State."
"If it is sought," said Edmund, "to displace all Protes-
tants and Protestant influence, in order to substitute Catho-
lics and Catholic influence, exclusively, let Protestants resist
to the last drop of blood in their veins; but if, after a season
of Protestant monopoly, it is only sought to allow Catholics,
in common with other fellow-subjects, the opportunities ac-
cording to which they may grow, with equal merit or industry,
equally distinguished or independent, then let Protestants
pause before they risk, by a resistance, which, after all, can
spring only from a reaching after continued monopoly, this
peace, happiness, and blood of this miserable country."
"Aye, but M'Donnell," said Evelyn, as all present stared
at his friend, "the violent manner of these proceedings
would seem to make unnecessary the last case you have
put."
"I take as granted," resumed Edmund, "that I have, for
the first time, indeed, heard truly related the manner and
spirit of this Tyrconnel's measures; and I admit that, upon
such a showing, Irish Protestants have cause to fear worse
than equality with their Roman Catholic fellow-subjects. But
even so, I maintain that his measures and their spirit are en-
croachments as well upon the instructions he has received, as
## p. 101 (#129) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER.- 101
upon the real and sincere views of Roman Catholics, in gene-
ral. I say, Evelyn, that neither the King, his master, nor yet
the Roman Catholics of this or the other country, wish to
disturb the established religion of the State, the established
right of property, or the eligibility to civil and political power,
of any sect or party."
"The youth speaks, I think, reasonably," said another
reverend person, one of the same sentiments with those who,
some years after, were, in consequence of their scrupulous
ideas of hereditary right, called in England non-jurors. "The
professions of the new King are to grant liberty of conscience
to his people of every sect; witness the truth of his intentions
in his indulgence to dissenters. And I do agree that we should
pause to distinguish between being deprived of the oppor-
tunity to monopolize, and the freedom to participatebetween
changing places, and only sharing placeswith the hitherto
excluded sect. As to the bigoted fury of Tyrconnel, I again
agree with the young speaker, that no instructions, known to
us, which he has received, warrant him in indulging it; and
here"laying his hand on a public document" here is a
declaration of the Popish lords, Arundel, Powis, and Bellasis,
lately admitted into the royal privy council, saying of him,
'that fellow in Ireland is fool and madman enough to ruin
ten kingdoms.'"
"Dr. Oates charged him with the plot," observed the Rev.
William King; <' and, if the worthy doctor was a bad evi-
dence, he was no false prophet, as the saying is."
"But to the point, reverend brother," urged the last
speaker; "if, after a rebellious attack on his crown by his
bastard nephew, and the old disturbers of royalty, King
James has natural fears of the fealty of such, in this kingdom,
as fought against his father, Charles I., why should we much
wonder at the late military reductions 1 If the test oath be
dispensed with, and, by that means, Papists rendered eligible
to commissions in the army, to places on the bench, in the
civic chair, or in the sheriff's box, are Protestants excluded at
the same time? There are yet officers, soldiers, judges, and
aldermen, of the Established Church, and there may be.
Therefore, I say again, let us consider ere we think of openly
resisting this first act of sovereign power, which seems so
much to fright us all, lest men should say we opposed our
King, not because we were to be deprived of our freedom
## p. 102 (#130) ############################################
102 THE BOYNE WATER.
or our rights, but because we were called on to divide
them."
"Or," rejoined Edmund, "lest such opposition, working
upon the natural passions of a king, who is no more than
man, after all, should provoke him from the reasonable asser-
tion of justice into the rash and angry enforcement of it, and
so, indeed, give ultimate cause for struggle, rancour, and
bloodshed."
"The attempt to dispense with the tests is arbitrary, not
reasonable," resumed the Rev. William King; "parliament
alone could have cancelled the law."
"Your pardon, brother; the example of a number of kings
of England, as far back as Henry III.; the admissions of
many English parliaments; and the opinions of the many
good lawyers, are there at issue with you. So late as James I.,
after a new consultation of judges, it became an established
principle in English jurisprudence, that the king could permit
what was forbidden by statute law. The very House of Com-
mons who compelled from James's father the petition of right,
acknowledged that principle in its fullest extent; none but
the regicide parliament denied it. And after they and their
monstrous acts have been denounced and swept away by the
rallied voice of the nation, we are not surely going to vindi-
cate ourselves by either. Sir Edward Coke, the light of our
Protestant lawyers, has confirmed the privilege of the sove-
reign, adding, that even an act of parliament cannot take it
away. The majority of James's own Protestant counsellors
echo all these opinions; and so, thus the question stands.
Call the privilege, if you will, Unsuited to the genius of the
Constitution. We have unanimously given James a crown,
to which we knew it was immemorially appended; we have
not, beforehand, bargained with him not to use it. We have,
in fact, conferred it on him, along with his crown; his right to
it has, by ourselves, been fully though tacitlyacknowledged. And
is it now fair, in the nature of common justice, to blame him
for accepting and exercising what our own hands have put
into his t Or is it only when its exercise happens to interfere
with our monopoly, that we are to deprive of his ancient right
our lawful sovereign."
"Universal Papistry is the real object in all these wanton
measures," replied the other divine; "the Queen, a violent
Papist, rules the King; Father Petre, the Jesuit, rules her
## p. 103 (#131) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATERi 103
Majesty. And hath he not also been called to the privy
council? i" say, something must be done," the reverend
gentleman added, rising to go away.
"And so say I," echoed Coote, smiling grimly, and tapping
the hilt of his sword.
The company rose with him; and Evelyn and"Edmund were
left alone with their host to arrange the matters, which, ere
Evelyn's voyage over the Atlantic, had brought him to Dub-
lin. This effected, the young men retired for the night,
neither exchanging a word upon the late topic of general dis-
course. They met at breakfast in the morning, they walked
to the vessel in which Evelyn was to embark, still keeping
silence. At last, during the final preparations for em-
barking, Evelyn asked, looking full into the face of his
friend:
"Well, what.think you of this state of things, M'Donnell?
"
"As a Roman Catholic, Evelyn, I must think that the de-
termination of King James to dispense with the illiberal forms
which exclude from all civil and political rank a great portion
of his subjects, is equitable. After the uncontradicted asser-
tions of my reverend seconder, last night* I must believe it is
his privilege so to do; but I also fear, that if now opposed, in
equity and privilege, by proud churchmen and slender poli-
ticians on the one side, while he is equally inflamed and mis-
guided by churchmen as haughty, and politicians as slender,
on the other side, King James may be driven into methods
of enforcing his plain right, or of punishing resistance to it,
such as will, once more, involve these kingdoms in anarchy,
tear asunder the social ties that have just been tenderly
formed, array heart against heartbrother against brother;
and," Edmund continued, as his eyes ran over, "confirm, in
wretchedness and degradation, the wretched and degraded
country you have now the happiness to part from. Farewell!
the boat waits you."
"Farewell, M'Donnell!" They shook hands, and were
separated.
## p. 104 (#132) ############################################
104 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTER IX.
Again we must pass over much time that, we candidly admit,
we are not otherwise able to manage. The sisterly sorrows of
Eva and Esther, at the absence of Evelyn; the efforts of young
M'Donnell to make both forget their loss, and his partial suc-
cess with one, at leastall this the fair reader will still please to
imagine :together with how they spent their time, in read-
ing, walking, music, and edifying conversation. Some general
matters come, however, more immediately under our notice,
and are cognizable by even humble capacities.
Soon after Evelyn's departure, his sister (her health now
well established, though even amid the sunshine of love, and
of her lover's smile, the young lady's spirits wore an unac-
countable melancholy), uncle Paul, his lady, and uncle Jerry,
removed to their house on the banks of Lough Neagh, accom-
panied by Eva, and with the hope of a speedy visit from.
Edmund. He did, indeed, soon join them. Once more, by
the side of that great lakea fresh-water sea, as we believ
it has been calledthe young trio resumed their end-
less walks, and repetitions of the same ideas and feelings.
But, though thus fallen into his old habits of luxurious in-
action, M'Donnell did not, as formerly, shut his ears, or allow
himself to remain indifferent to the occurrence of some things,
and the rumours of others, in the real world. A portion of
his time had, previous to his present visit to Lough Neagh,
been spent at the castle of his cousin, the Earl of Antrim;
and, from that veteran and watchful politician, he could not
fail to be informed of certain changes in opinions and measures,
for which the times were but too remarkable. Nor, when he
arrived among his friends, did Edmund lack continued in-
formation of new events, though, it must be owned, they were
conveyed in a colouring different from that in which matters
had lately been represented to him. Mrs. Evelyn boasted
her female correspondents in London and Deny; ladies
of about her own age, and of something of her turn of
mind, too. So that, by voluminous epistles from the former-
## p. 105 (#133) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 105
mentioned city, she was advised of the speedy approach of
universal Papistry; while, from the latter-mentioned, came
weekly despatches of the same nature, joined to assurances of
a great massacre, by the Papists, of all the Protestants in Ire-
land, to take place, according to the yet vaguely-understood
prophecies of Collum-Kill (half of the name an apt one), some-
time towards the close of the yearday and date not yet
exactly known. But, as zealous men were at work to ascer-
tain both, Mrs. Evelyn might be assured her dear friend would
soon communicate the result.
The best of it was, that only a short time previous to Mrs.
Evelyn's removal from the seashore, an old woman, the nurse
of Edmund, came one day, running as fast as she was able,
pillalooing, and out of breath, and squatted down, on her
knees and heels, before the astonished lady, to beg her pro
tection against a universal murdering of the Roman Catholics,
by the Protestants, then also calculated on with the utmost
certainty. Soon after, Mrs. Evelyn received her first hints
that the matter was to be all the other way. And as the old
woman continued her clamorous suit, many scenes of contra-
diction, and at last of scolding, ensued between them ; each
angry with the charges of the other against her own sect;
each rancorously believing anything bad enough for Papists or
heretics to do ; each certain of the speedy occurrence of
horrors beyond all powers of imagination; and each terribly
frightened, of course. And the whole of this would have
proved amusing, had the questions been exclusively discussed
by individuals such as the old nurse, Mrs. Evelyn, and her
correspondents. But when, for a long time, hordes of the
Roman Catholics of the country, strong, able-bodied fellows,
might be found, night after night, lying out in solitary and
waste places, to escape the great massacre; when documents,
expressive of their fears, were forwarded to England by
persons of the same persuasion, though of rank and education
seemingly sufficient to elevate them out of such vulgar terrors;
and when, very soon after the advices of Mrs. Evelyn's
affectionate friends, men as high and as well educated, on the
Protestant side, were found to countenance and increase the
second popular panic, what, under such circumstances, shall
be said of human nature? One may laugh at the visions and
terrors of an old lady or an old woman, hut not so at the in-
discriminate absurdity which thus enfeebles the minds of
## p. 106 (#134) ############################################
106 THE BOYNE WATER.
rational people, and causelessly excites the active rancour of
a divided people.
More than one letter came, of course, from Evelyn, to con-
sole his sister and her friend for his absence, as well as to give
accounts of the favourable progress of his affairs. A third or
fourth arrived, accompanied by one for uncle Paul and another
for uncle Jerry. Evelyn was of age, and coming home; and
his epistle to Eva was to urge the naming of a day, within a
week after the time it would take him to get home, for their
union. Those to his uncles communicated the state of his
affections, and asked their consent. The epistle for uncle
Paul came enclosed to uncle Jerry, with a request to the latter
uncle to hand it, in private, to the former, and procure a
written consent, as Evelyn had before planned, ere Mrs.
Evelyn should see it. Merry Jerry readily obeyed his in-
structions; and setting to work with a tact one would not
suppose him capable of, soon got Paul to write, in answer, a
full permission, yea, blessing, for the nuptials of his dear
nephew. After this, the young party, accompanied by the
conseious Jerry, set out upon a long excursion, leaving the
house in possession of Paul and his lady; and when they re-
turned, Paul was sitting in a corner, looking (Jerry whis-
pered) as if he had been whipped, and Mrs. Evelyn busy, with
closed lips, which she did not open to salute her niece or
their friends, in making violent preparations for a journey to
Derry, early on the next morning.
"Powder-room on fire! up we go in the hoisting of a gib!"
said Jerry to Edmund, as they entered after the young ladies;
and, indeed, as soon as his sister-in-law saw him, she gave a
preparatory fizz.
"Youletmehavethat^paperbrotherJerry,"
she said, tugging hard, between every word, at a trunk she
was cording.
"What paper, sister Janet," he asked, very simply.
"No matterI need not describe it; thou knowest well
the paper I mean."
"Bless my limbs, how could I know, Janet?"
"Give me directly," she resumed, letting go the trunk,
which then tumbled off the chair, flew open, and afforded vent
to a bundle of hard-crammed things, among which were many
bottles, small and great, green and transparent, that the fall
reduced into shivers, while their various contents splashed
## p. 107 (#135) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 107
over the floor" Give toe directly, I say," fully ignited by the
accident, "the letter you forced Mr. Evelyn to write to his
base nephew."
"I would if I could, sister; but it has gone long ago for the
post"though Jerry well knew he was to keep it till Evelyn's
arrival, and so had never sent it for the post. "Lend a
hand," he continued to Edmund, in a whisper, "if she boards
me on a search."
"Thou wilt not?" resumed the lady, approaching.
"Why, look you, sister, I cannot," getting Edmund between
him and his relative.
"Then beg and starve!" Mrs. Evelyn went on; " for a foot
inside my door thou shalt never set. My bread thou shalt
never eat, my cup never drink again. Too long hast thou done
so, in idleness, and worse, in beastly drunkenness."
"Merry I was, sister, doubtless."
"After thy life of sea-roving and sea-robbing, and, mayhap,
something elseaye, home you came to fatten, lazily, on the
hard earnings of honest folk. But, take my warning, never
let me see thy face at my door!"
"Poor I was, poor I am, sister Janet, and poor I shall be,
but hearty; poor on the sea, on land, in your house, and in
others, but hearty still. And though you discharge me, some
other will want a hand, and so, hearty still and still; or, let
the whole fleet say me nay, hearty, hearty for ever!that's
Jerry's word!"
"As to thee, madam niece," Mrs. Evelyn rejoined, not
deigning to take further notice of him, "no use, I suppose, in
asking thee to join your natural protectors early to-morrow
morning.
"I am in my brother's house, madam; and, till he comes
home, will have the protection of my uncle Jeremiah."
"Will you?" interrupted Jerry, running to salute her.
"Hearty and merry, then, we will be! Let her go !"-in a
confidential whisper.
"I see how it is, lady niece; this is not to end in the
introduction of one beggarly Papist, alone, into the family,"
scowling at Edmund. "But do, do have themhave them
both; and look well to your throats, afterwards, at the end
of the year. As to me," she continued, clasping her hands,
glancing upward, and ending in the pathetic" as for me and
my husband, and the other good and unhappy Protestants of
## p. 108 (#136) ############################################
108 THE BOYNE WATER.
this afflicted land, the merciful Providence that has ever
shielded us, will not now see us perishcome, Paul!" She
rushed out of the apartment, and obedient Paul, pattering
rapidly on his little legs and cane, followed her.
Mrs. Evelyn kept her word. Next morning, at daybreak,
she departed for Deny city. A few days after, Edmund also
undertook a journey to Carrickfergus, to meet Evelyn on his
landing, as his letter intimated that he should embark from
an English port, for that town. The lady of the Earl of
Antrim had some time been expecting a visit* from the
two sisters, and previous to Edmund's departure, it was
arranged that they should go, during his absence, to Glenarm
Castle.
Accordingly he accompanied them thither; and afterwards
spent, under his father's roof, the night previous to his
intended setting out for Carrickfergus. The next morning
his dumb uncle aroused him with looks and a manner of
unusual energy. Edmund, arising quickly, collected from his
signs that his favourite roadster had been stolen, overnight,
from the field in which it usually grazed; and all around him.
concurred in attributing the theft to "The Tories," or "The
Rapparees," names used in commonthough one of them has
since become the honorable appellation of honorable men
to describe the bands of freebooters who were then beginning
to be heard of in Ireland.
"An' it's them that lifted hur horse," added some that
could attempt English, " wid Rory-na-chopple" (Rory of the
horses) "at their head, if he's alive to do it. For, barrin him,
an' we that the baste knows, no man in the north could lay
hands on wild Pawdhrick, hur honour's own coult."
This accident was provoking at such a time; Edmund had
no second horse half so well able for a rapid journey over very
bad roads; yet, as delay was out of the question, he resolved
to do the best he could. So, procuring but an indifferent
animal, and accompanied by his dumb uncle and Oliver, both
equally anxious at once to protect him from the Tories, and
to welcome Evelyn home, M'Donnell bent his way to Car-
rickfergus.
With much difficulty he urged on his feeble and ill-paced
steed to within the last stage of Carrickfergus; and there it
dropped, exhausted and in convulsions, under him, on a wild
roadside, out of view of any house at which he might hope
## p. 109 (#137) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 109
to borrow or purchase another. Casting his eyes impatiently
around, he saw, however, a handsome and well-limbed colt
grazing in a field, near the road. Farther on, and on a
rising ground, stood a man, as if observing Edmund's acci-
dent, who, he hoped, might be its master. To this man he,
therefore, moved, with' his companions. His calculations
proved correct; the peasant was, or said he was, proprietor of
the young horsewilling to part with him. A bargain was
soon concluded.
"It's the only bother you'll have is to ketch him," observed
the man, when he had put up the purchase-money, and speak-
ing a southern patois; "when he's in the field, he's the devil
entirely in regard o' that."
"But, supposing him caught, can I ride him, my good
fellow %has he ever been crossed V inquired Edmund, who,
in his eagerness to obtain the horse, had asked few questions
as to his qualifications.
"Musha, to be sure he has, many's the odd time; and
never the much he's the better o' that same."
"No matter," resumed Edmund, who complimented himself
on much skill in the management of horse-flesh; "I'll catch
him, and tame him too."
He bounded into the field after the colt. At his first
appearance, the animal threw up his head, snorted, and gave
one or two wheels round about; when Edmund approached
nearer, he kicked up his heels, and galloped buoyantly, and as
if in mockery, across the meadow. His pursuer, changing
his plan, stopped some time, and then slowly advanced again,
holding out his cap, and using his softest tones of entreaty;
but all to no use ; the colt either waited until he was about to
come too near, and then resumed his race, or else did not let
Edmund within forty yards of him.
"Curse you, then," M'Donnell cried, standing to look, near
the roadside, at the mad pranks of the horse he had pur-
chased, but could not catch" curse you for a wild devil;
the only coltexcept my own that I have lostI could not
lay hands on at the first offer. He is like Pawdrick, too, in
make, though so different in colour."
"It minds me," said Oliver, condescending to mirth, "of
the auld receipt to make hare-soup, beginning thusfirst catch
the hare."
"I'll try him again," said Edmund.
## p. 110 (#138) ############################################
110 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Little's the use to go about it that a-way," observed a man,
a traveller, but a pedestrian, who, advancing in the direction
our friends had come, now halted at the almost unfenced edge
of the field that bordered on the road.
"And in what way, then, friend V M'Donnell asked, turn-
ing to the speaker, whose first appearance instantly attracted
his attention. The man was of middle age, barefooted and
barelegged, and bareheaded too, his profuse and matted black
hair seemingly encouraged in its growth to do away with the
superfluity of a hat; his neck had a strange twist in it; his
body stooped a little from the hips; his nether limbs were
crooked and ill-jointed, so that when he walked his gait
appeared half-shuffling, half-hobbling; and his face, of a.
tanned, tawny colour, showed small black pig-eyes, crow-
footed and wrinkled all round, and a mouth ever smiling, oi
simpering rather, of which the elevating muscles of the upper
lip, that ran down from the nose, were, from constant use,
strongly marked. The old coat and inexpressibles he wore,
seemed of southern fashion and colour; and at his heels trotted
a little boy, bareheaded and barefooted also, attending on him
with something of the air of a young sweep of the present day
pattering after his overgrown director.
"I could soon show you, genteel, in what way," this master
resumed, answering Edmund's question, " only it's my thrade,
afther a manner, an' I lives by it."
"And that's the very reason, I should suppose, why you
ought to show me instantly, instead of being a cause for your
objection, friend."
"Thrue for you!" simpering, and shuffling a step forward,
"barrin it war in regard o' the thrifle o' lucre, that the neigh-
bours, God bless 'em, gi' me the fashion o' lookin' for."
"Oh, is that all? Catch the colt, then, and depend on being
paid for your trouble."
"No throuble in life," taking a step into the field; " bud,"
stopping again, "maybe, genteel, you'd as lieve throw it to
us aforehand, jest to save time, and see the coult well-
cotched?
"
"My good fellow," said Edmund, beginning to suspect his
inan, "no colt, no pay; so, set to work, or go about your
business."
"Musha, haw urn saustha; sure it's all as one as the same
thing," the man resumed, not a whit out of humour. He
## p. 111 (#139) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. - 111
moved towards the young horse, crying out, or rather sim-
pering:
"Phree-a, phree-a, go-aun-sugh, go-aun-mgh, brommaheen dhuiv"
(come here, come here, young black horse). The colt
stopped, and gazed wistfully on the stranger, who, not advanc-
ing more than midway in the field, stood still, contenting
himself with merely beckoning to the animal. M'Donnell,
to his perfect amazement, saw the colt walk towards this con-
juror, and submit his head to his grasp. Both came together
to the unfenced roadside, and there halted.
"Fon lath, forl lath"continued the captor; forl lath, a-vich"
(stand there, stand there, my son). The horse remained
quiet as a lamb. /
"Well caught, indeed," said Edmund, giving the man some
money ; "but how have you done it?"
"Nothin' asier in life," putting up his fee, and still simper-
ing very innocently; "only it's jest a little bit of a sacret, that
I had from the father afore me, an' 'ill leave to this son that
is to come afther me "pointing to the boy" an' no one else,
plaise God. But I may as well tell you, genteel, some of it.
Sure I give 'em a whisper, that they hears acrass the field, an'
nobody else can; an' then they'd come to me, two fields afif,
an' folly me, the world over, out of a likin' they takes to me,
or a thing o' the kind. Look at them, now," he continued,
pointing to the rudely-fenced extremities of the field, over
which more than one horse had, indeed, thrust their heads,
while others actually cleared the fence, and seemed well
inclined to approach the stranger.
"And from whom did your father get the secret V
"Why, then, I jest may's well tell you that, too, genteel,
while the man is liftin' the saddle from the one baste, to put
it on the other. The father that God ga' me follied the
thrade o' making o' shoes for horses' feet, an' had a bit of a
forge, you see, on the borders o' the bog of Allen, where
people frum all parts used to cum to get their bastes shoed;
an' a good hand at his trade my father war, only one thing
gave him the laste bit o' tSrouble in the world, an' that was
shoin' o' young wild coults for the first time, cratures that
never afore could tell a shoe from the horn o' their hoofs
an' for the same raison didn't like it, an' wouldn't stand
steady. Well, a-roon; one day that he had a raal mad coult
in his hands, my father couldn't dhrive a nail, nor put on the
## p. 112 (#140) ############################################
112 > THE BOYNE WATER.
shoe, at-all-at-all, an' the coult broke loose from him, in the
long run, an' galloped into the bog, lavin' him standin' at the
forge-dour, wid his hommer in his hand, as bothered as a
bee in a fallow-field.* Upon that, up comes a lame throoper
wid a pale face, that said he was on the road home from the
wars. It happened in ould Noll's time (what ails the genteel
by the side o' you?) an' he axed for a dhrink o' wather.
'Wather I wont gi' you, bud milk I will,' my father made
answer, pityin' the lame throoper's case, bothered as he was;
so they turned into the forge, an' he made the throoper
sit down an' dhrink the good milk. 'Well,' the throoper
said, after a rest, 'it rises my heart eq'l to red wine; an' for
your charity to the thraveller that cum lame and tired to
your dour this day, I'll tell you how to ketch the coult
that broke frum you afore I came in sight o' the place.'
"' An' how did you know it at all, thin? my father axed.
'Never mind that,' says the throoper; 'onlylisten tome well'
Wid that, young genteel, he said in my father's ear some
words, biddin' him to whisper them acrass the field, an' the
horse 'ud come, if the divil itsilf war in him, to his hand. An'
agin he whispered more words, that whin they'd be whispered
in like manner in a horse's ear, let him be ould or young, or
to be crossed or shoed, 'ud bring him to raison, an' make him
stand like a lamb, so that a child might rise his leg, or mount
him. An', sure enough, when my father went into the bog, an'
whispered the first words to the coult, he came to him like a
little dog; an' when he said the second words in his ear, at
the forge-dour, he stood like a child for a whippin'. An' ever
afther, my fatherGod rest him!had no bother in his thrade;
an' people called him the Whispherer from that day out, the
same they calls mysef at the present time. Only, whin my
father cum back to the forge to give the sick throoper thanks,
sure he was gone, an' no sight of him on the road, for miles
about, an' no one hard of him sence; or before I'm thinkin',
barrin' himsef, an' whosomever sent him."
"Stand! stand, there!" now interrupted Edmund, roaring
at the colt, which, at last bridled*and saddled, refused to let
himself be mounted. His new master once or twice strove
* I.e. Out of his element, or not knowing what to do; as the bee in
a fallow-field flies from one clod to another, and has his labour for his
painsno honey to be got.
## p. 113 (#141) ############################################
THE BOTNE WATER. 113
to vault suddenly on his back, but the excessive bounding
and prancing of the spirited young animal baffled him.
"Talkin' so loud isn't the way, neither," said the Whisperer;
"jest let mysef spake to him agin."
As he hobbled forward, the colt became quieter; suffered
him to catch his ear and lower his head; and the man seemed
about to put his lips to the ear, when he stopped suddenly,
and, turning to M'Donnell, resumed: "You'll remember, gen-
teel, it's another branch o' the thrade V
"There, there," throwing more money on the road, and
impatient of losing time" get me on his back, and go to the
devil."
"We thank you kindly, genteel," looking after the second
fee. "Stoop a bit, ma bouchal, an' pick up what God sends."
The urchin accordingly gathered the money from the road,
while his father applied himself to the colt's ear. No one
heard his whisper, if whisper it was; but, in a moment, the
animal stood stock-still, his tail turned between his legs, and
his whole frame trembling.
"There now; get up: an' the Lord speed your open hand
on the road !" added the Whisperer.
Edmund accordingly mounted at his ease, and set forward
to Carrickfergus, with his friends; his new purchase quite
manageable, though still spirited. When some distance from
the Whisperer, he turned in his saddle to have another look
at a person so gifted, and he thought he perceived him and
the man with whom he had dealt for the horse, laughing and
chuckling, in a knowing way, together; but in a few minutes
he looked again, and the Whisperer had parted from the
peasant, and was rapidly shuffling on after the travellers,
followed, at a quick trot, by the- little boy. An angle
of the road soon hid him altogether from Edmund;
and the party reached Carrickfergus without further sight of
him.
It was on a chill, dark evening, early in the October of
1688, that they entered the town. The streets were filled with
groups of people, talking earnestly together; their brows and
faces as gloomy and ominous as the evening; and their voices
not rising high enough to give even the relief of clatter to the
scene. These, Edmund could perceive, by their dress and
air, to be the Protestant inhabitants. Passing "the Queene's
Majestie's castell," the party got into the place where markets
I
## p. 114 (#142) ############################################
114 THE BOYNE WATER.
were holden; and here was another crowd, of a different
kind. It had been a market-day; and the peasantry that,
from an extensive vicinity, all round, had attended the mar-
ket, joined to such of the townspeople as were of the Catholic
persuasion, clustered about a young man, who, wearing a
sword and periwig, along with what otherwise seemed a
clerical costume, harangued them from a turf-car.
His discourse was, at once, vague and alarming. He spoke
to them of a time that was past, and a time that was coming;
of the pouring out of certain of the seven vials, of the righteous-
ness of self-defence, and the moral and religious necessity to
anticipate, under terror of the loss of life, and of injury to
God's Church, retaliation by attack. He put the people on
their guard against false preachersfirebrands of heresy and
destruction, who were travelling about to kindle, among their
enemies, the flame that would roar to devour them; and he
particularly named a heretic minister, named George Walker,
called rector of Donoughmore, in the county of Tyrone, who
was distinguished for devilish zeal against the Catholic reli-
gion. Then, changing his theme, with some address, the
young man warned them that they were not, in such a dan-
gerous situation, to wait for the cold and tardy command of
rulers, lukewarm and hard-hearted to the voice of a suffering
people, and the groans of a persecuted religion; that if such
rulers did not discharge their functions, he would turn from
them to the people who always attended to the counsel of
their clergy. He concluded by this remarkable illustration:
that as God abandoned Saul in his lukewarmness, and for
his treatment of the Amalekites took his kingdom from him,
and ruined his family; as certainly would He punish all who
should be guilty of a similar disobedience; adding, that as, at
that time, the people were commanded to take all their direc-
tions from Samuel, as from God, so, under a like dispensation,
would the people of the present day be obliged, at peril of
their souls, to listen to the bidding of their pastors.
"Good heaven!" cried Edmund, almost unconsciously, as
the preacher ended" what can this warning mean?"
"It means," answered a person by his side, "that this evil
man, a Papist minister, not satisfied with even the gallop at
which his master hastens to his ruin, when he but thinks to
compass ours, would rouse up the brutal bigotry of his sect,
to crush him and us togetherUs, in deep-rooted hatred,
## p. 115 (#143) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 115
him, in impatience and wrath. This is O'Haggerty, the
Dominican friar, the plague and danger of the north."
The preacher just then passed them, bending on M'Don-
nell a fixed and peculiar regard. In him Edmund saw, indeed,
the same person who had met Evelyn, his sister, and their
friends, outside Carrickfergus, as mentioned at the opening
of this story; though his face and manner were much changed
by the periwig and half-military dress and air he had lately
adopted.
"Observe the previous effects of this accurst ministry on
the crowd he has been addressing; seealmost every man
and lad is armed with the skein, or the half-pike, or with
both," continued the stranger. And M'Donnell could not
fail to notice that the people were, indeed, armed as had been
pointed out; he also recollected that, for some time before,
the peasantry in his own neighbourhood generally carried
weapons of the same description.
"God defend us from either of the results this rash man
would aim at, sir !" M'Donnell involuntarily said.
The individual (also mounted) looked at him quickly, and
as if somewhat surprised and startled. Then touching his hat,
and keeping his cloak tight about him, he rode slowly down
the street.
A stir towards the end of the street that approached the
quay-wall, drew the notice of M'Donnell and his friends.
Hastening thither, they were told a ship had just appeared
in view, steering for the bay. In much interest and anxiety,
Edmund looked over the ocean; but, to his eyes, all was one
blank mass of water, mist, and heavy clouds. A man handed
him a telescope, with which he had, himself, spied the vessel,
and M'Donnell could then discover the shadowy form of a
ship, emerging, like a pale sea-spectre, through the fog and
drizzling rain of the cheerless evening.
"She's nearer than you think, too," the man said; "the
haze hides her. In a short time you will see her cast anchor."
It was even as the experienced old fisher said. Scarce ten
minutes had elapsed when the vessel became visible to the
naked eye; in ten more, her motion was observable, as she
strove hard with a rough sea, and an ebb tide; another pause,
and her crew and passengers appeared grouped on her deck,
and she could be seen hoisting a flag, in honour of the royal
standard that floated over the old fortress. Yet anotherand
## p. 116 (#144) ############################################
116 THE BOYNE WATER.
amid the faces that silently turned to shore, M'Donnell gazed
with a beating heart to try if he could discover the face of his
friendof the brother of his Esther. Even at too great a dis-
tance he selected one, and kept his eyes riveted upon it; the
vessel hove nearer and nearerhe became more and more
certain; nearer stilland it was the face of that friend, unseen
for nearly two years, and coming to him, over the ocean, from
a burning sun and a strange people.
The friends recognised each other at the same moment,
and together waved their hats to each other. M'Donnell
cheered; even Oliver chimed in; the people around, strangers
as they were, caught up the joyous shout; it was sent back
from the vessel, now just at anchor; there was a bustle, a
confused noise of voices, and a crowding around the pier;
and, in another moment, the friends had clasped hands.
After a necessary pause, the party, with their newly-found
visitor, hastened to seek refreshment in the only inn, or
public, the town afforded. It was a thatched house, con-
taining, for the purpose of sitting, and eating, and drinking^
of all comers, but one large apartment, badly-ceiled, earthen-
floored, white-washed, and with three or four deal tables, at
each side of the fire-place, or at its different ends, flanked by
long deal forms.
A man with a wooden leg, a military cocked hat, a red
coat, and his remaining leg decked out with a clean white
stocking, a well-brushed shoe, and a bright buckle, first
attempted, as master of the house, to show them into this
room. He was shoved aside by a fresh-faced, portly woman
of forty, his spouse, who, smoothing down her apron,
seemed to think herself most worthy of doing the honours of -
her tavern. They had a few words, indeed, on the point,
before he yielded, from which it was evident that the husband
was an Englishman, corrupted by the Scottish accent around
him, and the wife a native Irishwoman, attempting to speak
his language; but at last her emphatic" Yield, Brass!will
ye yield, mon?" quite prevailed, and our friends gained
admission.
All the tables, with one exception, were filled by different
companies. At the one end of the room sat a number of
peasantry, some of those we have already seen in the market-
place, collected in twos and threes, from distant parts of the
surrounding counties, which had once been wholly populated
## p. 117 (#145) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER.' 117
by people of their caste and religion. At the other, an almost
equal number of townspeople, manufacturers, and fishers:
round the table, to the right of the hearth, were half a
dozen soldiers of the garrison. The peasants talked loudly,
in Irish; the townspeople as much, but in a lower tone ; the
soldiers said nothing. But all were employed in one common
occupationthat is, the drinking of strong ale.
Evelyn, Edmund, Oliver, and Con M'Donnell, took posses-
sion of the spare tables. Such a dinner as the house could
afford was laid before them; and such as it was, all ate
heartily. It was removed, and replaced by good liquor of
various kinds; and Evelyn and Edmund at last had time to
ask and give much information about home, and all at home.
Both then wished to exchange opinions on another topic, but
their situation, amongst such a crowd of people, and finally,
a toast proposed, in a cup of ale, by one of the peasants, with
its consequences, prevented them.
"Rhia Shamus Abo!" cried the man, rising his cup, and
addressing himself to the whole room. None but his own
party took notice.
"King Shamus !" repeated another, translating his friend's
Irish, and also looking round, as if he called on every one to
pledge him.
"King James !" said the soldiers, quietly, and as matter of
course.
"King James !" echoed the townspeople, whispering some-
thing, perhaps an addenda, to each other; and, "King James!"
our party also repeated; Oliver, however, moving his lips,
ere the cup touched them, and looking expressively at the
natives of the place.
"Fat is doing hur tamned thief at ta hearth? " asked the
second peasant who had spoken, " will hur dhrink nein Rhia
Shamus V
"Yoursef is discoorsin' mysef," answered the "Whisperer,
who, hitherto unnoticed by our friends, had edged himself,
on the end of one of the forms occupied by the soldiers, near
to the fire, his little son sitting at his feet; "but you can jest
spake plainer, in the English or the Irish, whichever you
like, an' then we'll know what is it you mane."
"You are required," said Edmund, wishing to anticipate an
angry rejoinder from the offended linguist, "to drink King
James's health."
## p. 118 (#146) ############################################
118 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Avoch, is that all 1 Musha, here's his health, wid a heart
an' a half, an' good loock to him; an' more loock nor some that
dhrank it afore had on their lips or in their hearts for him,
maybe."
"Curp-an-duoul /" cried the peasant, appropriating this
inuendo, "fat will hur say V He rose very angrily.
"Asy now, a-vich!" the Whisperer answered, "how do you
know I was spakin' to you, at-all-at-all 1 Sure there's more
people in the world nor yoursef, an' them that's along wid
you; tho' it's far an' near a body might thravel, of a summer's
day, an' not meet sich a clane set o' boys, an' you at their
headSha-dhurth." He nodded smilingly, and again drank.
"Sha-dhurth a-bouchal," replied the peasant, others joining
him, while almost all held out their pottle-pots that the
Whisperer might drink of their liquor. No ways tardy was
he in accepting the courtesy.
"Yon's meaning our company," observed one of the
townspeople, aloud; " and he mocks us before the Irish-folk."
"He is one o' them, his ain sel," said Oliver.
"Do ye speer ony thing at us, monl" inquired many
voices.
"Shpeer 1 what 'ud that be, genteels V said the Whisperer,
smiling simply, as they scowled at him.
"Have you meant to accuse any of these gentlemen of
hidden disloyalty to King James?" Edmund again asked, still
for peace sake.
"Me! them good gintlemin! Musha, 'ud I be mad, or
cracked, to do any sich thing 1Civil, dacent people, like 'em,
that minds their callin', an' owes no ill-will to any body. My
sarvice to you, genteels!"
"Aweel; health til you, lad; and what for no taste of our
pint-stoup ?" they answered.
"Never a know myself knows, then;" and, dragging his ill-
framed limbs across the room, he took a long draught out of
the proffered pint.
"Hark ye, good fellow!" said one of the soldiers, intercept-
ing him on his return to the ingle-corner, "hast anything to
say to us?"
"To be sure I have, then, and why wouldn't 11 Hearty
good wishes every day ye get up, an' my blessin' over an'
over, on the sodgers that keeps all in pace an' quietness, out
o' love an' likin' for King JamesGod look down on him!" .
## p. 119 (#147) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 119
"A simple-witted fellow," said the soldier to his compa-
nions. "Here, then, let's be friends, man;" and they, too,
shoved him a cup of ale, of which he did not drink sparingly.
The soldiers then called their reckoning, paid it, and went away.
"Good loock to them, I say agin," the Whisperer continued,
as he resumed his seat, "for it's them that won't let poor
bosthoons like us have it all our own way," glancing at the
peasants, while he looked his meaning elsewhere.
"Fat will hur mane, now?" said their spokesman, once more
rising wrathfully.
"Sure you knows, whatever a poor boy like me manes, he
doesn't mane ye," winking at them. They broke into a loud
roar of assent, and some rose to clasp his hand, and give him
more ale, gratis.
"No more nor the genteels fornent ye," he went on, seeing
the other table look threatening. '! Sure none o' them is auld
enough to remember Black Noll, any way, that came to kill
us all for the risin' we had out o' the love for King James's
father. An' so, none o' them 'ud want to kill us all, now, over
again, for likin' his father's son."
"I remember my righteous namesake, weel," said Oliver;
"and I remember other things, before his time in this land.
I remember the Forty-one."
"Why, then, your memory is nothin' to brag of, a-vich,"
observed the Whisperer, still simperingly.
"And our forbears remember it too," added the towns-
people.
"That's no fault o' your own, genteels," he replied.
"But is it mine, if I do V asked Oliver.
"Troth, an it's yoursef knows that best, a-bouchal ma-
chree; sure no one minds what a poor boy like me says; one
that was burnt wid the frost, the last hard year, an' has no
sense. Onlybad loock, seed, breed, an' generation, to the
bloody dogs o' the Forty-one."
"Thou hast said it," exclaimed Oliver, sternly, and half-
unsheathing a horseman's old sword as he rose. The towns-
people rose with him; and the peasants started up at the
other end of the room.
"Pullaloo !" cried the Whisperer, the only unruffled person
in company, "do you ever ax yoursef what you're goin' to
do, aforehand 1 A word in your ear, gossip;" Oliver was now
near enough to stoop down, still on- his guard, and comply
## p. 120 (#148) ############################################
120 THE BOYNE WATER.
.with this invitation. "Jest raison a-bit, an' thry in your own
mind what bloody dogs I mane:" the rest was a very close
whisper.
"Say'st thou ?" again asked Oliver.
"Arrah, to be sure I do, There, now, sit down again
wid the genteels; an', stayyou an' mysef didn't dhrink a
drop yetheretaste this. Musha, bad end to it, but it's
afther makin' itsef empty!"
"Nathless shalt thou drink with me," said Oliver; and he
brought from the table his own liquor, of which the Whisperer
did not spare a mouthful.
"The chield can whisper to a purpose," resumed some of the
townspeople.
"The man hath spoken words of plain sense," said Oliver,
"whilk sufficed to quiet me. He hath declared that he meant,
by his denouncing of the bloody dogs of the Forty-one, neither
me, nor those of my persuasion."
"Musha, did I, gossip?" resumed the "Whisperer, now re-
moved from the hearth to a seat among the peasants ; "maybe
it's jokin' you'd be; or maybe it's the burnin' I got in the frost
that bid me say it. An' maybe, agin, it's the same thing bids
me say nowill-end, kith and kin, root an' branch, to the
murtherin' villains of the Gobbins Heughs."
"Ha!" cried Oliver, starting to his feet, fully unsheathing
his sword, and aiming a furious slash at the Whisperer. One
of the peasants took it on a half-pike, and all sprung up, with
other half-pikes, or rude skeins, in their hands. At the same
moment, the townspeople rushed to support Noll, some of
them showing pistols, hitherto concealed, some seizing the
pewter vessels. A man of a superior air to the rest, whom
our party did not before notice, but whom Edmund recognised
as the person that spoke to him in the street, after the friar's
sermon, put himself at their head, and also presenting a pistol,
cried
"Down with the cruel Papists! down with them!" Just
then the door flew open, and in ran, followed by the host and
hostess, Friar O'Haggerty himself. He, too, drawing his
sword, assumed command of the peasants, encouraging then!
with
"Defend yourselves, Catholics, against the cruel heretics!"
"Peace! peace !" cried the landlord and landlady.
"Peace ! peace !" echoed Edmund and Evelyn.
## p. 121 (#149) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 121
The dumb man bounded at Oliver's throat, like a mastiff,
instantly got him down, and wrenched the sword from his
hand. Yet other weapons clashed, and more than one shot
was fired, when two new peacemakers entered; one, old
Priest M'Donnell, of Cushindoll, another a tall, spare man, of
very primitive dress, manner, and appearance. The former,
shaking more violently than ever, seized O'Haggerty's hands
he could reach no higher; the other confronted the leader of
the townspeople.
"I entreatI command you, sir!" cried the old priest;
"obey me, as you are bound to dosheath your sword."
Then addressing the peasants in Irish, he similarly exhorted
and commanded them.
"Art thou a Christian V demanded the second peacemaker
of the other leader" dost thou believe in the word as the
message of peace and good-will to all 1 and yet wilt thou
urge on these poor sinful people to do murder V
"Peace, I say ! in the name of the God, peace !" resumed
Priest M'Donnell" and if the speaking of that name brings
no reason to thy mindtremble, man, tremble!"
While these efforts were made, the other unembroiled
persons of the company were not idle; and in a short time
hostilities really ceased: the only persons who kept up a skir-
mish being the landlord and landlady; but as it was between
themselves, it seemed of little moment, except for our notice.
Protestant and Catholic as they were, their endeavours to
make peace consisted in rather violent assaults upon the parties
they liked least in the room; and this soon bringing them
in contact, ended in an assault upon each other. So that, when
every one else was quiet, they were found scrambling in a
remote and clear corner; the hostess, as was, indeed, usually
the case in such domestic accidents, having got her good man
on his back, by tugging the wooden leg from under him; and
she now held it tight, in a line perpendicular to his body, as
she asked" Wullye yield, Brass V
"No, by G; I'll doy mon-like," he answered.
Her eyes flashed, and her face reddened with some hideous
resolve, as she put both hands to the wooden stump; but ere
she could carry anything into effect, Edmund ran to her; and
finally, Con M'Donnell whipt her up in his arms, carried her
out of the room, and returned with a key in his hand, which
he presented to the landlord. At the repeated exhortations
## p. 122 (#150) ############################################
122 THE BOYNE WATER.
of Father M'Donnell, the peasants retired; after them, under
guidance of the tall, spare man, the townspeople. But when
the room was so far cleared, the old priest was seen to gaze in
consternation at the causer of the whole disturbancethe
Whisperer, who stood sheltered, by the projection of the
chimney, from all harm, his little boy held in his arms, and.
simpering, like a fiend, amid the riot he had called up.
"Sirs!" cried the old man, continuing his agitated look
"see ye that tdo spectres truly come amongst us V
"You gaze but at flesh and blood, sir," said Edmund
"we know this man."
"Threu enough," said the Whisperer.
"It is yourself, then, Rory-na-chopple?" continued the priest.
"Every inch o' me, plase your reverance."
All, except Evelyn, who had not heard of him, started at
the announcement of this famous Rapparee.
"Good sirs!" continued the old man, "as I am to be
judged, I confessed that fellow at the gallows'-foot, and saw
him swinging on it. Look at the twist in his neck!"
"I'll never deny their threatenin' the life of an innocent
poor boy," said Rory, "that, afther all, the Lord wouldn't let
'em takefor a raison I knows. For when they cut me
down, an' giv' the corpse to my people, the life was still wid
me, an' I was soon brought to; barrin' this same crooked
turn in the neck, that your reverance spakes of, an' that
didn't hurt the bone, tho' they thried their best. An' it's as
far from me to deny the good confessin' your reverance gave
me; the best I ever got in my born days, anyhow, an' all
for nothin'. God reward them that threw it in my way! it's
all the harum I wish 'em. So your reverance sees it done me
good. An' more nor that, sure; consitherin' the mighty holy
life I lade ever sence; an am larnin' my poor dawny crature
of a child, here; poor CahierRory's own darlin'."
"Well I know the life you lead, and are bringing him up
to, wretched man," resumed Father M'Donnell. "Your feelings
at the gallows'-tree assure me of that: if, indeed, he is your
own child, and not one of your 'prentices."
"My own he is, your reverance, to the backbone; an',
plase God he lives, 'ill show it, too: won't you, Cahier,
a-chorrcwma-chree?" Cahier left his well-known life to answer.
"Sirs," continued the priest, "this limb of Satan never
has less than four 'prentices regularly articled to him, at
## p. 123 (#151) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 123
large fees, and sent all the ways from Kerry, to learn his
trade of decoying horses, young and old, handled or not han-
dled, that he got, they say, from a witch in the county of
Monaghan, and that brought his neck into the halter only a
month since."
"There's no great spishoge* on your reverance to say the
like, savin' your reverance's presence; only from the father
afore me, that got it from the lame throoper, whoever he
war, as all the world knows. Never a one o' the bastes
mysef was thinkin' of, that same time, when they thought to
prove it agin me; bud, just goin' the road, they follied me
out o' the gap. How can a poor boy help 'em, if they loves
an' likes me 1"
"Where is my colt, you scoundrel V now cried Edmund
at his ear, while he seized Rory by the crooked neck" where
is the colt you stole out of my father's field last night 1 Tell
me, this moment, where I am to get him, or I will bind you,
hand and foot, and send you to the mayor of Carrickfergus."
"Bind poor Rory away, plase your honour, if you like it,"
the man answered, meekly; "bud, when that's done, will it
make me know anything o' the coult, or larn you where to
find him?"
"The thief speaks sense in this," said the clergyman, draw-
ing Edmund aside. "Depend upon it, he has so taken his
measures, that the robbery cannot be proved against him.
As to getting your colt without speaking him fair, it is
impossible; heaven knows in what part of the kingdom
the poor animal is. He has own relations, receivers, and
agents, in Upper Ossory, Leitrim, Monaghan, and Deny,
besides many others in different parts of the country. Let
me try to manage the rogue.Rory-na-chopple," returning to
him, "you know that by sending word you are alive in Car-
rickfergus, to-night, we can get you hanged over again to-
morrow morning. Tell Master M'Donnell how and where to
recover his colt, and you may go your ways, and take your
own time and road, and, mayhap, find both short enough."
"Cead rnille beachus lath,+ your reverence; bud what does
poor Rory know about it, at-all-at-all 1 May I never see glory,
no more nor the child in my arms this holy an' blessed time."
"And that's just as much as will serve, mayhap," said the
clergyman.
* Witchcraft. t Hundred thousand thanks.
## p. 124 (#152) ############################################
124 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Bud I have gossips, an' I have friends, an' people, over-
an-hether, that wishes me well, becase they have pity on their
hearts for a poor boy like me; an' I'll tell you what I'll do.
I'll spake to them afore I go to sleep. An' if Neddy M'Daniel
rides out in a shower to-morrow, he'll find himself on his
coult's back in the turnin' of a hand. If this doesn't come to
pass, may the soggarth be miles away when I'm hanged the
next time! If you howld me here, the never a coult you'll
ever see."
"And why in a shower V asked Edmund.
"That's the little bit of a sacret that's in it," Rory replied,
smiling very graciously, as if to say, "sure you can't be angry
wid a body for that;" and vague and nonsensical as was this
promise, the parties thought it best to put up with it.
"An' now I may jest go, an' thry my endayvours t" he
resumed; and having got an assent" well, a good night,
an' my blessin' on all the genteels o' the company, an' on all
in the house, this night, I pray Gor," Rory said in conclusion,
as he shuffled through the door.
CHAPTER X.
When Rory-na-chopple had shuffled away, our friends re-
sumed the seats they had first occupied. They saw that
Father O'Haggerty, the friar, was placed, in sullen mood,
at the now empty table, round which the peasants had been
gathered, and that the stranger, the encourager and director
of the townspeople, was seated at that his adherents had
occupied. This man's head rested on hishand, while his|defiant
eyes closely and deliberately scanned the remaining company.
"Is it to witness such scenes as these enacted here to-
night," said Evelyn, aloud, addressing his friend, "that I
have returned to my native country 1"
"Alas! it is, Evelyn," Edmund replied; "and I fear me
much what we have seen is but indicative of events even
more serious and more painful."
We surmise that both the young men may have, at the
same moment, felt somewhat like a foreboding that their re-
lations to -each other might be affected by the disruption of
## p. 125 (#153) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 125
the timesby the disseverance of parties, so evident from
what they had just been, to a degree, participators in.
"Such encounters must take place," said the friar, Father
O'Haggerty; "and they must take place on a wider field,
and more to the purpose, ere there is peace to the land.
Peace to the land can be had only by struggling boldly
for it."
He was not yet calmed down: he spoke in a hasty, impe-
tuous manner, while his flashing eye fixed on the stranger, who
was seated at the opposite extremity of the apartment.
"I am of accord with the friar," the stranger said in reply.
He uttered his words slowly and emphatically, while he
returned the first speaker's hasty glance with an unflinching
look of resolute defiance.
"You left but little sign of quiet behind you in England,"
Edmund M'Donnell resumed, again addressing Evelyn.
"They tell me that the King's acts of absolute authority are
rousing his English subjects against him."
"And justly rousing the people of England," the stranger
interrupted, speaking, as before, slowly, and, although in a
subdued tone, every word heard distinctly by all present.
"Seven reverend Bishops of the Church imprisoned," he
said.
"Justly imprisoned," expostulated Father O'Haggerty,
"as the abettors, in the King's teeth, of a foul-mouthed
libeller and preacher of seditiona preacher of treason
against his Sacred Majesty."
The stranger sat up more erectly than he had done; he
raised his hitherto subdued voice to a lofty pitch; he waved
his hand before his face with a wide peremptory sweep, as if
he would dash aside, authoritatively, the interruption that
had been offered to him, and he continued to speak:
"A member of parliament arrested for using his time-
sacred and constitutional privilege!An attack on the
colleges to force in Popish members !As if it were the
arbitrary domineering Grand Turk who sat on the throne of
Britain!"
"Papists were the founders of the colleges, and not"
Another impatient wave of the arm, and the stranger con-
tinued:
"Papists placed on the bench of justicePapists seated at
the council-board; nay, a known Jesuit, James's confidential
## p. 126 (#154) ############################################
126 THE BOYNE WATER.
adviser, there! A Popish nuncio, forsooth, undisguisedly
acknowledged, which is treason by the law! An ambassador
sent to confer with the Pope of Romeat the very fountain-
head of Papistry! The superstition of the mass openly per-
mitted !the Protestant charters throughout the kingdom
withdrawn, to open a way for the entry of Papists"
The speaker paused an instant.
"All that you have urged tends but to show that the
King is naturally desirous to give to his Roman Catholic
subjects a share of the privileges hitherto appropriated
exclusively by others of a different creed."
Edmund M'Donnell put forward his opinion somewhat
warmly.
"Sir," replied the stranger, "Papists are unfitted to be
allowed the exercise of civil powerunfitted, I say, they are;
subservient slaves, as they be, to the domineering influence
of their Church. It is not the toleration of Papists that is
sought; it is the domination of exclusive power in their
hands that is contemplated, and the total exclusion of Pro-
testants!"
"I do not think that is a fair inference," Evelyn remarked.
"There are those who say," Edmund M'Donnell spoke,
"that the opposition given to our King is but a pretext, and
that there is treachery to the Sovereign at the bottom."
"They were not Papists who brought his martyred father
to the block," Father O'Haggerty cuttingly remarked.
"The righteous taking of the life of that man, Charles,
they never got the grace to do," interrupted Oliver.
The mettle of the old Cromwelhan was aroused by the last
remark.
"The mind of James"the stranger addressed his renewed
speech to Evelyn, not noticing either Edmund M'Donnell or
the friar" the mind of James is scarce of capacity to com-
prehend the tendency of his outrages against the constitu-
tion. But there are those about himthose priests and
Jesuitswho know how to direct the arbitrary index of the
sceptre."
"I do believe as much," replied Evelyn; "and"
"What is it you believe V Edmund questioned, with
some fire.
The stranger supplied the answer to the query: "The
reverend friar yonder can satisfy you, if he will, young sir."
## p. 127 (#155) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 127
"Mayhap he can," Father O'Haggerty broke in. "But
reverend friars do not tell all they know to all that question
them. Mayhap the reverend friar could tell of the promptings of
Burnet at the Hague." The stranger started as if the thrust
were a home one. "Hah! and mayhap the reverend friar
could tell of the incendiary proceedings of George Walker
through these northern counties."
"Talk not of men too much above you to warrant you in
meddling with their actions, irreverent friar! As to George
Walker, slander him not by foul words, until you believe you
dare do so to his face."
"Is the traitor known to you?"
"I will not answer yea or nay."
"If he be of your acquaintance, bear to him this greeting:
That, until I do meet him, face to face, I will, in the plainest
words I can select, denounce him as the propagandist of
treasonas a traitor to his King!"
"To his front you would not repeat your bold words."
The stranger stood up, no longer calm as he had been. "If
to his front, you so spoke, he would retort, and tell you
that your tongue uttered words of falsehood; he would tell
you that you were knave and traitor, and not he!"
"Let him but stand in your place, and I will reiterate my
charge!"
Con M'Donnell had been closely inspecting the stranger
for some time; he had, perhaps, caught a glimpse of his
underdress. He now sprang forward, threw aside the dis-
guising horseman's cloak, and the attire of a Protestant
clergyman was visible, over which a rusty back and breast-
piece were to be seen. Scarce noticing the act of the impe-
tuous Con M'Donnell, the stranger advanced with deliberate,
resolute step to the centre of the apartment.
"Come forward, and stand before me, friar!" he said;
"look on me, and you look on George Walker!"
Father O'Haggerty sprang to the invited presence.
"I repeat my accusation!" he proclaimed aloud. "You,
George Walker, are a propagator of seditiona traitor to
your anointed King!"
While he spoke, he drew forth from its iron scabbard the
unclerical appendage at his side.
"Even though thou art a prelatic preacher, and although
I deny your doctrine, take this blade that has not been
## p. 128 (#156) ############################################
128 THE BOYNE WATER.
unfamiliar with malignant blood." Oliver Whittle wrenched
his weapon from its sheath, and thrust it into George
Walker's hand.
The two clerical opponents cut at each other, and their
swords clashed; but before they could follow up their hostile
purpose, Evelyn and Edmund M'Donnell, who had been in-
active from surprise, rushed between the combatants.
"Forbear! forbear!" cried the old Priest M'Donnell, ad-
dressing Father O'Haggerty. "Strike not with the sword,
man !the sword is not your weapon! You have been
commissioned as a messenger of peace and good will! Is it
thus you discharge your mission 1
"
"Friar!" said George Walker, "we shall meet again."
"When I will repeat my words, and make them good"
"Raise not your weapon !you are under my control, and
I forbid it," the old priest again addressed the friar.
"There shall be no such scandal," said Evelyn.
"There shall not be," was Edmund M'Donnell's assent.
"It is the Lord's quarrel, and it must go forward."
Oliver Whittle vociferated. Con M'Donnell pounced at
once on the old trooper, whirled him to one side, and
threatened him ominously.
"I will not proceed farther with the business for the
present," George Walker said. "But a time will come."
"Of a surety a time will come!" Father O'Haggerty re-
plied.
"Then, friend, we will cross our swords peaceably for the
present."
"Peaceably, you say 1" questioned Evelyn of the first
speaker.
"Peaceably, for the present," he was answered.
He put the same query to Father O'Haggerty, and re-
ceived a like reply.
The swords of the two clergymen crossed.
"Now pledge me, friar."
George Walker uttered his challenge measuredly and
coolly: "I swear to meet you, and soon, where we shall have
clear ground to decide who is knave and traitor."
"I swear" answered the friar.
"Blaspheme not!" urged the old priest.
"I swear," repeated Father O'Haggerty, "to seek for you,
and soon, when, with Heaven's aid, I will uphold my words."
## p. 129 (#157) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 129
"Then, good night," George Walker said, while he re-
turned his sword to Oliver Whittle, and deliberately withdrew.
Seed from an equal sample, sown at the same time in a
similar soil, will simultaneously spring up; and our friends,
Edmund M'Donnell and Edward Evelyn, as they bade fare-
well for the night, had some slight doubt, equally felt, that
their hand-grasp was not as ardent as in the morning.
Edmund and Father O'Haggerty were the last to retire
from the room.
"I am rejoiced that I have met you, Edmund M'Donnell,"
said the friar.
"How, sir! You know me, then 1
"
"I know you well, and for some time have been desirous
to commune with you. The time is come, young man, when
every true believer of the holy Roman Catholic faith should
gird himself, and take the field as the champion of his reli-
gion. It is imperative on such as you to be in the van"
"I do not distinctly comprehend you, sir."
"Other thoughts have, as I can learn, kept you from a
due consideration of more momentous affairs. Even so, you
cannot be ignorant of the hypocritical and fierce opposition
given by our enemiesaye, by the dire enemies of our reli-
gion, and by the traitorous enemies of our sacred Kingto
us and to him. To us, because they would exterminate us;
to him, because he would tolerate usbecause he would even
partially alleviate the persecution we have so long endured!
Are you ignorant, young Edmund M'Donnell, that machina-
tions are progressing to deprive our King of his throne and
of his life? That he being murdered, as his father was, we
may be once again the victims of a renewed persecution, the
present trampling under foot exceeding, in rampant violence,
all tbat has gone before. The life and throne of King James
assailed, that we, Roman Catholics, may be devoted to utter
destructionto annihilation!"
"Reverend father, the violence and the arbitrary proceed-
ings of King James, were they even perpetrated for the
purpose of giving equal rights to us, as to his other subjects,
almost justify the excuse of opposition to his authority."
"How, young sir! Beware how you use such words as
these!"
"Why should I not use them? Are they not the plain
truth, your reverence 1"
K
## p. 130 (#158) ############################################
/
130 THE BOYNE WATER.
Edmund spoke excitedly; his presentiment was gaining
strength that his prospect of happiness was jeopardised by
the impending storm-cloud. His selfishness was, in fact,
antagonistic to the impulse that urged him to take his place
in defence of his creed, which he feared was to be in opposi-
tion to her he loved. In this irritated humour he continued
to speak:
"In the presence of those who have just left us, reverend
sir, I did not care to utter my full thoughts, seeing that they
are not of our persuasion. To you, sir, I hesitate not to
say, that the King seems to be infatuatedfrantic in his
proceedingsutterly unworthy of our support or of our
gratitude!''
"Young man !young man !"
"Nay, reverend father, I will say my mind, I have heard
King James's arbitrary conduct spoken of by men of zeal for
our religion, and men of wisdom; and, although young, I
have given more consideration to the subject than you may,
belike, give me credit for. His acts are those of a demented
man. He stands almost singly; even his army has declared
against him! With his single arm he seems to suppose that
he can stem the torrent he has set loose. He has levelled
the sluices that banked in the passions and the headlong pre-
judices of a nation. He, and those he, as I believe sincerely,
professes to befriend, will be swept away by the torrent he
has let loose!"
"I have, in silence, heard you speaking treason; enoun-
cing doctrines befitting the exterminators of your faith, but
not to be tolerated as coining from your lips. But, in
charity, I make excuses for your youth; the more so, because
I am not ignorant that you are biassed by a carnal devotion,
which makes you heedless of the interests of your religion, or
the claims of your country."
"I request an explanation," Edmund said, with a haughty
flush.
"Are not your attachments, and with your attachments
your duty to your King and country, bestowed on a scoffer
against your faith, and an enemy of your rightful monarch 1"
"Part of your query, reverend sir, I will answer with a
yea. I do loveand, with Heaven's benison, I will weda
lady worthy of my lovemy good father and my own pastor
consenting to the nuptials. Your inference I deny. Nor
## p. 131 (#159) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 131
does it appear to me, that you are privileged to busy your-
self with my private concerns, in no way germain to the
topics we have discoursed on."
"Rude boy! your words are offensive !fit recompense for
my anxiety to serve you! Attend to me, notwithstanding!
I interdict your espousal with one who will influence you to"
"Hold you there, reverend father! Proclaiming myself a
devoted adherent to my creed"he looked upward, and
marked his forehead with the symbol of the' cross" there
shall be no interference by you, or by any other, in the dis-
posal of my affections!"
"For the gratification of your carnal wishes, will you enter
into an alliance of kindred with your banded enemiesthe
sworn enemies of the Church to which you profess member-
ship? Will you take to your bosom the sister of one of
those engaged in active preparation to dethrone, and, I be-
lieve me, to slay your Sovereignat the same time that they
shed the blood of your kith and kinof all who cling to the
faith of their fathers?"
"I reject the belief," interrupted Edmund M'Donnell,
"that a project to dethrone the King is entertained: idle
and vulgar rumour this is, propagated by those whose angle
is for troubled waters. As to the possibility of my friend,
Edward Evelyn, having knowledge of the one intent or the
otherhad any but a clergyman so dared to insinuate, he
should account to me for it on the spot!"
"If, on the morrow, you should learn that the friend you
so uphold is pledged to support a contemplated usurpation
the pledge given to that dire incendiary, George Walker,
whose spirit and whose views you have this night seen and
heard"
"I can only answerImpossible!"
"But, were this found to be the truth 1"
"Then," answered Edmund, after an agitated pause, "I
would regard him as a traitor to his friend."
"Could he be your friend following the discovery 1"
Quick as thought, and thought is instantaneous, Edmund
understood that the suppositious case put to him involved
deception towards himself, by Evelyn, and at the same time
treachery to his sister. It was a bitter conviction.
"The devil my friend as soon !." he exclaimed, impetuously.
"But this is no more than fancyan unsubstantial dream!" .
## p. 132 (#160) ############################################
132 THE BOYNE WATER.
"You may so call it. But suppose, in addition, that this
friend had a sister who was in his confidence? Nay, you
now challenge me with your looks too boldly, youth! We
shall have no farther question on this point. When you see
your King"
"Should I see him the victim of his own folly, I will not
draw sword in his cause."
"In whose cause, then, will you unsheath it?"
Edmund was silent.
"I expected this wavering on a point you have not consi-
dered closely. Look at the case boldly and manfully, and as
a Christian of the old faith. Your sword cannot remain in
dastardly repose within its scabbard, when every gallant
blade is out and doingwhile the sword of friends and foes
are flashing!" x
"Oh!" cried the young man, much agitated, "must it,
indeed, come to this 1must there be no 'peace on earth to
men of good will'? Why will'the name of religion be still
profaned as the encourager of deadly hatred?"
He looked despondingly at Father O'Haggerty, as the
apprehension of danger to his affections flashed afresh before
his mental vision.
"Create systems to your fancy. But what are you to do V
"This, I see, I must do. In defence of a violated throne
of a Sovereign wronged and outragedif this should be
I. In fact, it is evidentit is inevitablethat we, Irish
Catholics, must act as we have before acted, and suffer, as
we have ever suffered, in a contest not of our making. I see
it must be so. I see that our ill-fated land will be once
again selected as the arena for a struggle between an English
monarch and his English subjects. In the end, whichever is
uppermost, or whichever is prostrate, we shall have to bear
the hardest blows. And, finally, we shall be the sufferers,
unthanked by either."
"I interpret your words to mean that you will be in
readiness for the day of struggle, when, Heaven to protect its
own, you will be at the head of your hardy people, in
your own native glen, and lead them forth, at the command
of your King, and at the call of your religion."
"I see no choice. To fight, even though he has erred, for
; the King who would give me religious freedom, against those
I who make war on that rightful King, that they may keep me
## p. 133 (#161) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 133
"shackled. What else is left for me to do 1 Basely neutral I
cannot remain; I must even whirl with the hurricane.But
is the day surely to come 1"
"Surely to come, as those who best know have told me.
It is a question, though, whether we await the time or
whether we create itwhether we pause too long, until the
hand of extermination is striking at us, our King inactive on
our behalf, or paralysed in his effortwhether we arouse
ourselves and anticipate the deadly onslaught of our enemies,
and, at the same time, give protection to a monarch and
security to ourselves."
Edmund paused at this new version of the question.
"You mean a rising here in Ireland, of our own counsel,
and without the King's command 1"
"It may benay, it is sothat wishing well to say the
word, he dares not utter it openly. Where King and religion
are both in imminent peril, it seems no more than the duty
of loyal subjects, and children of the faith, to act, even of
their own accord, for the protection of both."
"A weak thought, sir; and, in my esteem, not counselled
in either country by the men of weight, on whose advice his
Majesty relies."
Father O'Haggerty curbed the words he was about to utter.
"Head this," he said, "and then seek the counsel of your
pillow. I wish you a good night's rest."
He withdrew as soon as he had placed a parchment in
Edmund's hands.
It was a commission, issued in Tyrconnel's name, appoint-
ing Edmund M'Donnell an officer, under the Earl of Antrim,
to command a company of men, to be raised in his native
district, for the newly-ordered levy of Irish soldiers. His first
feelings on thus finding himself raised to a situation of trust
and importance, was pleasure and gratified vanity; his next,
doubt and ill-omen of the result. For some time he sat
almost in darkness, following a train of sad anticipations of
his own future prospects and those of his country. His love
for Esther Evelyn, and Father O'Haggerty's prophecy with
regard to her brother, formed an impressive portion of these
thoughts. He retired to rest sadder than he had ever before
been while he pressed his nightly pillow.
## p. 134 (#162) ############################################
134 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTER XL
Whether or no O'Haggerty had private intelligence of what
Walker intended to effect with Evelyn, or that he only spoke
of, as certain, what his insight into human probabilities led
him to conjecture, it is undeniable that he shot very near the
mark.
Evelyn lay down to sleep in an indifferent bed, and in a
confined, ill-contrived room, of which the door could not, by
any effort or ingenuity on his part, be secured. His mind was
vexed with the occurrences and discussions of the evening,
his spirits consequently depressed and gloomy. After lying
restless for some time, he fell into a disturbed sleep, which
the tone of his waking thoughts haunted with extravagant
dreams. He dreamt that he was married to Eva ; that he had
entered the bridal chamber, and just pressed the bridal couch,
when a skein was plunged into his breast. For a moment he
felt the agonies of mortal pain, and lay, choked with suffering,
unable to cry out: then the sound of a trumpet pierced his
ears, and a figure, vaguely like his dead father, stood by his
bedside, shaking his arm, and calling on him to rouse up. He
awoke in terror, to see a person really standing over him,
and holding a feeble lamp in one hand, while the other rested
on his shoulder. He looked again, in some alarm, and recog-
nised the pale, grave, and expressive features of Walker. In
the creaking of the crazy door, yet in motion from that per-
son's entrance, he at the same time caught the sound which,
distorted by his sleeping sense, had conveyed to the cheated
mind the idea of a trumpet.
"Pardon me this intrusion," Walker said. "I leave the
house very early to-morrow morning, and as I am deputed to
hold with you some discourse of an important nature, I could
not sleep till we had entered upon it. I was your father's
friend. You may have heard him speak of George Walker,
rector of Donoughmore V
"I have, sir, often," Evelyn replied.
"In early life, before my translation to that parish, so far
removed from his residence, we were much together. Ere
## p. 135 (#163) ############################################
THE BOTNE WATER. 135
you could know my face, I have danced you on my knee, and
joined in your father's prayer for your worldly and eternal
welfare. At my hands, too, you received second life in the
waters of baptism. We meet nOtt then, as uttef strangers to
each other; nor yet as men quite indifferent to each other's
Interests and happiness, or to the words we may interchange
together."
Evelyn fitly, if not warmly, assented.
"I will sit, therefore, by your bedside and tell my mission.
You are prayed, by those of your country and religion,
who have a true interest for both, to declare whether or no
you will join them in the coming endeavour for life and
feith."
"Pray, speak plainer, Mr. Walker."
"You know that the reign of James draws to a close."
"I know not so, but I have heard such things rumoured in
my passage through England, and hoped from my heart it
was but idle rumour. Why should the reign of James draw
to a close V
"That, at least, you know, He has forfeited his crown by
attacking the constitution."
"By attacking it in what manner V
"Variously. But especially in his effort to admit Papists
into public situations of trust, rank, and influence. A
measure to which the very nature of the constitution is op-
posed."
"That I cannot understand," the young man said, with
generous warmth. "If by the constitution be meant the
rights of the people, obtained at different times, from diffe-
rent sovereigns, I must, as you have before heard me say,
remember that they were actually so obtained by Papists, and
precisely to the extent in which we now enjoy them. Ere
Catholic England became Protestant England, they existed.
And from the reign of the first sovereign, nominally Protest
tant, Henry VIII., down to the last, Charles II., nothing
nothing in matter has been added to them. Since, therefore,
the constitution has been formed by Papists, how, in reason-
ing or sense, can its nature be anti-papist 1 Again, if James
does not seek to annul any one of the rights that make it
what it isa matter allowed on all handsbut simply seeks
to admit to an enjoyment of them, in common with men of
every sect, the persons whose ancestors have really set them
## p. 136 (#164) ############################################
136 THE BOYNE WATER.
1 t
up, in what manner can he be said to attack 'the constitution "I
What, after all, is the meaning of this generally adopted
phrase 1 Alas! alas! Mr. Walker," Evelyn added, with
curling lip, "I fear it has been only invented by a few men,
as a watchword, and caught up and continued by the many,
without thought or analysis, until, from every-day use, it
means what they please, and what both wish."
"We may argue as we can. When wiser people than we
have decided upon the question, it is only so much misspent
breath. We must swim with the current of the times: fools
only would cross or breast it, and depend for safety on
the catching at straws. When the great deliverer once
lands"
"How, Mr. Walker! do you calculate so surely on events 1
Is it to be, indeed, and so sudden?
"Have I, at least, your promise of honorable secrecy V
"The very recollections under which we meet, should give
you that assurance, sir."
"Then, know, that I speak on the information of one who,
counselled and aided by the Lord, has been the great agent
and secret light of the glorious change we all hope for. It
needs but your declaration in our cause, to supply you with
the advices he has vouchsafed from time to time to me."
"So certain, truly!" Evelyn exclaimed, much agitated.
"So very sudden !The infatuated King already encompassed
with destruction! No pause for himno time allowed for a
heated temper to coola warped judgment to become righted!
No endeavour to conciliateto advance half wayto reason
with himto correct him! No pity for the errors of the son
of many kings!"
"Rather say, no time allowed for the completion of the
projects which aim at our destruction."
"No forbearance towards a King of known and admitted
talents and spirit! Who, when Duke of York, advanced the
character of the British navy higher than it had ever stood 1
Who, at an earlier age, commanded the praises of the two
greatest generals of his time, Turenne and Cond61 Who has
fought for England in forty sea-fights, and in his very last
encounter with the Dutchman, De Ruyter, achieved her a
splendid victory? No allowanceno gratitudeno mercy
for him! Has it ever been questioned that, above all his
family, he entertained a high and jealous notion of the interests
## p. 137 (#165) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 137
and glory of his people and his nation V The youth spoke'
with a warmth not altogether without effect on his com-
panion.
"Never, I grant you, until this late attempt to bully the
one, and degrade the other," he admitted, after a pause.
"But how 1 Has he not repeatedly assured Protestants that
while he did only justice to his own religion, he should never
seek to injure or weigh down theirs 1 And, during his whole
life, have not men of all sects regarded him as an inviolable
observer of his word 2"
"Yes, I grant you, again. Until at last he broke it."
"How?how? ":
"By the very act we have so often canvassed. By his as-
suming the absolute power of dispensing with the tests, and
of suspending the penal statutes."
"Again and again I deny, passing altogether the separate
question of assumed power, that this amounts to a breach of
his wordto an infringement on his pledge to Protestants
that he would uniformly protect them. Unless, indeed, pro-
tection of them essentially implies persecution of others.
An unreasonable, unchristian, and monstrous hypothesis."
"The bigotry of James," Walker said, with a frown, "is
known to extend farther than equal privileges for his own
idolatrous sect."
"How known 1 By what he does at present? That ques-
tion has been considered. By what he has heretofore done?
Let us see. It was not bigotry to allow, in deference to the
prejudices of his English people, his two daughters, then his
only children"
"Aye, then," interrupted Walker, with a bitter sneer.
"To allow them to be educated in strict Protestantism. It
was not bigotry to give the elder of them, the Princess Mary,
heiress apparent to the crown, to the Protestant prince,
Williamor the second, Anne, to another Protestant prince,
George of Denmark. It was not bigotry to pass by, after he
became sovereign of England, all those who had been
distinguished as the plotters or agents of the Popish Plot,
contenting himself with making one sole example of public
justice, in the person of its most infamous propagator, Oates
while even to that hideous monster life was spared. It
was not bigotry to spare, in life and property, the very men
who, by pressing the bill of exclusion, had laboured to
## p. 138 (#166) ############################################
138 THE BOTVE WATER.
disinherit him, and whose efforts sent him an exile from his
land and his people. This was not bigotry. How, then, shall we
prove the vulgar clamour! He has not been, he is not bigoted
in his measures; but ''tis kn.m' he will be. Who has made
it known 1 In one word. Mr. Walker, how, from anything
the unfortunate monarch has attempted, from even the wildest
assertion of his privilege, how has he injuredyourself, for
instance? During nearly five years that he has sat on the
throne of his fathers, have your rights, as a Protestant, been
abridged, or your ministry, as a Protestant clergyman, inter-
rupted!"
"I answer you calmly-yes. Think you it is no interruption
of my ministry to encounter, since the beginning of this
ungodly reign, such disturbers as the dangerous man we sat
with to-night, left free to preach and teach, where before they
durst not raise their voices in the land? Is it no hindrance to
my ministry, and to the spreading and welfare of the religion
whose minister I am, to see mass-houses open, where, in the
former reign, there was waste and goodly silence! To meet, in
every corner of Ireland, a tolerated priest, where before such
scum and vermin durst not show their heads? To see
Papist prelates received at court, where before it was treason,
by the law, but to sound their names?"
"Xo, Mr. Walker; I cannot think that this is, necessarily,
any hindrance to your ministry, or to our common religion.
Leaving out of the question the Friar O'Haggerty, as a kind
of man who can well be spared on both sides, you would not
surely mean to say that the truth you preach depends, for
its effects, on the absence or silence of the error it opposes 1
By contrast with error should the truth shine more brightly.
Did the universal prevalence of error, when religion was first
preached, retard its way by the side of Him who led it
triumphant, not in a battle-chariot, or at the point of the
sword, but wreathed in the chaplet of peace, and scattering
the perfumes of persuasion? Are you irritated, then, as a
worldly man, to see the degraded arise, the trampled walk
upright, the persecuted pitied, fellow-creatures vindicated?
Is it," Evelyn asked, with a disdainful smile, "from the
weaker impulse of our nature you talk so bitterly of tolerated
priests and Popish prelates at court 1 Are those who differ
from you 'scum and vermin,' merely because they do so?
Difference does not imply inferiority. Do you hate them
## p. 139 (#167) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 139
because you have tried, and are trying, to crush them beneath
your foot 1 That may be the true reason, I suspect. We do
not, alas! readily forgive men for having injured them."
"You do not speak as a good Protestant," Walker said,
with a mighty effort to restrain his wrath.
"If Protestantism mean monopolyif good Protestantism
mean bad ChristianityI do not; yet will I prove myself an
orthodox member of the reformed Christian faith, and hold
these sentiments at the same time. I own, however, they
somewhat differ from the superfluity of sectarian zeal taught
me in my childhood. But travel, Mr. Walker, and conversing
with men of different countries and enlarged minds, does
much to mix up reason and charity with the mere formalities
of religion. Another accident," he added, speaking more to
himself than to Walker, "may have lately helped to fix my
mind in its present temper."
"May I inquire what that was?"
"Nothing of import to influence the opinions of any man
but myself."
"Let me judge."
"It would be useless, indeed. Excuse me, sir."
"Youth," urged Walker, managing the introduction of this
delicate point better than O'Haggerty had done with Edmund,
though he stood just as little in need of information" I
adjure you by the memory of your good father, to declare to
me what it is that has thus most sinfully turned your eyes
from the steady and true light, to more than a half-following
of the dangerous meteor of Idolatry. By the friendship of
your father and myself, disguise not your heart from meI
trembleI could weep for youson of my ancient friend!
Relieve at once the anguish I feel on your account! You
have been listening to the insidious discourse of Jesuitsyou
have entered the mass-house, and hearkened to their poisonous
preachingthat is it V
"No, sir," answered Evelyn, really affected by the seeming
interest of his companion" fear not for me, there. I will
speak openly. Why should I not 1 Know, then, that I have
contracted myself to"
"To a Papist !" interrupted Walker, in surprise and conster-
nation, well feigned.
"To a Roman Catholic lady, sir."
"Contracted !"resumed the clergyman. He paused, long
## p. 140 (#168) ############################################
140 THE BOTNE WATER.
enough to make the youth feel awkward and constrained.
Then riveting his angular eyes on Evelyn, and speaking very
slowly" You would wed her, then ?""
"That question cannot surely meanwould I dishonour
myself or her V Evelyn cried, with angry vehemence.
"Lost! lost!" Mr. Walker went on" lost, irrecoverably!
a goodly bough of the tree lopt off, and cast for the burning!
Better hadst thou hearkened to the sophistry of all the smooth
tongues of St. Omer'sbetter hadst thou bent down before
the idol in their very mass-house! And, oh! what has my
old friend escaped by his passage from this life to the glories
which his unblemished faith secured him in another! What
has he escaped that he has not here, to-night, to weep over
the disgrace of his only son!"
"SirMr. WalkerI cannot understand"
"No, boy, you cannot! you know them not! You know
not that the very motto of their damnable and idolatrous
sect is proselytism! That by every means, and by the seduc-
tions and entanglements practised on you, above all other
means, they labour, day after day, to decrease the number of
the righteous."
"I must at once say, sir, I have never seen such attempts
directed towards myself."
"Have you not 1 And that is so convincing, is it 1 Think
you the old serpent goes to work so lamely? Think you they
would at first let you detect their aims, that so you might be
at once disgusted and turned from them for ever? No, you
have not observed their attempts. Neither does age observe
its gradual stooping to decrepitude, nor does the eye detect
the encroach of wrinkles on the face. But ask your heart
call to mind the unsound doctrines you have this night
uttered, and answer me, now that I become your standard
and your mirror: Hath not your soul shrunk from its former
uprightness of stature, and its face become haggard with
wrinkles t And if so soon this premature decay is visible,
what must you not fear for yourself, whenOh, I have no
patience to speak it! For II know them well! Through
a long life of zealous ministry, I know them well! I. tell you,
Robert Evelyn, that you cannot imagine the refined arts with
which they ensnare. To make proselytes is their worldly,
and according to their superstitious cant, their spiritual object.
Ruled as they are by their priests, their wanton womenbe
## p. 141 (#169) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 141
patient,boy!never lose sight of it. Hence is their effort, every
day, to secure a Protestant husband, that they may be raised
from discontent and obscurity, to rank and importance in the
land, and that they may add, at once, a respectable name to
Papistry, in this world, and, by virtue of the act, insure for
themselves a seat in the next. These are the promptings given
the promises held out by their priests. Ask the woman who
has undone you, and let her answer whether or no she has not
been so tutored, and does not so purpose to practise on you."
"I shall certainly never ask a question, Mr. Walker," the
hoy cried, indignantly, "so derogatory to my confidence in
the woman I would make my wife, and to her claims on that
confidence."
"Would you stoop, too, to wive with one of the degraded
of the land 1 Even with your own bondswoman t Nay," he
continued rapidly, stopping Evelyn's attempt to speak, "let
me ask you, if my worst fears are true 1 I have met you here
in the company of one of the most noted enemiesthough a
stripling, like yourselfof the faith in Ireland. He has a
sister: can it be that woman V;
"Sir," replied Evelyn, distantly, "the lady is Miss M'Don-
nell, the daughter of an ancient and honorable family, though
lately reduced by oppression"
"By the strong and righteous arm of the law, to beggary!
I know them well. Rebels they have been. Beggars they
are. And now, again, the foremost, under guidance of that
old inveterate plotter, Antrim, to head the very massacre
which surely threatens us all. That so, by rebellion and blood,
they may regain what they have so justly forfeited!"
"Absurdity, sir! Absurdity and bigotry!"
"Misguided young man.! Use notdare not to use to me
these ill-weighed words. I can prove to you what I averI
can prove, on the testimony of all the Protestant gentlemen of
the norththeir well-grounded fears and wise preparations
forming that testimonythat we are this moment surrounded
by a plot to cut our throats as we sleep in our beds! That
the recent levy of a new and overpowering army of Papists
is made in such a view, while every kerne in Ireland goes
armed, at the advice of their priests, also waiting the yet
unknown day. You have noticed their arming V
"That, indeed, I have witnessed with surprise, sir," Evelyn
unwillingly admitted.
## p. 142 (#170) ############################################
142 THE BOYNE WATER.
"I cry to you, therefore, Beware! Look how you form a
connexion which must be entered into with you, either for
the purpose of involving you, as a proselyte, in the general
conspiracy, or elsehow shall I utter it!or else, should you
prove obstinate, of securing you its easy victim. Look to
yourself, I say! Look to the natural results in their great
rising! When, to gain you over, they must necessarily impart
some of their secrets; when you, as a Protestant, not entirely
fallen, will gainsay themblind and unthinking youth! can
you doubt the result? Can you doubt that their Irish skeins
will be at your throat in a moment, to guard their own
projects by effectually silencing you V
"If, indeed, there is such strong assurance of this inhuman
conspiracy, sir," Evelyn began, his youthful credulity at last
something wrought upon
"If," interrupted Mr. Walker. "Look at this paper, ad-
dressed to you, and which forms the business of our present
conference. See it signed by every Protestant name around
you, known as respectable. See that, setting out with a
statement of their apprehensions of a Popish Massacre, they
proceed to advise you of their plan of a counter-association,
for the guarding of their lives and properties, and then solicit
you, as a man of rank and place in the country, to join them
in their endeavour. Can you, as a Protestant gentleman
as the worthy son of my old friend, refuse?
"I shall not refuse, Mr. Walker, to unite in any precau-
tion which, supposing the actual existence of a design against
us, such as you seem so sure of, the first principle of nature
makes imperative. For the rest, I am guided by my own
judgment."
"I require no further resolve, at present. But, here," pro-
ducing pen and ink, "write your assent to this invitation at
the bottom of the paper." Evelyn, after a moment's hesi-
tation, did so. "Keep the document, now, for your own
satisfaction, and, perhaps, as a salutary memento. And
favour me with a copy of your answer, to be presented, as
common courtesy requires, to those who have addressed you."
Evelyn also complied with this apparently reasonable
request. "But, Mr. Walker," he resumed, "forget not that
I reserve to myself the right of judging when I shall be truly
called on to fulfil this engagement."
"I said before, we must swim with the current of the
## p. 143 (#171) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 143
times. It may be that, until the deliverer of England lands on
her shores, the cruel Papists of this country will not rise up
against us. If, at that time they do so, however, King James
must, of course, be their watchword, and William, Prince of
Orange, the professed object of their bloody warfare. While on
us they really vent their hereditary hatred, and sectarian fury."
"Am I to infer, sir, that, under such circumstances, my
engaging in this association is to amount to open warfare
against King James, as well as protection of my own life and
property?"
"I have not said that the visit of William is for the purpose
of dethroning James. Listen to me. You are now worthy
of the confidence I before alluded to, and you shall have it.
I spoke of a great man, a light of the reformed faith, and a
zealous labourer for our blessed constitution, who during some
time has condescended to regard me as an available fellow-
servant in the righteous cause, and so advised me, authen-
tically, of the progress of events."
"You mean Dr. Burnet, sir, who, since the commencement
of the present reign, has been on the Continent, mostly at
William's court?"
"The same. On his information, joined to my own notice
of the times, I proceed to lay this matter fully before you.
William has, since his youth, been well regarded by England,
because, since his youth, it has been his unceasing policy to
check the power and dim the eclat of her great rival, France,
by arraying against that haughty and innovating nation the
Emperor, Spain, his own and the neighbouring states, and, if
possible, Great Britain."
"And I suspect, Mr. Walker, that as one of the best means
of completing the coalition, in the last-named instance, it has
rather been his policy, too, from an early age, to fix his eye
on no less an object than the crown of Great Britain. I believe
his early marriage, during Charles's lifetime, with the heiress
apparent, might have happened in this view. It is certain
that the only piece of seeming enthusiasm that even in his
frigid and sullen youth he exhibited, was when Sir William
Temple came, after a long period of uncertainty, to communi-
cate the final assent of Charles and the then Duke, to his
marriage with the Lady Mary. So cold a man could never
feel on the securing of a wifea wife, too, that after events
proved him to be, to say the least, indifferent tothe triumph
## p. 144 (#172) ############################################
144 THE BOYKE WATER.
and exultation on that occasion displayed. You, sir, cannot
be ignorant of the incident to which I refer. How, starting
up, he caught the minister in his arms, and vowed that he
had made him the happiest man in the world. No; William's
joy at the tidings was that of an ambitious and profound
politician, at the almost unexpected achieving of a deep-laid
project." The young man spoke with a degree of con-
temptuous indignation natural to his age and character, but
chaffing in the extreme to the listener.
"Mayhap," resumed Walker, with cool deliberation, " I, too,
suspect that the Lord so disposed his heart, even at that early
period, for our good and deliverance. About the time that
the exclusion bill was mftved in Charles's parliament against
the Duke, his views were even less doubtfully indicated-to
the godly Burnet. Some time after that event, as my
memory serves, the great doctor advised me that, under the
especial help of Providence, he had been enabled to receive
the Prince's hints of a determination to support, even against
t the bigotry of a father-in-law, and as far as in him lay, the
Protestants of England. Certainly, so soon as James pro-
posed to dispense with the tests, and had written to his
daughter and son-in-law for their assent, the Lord's servant
(having first approved of the letter that contained their
denial) obtained from William the first*unequivocal admission
of his views, by means of a previous conference with the
Princess, in which conference he convinced her zeal and
natural affections, that it was her chief duty to protect her
religion, and attend, forgetful of any other relation, to the
interests of her husbandnay, do her best to impress these
interests on his mind."
"Good God, Mr. Walker! You talk of Jesuits and
of jesuitical proceedingsyou talk of Petre influencing
James's queen, and, through her, James's councils. But what
say you to your own Jesuit, Burnet, at the Hague, thus, by
his and your admissions, instigating the daughter to dethrone,
and, it may be, murder her father?"
"Again I remind you that there is no warrant for assuming
that the actual dethroning of James is intended. Indeed, I
can almost convince you. Though it is true that the perse-
cuted bishops secretly addressed William from the Tower, at
the same time with other eminent persons, it was not till
after the fictitious birth of a Prince of Wales"
## p. 145 (#173) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 145
"Aye, sir," interrupted Evelyn, "that real, not fictitious
birth, was, I believe, the true cause why we first began to con-
spire against our Sovereign. Then, indeed, it happened, when
the Prince of Orange seemed suddenly, though lawfully de-
prived of his apparent inheritance, that pressing solicitations
were forwarded to the Hague, and ready promises given to
them. I am utterly surprised at you, Mr. Walker, to speak of, as
an imposition, a real event, that, during my late short residence
in London, has been fully established. Aye, by the most
open and direct testimony, to the satisfaction of all honest men,
and the shame of those who, on such a question, could cruelly
insult the tenderest and most sacred feelings of their Sove-
reign!"
"Well!it is only my business to quiet what you con-
sider conscientious scruples on another subject. Before the
matter spoken of, my Lord Wharton"
"A man in his dotage," Evelyn cried, impatiently.
"The Bishop of London"
"Because under suspension."
"My Lord of Devonshire"
"Because he had been fined for striking Colonel Culpepper."
"The Lady Sunderland, a woman of subtle wit and ad-
mirable address"
"And indebted, through her husband, for her very title, to
King James"
"With the Bishops, and some others, first addressed the
Prince. But to them he only answered, that, if invited by
some of the best interest of the land, he rather believed he
could be ready by the end of September."
"This, sir, was but caution."
"His next answer meets your scruples. Other noblemen
and gentlemen, such as the Earls of Danby and Shrewsbury,
Admirals Russell and Herbert, Mr. Henry Sichey, James's
own ambassador in Holland, afterwards appeared. The
Prince answered, after sedate consideration, that he must
satisfy both his honour and conscience before he could enter
on so great a design; and further protested that no private
ambition, nor particular resentment, could prevail upon him
to make a breach with so near a relation. Therefore, that he
expected more formidable invitations."
Evelyn laughed scoffingly.
"Admirable prudence! Well he knew how t > drive a safe
L
## p. 146 (#174) ############################################
146] THE BOYNE WATER.
bargain with impatient customers. Doubtless, sir, after the
unlooked-for birth of a new heir, those more 'formidable in-
vitations' came, and convinced him."
"Doubtless," answered Mr. Walker, still with difficulty,
though effectually, restraining himself for the attainment of
the end he had in view; rendered more difficult than he had
anticipated, by the unlooked-for knowledge and discrimina-
tion of Evelyn"assisted by the great doctor's discourses with
the Princess, and her discourses with the Prince. And all
directed and prompted by a good and merciful Providence."
"Then I am to give much credit, I suppose, to William's
state assertions, Mr. Walker, when I find him sending over
his crafty Zuylesten with congratulations to James on the
birth of the Prince of Wales, after yielding to the suit of
your friends^ chiefly on the ground of that birth being an im-
position. And when I also know, and you cannot deny, that
the real embassy of Zuylestan was to collect information for
the Prince's use"
"Yes," interrupted Walker, rather intemperately, "and
that faithful servant most assuredly brought back such ac-
counts as fixed the Prince in his purpose. All this is but the
working of prudence, and does not impugn the truth of his de-
clarations, repeatedly made, that he has no object but to redress
the peopleno view of personal aggrandizement. Nay, by my
last advices, this day come to hand, the Prince having already
taken leave of the States previous to embarkation
"Heavens !" cried Evelyn, shocked and excited, " the tem-
pest so very near!"
"He," continued Walker, "in his very parting address to
them, solemnly takes God to witness that he comes to Eng-
land with no other intentions than those set out in his de-
clarations. He does not know, indeed" (referring to a
letter), "how the Divine wisdom may dispose him. To
Providence he commits himself. From all which, you may
reasonably conclude, that, by entering into an engagement to
protect your life and property against the exterminating
Papists, you do not, at the same time, necessarily form any
present league against King James. And now, good night.
Let me take your handthe hand of the son of my old friend.
Farewell! and"the clergyman added, speaking earnestly, but
calmly" touching the other matter undecided betwixt us,
I offer this. I offer to attend your nuptialsto officiate in
## p. 147 (#175) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEK. 147
them. For, Protestant as you are, you will require the
ministry of your own clergymanand to bless them, too,
should there appear no good reason why they shall be inter-
rupted. You permit me to attend?"
"I invite you, sir, willingly and thankfully," Evelyn said,
moved by this unexpected leniency.
"And will warn me of the day and place, punctually 1"
Evelyn promised.
"Farewell, then." And he at length left the room.
"And so," thought Evelyn, as he tried to compose himself
to sleep, "by rival priests and churches militant, these coun-
tries are once more to be convulsed to the centre. There is
Petre, the Jesuit, at St. James's, and Burnet, the Jesuit, at
the Hague. And after years of patient plotting and prompt-
ing, they have at last succeeded in embroiling the whole world,
just that some good battles may be fought to decide which
shall be Archbishop of Canterbury. There is William, too,
as good a Jesuit as either, I promise them, though not in
orders. And lest we should lack zeal to be made fools and
madmen of, in Ireland, here we have an O'Haggerty and a
Walker. The same farce, this Christian world over! The
same men to kindle the same social, nay, domestic dissensions.
To arm the child against the parent; the true heart against
the true heart! Good God!" he added, with a sigh, "shall
the world ever grow old enough to limit priests to the incul-
cation of a peacemaking creed, and let honest men, nay,
even knaves, mind their own business, and fight their own
quarrels V
CHAP TER XII.
The young men met, next morning, with mutual conscious-
ness, and some embarrassment, growing out of the separate
conversations between them and the two clergymen on the
night before. There was, for the first time, that restraint in
their manner towards one another, which ever accompanies
the retrenching of confidence between old friends. For
Evelyn and M'Donnell had resolved not to impart, at least
## p. 148 (#176) ############################################
148 THE BOYNE WATER.
till circumstances demanded it, the political engagements both
had bound themselves conditionally to perform. Edmund
kept his commission quietly in his pocket, and Evelyn as
secretly kept the address from his northern friends, with his
own assent attached thereto. Each thus practising a disin-
genuousness for which he could readily find arguments to
excuse himself, but of which he would have been much more
than jealous in the person of his friend.
At an early hour they mounted their horses, and, with
Oliver, left Carrickfergus. The weather continued stormy;
and they had not ridden far northward, when a heavy shower
came on. All immediately called to mind the absurd promise
of the Rapparee, and Edmund remarked:
"Here is the shower Rory-na-chopple promised us. But
where is the colt V
"Unless it rained horses, I have not much opinion of that
prophecy," Evelyn returned. "But, in the name of wonder,
M'Donnell, what is the matter with the colt you ride."
The rain continued to pour down so violently, that men
and horses were completely drenched.
"Why, what can be the matter with him, Evelyn 1 He
keeps his temper and his paces."
"But look if he be not changing from black to chestnut, as
the water runs down his sides and neck! And now a white
speck comes out on his breast, and a white star on his fore-
head!"
"Do they so?" asked M'Donnell, quickly flinging himself
from the saddle. Then, after examining the animal for a still
more peculiar mark" By the blessed saints," he cried, "the
Eapparee hath promised fair!this is my own colt, Pawdrick."
The party looked at each other for a moment, and then
burst into a loud laugh.
"His make struck me at the first glance," continued Ed-
mund ; "but what honest man could suspect the cheat, in this
new suit, and with the tail cut short 1 The rascal Tory !
the hanged and unharmed rascal!I have purchased my own
horse from one of his receiversI see it all now. "Aye! I
have heard of the very trick before; one of the many which
it is well known the villain uses to baffle immediate pursuit
and detection. Some bogweed, boiled, supplies him with tlns
temporary dying-stuff; and if I am not even with him yet
if I do not get his own face changed black, and, under
## p. 149 (#177) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 149
Providence, with more lasting effect than his practices on my
colt, or than the gallows had on it, the last time, let him
whisper you away from Glenarriff again, Pawdrick, and
turn you white, for novelty!"
""Tis an amusing villainy," said Evelyn.
"Yes, I grant you, to all, save the twice-cheated. But
come," Edmund added, gaily vaulting into his saddle, "let
us for the present think of it only for a jest. Home, Paw-
drick, home!good deeds under your true colours. Glen-
arriffs shelving sward and knee-deep clover are before you,
and love and lady-smiles before your mastermove, truant,
move!" Dashing spurs into Pawdrick, he led on the party at
a gallant pace.
We very blamefully omitted to mention, that, on receipt of
Evelyn's last letter, Esther had succeeded in prevailing upon
Eva to name a day for making her brother happy. And
that the chief clause of Eva's compliance was a counter con-
cession exacted from Esther, with the help of Edmund, then
present, to do the same kindness by her brother.
The day thus fixed upon for both ceremonies was one to-
wards the middle of the next month, Novemberabout three
weeks, altogether, from the time of Edmund's departure to
meet his friend in Carrickfergus. Lord Antrim's lady, the
rather celebrated Marchioness of Buckingham, becoming
necessarily a confidant on the occasion, kindly insisted that
the young ladies, each motherless as she was, should accept
of her matronage at their nuptials, and also consent to have
the double union take place in Antrim Castle. The old Earl
heartily and courteously seconded this arrangement; and the
maidens, much gratified, assented. Preparations were forth-
with commenced, on all sides, to meet, with splendour, mirth,
and honour, the expected day.
The Earl sent invitations to some of his leal friends and
neighbours, such as the Lord Iveagh, of Mourne, in the
county Down; O'Hagar, of the county of Londonderry; and
O'Dogherty, of Inishowen; not careless, perhaps, of thus
creating an opportunity for getting them together under his
roof. But the first invitations were necessarily sent to his
cousin, Bandall M'Donnell, of Glenarriff; to Daniel M'Don-
nell, of Layd; and to several other M'Donnells, all cousins,
and near at hand. His lady did not fail to take like measures
for collecting a goodly company of fair dames and gentle
## p. 150 (#178) ############################################
150 THE BOYNE WATER.
damsels; having first forwarded, at Esther's instance, and en-
. closed in a dutiful letter of Esther's own, a very kind and
pressing request for the presence of Mrs. Evelyn, of Derry
city.
Two suites of rooms were selected for the young couples,
and workmenthe best that could be had from Dublinset
to work at them as soon as possible. The old chapel of the
castle was also taken in hand, with a view to its being newly
fitted up and adorned. Then, rich varieties of material for
bridal attire came from the metropolis, and accomplished.
sempstresses, overlooked by the tirewoman of the Countess,
and assisted, as well as they knew how, by those in attendance
on the young ladies themselves, fastened upon it with all
despatch.
The maidens, too, occasionally sat down among their women
and their finery, and helped to forward the adornments for
their bridal day; each, indeed, kindly attending to the other's
dress alone. Or they strolled, arm in arm, about the house,
carefully avoiding that wing in which the workmen were
engaged ; or, when, half venturous, they found themselves too
near it, skipping, like startled fawns, from the sound of a
heavy footstep, or the sudden opening of a door. At night,
indeed, when the men had retired, and that "the clink of
hammer" no longer kept their little hearts jumping and flut-
tering to every knock, they sometimes hazarded a peep into
those awful rooms, and, still arm in arm, glided about them,
on tiptoe, with lamp and faces held up, in shy scrutiny of
every new improvement that had just been completed, or was
in progress. They explored each other's destined anteroom,
sitting-room, nay, bridal chamber; never having courage, how-
ever, to bestow more than one glance at a time on the pro-
gressive furnishing of this last-mentioned terrible apartment.
And thus they spent their time, morning, noon, and night,
until the arrival of M'Donnell and Evelyn; speaking very
little to each other, but looking a great deal, and sighing the
quick, faint sighs that will every moment flutter up, like birds,
from young hearts full of happiness.
But, upon the morning of the arrival of their lovers, they
had, at length, a long conversation.
"I do not wonder to see you agitated, dearest sister," said
Eva, "for I am so myself. Nor dejected either, were it only
a little; for I, too, feel now and again a strange inclination to
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THE BOYNE WATER. 151
weep, and again I know not why or wherefore. But you are
more melancholy than the occasion calls for; distressed, I fear,
with something else."
"With something else, indeed, dear Eva. Yet something
that has to do with the occasion."
"Your aunt's unnatural conduct, heretofore 1 Your fears
that she will not accept the present invitation V
"No; I must own I do not love my aunt enough to afflict
myself with her whims. Though, doubtless, I should have
felt less an orphan had she staid by my side, or if she will
now act by me as a mother."
"I should, indeed, have recollected, that you have before
told me as much. I might have known that your deep
thought, and melancholy, and secret tears, which I so often
surprise, must therefore come from another source. Dear girl,
what is that other?"
"Dear Eva, you must not ask me."
"No? Then I shall not, of course."
"Now I see you are offended with me, but you should not
be. I have been bound, under terrible threats, never to dis-
close the cause of mymy fears, my childish fears, after all.
For everything goes on so as to prove them vain. A very
short time must decide all; and will, I am sure, decide for their
eternal removal."
Eva paused a moment; then looking at Esther" Onagh of
the cavern has been frightening you," she said.
Her friend burst into tears.
"Yes, you have guessed aright!" she cried. "Oh, if you
knew, Eva, how that woman had made me suffer!"
"Dear, silly Esther, can it be possible that, after all our
discourse about that woman, you still suffer her to dwell a
moment in your thought V
"Oh, Eva, there is cause why I should!"
"You mean the silly words she spoke to you in the little
glenf
"No; worse, much worse than that."
"You have seen her since, then 1"
"Alas! alas! I have."
"Lately 1 And where?"
"Lately. But that was not the occasion of what distresses
me. Dear Eva, ask me no moreI dare not speak openly to
you. Long, long, the painful knowledge has been with me.
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152 THE BOYNE WATER.
Long, long, have I wished to tell you of it, and ask your
counsel, and listen to your disproving arguments. But I
durst not."
"Has the wretched creature pledged you to secrecy f
"Not exactly so ; but her denouncements on me if I divulged
the secret, particularly to you, are shocking."
Eva laughed. "Come, come, dearest Esther, there is one
on the road by this time shall make a false prophet of Mrs.
Onagh. You see I can divine at least the nature of her mum-
mery. Shame upon you, Esther, to admit, at a sensible age,
the existence of such weakness in your mind! Shame again
upon you, in my brother's name, to weigh the words of an
imposter or a madwoman against his true love! So, even
without the tie of an extorted promise, you will refuse me the
opportunity to laugh at this new conceit, whatever it is,
merely because the wise woman of Cushindoll has threatened
to bewitch you, perhaps 1 Be it so, silly child. But were I
in your place, and you in mine, asking this favour, I would
cast her charms and her broomstick, her familiar and her
fiddlestick, as feathers, to the four winds of heaven, rather
than leave you one instant unanswered."
"I will take heart to tell you, then," said her more timid
companion. "I am sure I ought, Eva, and that all is, as you
say, childishness. Indeed, although it happened before our
removal from the seashore to Lough Neagh, I was able, of
my own accord, by prayer, and the calm exercise of reason,
almost to forget it. Until yesternight, when the voice of
Onagh sounded at my chamber window, just as I lay down
in bed, whispering strangelybend towards me, Eva, I
cannot bear to repeat the words aloud' The bridal robe is
nearly made. So is the shroud, though not so nearly. Still,
forget not All Saints' Eve, the last but one.'"
"The insolent woman!" Eva cried, with flashing eyes, as
she protectingly encircled her friend with her arm. "She
now grows too bold, and I will surely desire Edmund
to see that she keeps within bounds. But you are certain
she was there at the window? It could not have been a
dream V
"I think not; though heaven knows, often and often have
her face and figure made my sleep horrible, Eva. Oh ! I have
fancied her crouching on my bed, at night, and on my breast,
until, through dread and shrinking, I shrieked aloud, and so
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THE BOYNE WATER. 153
woke myself, trembling and panting. Again and again have
I dreamt such things. Oh! Eva, I cannot tell you half the
suffering that strange woman has caused me!"
"That was your own fault, Esther, more than hers. But
'still remember All Saints' Eve,'those were her words.
What could she mean by that 1 Let me see. All Saints' Eve,
the last but one, you were too ill and feverish to leave your
room, and Onagh did not surely approach the house."
"111 and feverish I indeed was, Esther, anddo not smile
at me, dear girlpartly on account of the story you told me
of another AH Saints' Eve. Onagh did not come to your
house, and yet I saw her."
"I cannot understand that."
"Listen, then," the girl said, laying her face down on her
friend's shoulder, and speaking in tones scarcely above a
whisper. "I retired, as you know, to my own room, because
my mind and body were so troubled I could not bear the
company even of those I loved so well. I retired to my room,
but did not keep my room."
"How, Esther!"
"Indeed, I think my mind must have failed me altogether
to do what I did. It was unnatural courage, I am sure. You
may remember, I was obliged to keep my bed next day, and
I talked lightly, did I not?"
"I indeed remember that you had then an illness severe and
alarming, though of short continuance. But go on. You left
your roomwhy?"
"There I sat, Esther, alone in the shivering moonlight, for
I grew so strange, even to myself, that I could not bear my
lamp. There I sat alone, thinking of Onagh's prophecy, of
all you had told me, of all I had seen her do at the cavern, as
we passed her by, and of what she had said to me in the little
glen. I was conscious, too, what night it wasan anniversary
of the awful one upon which, while I was such a distance
away from her, that evil woman spanned my fatea recur-
rence of the night on which a knowledge of the future comes,
from Good or Evil, for Good or Evil, to the earth. These
were my thoughts; I could not check them. I believe I did
not even strive to check them. Whether or no, they took
such possession of me that, as I listened to the boom of the
sea, or to the whistling of the wind through the trees at the
back of the house, I thought the sounds became voices, all
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154 THE BOYNE WATER.
echoing what Onagh had told me. I looked out into the
lights and shadows cast by the moon, upon the broad hills
so near me, and your brother's figure, Eva, seemed, over and
over, to flit by my window. Until at last I started up
and could have screamed, I know not why, for, strange to
say, it was not fear I felt.
"At last came a desperate thought. It broke upon my
disquieted mind to seek Onagh that very night in her cavern,
and challenge her to work me a charm. Scarce was this .wild
fancy formed, when, gliding through a back door, I found
myself, badly protected from the howling winds, on the road
to her cavern. The distance, you have told me, is about a
mile. I know not how soon or how long I might have been
going; but I well remember rushing into the blank mouth of
her cavern-house, and when, at some distance in its recesses,
I saw a red lightstopping suddenly
"' A hundred thousand welcomes,' I then heard her say,
the voice reaching me through utter darkness: 'we were
expecting youcome in.' Eva, still I was not frightened; I
did advance into the cave.
"And, gracious God ! what a sight there met my eyes!
Onagh's back was to me as I approached. She sat on
her heels, and stooped forward her head and body, as if
watching something on the ground. A turn in the cave, as I
still advanced, showed me the figure of a very aged and
exceedingly small woman, sitting opposite to her, also crouch-
ing, and looking intently downwards. At another step, my
eye followed theirs, and fell upon the corpse of a second hag,
stretched out upon the damp and earthen floor, a large stone
laid on her breast, another on her knees, and a piece of flaming
wood in her rigid hand. Even yet, Eva, I felt no terror; I
only wondered.
"' She's waking herself,' said Onagh, with a laugh, and not
raising her head to look at me.
"' Who is she f I asked. My voice had a strange ring in
it. I started even as I spoke.
"' I know no more than you,' Onagh answered, rocking
her bent body and head to and fro, while her chin touched
her knees, and her hands were clasped across her legs. 'No;
nor no more than the child unborn. Only, here I found her,
with the other before you, this All Saints' Eve come seven
years. My time was just up with them, and an hour to spare,
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THE BOYNE WATER. 155
.when we got her, stark and stiff, down in the end of the
place. Aye, crippled too, though she lies out so straight,
there, with the help of the two stones that keep her like a
Christian corpse. Isn't that it, gran'-aunt?' again laughing,
and addressing the old woman opposite to her. 'I call her
gran'-aunt, you see, and her that's gone I used to call granny,
and no other names had I for them. You don't know how
I found them out hereI'll tell you, then. The early blight
came on me, as early it will come on yourself, and I was
restless, and didn't know what to do. Until one night I
found an apron that had been thieved from me long before,
lying on the floor as I got into bed; it was all knotted and
twisted, and I guessed by what hands. I opened one knot, and
then another and another. For every knot I opened, there
came a face round my bed, and at last the faces of the two
you see here to-night. Next morning I left my mother's home.
I met the first face I saw the night before, and she led me a
bit of the road. Then I met the next, and she gave me a
second help. And so on, until, day and night, I walked from
the south to the north, and the last friend parted me abroad
at the open door you came in by. And here I found the one
that lies stretched there, and the other squatting before you.
And a hearty welcome I had from the both.'
"' Up, Onagh!' I said, interrupting her, 'and work me a
charma true onea sure one. One that will make me
sure for ever of what you have told me.'
"' Go with her, gran'-aunt,' she said, 'farther up, into the
dark. Take this rape-seed'giving me some' repeat after
me the words you will hear me say, and drop the rape-seed as
you repeat them. That will do; for I can't leave the corpse
till the cock crows.'"
Eva, who had so far been listening in silent wonder to
this wild story, here interrupted the narration.
"Esther !" she said, gravely, "dear girl! This sounds like
a fantastic dream. Do you tell me that such things really
happened V
"It was no dream, Eva," Esther as gravely replied. "No!
no!what I tell you too truly occurred. Listen, and you
will understand all.
"The old pigmy got on her feetin height she was not
more than a childand hobbled into the dark recesses of the
cave, I following her. When we had gone almost entirely
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156 THE BOYNE WATER.
beyond the influence of the light, she stopped, and Onagh
screamed out, far behind us' Are ye there T
"' Say the words,' answered my companion. Onagh re-
peated, as well as I can recollect, the following lines : .
"'Rape-seed I sow, rape-seed I bow.
Come from above, or come from below;
Come far, come near!
Show me my sweetheart, show me my dear
Show him as he will be to me,
A blessing, or a misery.'
"Eva, I know I was disturbed in mind; I know, too,
that just as I had ended my repetition of the lines, I grew
afraid for the first timeand my senses may here have deceived
me. Be that as it may, never in my life before did the face
and figure of Edmund pass plainer before me, thaneven in
the darkat that horrible moment. But his face was pale,
and his figure wasted. After he passed, there was another
motion in the dark, as if he would cross the cavern again.
When I again looked, my eyes metinstead of himDeath,
Eva, death!"
"What do you mean?" asked Eva, distending her eyes.
"Death, I say!the grinning head and the skeleton frame
of Death! And it wore, on the bony brow, a bridal chaplet!"
"Absurdity, dearest girl! You have, yourself, fully ac-
counted for the mockery. Why should I argue with you 1
The previous state of your mindyour feverish healthyour
terrorsyour prejudiceseverything joined to distract and
impose upon you."
"That may benay, I am sure it was soyet so real and
so dreadful was the impression of the moment, that I screamed
and swooned away. When I revived, I found myself in the
open air, within sight of our cottage, Onagh standing over
me. I screamed again, when I saw her.
"' Now,' she said, 'you look as if you were satisfied. Be
satisfied, then. Never can he wive with you.'
"'Why must this be V I cried, wildly' and why should
you, terrible woman, decide his fate and mine V
"' Hearken to me!' she replied, looking less insane, and
more intelligent and stern than I had before seen her' I
have doomed himand others tooon Earth and in Heaven
never to taste the sweets of woman's love. Was there no
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THE BOYNE WATER. 157
doom in question, he should not taste it. I, alone, a woman,
and a weak and friendless one, would hinder him.'
"' Wherefore?' I still asked, fiercely, I believe.
"< Nor if he had twenty brothers should one of them
escape the same fate,' she continued. 'He had one brother
who did escape itbut he is gone.'"
"Ha!" Eva said, startled, but not enough affected, in
appearance, to attract Esther's notice, who continued, without
raising her head:
"' Yonder,' Onagh added, 'is your yet happy house; speed
to it, and have your time of happiness.' Then all at once
relapsing into her usual manner, she added, slowly : ' If you
betray what I have last said, to him or his sister, such faces
shall watch your sleeping, such curses shall attend your pil-
grimage on earth, as will make you dearly rue the treachery.
The blessing of this good All Saints' night be with you.' And
she left me. I returned home, and secretly gained my sleeping
chamber."
"Well?" Eva said, quite recovered from her own late agita-
tion, as she smiled and looked at Esther, as if to hear more
"well, pretty sister, and is this all 1 Tut, tut; the woman
either is knave enough to frighten you for the purpose of
extorting money, or fool enough for any piece of nonsense.
And this is the terrible secret that has weighed you down so
longthe terrible prophecy that is to turn your true-love sweets
into bitterness 1 Come, come! I know one who will cure
these silly fancies. And Esther, in some half-score years, after
a certain day of the coming month, I shall know a something
of a matron lady, who, with half-a-dozen young M'Donnells
around her, will join me in laughing at them."
"Shame, Eva M'Donnell!" said Esther, smiling as if she
wholly forgot her terrors, and blushing at the prospect her
friend so jestingly held out to her.
"By the way, Esther," Eva continued, wishing to keep as
clear as possible of the old topic" will you let me ask you a
strange, and yet, perchance, not an improper question';"
"It cannot be improper from Evaask it."
Eva took the leave granted, and their conversation con-
tinued on a subject much more likely to influence Esther's
future happiness than could the extravagant one they had just
ended.
"I scarce know how to begin, Esther," said Eva, in her
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158 THE BOYNE WATER.
turn blushing deeply"but we are to become wives, you
know; and wives generally become mothers. And so, when
we shall be such, if in that case, have you ever thought how
you should arrange the question of religious difference between
yourself and Edmund?"
"How do you mean?" Esther asked.
"In what creed should you wish your children to be brought
up? That is the question I wanted to ask."
"In my own, to be sure, Eva," said Esther, very naturally
expressing the first idea she had ever formed on the subject.
"Well, that is natural. But you must recollect that your
husband will have his wish, too."
"So he will, indeed ; I had not thought of that."
"Here, then, is a difference at once; the difference I sup-
posed all along. Have you ever thought of any way of getting
over it?"
"I know of none, unless" She paused.
"Unless Edmund yields to your wish, implicitly?"
"Yes, indeed, Eva."
"Suppose he should entertain the same hopes of your good
nature and liberality?"
"Then I shall be truly at a loss what to do. But, indeed,
Eva, I could never bear to see a child of mine go to the mass-
house."
"Esther! you forget you speak to me," said Eva, a little
coldly and haughtily.
"I did, perhaps, forget that, in speaking to you, I addressed
a Roman Catholic," resumed Esther, piqued on the only point
in which she was susceptible. "Yet I have honestly expressed
what I feel, Eva, though the manner was unguarded and
abrupt."
"The mass-house is not the pest-house, Esther, to require
being mentioned so abhorringly; nor need the religion of
your betrothed husband call for such contempt at your hands."
"After all, Eva, I wish he was of my own religion."
"Do you make it an objection to your union with him?"
Eva inquired, very pointedly.
"Do you mean to offend me by that question, and particu-
larly by that look, Eva?"
"Esther Evelyn, I am above meanness of any kind; least
of all, the meanness of influencing a free will. This only I
have to saythat if your brother held to me, on my own
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THE BOYNE WATER. 159
account, the language you here speak of my brother, I would
sincerely and dearly as I love himtear him at once from
my heart, and try to forget him for ever V .
"And I, Eva M'Donnell, can easily apply what you say to
the present case. Perhaps I have my own independent
notions on the matter. But you have asked me questions all
along; allow me a few in turn. You, too, are about to be
wedded to a man who differs from you in religion. What is
your own resolveI know you have formed oneto meet the
case you were pleased to suppose for me?"
"I answer, honorably, this is my resolve. I would strive,
by all means in my power, and, of course, only by all permitted
to a lady of gentle blood, to bring my husband's mind to look
so toleratinglyI will say, justlyon the tenets and spirit
of my holy faith, that he should feel, under the permission of
Providence, no such horror as you have expressed in allowing
me the religious guidance of my children."
"That is to say, you would strive toto convert him,"
said Esther, suppressing a phrase she knew would be offensive,
and using one she also knew Eva preferred.
"If I did, it were but my duty," replied Eva.
"Indeed!" cried Esther; "this is new information, Eva
M'Donnell." Then, after a pause" I take it as granted you
now speak the general sentiments of all of your persuasion.
If so, what am I to expect in a situation where authority can
enforce zeal?"
"Again I warn you, Esther, that unless you mean by these
reflections to object to a union with Edmund M'Donnell, they
are uselesslyidly said. The avowals I make are, indeed,
rather new between us; and perhaps for a reason. When
we met first, the times were tranquil; the enemies of my
Teligion seemed willing to allow it rest, and, at least, to tole-
rate it in the interchanges of society. Now the spirit of
exclusion, nay, of extermination, is busy again; we are once
more marked out and prescribed. It may be that I was dis-
posed, under such a change, to ascertain the prospect of
domestic happiness to be hoped for by my brother, in the
tone of mind, on religious subjects, entertained by his affianced
lady."
"And I, too, mayhap," said Esther, "felt inclined to look
for some lights on this subject, when I knew, as I know now,
that my religion, and not yours, was and is that marked out
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160 THE BOYNE WATER.
for destruction, in the coming tumult which threatens us
all!"
"Bigotry !" said Eva M'Donnell, haughtily.
"And bigotry," retorted Esther Evelyn, "to accuse the creed
I profess, and that Robert Evelyn also professes, of any cruel
intentions, nay, of any unfair disturbing of domestic happi-
ness. Let your own religion, Eva, teach you to forget the
submission of a wife ; mine shall never teach me the same
doctrine."
"Yet, this mtfment, you wished Edmund a Protestant V
"And wish it still."
"Then would you not strive to gain your wish V
"By all fair and Christian means, assuredly."
"What!" cried Eva, alarmed in her turn, "try to change
him 1 My brother ought to know this."
"Tell him, then. Only let me have the same freedom to
speak to my brother."
"Take it," said Eva, rising proudly. A hunting-horn
sounded cheerily at a distance, calling out the echoes of the
surrounding hills. "Here," she continued, pointing to a
window that commanded, for more than the distance of a
mile, the road that swept down the mountain to Glenarm
Castle" here both should be to give us timely opportunity.
That was Edmund's wonted signal of approach homeward;
and yonder, indeed, four horsemen spur down the hill-road,
two of them much a-head of the others."
"My brother! my dear brother !" exclaimed Esther, gain-
ing the window, also, and clasping her hands; "and Edmund,
dear, dear Edmund!" The last words escaped her heart, in
despite of the pettishness of the previous moment. "Oh, Eva,"
she criedgiving vent to the master feeling thus betrayed
"he is my only life, after all!" The avowal broke down the
barriers that the last few moments had built up between
them, and the two girls embraced the more warmly for their
passing coolness.
"And think you, Esther, that I behold, without a welling-
up of woman's utmost tenderness, the return, after such an
absence, of Robert Evelyn? We have been but idly vexing
each other. Come, then, an answer to their signal."
She opened the window; both stood at it, and waved their
white kerchiefs, over and over, on the breeze.
"They see us!" resumed Eva; "they doff their hats, and
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THE BOYNE WATER. 161
wave them high in return! Let us, dear Esther, end our
discussion, while they approach. Neither of us will use un-
fair means of persuasion to affect the mode of faith of our
husbands. Both, meantime, are free to introduce, in season,
plain statements of our own creed, and arguments why we
prefer it. We will both, also, surely listen, calm and unpre-
judiced, to reasons that may be given us in reply."
"That were but honorable and rational," said Esther.
But, in honesty, we must avow, that the young ladies thus
easily agreed, because they mutually thought that, according
to the plan proposed, they could as easily have everything
their own way.
"And as to the question of offspring, Estherbeshrew it
for a strange one !do you know how some sensible persons
have done in a like case?"
"No, Eva ; but let me hearand speedily." Her eyes
darted through the window, as she still waved her kerchief.
"Supposing, under the will of Godgirls," rejoined Eva,
with some vagueness of expression, "the mother had care of
them. And supposingboys, the father."
"That is excellent!" said Esther, her looks and occupation
still unchanged. "Yes! Let them have their boys, and we
can have our girls."
"Now, shame on us both, Esther," resumed Eva, again
joining her friend in signals of welcome, "and heaven pardon
us such unmaidenly calculations, and such presumption on the
will of Providence."
"It was bold and wicked, indeed, I believe," said Esther.
"Though, I am sure, neither of us thought harm."
The horsemen had now come so near as to be fully recog-
nisable; then were salutations renewed with more energy.
As they gained the outskirts of the little hamlet of Glenarm,
a dozen bagpipers, heading a newly-raised company of men,
screamed out the welcome of Edmund M'Donnell, and of the
betrothed husband of Eva. The men joined their shout to
the clamour; the travellers darted by them; passed through
the hamlet, and gained the drawbridge of Glenarm Castle,
which was over a rapid mountain-stream, instead of an arti-
ficial fosse. It was lowered; the hollow trampling of their
horses sounded on it, as the ladies lost sight of them. The
clattering of hoofs was heard in the yard; and at last they
rushed into the saloon occupied by their betrothed maidens.
M
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162 THE BOYNE WATER.
It was, in one respect, an odd meeting. Brothers and sisters
looked first at each otherlovers looked at their beloved.
There was a second's hesitation as to how they were all to
commence greetings, which Edmund ended by catching Es-
ther in his arms. In the next instant he led her to Evelyn,
who, notwithstanding his long absence, did not show much
chagrin at the arrangement which had obliged him to greet
Eva before his sister.
CHAPTER XIII.
"And whither do you go to-day, M'Donnell V asked Evelyn
of his friend, about a week after his return.
"To Glenarriff," answered Edmund.
"You have gone thither very often, of late."
"Not oftener, surely, than my preparations for an approach-
ing event require."
"What event do you mean?"
"You should surely think I mean but onemy marriage
with your sister." So the young men parted.
But Evelyn's brow fell. He had, as his questions imported,
been somewhat suspicious of Edmund's visits to Glenarriff;
an accident had helped to confirm and inflame this jealousy. In
his friend's absence, he had joined, a few days before, a party
of huntsmen from Antrim Castle. The hunt was a long one;
it led them as far as the spacious valley in which Edmund's
house stood. Evelyn rode unperceived to the brow of the
chain of hills that commanded it: below him, on the level
f round at the side of the river, he recognised Edmund at the
ead of a body of armed men, engaged in putting them
through some military exercise. This seemed done in secrecy;
but it might not be so : M'Donnell might merely have for-
gotten to give him his confidence. Evelyn determined to
see; therefore, the question to which he now felt he had re-
ceived an insincere reply.
He was indignant with Edmund: he did not perceive that
some portion of the discontent that agitated him ought to
have been visited on himself. Or, perhaps, he really felt a
self-reproach, but unconsciously added it to the weight of his
## p. 163 (#191) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 1 63
actual jealousy of his young friend. Nor could he distinguish
that much of Edmund's alteration of mannerfor there was
alterationsprang from a similar jealousy, on his part, of
Evelyn, to which jealousy a certain circumstance had also
given cause.
A few evenings before, Evelyn had, in his company, re-
ceived a letter which seemed to agitate him as he read it.
Glancing inadvertently at it, M'Donnell saw his own name
more than once written by this unknown correspondent.
Evelyn put up the letter gravely, and his spirits and manner
were chilled for the rest of the evening. Edmund took an
opportunity of asking, in jest, if the epistle contained any
slander of him. His friend started, and stared at him; then
deliberately added that it did not even mention his name.
It was from Walker, in answer to one Evelyn had written,
according to engagement, to inform that gentleman of the
day and place appointed for his marriage. Renewing pro-
mises to attend, it proceeded to acquaint him of the fact of
William having embarked for England; of the veteran army
and noble suite that accompanied him; of the certainty of a
Popish plot to massacre all the Protestants in Ireland, early
in December. With the still more appalling intelligence, that
Edmund M'Donnell was pledged to take a conspicuous part
in it.
By the same hand came a letter from Mrs. Evelyn to Esther,
rather uncourteously declining the invitation to grace and
bless her nuptials, and filled with repetitions of the certain
intelligence of a general massacre, in which, according to Mrs.
Evelyn also, young M'Donnell and his old rebel father were
to do horrid things. This epistle terrified and afflicted Esther,
more than any former effort of her aunt. Eva, surprising her
in tears, got the letter to read. Firing up forthwith, she
swept away to place the insulting document before her be-
trothed lordnot in reproach, indeed, but fully anticipating
his equal wrath and detestation of the writer. She was
startled and shocked by his unexpected coldness of observa-
tion upon it. Back she swept again to Esther, returned the
letter, and retired to her own chamber.
It was now known to all, that the Prince of Orange had
embarked from Holland, with a fair wind. But about the
time when he might be expected to land, the fair wind changed
into a foul one; storms arose; despatches from England to
## p. 164 (#192) ############################################
164 THE BOYNE WATER.
Ireland were, by the same changes, obstructed, and every one
paused in silence to await the final event. Evelyn found
himself obliged to suspend all remark; and this increased his
discontent and suspicion. No one spoke to him on the matter,
and he would speak to no one. But he saw, with bitter feel-
ings, the Earl of Antrim, Lord Iveagh, and other guestswho,
anticipating the marriage, seemed rather to have visited
Antrim Castle for different purposes than to witness itget
together, with Edmund, in knots, and whisper and consult
beyond all patience.
But though this state of feeling, amongst the parties most
interested, might seem a bad omen of their happy union, yet
it did not interfere with the determinations of all to get mar-
ried on the day appointed. Love scenes, continually occur-
ring, in the meantime predominated over every other senti-
ment. In fact and truth, as mutual distrust had not assumed
any certain shape, the young people wished, with their hearts
and souls, for the tenth day of November.
In its own good time, and just as regularly and as slowly as
if they had cared nothing about it, the day came at last. It
was as black, as stormy, and as comfortless, as if it had made
up its mind to treat them and their raptures with surly con-
tempt. But, notwithstanding its seeming disapproval, all else
was brilliant in readiness and attendance upon the happy
young people. In vain did it send its ruffian blasts to course
round the battlements of the old building, to shake its old
casements, or even to bluster down its old chimneys. Within,
every voice spoke, or tried to speak, in softest accents; groups
of ladies, young and beautiful, only stood at the windows to
wonder at its violence ; men, brave and noble, wanned them-
selves at the blazing hearth it could not chill.
At mid-day, the guests were, indeed, all met in the grand
withdrawing-room of Antrim Castle. The bridegrooms, con-
scious and joyous, yet trying not to seem either, sat, from
time to time, with the different sets of ladies who had come to
witness and envy their happiness; or ventured among the
veteran group of their own sex who surrounded Lord Antrimr
to hear, and suffer as they might, all the jests that could
apply to their case. The brides were in their chambers, with
their bridesmaids, awaiting, in unimaginable palpitations. their
summons from the lady of the mansion. The latter, dividing
herself among her guests, glided from party to party, with
## p. 165 (#193) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 165
sparkling eyes, and dimpled mouth, saying, in half whispers,
such pretty and appropriate things, as set many a young lady
at her best to look grave, while others only blushed, and some
laughed outright.
The hour was come; everything was ready; and every
person in attendance, except one. The Reverend George
Walker had not yet arrived. And as, under the circumstances
of the parties, his agency was required to make the ceremo-
nies, even after the ministry of the Catholic priest, satis-
factory to all, nothing could be entered upon without him.
A disagreeable pause, therefore, occurred, unrelieved by the
former willingness to wait. As there could be no doubt of
the gentleman's arrival, although past his time, it was not
even made exciting by fears of a disappointment.
Hour after hour thus wore away. The black and tempes-
tuous November night closed in, even prematurely for the
time of the year. Lights were ordered for the apartment; and
still Mr. Walker came not. It was past, much past dinner-
hour, too. A banquet, prepared with munificence on the
part of the noble hosts, and with great care and labour on
the part of his culinary servants, was spoiling. The lower
regions of the castle were all but in open mutiny, and this
consideration, joined with others, made even the noble hostess
impatient.
As the lights were brought into the room, a horseman
passed the drawbridge.
""lis he !" cried Edmund; "I know his dark cloak."
Every one bustled; a loud knocking reverberated through
the castle. The doors were flung open ; andFriar O'Hag-
gerty entered the apartment.
"I give you joy, my Lord of Antrim," he exclaimed, the
moment he appeared at the door, and speaking rapidly, and
with much excitement, as he walked up the room" And you,
my Lord of Iveagh, and you, gentlemen, and you, Edmund
M'Donnellthe joy I ask you to give me, for my tidings. The
invader's fleet has been beat back by the winds of Heaven
from the shores of England, and obliged to return to Hol-
land, in such a plight, as ends all rebellious hopes for the
present."
"Long live King James !" cried Lord Antrim. His friends
echoed him ; even the ladies joined in the cheer. "But is the
news certain V
## p. 166 (#194) ############################################
166 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Here are my lettersreceived but this morning, though
they should have come to hand many days ago. I need not
add from whom they arebut you may depend on them."
"The wind is Papist, at last," said the gaunt and grim Lord
of Iveagh.
"His Majesty's very words," resumed the friar, "the
moment he heard the news in England."
"And I may now go home and dismiss my shaggy Mourne
mountaineers," added Iveagh.
"Have a care of that, my lord," said the friar. "The
King is still resolved on his former point of privilege, and,
before my advices left England, had proved his resolution by
Ms acts. In order to make some show of prudence, when
the intentions of the invader were first made certain, his
Majesty caused to be posted, on the gates of Magdalen College,
a declaration of his withdrawing of the righteous Farmer,
whom he had forced them to accept as fellow, in place of
their own elected minion, Hough. But no sooner came to
him the happy news of this providential wreck, than, guided
by his good advisers, he had it torn down again"
"Accursed be his advisers, sir!" interrupted Edmund
M'Donnell, who, upon O'Haggerty's first announcement of a
hope of peace, had grasped Evelyn's hand to congratulate him,
and receive his congratulations. But the friar's additional
news made them pause to listen, and now elicited Edmund's
vehement malediction.
"Amen!" echoed Lord Iveagh. "We do not ask such
counsels."
"Do not curse them, whoever they are," said Lord Antrim.
"Just call them bad politicians."
The friar's face reddened, and he was about to make an
angry rejoinder. But the Countess entering the room with an
important air, pressed her finger on her lip in passing him,
and walking up to Evelyn, took him aside.
"The brides," she said, smiling, "do not want this reverend
truant, Mr. Walker. I have just visited them. And though
I bear you no message or greeting, I will be your warrant
that, at my summons, they speedily meet you in the chapel,
where old Priest M'Donnell has been shivering these many
hours."
"Then, dear Lady, the round world for your summons!
Since the reverend gentleman has not been able to keep his
## p. 167 (#195) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 167
word, we must defer to another time what satisfaction he can
bestow."
"To the chapel, dames, maidens, and gallants, all!" cried the
lady, instantly turning from him to the company, and much
delighted, for many reasons. Then she once more bustled
gracefully out of the apartment; and bridegrooms and guests,
led by Lord Antrim, trooped down to the chapel.
It was a low building, detached from the castle, but acces-
sible, at both sides, near the altar, by doors which were ap-
proached, under covered ways, communicating with the main
pile. Through one of these doors, the numerous party from
the withdrawing-room entered. Almost at the same time,
the brides, led by their hostess, and attended by their brides-
maids and other friends, appeared at the opposite door. The
chapel, brilliantly illuminated by large, hanging branches, and
ornamented, near the altar, with draperies of virgin white,
and garlands of flowers and evergreens, had a character at
once joyous and impressive. On the altar itself, the tall wax
tapers diffused their soft, pure radiance about the sacred place,
where vows were presently to be exchanged, blessings said,
and prayers offered up for the earthly and eternal weal of four
young and newly-wedded people. Its steps, and the platform
ihey gained, were covered by a crimson footcloth, richly
fringed and embroidered with gold. On this platform sat old
father M'Donnell, wearing his priest's undress, if so it may
\e calledthe surplice, stole, and alb. His book was on his
knee. He rose, though trembling with palsy, as the company
mtered the consecrated house.
The only thing that interfered with the solemn and quiet
mture of the place, and of the ceremonies to be solemnized in
it, was the continued, and, indeed, increased violence of the
weather. It blew a very hurricane; and the rain beat with
sich force upon the roof, and against the windows of the
solitary little chapel, as to fill its interior with unintermitted
aid almost alarming sounds. Through the low windows,
Marly on a level with the ground, the night abroad seemed
rsven-black.
Scarcely had the brides appeared at the door opposite that
though which the bridegrooms and their party entered, when
Ivelyn, attended by Edmund M'Donnell as his bridesman,
aid by the old Earl of Antrim himself, advanced to Eva, took
ler hand, and led her towards the altar. The Earl's lady
## p. 168 (#196) ############################################
168 THE BOYNE WATER.
held her other hand, and her fair young bridesmaids clustered
round her. All entered the railed sanctuary, ascended the
stops of the altar, and stood on the platform. A few
moments, and Evelyn and Eva M'Donnellaccording to the
forms of the Roman Catholic Churchwere married.
In their turn, Edmund, his bridesman, and his old father,
advanced to Esther. The hand he took in his was cold and
trembling ; the veil she wore did not hide her raining tears,
nor her blanched cheek and ashy lips. As tenderly, grace-
fully, and proudly, he led her to the sanctuary, she stumbled,
and had nearly fallen, in the effort to gain the single step that
elevated it above the floor of the chapel. Passing close by a
eidc-window, just at the altar, she started, shrank, and uttered a
low scream. Edmund looked at the window. It was black and
blank, and no cause appeared for Esther'sterror, though now she
was shivering so violently as almost to swoon away. Assisted
by her lover, her noble hostess, and her startled bridesmaids,
Bhe gained, at length, the platform of the altar. The white-
headed and palsied priest again opened his book, and began
the second marriage ceremony. A clattering of horse-hoofs
was heard without, and involuntarily he paused . Next
moment, a small door at the remote end of the building
through which the peasantry around used to enter to mass,
was flung open, giving egress to a gust of storm, so furious
that it extinguished nearly all the lights in the chapel Anl
with the storm-gust came in a man, enveloped in an ample
riding-cloak, who walked straight up the aisle to the altar,
holding an open letter in his hand . As he gained the aha",
all recognised the Rev. George Walker.
"You are late Mr. Walker," snid Evelyn. who now stool
outside the rails.
** Am I few late F asked Walker, eagerly.
"I present you to my wife, sir."
"There has been n clergyman of the Established Chtrrh
herer
." Xo, sir; you know we expected but you."
** All is right, then," said Wnlker. exuhinghr. "It is w
marriage."
"Insolent T cried Lord Antrim. - Proceed with the oer-
mony. Father MTVmiih IP As he spoke a servant hastrr
entered the side door. and approached his lord with a packer
." Let him T Walker retorted with a sneer. - Bet- nrsf"
## p. 169 (#197) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 169
holding out the open letter" let all try the effect of this
William, the Deliverer, has landed!"
The whole company, including those at the altar, and even
the old priest before them, started.
"It is false !" cried the friar, with passion.
"By the holy saints, it is too true !" exclaimed Antrim.
"The usurper landed at Torbay on the 5th! You were late
with your first news, reverend friar. You make mysteries of
your despatches.' But read that," handing him the paper
he had himself just perused. "Here, fellow "to the servant
who was retiring"let my people know this intelligence
instantly. Despatch horse and man around. Care not for
the nightthe signalsthe beacons! Fire that on the
castle's top, that on the bay's edge, and that on the brow of
Little Deer-Park. Let them announce it to Ballygelly Head
and the Point of Garronthey to the Fair Head and
Bengoreand round let it flame to Old Dunluce. So that,
by the morning's dawn, all true men may be stirring for their
true king and master! Meantime, on with the ceremony
though brides and bridegrooms are like to have a flaming
nuptial torch."
"Proceed, Father M'Donnell," said Edmund.
"Stop, Edmund M'Donnell," cried O'Haggerty. "Dis-
honour not your name and bloodinsult not your holy
religion, now in perilendanger not your life, by taking
to your bosom the stranger, the traitoress, and the heretic.
Come down from the altar, I saythink only of the cause,
which, by virtue of the royal commission you hold"
"What, Edmund!" interrupted Evelyn, starting forward
"the royal commission! What does this mean V
"It means," said Eva, calmly, "that my brother is a com-
missioned officer in the service of his King."
"It means," said Walker, "as I told you, Evelyn, .that he
is one of those traitors to Protestant ascendancy, in Church
and State, commissioned and sworn to cut your throat, and
mine! Aye, let him come down, as his old counsellor ad-
vises. And call you your sister, at the same time"
"Eva!" resumed Evelyn, in much agitation" knew you
of such a secret engagement V
"I did," she answered, "What if I did?"
"This is disingenuousnesstreachery !"he exclaimed.
"I am betrayed even at the altar!"
## p. 170 (#198) ############################################
170 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Treachery !betrayed, Evelyn !"Eva repeated, letting
go his arm, and stepping back haughtily.
"Betrayed you are!" said Walker, catching his arm
"even as I foretold it would be. Rouse yourself, like a man
and a Christian, and at last act as becomes you. Robert
Evelyn," he continued, in a loud and impressive voice" I
command you, in the name of your Church, and of him who
is come as your King, to rescue your father's daughter from
the pollution of a traitor's arms, and to lead her, after me,
from this idolatrous roof! Think of the pledge you have
given to me and to your countrythe pledge that is registered
against you, and that you hold in your keeping"
"What pledge does he mean V asked Eva, in her turn.
"One, Madam, which makes him a soldier of the faith, and
arms him with a sword against all Papists," replied Walker.
"One destined to be reddened in our blood," added
O'Haggerty.
"What, Evelyn!" Eva burst forth. "And you talk as
treacherous of the accepting and holding of a lawful commission
from a lawful sovereign, while you enter into an unauthorized
contract with the deadly foes of that sovereign, and of us all.
A contract, God knows of what nature! Hither, Edmund,
hither!"
Her words, and still more her looks, incensed the young
man beyond control. He turned white, then fiery red, then
white again. He stamped his foot, his eyes flashed back a
look of anger; scarce sensible of what he said, he addressed
his sister. "Esther Evelyn!" he cried, "sister! I call upon
you to stand beside me, your brother!"
"Sister, obey your brother's voice !" cried Walker; " and"
"Edmund M'Donnell! Loose the girl's hand, and let her
go!" echoed the friar.
"Scandalous men!" said the old priest, from the altar,
"interrupt not the conferring of a sacramenttear not
asunder those whom God is about to make one. Peace, and
let the marriage be done."
"Nay," resumed Eva, still addressing Evelyn, after a pause
of fearful agitation" if thus you proceed, Evelynif your
own voice be raised to cancel the engagements of my brother
with your sisterif here, at the altar, you call us traitors and
betrayersnever shall she or you have cause to repeat the
words elsewhere."
## p. 171 (#199) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 171
"How!" cried Edmund, who had at last descended, leav-
ing Esther supported by her bridesmaids. "Traitors and
betrayers !who dares speak the words V
"Dares !I spoke them !" answered Evelyn.
"Betrayer and traitor, yourself!" retorted Edmund" you,
as it at last appears, a secret plotter against your King, and
against the very friends who would take you to their bosom!"
Evelyn sprang to the altar, and seized his sister's cold
hand. "I forbid this marriage !" he said.
"And I," cried Eva M'Donnell, "renounce the former one.
Your own priest, there, has told you it is invalid. Think it
soand farewell, Evelyn, for ever!Brother, your hand."
"Be that as it may," Evelyn shouted, now completely
beyond himself" Esther shall never be the wife of a false
traitor!"
"Never!" repeated a screaming, discordant voice at the
side window, accompanied by loud and frantic clapping of
hands. The sounds deprived Esther of the little self-posses-
sion she had; she sank senseless into her brother's arms. A
glare of red light broke through all the windows into the
chapel; and as the roaring of the beacon blaze, abroad,
mingled with the beating of the heavy rain, and the con-
tinued howling of the hurricane, Onagh's screams, and the
wild clapping of her hands, might be heard above every other
sound. "While her pallid face appeared, now at one window,.
now at another, and her "Never! never!" rising above
the roof of the chapel, seemed to be a tongue of the tempest.
A few moments later, Evelyn and Walker, bearing between
them, even through the fury of the night, the insensible
Esther, left Antrim Castle, to seek shelter in the adjacent
hamlet of Glenarm.
CHAPTER XIV.
The shock Esther received in mind and heart had an instan-
taneous and continuous effect on her health; and her brother
soon perceived it would for some time be impossible to remove
her from the village of Glenarm, notwithstanding the indiffe-
rent accommodation of the place.
## p. 172 (#200) ############################################
172 THE BOYNE WATER.
Mr. Walker remained with them three or four days, during
which few allusions were made to recent occurrences. The
feelings or views of all were too deep to he trusted to imme-
diate utterance.
But the scenes of bustle, in the village around them, conti-
nued to feed, more amply than perhaps words could have
done, the poignant, though stupified reveries of Evelyn.
The new levies, hitherto but tardily carried on, were now
evidently engaged in, even in so remote a district, with zeal
and vigour. Bodies of recruits, some in half-uniform, some half-
naked, and shouting to the screams of the bagpipes, hurried
through the streets, to be reviewed or drilled on the esplanade
before Antrim Castle. Military-looking horsemen, obviously
bearers of expresses to the Earl, dashed, from time to time,
towards the drawbridge. Old men gathered in groups
through the village, and spoke to each other mysteriously,
and in whispers. Women, old and young, spoke in the
shrillest key, when they met by twos and threes, out of doors,
or ran to and from each other's houses. All the urchins and
curs, conscious of a time of unusual uproar, piped and barked,
in pure animal sympathy. And every anvil in the village
rang from morn to night, with the rapid and rude manufac-
turing of skeins and half-pikes.
The sojourners could learn, too, that a considerable body
of Scotch Highlanders, whom Lord Antrim held at his
disposal, either were expected to land, or had actually landed
from the opposite shore, in order to join the army his Lord-
ship was raising among his own people. These were to form
the most important portion of his force. For though he bore
the sounding title of colonel of the Antrim army, few men in
the county, apart from the primitive population of Glenarriff,
and those immediately dependent on the Earl, could be found
heartily disposed towards the cause of their tottering sove-
reign. Yet, comparatively insignificant as might be the
hasty levy thus attempted, the very first movement of the
army resulting from it, caused, as shall be seen, the first timid
-act of hostility against King James, on the part of his Irish
Protestant subjects.
"These precipitate recruitings, among so barbarous a
people," said Mr. Walker, as, on the third day after their
sudden departure from Antrim Castle, he and Evelyn stood
observing a detachment of men who marched by" cannot
## p. 173 (#201) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 17$
harm us, if, indeed, we act promptly and spiritedly for self-
preservation. The whole of my Lord Tyrconnel's disposable
force, in the hour the deliverer landed, did not amount to
more than nine thousand. Half of these he has despatched,
as my letters inform me, to the assistance of his master in
England; and in Dublin and the north alone, there are,
under Providence, sufficient good men, with arms in their
hands, too, to oppose the exterminating views of our own
sworn enemies."
"Yes, sir, should we be called on to offer resistance to
attack," said Evelyn.
"Doubtless. But see, another swarm of those wretched,
though cruel people! Know you not the face of the officer
at their head V
Evelyn, all his recollections, feelings, and passions coming
at once on his heart, hid his face with his hands, and turned
from the window, as he recognised Edmund M'Donnell.
The body he commanded was composed of Highlanders,
wearing the kilt, together with such of the people of Glen-
arriff as retained, in most perfection, the Scottish costume.
Edmund himself, as well as his elder relative and command-
ing officer, Daniel M'Donnell, of Layde, had also assumed, as
if in compliment to their men, the kilt, plumed bonnet, and
plaid. "Hurrah for the redshanks !" shouted the boys and
women, as they passed by; using a Highland appellation, by
which the whole of Lord Antrim's celebrated regiment was
afterwards distinguished.
A man, who seemed to have ridden hard, rapidly entered
the room, presenting a letter to Mr. Walker. They ex-
changed a significant regard as the clergyman broke the seal
of his despatch.
"God's will be done!" he said, when he had read it. "I
must leave you, Robert Evelyn. The affairs of my parish
of my own peoplerequire my immediate presence. But if
you are warned by the advices I have offered you, not to
remove your sister for some weeks, and then to remove her
to Deny, we shall meet here again, and I will escort you,
through the perils of the road, to that loyal city, where, if
there be rest or peace in Ireland for such as we are, she
will surely find both. Do you promise to abide my return?
"
"For my sister's sake, yes, Mr. Walker. But what perils
can we fear on the road? There is yet no warfare in our
## p. 174 (#202) ############################################
174 THE BOTOE WATER.
country; no invader, with a foreign army; no native array
on his side. King James yet commands the allegiance of all
his Irish subjects, and apparently enjoys it. There is even
no confirmation of the reported design to destroy or harm us,
which you have before mentioned. What, then, can we
apprehend? What are your perils of the road V
"A little time will answer you. To-morrow, or the day
after, must give us notice of the successes of William in Eng-
land: here at home, important, and to us terrible things, are
also hastening to a disclosure. Trust me, my return to
Glenarm promises you much information and counsel. For
the present, your hand, and farewell."
"One parting word, sir. I ask you, as a man of honour,
is it now intended to organize the northern associations of
which you have advised me, against our Sovereign, King
James?"
"That question I have, by anticipation, resolved. No
such design is professed, or intended to be professed. We
arm ourselves, and get together, only in natural precaution
against the conspiracy directed towards our properties and
lives, which, from many good sources, there is cause to
believe but too certain, and which a short time will prove
or gainsay. Meanwhile, during the increased arming of
Papists, of which you are, yourself, a witness, shall we not
increase our own strength in proportion? Shall we not stand
upon our guard, in counsel and courage, to the extent in
which we are threatened? Farewell, I say, and fear not to
fall by my guidance."
Evelyn saw the clergyman depart without personal regret,
and yet with disquietude. Mr. Walker was the chief cause
of the extraordinary steps he had recently taken. He seemed
to possess a right to influence him ; the right of years, expe-
rience, friendship for his father, conscientious conviction, and
religious zeal. At least, Evelyn endeavoured to think so.
And so long as he stood by his side, the young man half
assured himself he had acted properly, whatever might have
been the terrible sacrifice of private feeling in his own breast,
or in those of others. But he was uneasy at being left alone
to the unassisted survey of the past. On the other hand,
nature continually claimed from him that survey. He
doubtedand what anguish was the doubt!even whilst
he argued himself into self-approbation; although he feared,
## p. 175 (#203) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 175
he yearned to examine his own heart. And this, assisted by
an indifference, if not a dislike, to the person of his adviser,
made him experience an involuntary sense of relief at his
departure.
Reflection then came on for the first time since his parting
from Eva at the nuptial altar. Evelyn was a man of strong
and deep emotion, though not showing much outward or
ordinary semblance of it. He loved Eva profoundly, ador-
ingly; the possession of her hand had been, for years, his
long dream of happiness. Was that handeven after it had
become hislost to him for ever? If so, why 1 Had any-
thing appeared in her character, to give him self-applause in
the thought of having deserted her? and as he did desert
her?herhis bride, wife. These reveries became too
strong for him, and, rushing from himself, he started up and
rapidly entered his sister's sick chamber.
She was asleep, and evidently dreaming a sorrowful
dream; her white lips muttered low cries, and tears gushed
from under her eyelids. He checked his step, held in his
breath, and heard her half articulate some words that
despairingly reproached him with the cruel part he had
acted. Her voice grew stronger, and her words more dis-
tinct, as she uttered a passionate malediction on the heads of
those who, trampling on the affections of human nature, had
embittered happy lives, and broken true hearts. Her
brother did not refuse silently to echo her prayer, as, more
agitated, he regained his apartment.
In fact, the momentary indignation he had felt against
Edmund, and, through him, against Eva, was now more than
forgotten. The jealousy of politics subsided : there are no
politics in love, for the heart of man gives not place to two
master passions at the same instant. Evelyn could only
surrender himself to a full reflux of the tide of his former
feelings, and be miserable. Yet why, he asked himself, this
despair? Although much was to be dreaded from the spirit
and romance of Eva's character, still she Wed him; and
were he to sue and ask forgiveness, would she not relent 1
Or, was she not truly his wife, and could he not command
her to his side? The laws of the country did not, indeed,
recognise their marriage, but it was sacred to Eva. Affec-
tion apart, must she not tremble at the sin of abandoning
her husband t
## p. 176 (#204) ############################################
176 THE BOYNE WATER.
He called a servant, and, for the first time, sent to inquire
after Eva's health, at Antrim Castle, desiring the man to ask
for her as Mrs. Evelyn. Lord and Lady Antrim returned for
answer that they had no message to deliver. He wrote a
note; it was not received by the servant. He walked up to
the castle himself; he was not admitted. Once more
offended, Evelyn returned to his humble lodgings.
The next day produced, after a sleepless night, its natural
change. Recollecting that his verbal message had been most
successful, he again sent to inquire if Mrs. Evelyn was yet at
the castle. The man came back to say, that, after much
hesitation, he had been instructed to inform Evelyn that no
such person as Mrs. Evelyn was known by the family. Miss
M'Donnell had been gone some days. He sent to ask
whither; but to this repeated inquiry no answer of any kind
was returned.
Another day came, and, unable to control himself, he
mounted his horse, and spurred towards Glenarriff, con-
cluding that Eva could have retired to no roof but that of
her father. As he entered the spacious valley, experiencing
that doleful sickness of the heart with which old objects,
that have been present to our joy, show themselves to the
eye of sorrow, Evelyn was obliged to ride close by a con-
siderable body of men, in full march against him, and, at a
particular spot, to draw up to let them pass. Among them
he distinguished many faces that had welcomed him to Glen-
arriff, on the first night of his visit, but that now scowled at
him in hostility and detestation. In about the middle of the
line marched a second officer; it was Edmund. Their eyes
met; Evelyn could not recollect the expression of his own,
but those of young M'Donnell just glanced, for an instant,
coldly upon him, and then turned off to give a word of com-
mand to his men. It was not anger that Evelyn now felt;
hot tears trickled down his cheeks when the remainder of the
file had passed by. Some time after it had passed, he re-
mained motionless; and, with fainting hope, he at last stood
before the Stripof Burne.
The irregular ground before and behind the house, as far
as the base of the overhanging precipice, was filled by pea-
sants, grouped at random, and in the act of receiving from
old M'Donnell supplies of different kinds of rude arms. No
one perceived the stranger, on his first approach, and he rode
## p. 177 (#205) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 177
forward, close to the nearest group, and repeatedly addressed
them, ere he was recognised. Then, however, no friendly
welcome seemed intended. At the first glance of the man
who had so recently insulted him, old M'Donnell rapidly
walked into his house and shut his door; while some pea-
sants, who at once knew Evelyn's person, started into angry
attitudes, spoke vehemently to their companions, in Irish, and
finally, with bent brows and great clamour, seized his horse's
bridle. He remonstrated, but in vain, against this show of
violence. They grasped their half-pikes, or drew their rusty
broadswords, or their skeins, and closed on him, crying,
"Sheese, sheese, Sassenagk /"*when, at the moment, from the
top of the precipice, at the back of the house, came a scream,
mingled with the hoarse waterfall, and, immediately after, a
cry of" Fhon! Fhon /"t Looking up, Evelyn saw the form
of Eva, clothed in white, standing against a clear blue frosty
sky, a royal banner in her hand. At the sound of her voice,
the men readily, though sullenly, left Evelyn free. With a
sensation of fear which almost compelled him to cry out, he
beheld her descend, by some pathway unobservable to his
eye, zig-zag down the precipice, her white dress and her
richly embroidered banner often mixed, during her tortuous,
though rapid descent, with the silver spray of the torrent.
In a few moments she was at his horse's side. He flung
himself from the saddle, on his knees, at her feet. But Eva
only averted her head, and, with repelling arms, haughtily
exclaimed:
"Rise, Mr. Evelyn!I am here but to save your life,
which, had I not come in view, a moment more would have
given to the rash hands of these, my poor devoted people.
Eise, sir, and quit, for ever, a clan and a place, every child of
whom is athirst for your blood. To horse, sir, and fly!
Yet hold-I should, myself, accompany you. Thowr tchoom,
ma choppel-bavm P'% she continued, turning to the men" but,
first, a more important duty. Children of Glenarriff, here is
your colours. On the edge of your highest precipice, where
the air of heaven is purest and freest, my maids and I have
wrought and mottoed it. Now, with a prayer for him who
guards it well, and a curse and a strange grave for him who
ever yields it up, take it from a maiden's hand."
* Down, down, Englishman! t Stop- t Fetch me my white horse.
N
## p. 178 (#206) ############################################
178 THE BOYNE WATER.
Their shouts, as they accepted it, echoed through the wide
glen. Almost as soon as she had done speaking, her white
horse was, according to her command, led towards her; she
gained her saddle; and, with a word and a signal to the men,
rode quickly down the valley. Evelyn found himself com-
pelled to regain the saddle of his own steed, and, guarded by
some half-dozen armed and mounted peasants, to follow her
at a brisk pace.
Glenarriff was cleared in a short time, and Eva still led on,
by Red Bay, at equal speed, until, in order to master the
sharp declivity of Garron Point, she was at last obliged to
tighten her rein. Then did Evelyn move to gain her side;
but owing to the prompt and dangerous interference of the
men, without success. He addressed them energetically; he
offered them his purse: in vain. And thus all slowly gained
the summit of the Point, where Eva at length paused till he
came up.
"You are now out of immediate danger from the people of
my father's insulted house, Mr. Evelyn," she said as he ap-
proached. "Almost the whole of your road homeward is
down-hill; and as these men shall, at my command, accom-
pany me back, keep but the vantage-ground between you
and them, and fear nothing for your personal safety. Fare-
well, sir!" Turning to her attendants, she motioned them,
in a way that would not be refused, to turn back, standing,
meantime, between them and Evelyn. They obeyed her,
though with many a scowl and muttering, directed at "the
Sassenagh;" and, in an instant, she and all were leaving him
alone on the top of the ascent, when, almost inarticulate from
emotion, he began
"Gracious God, Eva!my Eva!Eva Evelyn!surely this
is not to be our parting !suffer me"
" Not a word, sir !"interrupting him, and speaking
half-turned in her saddle, while she scarcely checked her
parting speed" not a word, sirnot a breath, on any other
topic. We were and are strangers to each other. We met
but to save your life; it is saved, and our last meeting over.
Farewellpoor traitor to Woman and to your Kingpoor
renegade from the Altar and the Throneperjured in Love
and Loyaltyto man, to heaven, and to me!fare you
well !"
She gave her steed still freer rein, and Eva and her atten-
## p. 179 (#207) ############################################
THE EOYNE WATER. 179
dantsthe latter adding to her words, which they understood
but by her tone and manner, a savage yell of scornwere
soon lost to Evelyn's vision as they swept by the windings of
Bed Bay,
CHAPTER XV.
Arrived at home, and once more left to his reflections,
Evelyn's misery was increased by the result of his unsatisfac-
tory visit to Glenarriff. A portion of bitter feeling, of newly-
raised anger, and outraged pride, mingled with his recollection
of the sentiments Eva had expressed towards him at her
parting. In the first bursts of passion, he even condemned
her nature as coarse, masculine, and vindictive, alike inca-
pable and unworthy of respectful love. Some days passed in
this mood; but, as before, it gradually wore away. Eva
returned upon his view in all the perfection that woman could
or ought to exhibit; she had acted and spoken to him but as
he merited; it was he that was incapable of estimating her;
it was he that had sinned to an excess beyond her forgive-
ness, and had lost sight of her character only by sinking so
much beneath it.
He would make renewed efforts to obtain her forgiveness;
not, indeed, by another journey to Glenarriff, because, apart
from the personal hazard, her feelings were at present too
strongly and too justly roused to allow him to stand before
her. But he would write. And he did write a long, ardent,
and repentant letter. It was sent back unopened. Another
and another shared the same fate. A verbal message, the
courier assured him, he had vainly striven to deliver. At
last the man confessed that his limbs or life would be risked
by venturing any more to Glenarriff.
Evelyn was therefore compelled to bear, as he could, the
peculiar distress of his situation. The news and reports of
the day might have served to divert his mind, but he took no
pains to become acquainted with them, or, when known by
the gossip of some around him, he paid them no attention.
In truth, he detested politics, and political movements and
persons, because he attributed to an unwarrantable intrusion
## p. 180 (#208) ############################################
180 THE BOYNE WATER.
of both upon his private feelings and arrangements, his pre-
sent "wretchedness. One fact only, of all that he from day to
day became aware of, made an impression on his mind,
namely, the march of Lord Antrim's new regiment to garrison
Deny, in lieu of that which, on the landing of William, had
been despatched to England from that city. And Evelyn
dwelt a moment on this circumstance, solely because it indi-
rectly appealed to his feelings as connected with the move-
ments and fortunes of the brother of Eva M'Donnell.
To sit by Esther's bedside, to receive from her physician
good accounts of her returning health, to witness -himself
a gradual change for the better, and, when her spirits per-
mitted, to talk over with her a certain and speedy reconcilia-
tion between them and their beloved ones-this was the
only balm for the wounded heart of Evelyn; and, it may be
added, for that of his sister also. She would, indeed, listen
to such assurances with the sole interest of feature that had
lately brightened her pale visage. Yet, in the midst of her
renovated hopes, Esther felt a gainsaying of the heart, which
was visible to her brother, although he had never been made
acquainted with its latent cause, and could not now venture
a satisfactory surmise on the subject.
In such a disposition of mind, Mr. "Walker found Evelyn
and Esther, when, according to promise, he returned to
Glenarm, in something more than a fortnight after his de-
parture.
His usually sedate step was hurried, as he presented him-
self before Evelyn; and his countenance, always grave,
showed symptoms of much earnestress.
"I have ridden hard," he said, "to reach you on the
morning of this day. It is now time, and more than time,
we were secure in Deny. Events in England, to mention
nothing else, have, as you must know:, made this step neces-
sary since our parting."
"In truth, Mr. Walker, I do not know. My own affairs
and my own sorrows sufficiently occupied me," the young
man coldly replied.
"Amazing indifference and lukewarmness V retorted the
clergyman, in some asperity: "at such a time as this to re-
main contentedly ignorant of the great events that must
shape the fate of millions of men, and your own among the
number! You know not, then, that while advanced only as
## p. 181 (#209) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 181
far as Exeter to face James at Salisbury, the Prince has been
joined by my lords of Colchester and Cornbury, with the
flower of their troops; by my Lord Churchill"
"What!" interrupted Evelyn, "that man! the very
growth of his Sovereign's favourraised from a page, to
title and military command, and ever enjoying King James's
utmost confidence!"
"It is, indeed, a noble sacrifice of private feelings to public
virtue," said Mr. Walker.
"Rather say, of all that is good and honorable in private
feeling, to the fear of sharing his master's reverse of fortune,!'
replied Evelyn, indignantly. "A dog that had but fed
from that master's hand would shame such policy!"
"And," continued the clergyman, with a half laugh, "the
chief officers of James's army, who have not yet deserted him,
inform his general, Feversham, that they cannot, in con-
science, draw a sword against their deliverer."
"I used to think, Mr. Walker, that the tenderest con-
science of a soldier and a gentleman concerned his fidelity to
the monarch whose commission he bore, and whom he had
sworn to protect."
"Churchill has carried over with him the Duke of
Grafton, the last living son of James's brother; Colonel
Berkley and others," continued Walker, calmly pursuing his
object.
"A bastard nephew may well show but a bastard love and
loyalty to his King and his Uncle, sir," sneered Evelyn, his
bitter comments arising as much from the state of his private
feelings as from a principle of reasoning or conviction.
"Nay, Churchill has effected more. King James, alarmed
and terrified by this general defection"
"Say, shocked and disgusted, Mr. Walker."
"Unable to confide in his officers or his army, resolved to
march them back to London. At his first halt, Andover,
Prince George, the husband of his second daughter, Anne,
yielding to the representations of my Lord Churchill, and,
with him, the young Duke of Ormonde, withdrew to
William's camp."
"Let the foreign blood in Prince George's veins prompt him
to any selfish or unnatural act," said Evelyn, warmly, "but
for an Ormonde to act with him!for the grandson of the
good and illustrious Ormonde to act so! Alas! his father,
## p. 182 (#210) ############################################
182 THE BOYNE WATER.
Ossory, would not have done this. Norwere the old
Ormonde alive, and the young traitor stretched before him
on his early bier, as too soon happened to that noble Ossory,
fighting and falling for a royal master!alas! Mr. Walker,
the virtuous grandsire could not say of his child's child what
he said of his child's self, 'I would not change my dead son
for any living son in Christendom.'"
"Meantime," rejoined the clergyman, calmly ignoring these
comments, "Lady Churchill, who ever possessed an influence
over the Princess Anne, was exerting, at the instance of her
lord, all her powers of persuasion. To such good effect, that,
on the return of James to London, he learned the flight of
his daughter, also, accompanied by his old friend, the Bishop
of London, and, of necessity, the worthy Lady Churchill."
"Wretched king!" cried Evelyn, "miserable father! He
is known to have loved her with the tenderest affection: how
bore he this terrible blow, sir?"
"He wept aloud," answered Mr. Walker, himself, at
length, something affected" he wept aloud, in the bitterness
of the father's agony, crying, 'God help me! my own chil-
dren have forsaken me!'"
"It is monstrous, unparalleled!" continued Evelyn, deeply
stirred" unparalleled in the history of human nature, or of
the human heart. Succeeding generations will acknowledge"
(they have on all sides acknowledged it)" that this prince,
whose chief errors were those of temper, judgment, and fana-
ticism, has met, from his most obliged friends, and the nearest
members of his family, worse treatment than even Nero,
Domitian, or the blackest tyrants of the world ever experi-
enced."
"I deny not," said Mr. Walker, " that, apart from the
necessity of the times, he has been harshly treated. But he
must have felt keenest of all the general charge made
against him, at the moment he wept over the desertion of his
daughter, and whilst her retreat was unknown, of having,
with his own hand, put her to death. This, I will say, was a
thought too unnatural, and too superfluous."
"Not too unnatural for the crowd, maddened by religious
antipathy. When Oates and Bedlow guided the national
mind, he was charged with the intention of assassinating his
brother : the one view of things is but a revival of the other."
"However that may be," Mr. Walker continued, "we
## p. 183 (#211) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 183
should now rather look into the face of our affairs at home.
While the Prince continues his triumphant march to London
and so much, only, of his progress do we yet knowthe-
Papist population of this wretched country rise in thousands,
and arm and discipline themselves for oar destruction."
"The old theme, Mr. Walker, without new proof. That
portion of the population of the country, which happens to
be Catholic, arms itself in support of the King, and at his
express command. How should this bode us harm 1 Merely
on account of a vague rumour, why should we seek, by
counter-association, to cross and divert their strength and
energies from a lawful purpose 1i It is not even hinted that
William shall strive to depose his father-in-law; he and you
say that his invasion is but intended to obtain an arrange-
ment of differences between the King and his people, and
that, then, all shall be peace. What use, therefore, for a
secret combination, which, if not directed towards James's
crown, is unauthorized by him, and must, therefore, be
unnecessary to him."
"As I have never spoken of our association in a great
political view, I shall not do so now. I call on you to regard
it simply as a precaution, as a safeguard in the night against
the steps of the assassin."
"But never yet have you shown me grounds for even such
a fear, or such a precaution."
"Look at this paper, then, and be satisfied. It is a copy
of a letter found at Cumber, the present seat of my Lord
Mount Alexander, and forwarded by express to me, as well
as to many others in Dublin, and through the north, who are
known to be zealous soldiers of the reformed faith. It is
dated the third, I received it on the fourth, yesterday, and have
lost no time in handing it to you this day. Eead and judge."
Evelyn read the following:
"Good my Lord
"I have written to you to let you know that all our Irish-
men through Ireland is sworn that, on the ninth day of this
month, they are all to fall on and murder man, woman, and
child; and all I desire your lordship to take care of yourself,
and all others that are judged by our men to be heads; for
whosoever of 'em can kill you, they are to have a captain's
place: so my desire to your honour is, to look to yourself, and
give other noblemen warning, and go not out, either night or
## p. 184 (#212) ############################################
184 THE BOYNE WATER.
day, without a good guard with you, and let no Irishman
come near you, whatsoever he be. So, this is all from him
who was your father's friend, and is your friend, and will be,
though I dare not be known as yet, for fear of my life."
Here is quoted, word for word, the document that, such
as it is, produced the real or feigned show of terror, which,
beginning in professions of loyalty to King James, ended in
openly resisting his dominion in Ireland.
Evelyn paused a moment after reading the paper, and, at
last, Mr. Walker, his eyes fixed upon him, asked: "What is
your opinion?"
"That your scrawl, be it authentic or not, will serve, until
events take a decided aspect, one way or another, in England,
to supply, to our own party here, sufficient pretence for an-
noying and checking King James's soldiers." As he finished,
he, too, looked expressively into Mr, Walker's face.
"What do you mean?" inquired that gentleman.
"This," said Evelyn. "So long as James is King, it
would be treason overtly to oppose him. Should he continue
King, that treason must expect to be punished. Therefore,
we now wisely avoid taking an open part, contenting our-
selves with such a one as, while it keeps us safe, will effect
our present purposes."
"You cannot deny the danger that threatens usyou
cannot, in fact, insinuate that the original of the document
you hold in your hands, has not been written by the person
it purports to be written by V
"It purports to be written by a vulgar Irishman; but it
rather seems to me like the diction of a vulgar Englishman;
or, perhaps, an affectation of the latter by an educated
person. It is, and it is not, vulgar; it is, and it is not, the
form in which a vulgar person, of any country, would convey
himself, on such a subject. It is overdone; it is, in fact, a
clumsy imitation of its great prototype, the letter that gave
notice of the gunpowder treason. I wish I could see the
original writing."
"You shall see it; and when you do, God give you the
advantage of thinking of it as all others do. Meantime, it is
fit you should be informed how all others do think of it.
Our Ulster Union, hitherto but timidly carried on, that
letter has confirmed and extended."
"That letter, Mr. Walker?"
## p. 185 (#213) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 185
"So that in the counties of Down and Antrim are now
raised twelve troops of horse, with my Lord Mount Alex-
ander for their colonel; two dragoon regiments, commanded
by :Sir Arthur Rawdon and Mr. Clotworthy Skeffington;
with four regiments of foot, raised by distinguished gentle-
men; and other levies are still going on under our eye, while
the remaining northern counties are equally active. Some
motion for a union in Munster has also taken place."
"Well, sir?"
"And it is to the command of one of the twelve troops,
headed by my Lord Mount Alexander, that your commission
finally appoints you."
"For what service, Mr. Walker. What is to be done?"
"Why should I aver, over and over again, for the preser-
vation of your own liberty, property, and life 1 And the first
thing to be done is to remove your sister to a place of safety.
Can she yet bear a rapid journey to the city of Derry 1"
"Her physician permits it. But wherefore to Derry,
instead of our own house?"
"Are you her brother-her only natural protectorand,
in such a day of approaching peril, can you ask the question 1
I say, that of all places in Ireland, Derry is the safest, in case
of an attack from the Papists, because it has strong walls and
gates, and never a Popish soldier in garrison. For it hath
pleased God so to infatuate the councils of my Lord Tyrcon-
nel, that when the three thousand men were sent to England
to assist his master against the invasion of the Prince of
Orange, he took particular care to send away the whole regi-
ment quartered in and about that city."
"But I am not ignorant, Mr. Walker, that, two days before
your arrival, my Lord Antrim marched his new levy to garri-
son that very place; and they are Papist, to a man."
"They are. But as the roads must, in this weather, prove
bad for foot-soldiers, they cannot yet have reached their
quarters; nor, if we now use speed, can they reach them
before us. Therefore, let us despatch."
"Will it not be the same when they enter after us V
"Yes, if they do enter after us; but that, as well as all the
future, is in the hands of Providence. Despatch, I say, young
man; the time is precious to all, and to me, humble as may
be the instrument, as much so as to any. I should not
be here, away from more pressing duties, but that my heart
## p. 186 (#214) ############################################
186 THE BOYNE WATER.
urges me to shield and guide the son and daughter of my old
friend; nor can I rest here to waste the important momenta
in watching a young man's humour. Rise up, and to horse,
if you have honour for grey hairs, or for your father's memory,
or a brother's feeling for your only sister."
Thus urged, and really wishing at heart to approach
the place whither Edmund M'Donnell had been ordered,
Evelyn rapidly prepared for the departure of his sister and
himself to Derry. In an hour every arrangement had been
made, and the journey commenced. Walker, seeming well
aware of the route taken by Lord Antrim's army, chose
another; merely, he said, to avoid the want of accommoda-
tion which must naturally be created in every resting-place
visited by so large a body of men. Leaving them to pursue
the more northerly, and, indeed, more direct way, which, by
Newtownlimavady, would lead them to Derry, he struck
into a road which, running due westward, also conducted
the party, through Ballymena, and other petty villages, to
that city.
It was noon, on the fifth of December, when the travellers
left Grlenarm. Their guide urged the utmost possible speed;
bo that Esther was allowed but few hours for repose, during
the night-time, ere her brother again summoned her to horse.
On descending, at about three o'clock in the morning,to the
door of the wretched auberge where she could not be said to
have slept, she was startled by the appearance of a body of
armed men, rudely accoutred, but well-mounted, who seemed
waiting upon Mr. Walker. Expressing her apprehensions to
Evelyn, she understood that these persons had been sum-
moned by their guide, to insure them safe escort during the
night, and, indeed, for the remainder of their journey.
Their journey recommenced in pitch darkness; the road
often proving almost impassable from inundations and from
its marshy nature, and often lying through continued planta-
tions of old trees, now laid bare by the December blast. The
dreary morning showed, however, a less difficult and lonely
road; and one rendered interesting, too, by its mountain
features, of which, Cairn Togher to the left, Benbradach to
the right, and Donald's hill and its continued northern chain
in the distance, were the most imposing.
Clearing this mountainous tract, villages and people still
increased; the latter, indeed, in such a number, as the
## p. 187 (#215) ############################################
THE BOTOE WATER. 187
morning wore away, that the road became thronged with
groups of men, women, and children, driving cattle, or leading
horses which bore piles of provision or of household furniture.
"They are flying, like ourselves," said Walker, "to the
nearest towns and strong places, from the approach of the
bloody ninth of December; from the next Sabbath, destined
to be defiled with their blood."
As the travellers hurried along, from group to group, every
look that turned anxiously to examine them, was one of
terror; and the half-martial costume of Mr. Walker and his
escort visibly created new alarm. While the quick tramp
i and clatter of the horses announced their near approach to
each party, he strove to show an identity of interest and
suffering with the people, by frequent ejaculations of
"Protestants, be firm !"" Gird you for defence against the
cruel Papists !"" Haste, loyal Protestants, and shelter you
from slaughter!" In conformity with the different charac-
ters he addressed, cries of fear or of violence, or exclamations
for expedition, arose among the leaders. Mothers clasped
their arms closer round the infants they already saw butchered
in imagination; sons hurried on the feeble steps of the old
age they supported; or, rougher characters, as, with goad or
thong, they urged forward their cattle, harshly chid their
wives and children for attributed tardiness, while all uttered
threats of hatred and revenge against those who caused them
to experience the desolation of flying from their homes.
Again, some few huts, inhabited by Roman Catholics, lay
scattered along the road. We have elsewhere said that the
Roman Catholics, on their side, expected nothing less than
extermination at the hands of the Protestants (and certainly
with more common sense on their side, inasmuch as in Ulster
the privileged order reckoned ten to three against them.) Now
standing at their cabin-doors, and recognising, in total igno-
rance of the reasons for their extraordinary movements, the
thronging groups of sworn enemies, the wretched people
snatched up their children, and ran, howling and terror-
stricken, to seek places of concealment. While, on more than
one occasion, the causers of their panic, mistaking the motives
of their hasty retreat, and supposing it to portend, in some
way or other, an anticipation of the dreaded ninth of De-
cember, answered them with cries as loud, and increased their
own speed in treble clamour and confusion.
## p. 188 (#216) ############################################
188 THE BOYNE WATER.
Nor, after some further progress on the road, was it to
the lower orders, on either side, that the mutual delusion
seemed limited. Esquires and nobles, dames and gentle dam-
sels, well-mounted, and gaily, though, in many instances,
hastily and inappropriately attired, frequently passed the tra-
vellers, from behind, on their way to Derry, Coleraine, or
some other more northern town. Others, as respectable
in appearance, came on, in a contrary direction, flying south-
ward, from the dreaded presence of those who, with might
and main, with whip and spur, were only running away from
them. Individuals of both parties recognised Mr. Walker.
Some among the Protestant gentry pulled up to ask a hasty
confirmation of their fears, which, when received, sent them
forward in increased speed and terror. While, as the Roman
Catholic fugitives consciously fixed their glances on him and
his armed attendants, and received in return a scowl, or a
muttered threat or curse, they first paced stealthily by, and
then, at a clear distance, also recommenced their flight with
increased vigour. Many a gay cavalier plume, many a disor-
dered headdress, much dishevelled, though beautiful hair,
many ill-arranged cloaks and embroidered riding-dresses,
Papist and Protestant, fluttered on the morning breeze. Many 
a young and pretty face flitted past its rival one, as young and
pretty as itself, in fright, hatred, and aversion; many an old
and ugly one, as its owner's joints cracked, and her few teeth
chattered from the rapid and ceaseless jolting she underwent
for her country and religion, scowling utter loathing on some
heretic or idolatrous sister visage, which, God wot, was no-
ways tardy in returning the greeting.
And such scenes thickened on the road, until late in the
afternoon of the seventh of December, our party arrived at
the then chief citadel of Protestant power in the north of
Ireland, the city of Derry. A little town it was, built all
over a little conical hill; looking as unpicturesque and as
unimposing as can well be imagined; and the property, since
the charter of James I., of certain worshipful persons of the
city of London. Crossing the river Foyle at a ferry (where
the traveller, whom unusual business, or venturesome curiosity
may beguile into a visit to a place so isolated from intercourse
with all other parts of the world, will now find the safer ac-
commodation of a wooden bridge, seemingly aslongas Waterloo
bridge over the Thames), our friends entered the miniature
## p. 189 (#217) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 189
city by Ferry-quay gate, and advanced, up a steep street
named from it, towards the Diamond, a species of square, in
which was the residence of Mr. Paul Evelyn and his lady.
It seemed as though all the inhabitants had assembled, in
different groups, in the streets, to converse with each other
on matter of life and death. If one of our readers has hap-
pened to observe the aspect of a country town upon an
occasion of public interest, he must have noticed that there
are certain stands on which the humbler classes congregate,
as if by previous consent, to give and receive information.
And, as in every circle in society some centre is found, he
will likewise have noticed that, in each of these parties, there
is one man who rules the discourse; that, while the majority
are open-mouthed listeners, but three or four speakers can be
heard; and that the admired and self-confident Daniel
approves of the opinion offered with a sagacious nod, or
rejects it with a grin of derision.
If the country town boast a corporation, as Deny did, and
does, and if the traders and shopkeepers be members of the
corporation, as was the case when our travellers entered the
little northern fastness, at the same time that the lower
classes have their own places of discussion, there is sure to be
also some favoured spot, some news-shop in the open air,
where the well-clothed, well-fed, and consequential of the
citizens do flock, as if by instinct, to argue, in somewhat
better language, the selfsame topics that engage the humbler
assemblies. In the former it will happen that superior mind,
or, what has often passed for the same thing, the assumption of
it, takes precedence; and, generally speaking, that such mind
is situated in the most ragged, unshaven, and unwashed per-
son of the company, because a man cannot, in a breath, be a
diligent mechanic, and a talking and ambitious ruler of the
opinions of others. But among the latter, that the longest
purse, seldom unaccompanied by the most considerable
paunch, is the criterion (good reason why!) at once of
oratory and of wisdom. Recollecting, then, these different
pictures, and making some variation in costume, such as long
skirts for shorter skirts, cocked hats for round hats, square-
toed and buckled shoes for pointed ones, blue or carnation
clocked hose for white or grey plain ones, perukes or flowing
tyes for scratch-wigs or bob-wigs, or natural hairthe
reader, we say, turning his eyes from the several groups of
## p. 190 (#218) ############################################
190 THE BOYNE WATER.
politicians, rieh and poor, of his model country town, has
only to fix them on the similar groups that, during the pro-
gress of our travellers up Ferry-quay street, occupied their
allotted stands, at every convenient point, and so get a true
idea of the public commotion we wish to place before him.
But perhaps it has never been his chance to witness such a
downright fuss as now reigned among the Denyanians. For
so many orators were abroad, haranguing so many knots;
with so many women and lads, formed into parties amongst
themselves, and all talking so much, and so loudly, and so
fast, that a stranger, like Evelyn, would have found it diffi-
cult to understand a word spoken. It was, however, at once
perceptible that the terrors of the country were, if possible,
exceeded by the terrors of the town.
A portly gentleman, recognising Mr. Walker, rapidly ad-
vanced from one of the superior groups, to meet him,
overheated and out of breath, though it was a December day.
"Have the red-shanks appeared V demanded the clergy-
man.
"Not yet, not yet," answered his Deny friend. "But
they quartered, last night, only twelve miles distant from us;
and instant tidings of their arrival were sent us, by Mr.
George Philips, describing their appearance, and, as he says,
'their evident intentions,' and counselling us not to admit
them within our walls."
"Another advice, to the like effect, reached us this morn-
ing," said a second " stout gentleman."
"And have you, Alderman Tomkins, or you, Alderman
Norman, yet decided on the part you are to take T demanded
Mr. Walker.
"No, truly," they answered; "for on that subject, Mr.
Walker, there are many opinions. Some of the younger folk
have their own; and so has our excellent bishop, Ezekiel
Hopkins. And so have we, the elder and graver people of
this distressed city."
A horseman dashed up the steep street to announce that
Lord Antrim's regiment was approaching the town, by the
side of Lough Foyle. Crowds of people, who had caught
glimpses of them from the walls, descended, at the same time,
and confirming the intelligence in loud cries, gathered round
the two aldermen, Mr. Walker, and his young friends. Many
others joined them.
## p. 191 (#219) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 191
"Men of Derry!" Mr. Walker continued, energetically ad-
dressing the crowd" will you remain undecided as to the
instantaneous step to be taken? You know that the Sabbath
draws onyou know to what you are doomed on that sacred
day. You know the people who now approach to possess
themselves of your strong city, and hold your very lives at
their disposalI will not say mercy, for mercy they have
noneall this you know, and do you hesitate V
The crowd remained silent; except that a faint shout came
in answer from a number of boys and lads, some wearing
aprons, and all characterised as working or shop apprentices
of the city.
"They know that King James is their king," said Alder-
man Norman, answering for the people; "that the soldiers
.who approach are his soldiers; and they naturally fear to
incur the guilt and punishment of rebels, by opposing them.
But more of this, Mr. Walker, if you favour us with your
presence at a council we are about to hold at the house of a
worthy alderman, Mr. Paul Evelyn, who, doubtless for good
reasons, prefers meeting us in his own dwelling to attending
us at the usual place."
"It was the very house I and my friends sought," an-
swered Walker; "therefore, lead on. Only let us despatch,
for God leaves us now but few moments for deliberation.
With your leave, my companion, Mr. Robert Evelyn, will also
witness your debates."
This, after some official demur, was conceded; and our
friends, accompanied by the aldermen, and surrounded and
followed by the whole crowd, advanced up the street, to the
Diamond.
Having been admitted into Mr. Paul Evelyn's house, we
pass over the greetings that rapidly ensued between niece
and nephew, and uncle and aunt. We also leave Esther to
the care, of /whatever kind it may be, of her still-offended
relations; and hasten to the largest room in uncle Paul's
house, in which were assembled, along with himself, and
those we are already aware of, the Lord Bishop of London-
derry, several clergymen, and the whole of the corporate body.
Mr. Walker opened the hurried and limited consultation
by taking out his watch, laying it on the table, and calling
the attention of the assembly to the short period of time
allowed them for a decision. Then he urged, with more
## p. 192 (#220) ############################################
192 THE BOYNE WATER.
method, and in a calmer manner, the reasonings he had
already addressed to the populace.
I The bishop mildly but firmly answered every argument by
the one simple one which called their attention to their oaths
of allegiance. He advised the soldiers to be peaceably
admitted.
His clergymen naturally agreed with him; a single dis-
senting pastor supporting Mr. Walker. The elder members
j of the corporation seemed to take the same side; leaving,
however, their silence, instead of their words, to answer for
them. The only alderman who spoke was Mr. Paul Evelyn;
and he, with tears in his eyes, besought them, for peace sake,
and for their own sakes, to hearken to the words of their
bishop.
A few of the younger members of the corporation, alone,
warmly seconded Mr. Walker's advice. But they seemed
overruled as well by the majority as by the experience and
rank of the council, which, after a few minutes, was dis-
posed to break up without coming to any hostile resolve.
Walker grew pale with emotion; bit his lip; took Evelyn by
the arm, and left the room.
"I had not cared for the authorities," he said, as they
gained the street-door," were but the slavish crowd disposed
to exertion. But seethey have mostly drawn offnot
able to command as much zeal, or patience, or consistency, as
would serve them to await a decision on which depended
their liberty and lives."
The populace had, indeed, nearly disappeared from before
the door; and, even for some distance, no considerable body
of them could be seen, except the groups of boys and lads,
already mentioned, who, attended by a few full-grown men of
the lowest description, were now hurrying down the street,
in order to ascend the terra plane over Ferry-quay gate, and
from that place witness the approach of the soldiers.
"Let us follow them," resumed Walker; "the lad David
slew the Goliath: and a spirit of redemption for us may yet
be found in the youthful ardour of these poor boys."
As he and Evelyn accordingly joined the boyish group on
the walls, Lord Antrim's regiment had just defiled along the
opposite banks of the river, accompanied by an unseemly
concourse of wild-looking women, and half-naked children.
"Aye, look you over the water, Will Crookshanks," said
## p. 193 (#221) ############################################
THE EOYNE -WATER. 193
one of the lads, overheard by our gentlemen; "yon's the wild
Irish, truly."
"And mind you, Jem Spike," answered Will, drawing his
hands from under his linsey-woolsey apron; in order to point
towards the objects of his remark; "mind if they've not
the wild Highlandmen with them, too. Fellows, by the rood,
without hose or breeches."
"No friends, I reckon, to the tailoring craft, Harry
Campsie V resumed James Spike.
"They be shameless knaves to look upon," answered the
incipient tailor; "a manI say itwithout covering for his
limbs, is no sight in the streets of a Protestant town, that
knows better."
"Hosing shuttle never wove gear for 'em, Dan Sherrard,"
continued Spike, addressing a juvenile manufacturer of
scarlet stockings.
"Nor ever shall, Jem, with my liking. Pity to waste good
yarn for the decking out of Papist shanks."
"Look you, Jem," said Harry Campsie, "I'd send them
home till their breeches are spun, and not let the Derry
lasses be shamed at such a sight."
"And I'd have them draw proper hose over their legs, ere
they walk them up Ferry-quay-street," echoed Sherrard.
"You're but fools, as well as churls, both," remarked the
person addressed; "for see you not they'll be asking for
breeches and hose together, as soon as they learn the difference
amongst us, and so shears and shuttle will be the busier."
"I'd see the waters of yon lough run smooth over every
loon of 'em, ere I'd cut cloth at their asking," said the de-
testing tailor.
"The poor youths but jest with their ruin," said Mr.
Walker, addressing Evelyn, but sufficiently loud to be over-
heard. "YonderScotch or Irish as they may beyonder are
the Papists, who have sworn to wade knee-deep in our blood."
"Hear you that, goodmen lads?" asked Will Crookshanks,
who was a fiery, though rather taciturn youth; "this is the
reverend gentle who counselled to leave them at the wrong
side of the gate."
"But our own good council is against it," in solemn accent
demurred Robert Morrisson, a steady, sober, heavy-looking
writer to the single practitioner of the law then in his native
town ; and here we crave the reader to observe, that all the
0
## p. 194 (#222) ############################################
194 THE BOYNE WATER.
names we have mentioned, are, together with Mr. Walker's,
historical names; and " immortal" ones, tooin Deny.
"What be that to us V asked wicked Will.
-' Nothing at all," answered Jem Spike, winking knowingly
on Dan Sherrard, and bending over to him as he whispered
something additional.
"I mean, Jem," resumed Crookshanks, "what be to us the
fancies or the resolutions of the great townfolk, if it like us
to take a thing into our own heads V
"Very little, I believe," replied Jem, still winking, and
still wittily.
"There!" resumed Mr. Walker, with energy; "the first
boat puts off from the ferry, bearing to us the first band of
our sworn assassins. Gracious God! and will the blind and
slothful people of this doomed city leave their gates wide
open to their own ruin V
"Can't we just shut the gates ourselves V queried Crook-
shanks.
Boisterous assent was given by many voices, amongst whom
were some apprentices sent over to Deny by order of the
Worshipful London Company, when it was resolved not to
admit Roman Catholics to trade or set up business in their
little colonial city.
"The raising of an infant's hand might confound them!"
continued Mr. Walker.
"Shut them out!" was shouted.
"We are not to have our throats cut so quietly!" said some.
"Not by wild Irish Papists !" said others.
"They will burn us in our beds, as once before they did,
in good London town," said one of the hospital boys.
"Will you stand by us, Tom Sexton?" asked Crookshanks,
of a tall, lubberly man.
"May I never pull rope, if I don't!" answered the sexton,
with a professional flourish of his hand.
"Perchance, rope may be pulled for you, to save you the
trouble, Tom," jeered Jem Spike.
"And those at your back V continued Crookshanks, mean-
ing the town-crier, town-bailiffs, and some such humble
hangers-on of the corporation.
"O-h, Y-e-s V said the Deny witling, answering for the
first-named personage, while he imitated his well-known pro-
clamation tone, and motioned as if he held a bell in his hand.
## p. 195 (#223) ############################################
THE BOYNE -WATER. 195
"Then follow me, hearty lads," shouted Crookshanks,
taking off his working cap, and waving it round his curly
red head, as he stood tip-toe, up to the full height of sixteen
years.
A general shout answered him. The soldiers, some of whom
had debarked, and were in motion over the stretch of ground be-
tween the river and the walls, supposing the loud cheer to be
meant for their welcome, returned it, waving their bonnets
and hats.
"You're but fools of papists, after all," laughed Spike;
"for, we mean you not half so kindly as you guess us."
He was joined in his laugh by the whole crowd of lads,
who, followed by their more mature seconders, raced down
the steps leading from the wall to the gate, immediately
under them.
"The cackling of geese saved the queen-city," said Walker,
"and a like salvation is in store for Denyhaste ! haste,
brave lads! the Papists come on, quicklyrun, run, I say!"
In fact, two officers enteredone, Edmund M'Donnell,
bearing an order to the sheriff for billets; and by this time
almost the whole regiment had landed, and more than half
approached within twenty yards of Ferry-quay gate. Walker
and Evelyn rapidly descended after the youths. When they
reached the point of action, there were some whose boyish
hearts naturally failed them, and expostulation and clamour
ensued.
"Oh ! they but mocked themselves and us!" cried Walker;
"they do not their work, and the accursed Papists touch
the verge of the drawbridge!"
But, as he spoke, and while the voices of Crookshanks and
Jem Spike predominated in spirited command or exhortation,
the raising of the drawbridge, before the gate, was heard;
then a heavy clash, and immediately after a rapid noise of
locking, bolting, and barring. In another moment the young
crowd scampered by, to shut the other gates, some serious,
some frightened at their own daring, but the greater number
chuckling and laughing in such a way as told that there was
as much fun as patriotism, as much whim as daring, in their
important frolic. But, quickly and securely did they close
the remaining gates on the astonished soldiers, for whom they
never opened. And thus reputably was commenced the first
\ struggle for the Prince of Orange, in Ireland.
## p. 196 (#224) ############################################
196 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTER XVI.
Although none of the citizens of Deny, properly speaking,
took part, or seemed inclined to take part in the affair just
related, few of the less respectable class failed to second the
young leaders, when the gates had once been closed, and
fewer still disapproved of these proceedings. Still, however,
none dared to acknowledge, that in shutting out the King's
soldiers, they had meant to shut out the King. On the con-
trary, when Evelyn attended, the same night, in company
with Mr. Walker, a meeting of the sheriff, aldermen, and
citizens, at the guard-house, he heard them, in some surprise,
adopt two addresses, one "To all Christian People to whom
these presents shall come;" another, as in duty bound, to their
masters, "The Right Worshipful the Society of London;"
both most sincerely showing, "that no other motives
prompted them to such a resolution but the preservation of
their lives against a vast swarm of Highland and Irish
Papists." .And whilst they had resolved to stand upon their
guards, and defend their walls, and not admit of any Papist
whatever to quarter amongst them, so they firmly and sin-
cerely determined to persevere in their duty and loyalty to
their sovereign Lord the King, without the least breach of
mutiny, or seditious opposition to his royal commands.
No one seemed more anxious than Mr. Walker to express
and promulgate these sentiments.
"Are you not yet content ?" he inquired of Evelyn, as they
left the council.
"If all I have heard be as true as it professes to be I can
have but slight grounds for disapprobation," he was answered.
Next day, a considerable body of the humbler citizens
joined the apprentice boys, and, without pausing for the
consent of the still loyal, or timid, or cautious Mr. Deputy
Mayor, the magazine was broken open, and between one and
two hundred muskets, a barrel of powder, and a proportionate
quantity of balls, taken out of it; the whole stock of powder
in store being only seven barrels. Then, lists were made of
those in the city able to bear arms, who did not amount to
## p. 197 (#225) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 197
three hundred. And, in pursuance of the resolution expressed
in the addresses, and especially to- take precautions against
the dreaded morrow, the ninth, Mr. Walker and the apprentice*
hoys routed out a whole convent of Dominican friars, with
O'Haggerty at their head.
"We have met again, heretic" said the young friar to the-
Protestant clergyman, as he and his fear-stricken brethren
stood, preparing to-cross the ferry at the river side, " but not
on the appointed ground."
"Yet shall that meeting come," answered Walker.
At the same time, all the Roman Catholic residents, who
could be discovered, were likewise ordered, without much
anxiety about their loss of home, property, or comforts, to
quit the city. After them, of his own accord, the Protestant
bishop retired to a country seat; one of the many respectable
individuals of Derry who sincerely disapproved the steps
taken, and still cherished, at heart, an allegiance to King James.
Some motion was made to detain, in strict custody, the
two Irish officers who had been entrapped the preceding day,
ostensibly as hostages for the good conduct of the army to
which they belonged. But the more wary or timid of the
advisers seemed against such a measure; and at the urgent
entreaty of Evelyn, they were permitted to rejoin their friends.
He was, himself, the bearer of this intelligence to Edmund.
The former friends met, with a warm and anxious show of
conciliation on the part of Evelyn, but a haughty and repelling
manner on the part of M'Donnell.
"Let us not again part in anger, Edmund," said Evelyn, as
he accompanied him and his brother officer to the water-side.
"Hear what I have to say, and you will at least give me your
hand."
"Neither of us have time for private, and, now, useless1
parley, sir," replied M'Donnell; "every instant spent from my
post were error and dishonour. You, too, have your duties to-
attend to in yon traitor city"his foot was on the prow of the-
boat" but I refuse not my hand. Even foes may at any time
exchange a greetingfarewell!"
He took Evelyn's hand, and shook it strenuously. The boat
put off; M'Donnell standing up in it, with his back to his old
friend; who, in a struggle of offended pride and bitter sorrow,
remained gazing after it till it had touched the opposite shore,
and then mournfully walked back to the city.
## p. 198 (#226) ############################################
198 THE BOYNE WATER.
As the eve of the dreaded day approached, he found every
one in increased bustle and anxiety. The rapid arrival of persons
of every rank from the adjacent country, and the certain ac-
counts they gave of the general carnage that was to take place,
served, too, to increase the panic, which, among the lower
orders at least, had already been sufficiently felt. Lord An-
trim's entire regiment remained at the opposite side of the
water. And though it was known that they had no guns to
make a breach in the walls, still the proximity of such a large
body of supposed foes caused great apprehension.
When night came on, no one thought of retiring to bed.
Lights were placed in every window; a few guns, the donation
of the Worshipful London Company were badly mounted on
the walls, and pointed, as well as those who knew nothing of
the matter could manage it, towards the hostile shore. Parties
of the citizen soldiers, headed by the most mature of the
apprentices, patrolled the streets, from gate to gate; other
parties held watch on the walls. Thither, too, flocked num-
bers of the unarmed townspeople, including such of the
corporation as had courage for the undertaking, all creeping
on hands and knees along the terra plane, under the low-
curtain of outside wall, and ever and anon peeping over to
catch glimpses of the numerous host of wild people, who,
having bivouacked for the night, might be indistinctly seen
sitting or moving round their fires, to a great distance by the
bank of the river.
It was calculated by the most apprehensive, that a first
assault should naturally be expected after the twelfth hour
at night, in the very infancy of the morn which ushered in
the bloody day. Mr. Walker and other clergymen encourag-
ing this notion, public prayers were offered up in the church,
by a vast crowd, at about eleven o'clock. Thus prepared, all
who were not appointed to guard the gates and walls,
repaired to their separate houses, fortified them as strongly as
as they could, and in their most secret apartments awaited the
approach of midnight.
Twelve o'clock struck; and, not only in every house but
through the whole devoted city, death seemed already to be
master, so instantaneous and breathless was the silence. The
patrols stopped, and stood without word or motion on their way
from gate to gate, and in the full discussion of the all-engross-
ing topic. On the walls, every eye was turned, and every ear
## p. 199 (#227) ############################################
THE BOTNE WATER. 199
directed to the opposite army. But, after a long pause,
instead of the trampling of a thousand men, and the rushing
of a host, nought was heard abroad save the tumbling of the
wintry waters of the broad river, or of the still broader and
more distant lough, or the rushing of the north-west blast
over the bleak hills of Inishowen.
Thus, in that strange kind of disappointment which is
sometimes waywardly felt at even our escape from an ex-
pected danger, the long December night, or morning rather,
wore away. Not, indeed, without sufficient suffering on the
part of those whose imaginations made up for the absence of
reality.
Soon after day-break, however, more serious cause for
alarm seemed to arise. A great stir took place among the
lines of the army at the water-side; all got into order,
that is, as well as they knew how; and a terrific yell echoed
from them to Deny. Again the guns were manned and
levelled; again the thrill of terrible expectation ran through
the city; when from the walls, a very old gentleman, in civil
attire, was seen to advance to the water's-edge, and beckon for
a boat to convey him over. At another glance, many averred
that this was Colonel Philips, of Newtownlimavady, the same
person who had sent them word not to admit the redshanks;
and this circumstance once recollected, little opposition was
offered to his approach. Arrived within the city, he informed
the inhabitants that the recent movement on the opposite
bank was caused by the coming amongst his regiment, of the
Earl of Antrim; that he, Colonel Philips, had been obliged to
accompany the Earl from Newtownlimavady, as his envoy to
Deny walls; and that, solely in consequence of a promise
which he could not refuse to give, he now demanded entrance,
in Lord Antrim's name, for himself and his army. Some
further hints fully served to restore to confidence with the
citizens a gentleman in whom, on account of his having for-
merly been governor of their citadel, in the time of Charles
the Second, they had much reliance. He was instructed to
forbid, by letter, all admission to the Irish army; he was
appointed, once more, governor of the city he had called on
to sunender. Finally, having imparted some new and
favourable intelligence from England, guns were fired in
great triumph and joy upon the walls; and the so much
dreaded army instantly marched towards Coleraine, without
## p. 200 (#228) ############################################
200 THE BOYNE WATER.
having committed a single act, among the Protestant people
scattered around them, to confirm the former terrible opinion
in which they had been held.
After this alarm, the dreaded 9th of December, 1688,
passed over quietly in Derry. The night and following
morning, too, were undisturbed by the approach of any foes
to its walls; and now, the most lively general sentiment
seemed to be pity and bowel-yearning for the thousands who
must have fallen in the open country. But, strange to relate,
the fully-risen morning only brought to the gates a number
of Protestants of the county, who, with eyes and cheeks to
which some spirit and colour had just flown back, informed
their astonished and almost incredulous brethren of Derry,
that, as far as they knew, not a drop of Protestant blood had
been shed in Ulster the preceding day. Increased intelli-
gence confirmed this statement. So that, by the night of the
11th, the loyal men of Derry seemed no longer warranted,
through immediate fear of their lives, in keeping their gates
shut against King James's soldiers.'
Shut, however, the gates continued to be; and every pos-
sible preparation went on to resist the entrance of a Roman
Catholic garrison. On the 10th, some horse and foot, part
of the new levy of the Protestant northern association, were
marched into the town to assist the citizens, who formed
themselves into companies, commanded by captains, lieu-
tenants, and ensigns, of whom many were chosen from among
the apprentice boys. At the same time, an agent was
despatched to the London Society, requesting assistance, and
also entrusted with a letter to the secretary of the Prince of
Orange.
The example given by Derry becoming a kind of starting
post for all the northern Protestant spirit, the Antrim Associ-
ation, headed by Lords Mount Alexander and Blaney, and
Sir Arthur Rawdon, soon after published a politic manifesto,
professing no motive but that of self-preservation against the
numerous levies of Roman Catholics, while, in the same
breath, they, too, sent a private address to William. The
other northern counties followed them. Slfgo, though not an
Ulster town, also produced a union and an address; Ennis-
killen, imitating Derry, refused admission to some Roman
Catholic soldiers; Coleraine made a defence. In a short
time, the whole of the north, with the exception of the fort
## p. 201 (#229) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 201
of Charlemont, and a few other strong places, was in the
hands of native and self-recruited bodies of Protestant soldiers.
To go back a little. Before affairs had taken this formi-
dable appearance, Tyrconnel sent the young and gallant Lord
Mountjoy, with a considerable force, to reduce Deny to
submission. - On the first notice of his approach, the citizens
sent him a humble and lachrymose letter, praying his inter-
cession, in their behalf, with the constituted authorities.
On his appearance before the town, a capitulation, after some
seeming demur, was effected; one highly advantageous to
the men of Derry; one that increased their strength with two
companies(but no more)of Protestant soldiersand one,
indeed, that showed little zeal on the part of Lord Mountjoy
for the real service on which he had been despatched. He
remained in the city, together with his Lieut.-Col. Lundy.
Soon after his arrival, and a little previous to the manifesto
of the Antrim Association, Mr. Walker received a letter, in
consequence of which he took his departure from Derry to-
wards his own residence.
"lam now called away," he said to Evelyn, "by high
advice, to do good in my own parish. A brave body of men,
who honour me by electing me as their commander, are ready
to garrison and keep, against all intruders, the strong place
of Dungannon, a check upon any hostile approach northward
towards this good city of Derry. God willing, I shall do my
best to honour the confidence of my friends, and discharge
the duty to whfch I am appointed. Farewell, my young
brother. Have you thoughts when you, too, shall move
towards the honorable post of duty and danger?"
"Before I can adopt any such course, Mr. Walker, I am
first bound to visit my paternal estate and mansion, now
requiring a master's eye, in such agitated times, and after so
long an absence."
"It is well," resumed Walker; " and by the time you shall
have wound up your affairs, the valiant soldiers whom you
are appointed to command will be, perhaps, near you, in the
neighbourhood of Lisburn or Hillsborough, where you can
join them. There is but one caution I would offer you. Go
not alone to your father's house. The scum and outcasts of
the Papist enemy, under the name of Rapparees or Tories, are
unloosed over the face of the country, without hindrance from
the more regular Papist armywith whom, indeed, their spirit
## p. 202 (#230) ############################################
202 THE BOYNE WATER.
of hatred towards us is identifiedand as yet unchecked by
honester men. So strong are they in numbers, and so
audacious in enterprize, that they have already seized the
Castle of Monaghan, and other strong places, together -with.
many seats of private gentlemen. Therefore, expose not
your life to their cruelty, I say; ride not home unaccom-
panied. And so, Providence be your shield on the road, and
farewell."
Evelyn, resolving to follow this advice, did not, however,
leave Deny, on his intended journey, till some time after Mr.
"Walker's departure; the delicate and uncertain state of his
sister's health not allowing him immediately to lose sight of
her. In the interim, he watched the thickening of important
events around the walls of Deny. After the promulgation of
the Antrim address, Tyrconnel could not avoid becoming seri-
ously alarmed at the growing appearance of affairs in the
north ; nor did he find much cause to continue his confidence
in the new and noble governor of Derry, who, fully sharing
the views of the citizen soldiers, not only allowed them
to increase the strength of their position, but zealously super-
intended or ordered many new arrangements for future
defence and resistance. At his instance, a number of useless
arms, found in the stores, were repaired; dismounted guns
supplied with carnages; a committee appointed to raise
funds; some ammunition landed from Scotland; and some
more, destined for Lord Antrim, and lying wind-bound on
the coast, seized and deposited in the magazine.
The always rash and violent Lord Lieutenant, seeing the
error he had committed, by sending such a man to snch a
place, now recalled him. Lord Mountjoy was advised by
many friends not to obey the summons. Fearing the conse-
quences of Tyrconnel's vengeance, he went, however, leaving
behind, him, as governor, and in lieu of Col. Philips, his
Lieut.-Col. Lundy, a man, by the way, in whom the citizens
had less confidence. Arrived in Dublin, Lord Mountjoy was
sent to France, on an errand to James; accounts add, that,
the moment he arrived in Paris, he was shut up in the
Bastille, and however unauthentic this story may be, it
served, when known or reported in Derry, to confirm in the
breasts of the sturdy citizens, an indignant determination of
resistance.
At this juncture, Evelyn, attended by two well-armed men,
## p. 203 (#231) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 203
set out, in a southern direction, through the province of
Ulster, to visit his house on the banks of Lough Neagh. He
had not been uninterested by the progress of events around
him. Nor could we refuse to allow, even in a work like this,
more historical correctness of detail than they have yet found,
to the affairs of a place, which, however inconsiderable it
may be, or however unimportant or ridiculous might have
seemed the beginning of its resistance, carried on a struggle,
that first helped to insure to an adventurous Prince the crown
of three kingdoms.
CHAPTER XVII.
Evelyn had left uncle Jeremiah and Oliver Whittle particu-
larly in charge of his house. A good number of servants
remained in it; but Oliver, as steward, major-domo, and
factotum, commanded them all; while Jerry still overtopped
him, as representative of the proprietor.
It was early in March that Evelyn bent his way homeward.
March had, this year, "come in like a lamb," so that the
weather proved very agreeable for, at least, the rapid and
blood-stirring kind of travel he adopted. The evening of the
second day brought him in sight of his house. At a
pretty hamlet, about three miles distant from it, just as a
young moon rose to assert her empire over the twilight,
Evelyn, so far unmolested on the road, dismissed his armed
attendants, and fearing little through a neighbourhood where
he was so well known, and where friends abounded, pushed
on alone towards his country mansion.
The road, within half a mile, commanded a view of it.
Evelyn paused a moment to contemplate, after so long an
absence, the roof that had protected his childhood, and the
scenery that was so familiar to his eye. Although day had
entirely sunk, the clear light of the moon, shining full upon
every feature, allowed him sufficient opportunity for his
survey. It was a house, built, we may almost say, in Eng-
land, like many northern Irish houses of that period. That
is, its wooden frame, its interior divisions, its flooring, wain-
scoting, door, and windows, &c., had been constructed and
## p. 204 (#232) ############################################
204 THE BOYNE WATER.
adapted to each other in England. So that, when afterwards
conveyed by the English colonist to Ireland, hehadbutto choose
a favourable spot of ground, to put together his skeleton house
upon it, to build between the wooden compartments of the
outside frame, with brick and mortar; to plaister over what
he had built, leaving the wooden divisions still distinctly
visible; and the result was an ordinary country mansion of
that day, not unaptly styled calimanco work, such as he had
been used to, for half a century, in the sister country.
At a house of this kind, then, Evelyn was looking. He
could recognise the woodbine-covered window, in the second.
story, which lighted his old sleeping-chamber; the large bow
windows of the drawing-room, and of his father's study; the
porched door under the middle one, with seats in the porch;
at the gate nearest the house, the horse-block, by means of
which his father, in his old age, and himself, in his child-
hood, had gained their saddles; the court, planted round
with evergreens; the park, extending at each side of the
building, once well-stocked, as Evelyn recollected, with hares
and rabbits, and a few deer, inclosing two fish-ponds, and
running, at the back of the house, against a gentle acclivity,
thickly and tastily planted, which gave shelter from the rude
blasts that occasionally swept the bosom of the adjacent
Lough Neagh. While, to complete the picture, that vast
sheet of water could be seen, over house, acclivity, trees, and
all, spreading to a great distance in the moonlight, but now-
only dimpling and trembling under its ray, as an evening
breeze fluttered across its surface.
As Evelyn continued to regard this scene, he was struck
with an unusual blaze of light in the lower windows of the.
house, which belonged to the hall and parlour. It seemed as
if a great entertainment was going on; for, as the servants
had their own hall, that in question was never so gaily lit up,
except when periodical feastings were given to the surround-
ing tenantry. This was bad housekeeping, he thought, on
the part of uncle Jerry, or of Oliver, or of both, in his
absence; and, feeling some little anger and impatience, he
gave spurs to his horse, anxious to view and reprehend such
unthrifty, and, indeed, unwarrantable stewardship.
Arrived at the gate which led into the straight approach
to the house, he found it flung wide open. Here was very
culpable negligence, too, in such unsettled times. But as he
## p. 205 (#233) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATES. 205
looked up the little avenue, getting an unobstructed view of
the house itself, his wonder increased to observe the hall-door
open also, while, through it, as well as through the windows
of the hall, he now caught the faces and figures of a number
of men, seemingly making very merry at his expense, and
without his invitation. Continuing to look on in surprise
and wrath, a new incident changed his sensations, by start-
ling him. All along the avenue, the moon's rays were inter-
rupted by the arching sycamores overhead. Half way on,
however, owing to a deficiency in the line of trees, a pure
stream of moonlight swept across, showing silver white in
contrast with the red glare from the house; and Evelyn's
eye was struck with the figure of a man, who, starting into
this vivid light, looked sharply around him, and then, his
steel cap glimmering as he moved, crossed and disappeared
among the stems, where the shadow was impenetrable.
Hastily taking a pistol from his holster, Evelyn dashed
forward. At the first plunge he came violently in contact
with some heavy obstacle in mid air, which, striking against
his breast and face, sent steed and rider a step backward.
He re-advanced more cautiously, and looked close, to discover
what had thus interrupted his career. A moment's inspec-
tion showed him the legs of a man, covered with prodigious
jack-boots. They swung to and fro, as if in consequence of
their late contaet with his person; and Evelyn, looking up,
became aware that they belonged to a dead body, which hung
by the neck from the arm of a sycamore. He strove to re-
cognise the face; and the moon, darting through a favorable
aperture between the arching boughes, shone full on the
convulsed and disfigured features of poor Oliver Whittle.
This spectacle changed Evelyn's ardour; bringing a sus-
picion, too, that the guests in his hall had come without
invitation from his hitherto faithful steward. Even uncle
Jerry began to find an apology in his nephew's thoughts,
who now, indeed, could not help surveying the other trees
around him, in a misgiving that from one of them might
append the goodly bulk of his affectionate, and, with many-
faults, beloved relative. As he and his horse stood stock-
still, the propriety of making the best of his way back to,-the
village occurred to Evelyn; and he cautiously turned' the
animal's head to the avenue gate, and walked him softly
a few steps upon the velvet sward, near the trees, in order
## p. 206 (#234) ############################################
206 THE BOYNE WATER.
to avoid the sounding of his hoofs on the middle of the way.
But the avenue gate appeared occupied by six or seven men,
standing, indeed, quietly, and with their backs turned to him,
but by no means inviting approach, under all the circum-
stances. Evelyn stopped, therefore, a second time, and
hoping he had not been perceived, quietly dismounted; tied
his horse to a tree, and stealing, in the deep shadow, by the
wall, that at a little distance from the trees bounded the
avenue, made way to an opening in it, with which he was
well acquainted, resolving to escape thereby into the park, and
so, if possible into the country. He gained the opening, got a
view of the faintly-marked path, that amid groups of light
trees and tufts of bushes, wandered over the park, and was
just about to enter, when, within the grounds there appeared
another man slowly walking onward, his back turned, and a
carbine resting on his arm. Once more Evelyn gave up his
plan; but darting across the avenue ran to a second opening,
in the opposite wall, which served as a short way to the ken-
nels, dovecotes, and other petty out-offices. Exactly at the
far side of this gap stood another stranger, his regards seem-
ingly fixed on the starry heavens, pistols in his belt, and a
half pike in his hand; while, further on, a new group of per-
sons conversed, in whispers, in the moonlight. Really
alarmed, Evelyn stepped back, and threw a hasty glance up
and down the avenue. Now his eye caught, or he thought it
did, more and more forms of men, gliding in the shadow
among the stems of the trees, or standing stationary between
them. Confused, if not terror-stricken, he became embarrassed
for an instant; and this gradual closing-in upon him of so
many mysterious individuals, gave something of the sensation
of a wild and shadowy dream.
As he stood, leaning against a tree
"Go on," said a deep voice, very near him.
He started, but remained where he was, suspecting that
his overwrought feelings had deceived his ear.
\ "Go on as you're bid," repeated another voice, over his
head.
I" Whither?" he asked, now certain of the reality of the
wo*ds.
"To the house, to be sure," he was answered," where you'll
get a welcome, an' cead mille phalteagh."
Still he hesitated, naturally enough.
## p. 207 (#235) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 207
'"Dkar-a-Chreesih 1 why don't you go on?" cried another
invisible neighbour, angrily. And " go on !" was repeated by
many voices, at different distances. "You're expected," they
added.
Evelyn at last moved towards the house, not very certain
of the welcome he was promised; nor, indeed, of his way
thither. In perfect safety he entered, however, the gate that
terminated the avenue before the house, and stood to observe
more closely the people in the hall. They drank, or spoke,
or laughed uninterruptedly. Among the voices he caught
some female tones, loud in hilarity, although he could not see
the speakers. In the doorway, and in each side of the porch,
appeared a crowd of persons, drinking and conversing too,
who either did not or would not notice his coming: but as
he stood in the deep shade of the evergreens that ran all
around him, perhaps they really did not perceive him.
A last thought of escape occurred to Evelyn. Near at
hand, the thick rows of bushes divided, and allowed a passage
behind them, which, sweeping by the sides of the mansion,
communicated with the grove on the hill at its back. In a
moment he had cautiously entered this brake, and in another
had gained the rere of the house, where no ray of moonlight
disturbed the profound darkness. With a beating heart he
stept lightly along the narrow path, scarce finding, among a
double row of evergreens, room to make way, when a strong
hand grasped his collar, and a rude voice said, though not
threateningly
"Stop man; where 'ud you be going?"
"Unhand me, fellow!" cried Evelyn; "I wished to enter
my house."
"Only you missed the way," resumed the man, relaxing,
though not relinquishing his hold, "an' more shame for you,
that ought to know it betther. But I'll find it out to oblige
you, anyhow; an' you'd betther be said and led by a friend,
nor vex them that has you well watched, whichever way you
turn." /
Evelyn accordingly retraced his steps to the front of the
house, and finally entered. As he passed the porch, the men
who occupied it, and whom he could now perceive were, in
various ways, rudely armed, rose up, to his great surprise,
doffed their steel caps or penthouse hats, and incUniiVg their
wild shock-heads, bid him welcome in a southern ibrogue.
## p. 208 (#236) ############################################
208 THE BOYNE WATER.
Whether they jested or no, Evelyn's confusion did not allow
him to determine. The hall was full of strange people, o
the same appearance, some seated round the large oak table,
some grouped in corners, and some stretched out upon the-
ample brick hearth, basking in the light of a mighty fire,
made of the roots of trees and logs, or engaged in caress-*
ing or playing with the hounds, mastiffs, and terriers
which Evelyn had left behind, all then faithful to him, but
which now seemed so much fascinated with the newcomers,
as not to have time to notice his entrance, or else to notice it
by snarling, barking, or baying only. Other followers, too,
did not seem a whit more faithful. Mixed with the men, in
remote parts of the hall, he observed a number of athletic,
broad-shouldered, sunburnt, and wildly-habited women,
evidently their associates; and here and there, the maidens
and matrons of his own establishment, laughing and giggling,
and as happy as happy could be.
His conductor having stopped in the hall to communicate
with the few who seemed interested about his entrance,
Evelyn was afforded time to make and continue his observa-
tions. As he took care to keep himself enveloped in his
large riding-cloak, he was also enabled to look about him
without fear of recognition from his own former servants. Sad
havoc seemed to have taken place on every side. The old
broadswords, partisans, and daggers, the fishing-rods and
spears, and, above all, the flitches of bacon, had disappeared
from over the huge mantelpiece; the hawks from their
perches, at one end of the extensive apartment; the hawking
and hunting poles from their rests; the portrait of Queen
Elizabeth had vanished from its recess; the Book of Martyrs
lay, half burnt, at the back of the fire; the fox and otter-
"v skins had descended from the walls to grace the heads, after
having been fashioned into rude caps, of the unwelcomed
Vguests around; King Charles's Golden Rules, and a few
antlers, were the only ornaments that remained. The flagged
noor was strewn with half-picked bones and with winecups;
aod along the walls had been ranged, to save trouble to the
butler, casks of good wine and ale, and kegs of brandy, to
whftsh man and woman recurred at pleasure.
The. dogs, of different degrees, now beginning to recognise
their old master, Evelyn was glad when his conductor at last
ended Lis conference with his friends, and advanced, by his
## p. 209 (#237) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 209
side, towards the parlour, into which a door opened from one
end of the hall. Notwithstanding fears for his own personal
safety, Evelyn's saddest reflection, up to this moment, had
been caused by uncertainty as to the fate of his uncle Jeremiah.
Arrived within a step of the half-open door, however, and
able to see into the parlour, apprehensions for his life yielded
to the wildest wonder to see him living, situated and engaged
as Jerry now presented himself. But before we come to him,
it is convenient to notice the whole company of the room,
and, at the same time, its own present appearance.
A Turk-wrought chain, which had adorned the parlour,
was wantonly destroyed ; and with a swelling and indignant
heart, Evelyn beheld, reduced to fragments, the numerous
portraits of his ancestors, strewn upon the oaken floor, or
flung into the cornersthough if true taste for the arts had
alone influenced his feelings, the destruction of such an ever-
lasting corps of shepherds and shepherdesses, wearing full-
bottomed perukes, and court suits, while they performed
sentiment with crooks in their hands, could not have caused
him much regret. At different tables sat about ten men,
more regularly habited than those in the hall, and with an
air that approached near to respectabilityparticularly one
short, slight, well-made youth, with a handsome, high-
coloured face, well-marked nose and mouth, and a keen,
glancing blue eye, who seemed to command the groups around
him. But, like the meanest of their companions, all in the
parlour indulged freely in libations; their winecups and
liqueur-glasses mixed up on the tables with hawks' hoods and
bellssome of the articles they had found in the houseand
with dice and cards, pipes and skeinssome that they had
brought into it.
Stretched out at full length on the hearth, that here, also,
was very ample, and paved with brick, lay a man of unusual,
indeed almost gigantic, proportions, his vast chest and
shoulders corresponding to an extent of figure that could not
be less than six feet and a-half, his arms and lower limbs
perhaps too bulky and fleshy. His dress was superior to
that of any around him ; being formed of a complete breast
and back piece, brightly burnished; a buff coat, curiously
wrought about the sleeves and skirts; horseman's boots, well
spurred; a sash; with, now lying by his side, a fashion-
able cocked and flapped military hat, gallantly plumed.
P
## p. 210 (#238) ############################################
210 THE BOYNE WATER.
Altogether he bore the appearance of a military officer of
rank; and, as Evelyn perceived, slept profoundly.
Of the other ten or dozen men in the room, half were
sitting at the walls, paying gallant attention to some fresh-
faced and comely young lasses, who had joined them from the
neighbourhood, or who belonged to their own community.
While all talked or laughed loudly, two or. three, male and
female, sang out together. And now, and at length, we come
to the first group that struck Evelyn's eyenamely, his uncle
Jerry, sitting between the plump housekeeper and our former
acquaintance, Rory-na-chopple, or the Whisperer, one hand
round the matron, and the other hand affectionately clasping
that of the Rapparee, as, over and over, Jerry praised a song
he had lately performed, and gently urged him to repeat it.
"Songs I have heard," he said, "by sea and land, from
Turk, Jew, and Christian, of every sect and country, but that
song, excellent Rory, surpasseth them all."
As Evelyn entered, his conductor announced him, in a few
words of Irish. The first person who took notice of his pre-
sence was the quick-eyed young man already spoken of, who,
starting from his seat, advanced, in a French style of courtesy,
and with many welcomes offered his hand. Evelyn, his spirit
and indignation at last overmastering his personal apprehen-
sions, haughtily stepped back. At which the young man
drew up, even more proudly frowned, let fly a dangerous
glance at his visitor, and quickly resumed his seat.
"Musha, welcome, an' a thousand welcomes," cried the
Whisperer, nearly at the same moment; "sure it's joy is in
our hearts to see you here agin, when we thought you left
home, for good-an'-all."
"Holloa !" piped Jerry, staggering a little (as he relin-
quished the housekeeper's waist), and, by such an usual
symptom, giving omen of how vast and deep had been his
libations. "Nephew of my heart, welcome amongst us."
As, with some tacking, he steered forward, Evelyn lost all
self-command.
"Wretched man!" he cried, "where and with whom do I
find you?"
"Where!" repeated Jerry" where but in the old ship
still, sticking to her thro' all weathers. And with whom?
with honest fellows, trust me."
"What, sir! is this your natural feelingnot to say duty
## p. 211 (#239) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 211
in your brother's housecarousing and clasping hands with
its plunderers 1"
"Have a care, young gentleman," cried the person Evelyn
had just offended, starting in his seat, and grasping a pistol
that was in his belt.
"Asy, a-vich, asy," said the Whisperer"say as little as
you can of your own friends."
"What could I do 1" asked Jerry. "What would you
have me do 1 I fought them fairly while we could give a
broadside. I met them foot to foot as they boarded us; and
two of 'em could tell you as much, only they can't speak, for
the life of 'em, at present. And so could Magog himself there,
if he was awake, seeing he still bears a compliment from my
hanger."
"It's God's thruth, every word," interrupted the Whisperer.
"A betther man, for the little of him that's in it, never broke
bread, or throd in shoe-leather."
"And," continued Jerry, "when the Devil himself, had he
been captain, could have worked ship no longerwhen there
wasn't a cartridge left in the powder-room, nor a hand left on
deck but Noll and myselfwhat could brave men do but
strike? And there again, when they boarded us, like gentle-
men, and were for remembering our good services, and treating
us kindlybrave foes, brave friends, you know, the wide seas
overanda word in your earwhen I saw Noll dangling
from the yardarm, because after striking he was too serious,
and thought to break treatyand especially when they were
all hearty lads, hand and palm, and cup to cup with me
what was to be done, I say 1 Would you have me follow
Noll by the cathead 1 Or, worse, would you have me be the
only sad heart amongst merry men and honest fellows,
nephew? You know I never liked that."
"Honest!" resumed Evelyn. "Tell me, uncle Jeremiah,
how long has this happened? How long has my father's
house been a thieves' barrack? How long have I been a
ruined man 1"
"Speak lower still, nephew, and I will try to tell you.
Let me see. The first night we got through the cask of Bur-
gundythat was of a Wednesday, I think; the next night
the Geneva was outI believe the next, but I don't pretend
to be sure; the night after the Canary ran dry-I thought
there had been more of it; that must have been on the
## p. 212 (#240) ############################################
212 THE BOYNE WATER.
Saturday. And stay, what day is this ?Monday, I opine.
But, in fact, nephew, there has been such a running of day
into night, and thereby of one day into another, with, as you
see, some running from the winecasks, that you will excuse
me in the matter of extreme particularity."
"Pray, inform me, Mr. Rory-na-chopple," continued Evelyn,
turning away in disgust from his uncle, "on what day was I
first honoured with this visit 1 You, I presume, are master
here," he added, recollecting the transcendant fame of Rory.
"No, then, I am not; an' for why or for what should 1?"
answered the Whisperer, meekly. "Sure I'm no more nor
fit to help my betthers, now an' then, wid the little janious
that God ga' me; an' only for it mightn't I die, like an ould
horse, in the ditch? Poor Rory is only the dochthoor-na-
chopple* you see, wid a little to do in the way of providin'
bastes, an' a thing of the kind, for the army. Bud the genteel
that spoke you so fair a-comin' inan' a genteel he is, sure,
if his own sef tells the story"(winking shrewdly)" he's
the Captain. A good mother's son; butther wouldn't melt
in his mouth, he's so quiet when you don't put the anger on
him ; bud you'd rather not stand in his way if he war angry.
An', then, the gineral, entirely, is that weeny goreoon lyin'
asleep forninst the fire. No great things at the tongue, an'
as soft as a child at the breast; a great big slob, you'd think.
Only he'd walk by a stone wall the day long, an' never take
a bite out of it, if he war ever so hungry, I'm thinkin'."
"I have asked you," said Evelyn, assuming indifference,
though he really was not indifferent to Rory's indication, in
his own way, of the characters of those with whom he found
himself called to deal." I have asked you to inform me how
long it is since your party has visited my house?"
"Five days exactly," answered the Captain, who had over-
heard the question.
"And how long am I to be indulged with your company,
gentlemen 1" he continued.
"That will depend on the state of things abroad, and on
the will of our general," answered the same person.
"I am anxiousnaturally, you will sayto get a little
more information, sir. I am anxious to know to what extent
my property has been of use to you; and how far, after your
i. . . * Horse-doctor.
## p. 213 (#241) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 213
departure, at your own good leisure, my private coffers may
still administer to my wants."
"Private convenience," replied the Captain, "must, on all
occasions of public need, be little considered. The ready cash
you speak of has, of course, been appropriated to the' carrying
on of a war against the traitors and enemies of King Jameses
crown and person."
"And I am left a beggar !" said Evelyn.
"I regret it, sir; but you should have remained at home
to protect your property by your presence. When you fled
to the rebel city, your whole possessions became forfeited, in
consequence of the new and wholesome law, recently pro-
mulgated in the name of our zealous Lord Lieutenant, which
dooms to confiscation the house and estates of all fugitives,"
"Giving you, and such as you, the right to execute the
confiscation V
"Me! and such as I!What mean you; Master Evelyn,
by that particularity?"
"I believe you hold no command or commission from King
James, or his Lieutenant," answered Evelyn, his ruined pros-
pects making him rash and desperate" to authorize you in
carrying into effect the edicts of either. And I know that
the justice of your country is, even now, preparing to hunt
you down for such interference with its mandates. Deceive
me not-I am aware of your character."
"Not so, by Heaven, when you dare1 rouse it by speech
like this !" cried the Captain, jumping up, drawing his sword,
and cutting at Evelyn. But Evelyn, snatching another sword
from the table, was on his guard, so that nothing resulted
from the young man's attack but a loud clash of their
weapons. At the same moment, there was another jingle of
arms.
"What's this f cried the hitherto sleeping giant at the
hearth, gathering up his unwieldy length of limbs, and strid-
ing forward" Pace ! pace ! pace is best! Pace, little Captain
Willy"twirling him by the neck to the far end of the room.
"Bravo, bully Magog!" cried Jerry" bravo, noble
Goliath! And now, welcome my nephew home, and tell him
whether or no the old ship struck at your first summons."
"Hahehayewho is the newcomer?" asked the
person addressed, staring stupidly at Evelyn, and now and
then rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Your nephew, truly,
## p. 214 (#242) ############################################
214 THE BOYNE WATER.
little admiral? Welcome he is, then, and welcome let him
be-welcome as the flowers o' May!" And the Rapparee
general seized Evelyn's hand in his, with a grasp that almost
crushed it.
"You know me, don't you?" he continued, observing
Evelyn's cool and offended manner.
"I have not that honour," he was answered.
"Heard you ever, then, of a man of some size, called Gal-
loping Hogan, youngster?"
Evelyn readily assented; as, indeed, he had, from many
sources, become acquainted with the prowess of that king of
southern Rapparees.
"He stands before you, and offers you his hand," continued
this dangerous person" do you refuse it?" Evelyn thought
proper to allow his words and actions to answer in the negative.
"Galloping Hogan they call me," continued his new
friend, "because, though a heavy man, put me on the back of
a good horse, suited to me in bone and muscle, and, it is no
boast to say, I can cover you as much ground, when need is,
on advance or retreat, as courier or confidential messenger, as
the lightest hop-o'-my-thumb jockey from the Causeway to the
Devil's Punchbowl. Such sarvice coming by nature to me,
affcher a manner, since my campaigns in the Low Countries,
from a boy up. You have seen foreign parts, Master Evelyn %'
"Yes; but not on military service."
"The more the pity. It forms a man's hand for his work at
home, so dacently. Here's your weeny lump of an uncle, now,
could never have done such nate business against us, t'other
day,* only for a thing o' the kind. Salvation to my sowl!
but I'll be witness for him to the end o' the world, that there
isn't a handier bit of a creature on Ireland's ground, this
blessed morning"
"Evening, general," interrupted Jeremiah.
"Don't mind him," said the Whisperer; "it's the dead o'
the night that's in it, gineral, honey."
"Morning, night, or evening, as it may be," continued
Jerry" here's my nephew, brother, would say you boarded
us with our free will."
"How comes this rent in my buff, then?" asked Hogan,
holding out his left arm to Evelyn. "As I hope to be saved,
the little round man cut me down two tall fellows on the
threshold, before my face, and, as I came in, myself, ran me
## p. 215 (#243) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 215
his point through and through the muscle of this arm; my
wonder being how could he reach so high, until I recollected
that he had the two steps of the porch-door to help him half-
ways up to me. So, no more talking about that. All was
fair and dacent; give and take on both sides; clean work,
and who-should, for it. And, since I and my boys won the
inside o' your house, nothing but love and liking between us;
and welcome he was to the best of everything, along with us;
and the same welcome for you, on his account, at present.
Only one little bit o' bother happened. An ould follower o'
yours had the impudence to break faith with us, after all was
over; so the Whisperer was forced to take care of him, out-
side o' the house. He's handy at a matter o' the kind, along
with everything else"Rory grinned his thanks for this
flattery"and maybe you met him on your way up the
avenue."
"He did meet him," said the man who had ushered Evelyn
in. "While we watched for Master Evelyn, as you bid us,
gineral, we saw them meeting together."
"You had notice of my approach, then V asked Evelyn,
of the general. *
"To be sure we had, avich; and of every step you took on
the road. Do you think you could get inside the first gate,
if we didn't like it? Sure all I feared was that you might run
back from us, the way you came, and we all so ager to make
you welcome. And now let us think of a bit of supper. It's
past the time for it; but a nate supper there's ordered, to
entertain you. I thank my God I know good things. Where's
that wizenfaced witch of a cook ?"a subaltern went out to
seek her. "And, first, Master Evelyn, the welcome cup. Do
you say a rummer of Cognac, or a stoup of Claret, or Canary?"
"The Canary is out," said Jerry.
"Then a cup of Sack, or Vin-de-Cahors ?all are at your
service, Master Evelyn."
Evelyn declining the several liquors mentioned, named a
glass of Champagne, which, with considerable courtesy, was
immediately placed before him. And when his host had
pledged him in a bumper of Claret, toasting " to their better
acquaintance," the cook appeared at the door, superintending
the entrance of supper. The moment the poor woman's eye
met that of her old master, she stood, stock-still, pale as
death, and evidently trembling, not for her own safety.
## p. 216 (#244) ############################################
216 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Walk over here with yourself, mistress cook, honey, and
don't be standing there with a face that 'ud make a dog strikfe
his father," resumed Galloping Hogan. "Moreover, take care,
I advise you, of the dishes in your hands. Aye, now you find
the use of your legs. Put 'em down, there, purtilythat will
do. Now, the little fellowsone, two, threevery good
again. And so, Master Evelyn, take your sate, and your
fillin'. Captain Willy, come out o' that corner, and lave over
playin' with the snaphanoe of your petronel. Little Admiral
Jerry, the best sate for you. Rory, a-vich-ma-chree, draw-
near. Gentlemen, all, to supper."
The table soon became full; Evelyn not venturing to de-
cline the seat, or the fare, so generously offered.
"Them capons has a pleasant look and smell, about 'em,"
continued the host, going through all this without the
slightest affectation; indeed, his heavy nature knew nothing
of the word. "Ensign Turlough's pet flitch, and Thady's leg
of mutton are nice, too; the pigeons not to be faulted,
either; nor the salmon, either; but, still, the capons for me.
Stop a bit; sit down a minute, mistress cook, and swallow, as
fast as you can, a man's share of everything you lay before
us. It's an honour we pay you every day, you know, for a
little raison we have. Though, since Master Evelyn is our guest
to-day, the ceremony might be overlooked, maybe. No mat-
ter; betther sure than sorry. Swallow, misthress; and fast,
fast, or you'll be starvin' us."
The cook obeyed, and left the room.
"And now, master," resumed Hogan, addressing Evelyn,
"welcome again, and fall to. Deny me not that the supper
I have ordered you, with an after relish of neats' tongues and
caviare, while we sip our wine, does not disgrace my knowledge
or my breeding."
"It's manners to taste, bud not make a male," said the
Whisperer, conveying a pigeon to his trencher.
"Lay hoult o' the flitch, Turlough," cried a hungry fellow.
"Make mooch o' yourself, Thady," said a second Rapparee
officer to a third at his elbow.
"Och, I'm atin' for bets," answered Thady.
"Who's at the outpost? " inquired the general, after he had
somewhat satisfied his hunger.
"Johnny Donellan," answered the Whisperer.
"A good watch," observed Hogan.
## p. 217 (#245) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 217
"Never a betther," replied Rory; "he'd know a Sassenach's
skhin dryin' on a bush."
The supper was over; the relish, too, passed away ; th*
champagne was unwired; the claret bumpers were quaffed,
when two harp-players took their places at the parlour-
door.
"A dance ! a dance !" cried Jerry; "a hall! a hall!" Many
voices joined him; and those in the other apartment catching
the sounds, the answering cheer became uproarious.
"A dance, then," said the general, slowly rising. "Tho' I
will but suit partners, myself, and look on; seeing that your
Irish jig is accounted too vulgar, and, mayhap, too brisk in
movement, for one of my quality and weight. Did your
poor musicians know anything of the French chausee or
boree, I were likely to join you." It will be seen that the
speaker uttered, at different times, the true brogue he had
imbibed in his childhood, and the tolerable English his after-
intercourse with the world had taught him, just as the
humours of familiarity or dignity were for a moment upper-
most.
All moved out to the hall, Evelyn inclusive. The general,
as he had promised, made partners. Evelyn, wondering at
the scene, and inclined, in the midst of his better feelings, to
laugh at the figure he cut in it, was introduced to a southern
girl, of some beauty, whose glance at him told strangely of
coquetry and recognition. Jerry was constant to the house-
keeper. About a dozen couple, altogether, stood ready to
obey the first sound of the harper's wire. "Strike out!"
cried Galloping Hogan; when, anticipating more gentle music,
a hideous bellowing was heard abroad, equal to the roar of
some dozen mad bulls. An instant after, a man rushed into
the hall, yelling forth, "The Sassenachs!"
"I knew it," said Hogan, "by your signal hornssilence!"
as the throng of women in the hall gave meet response to tha
noise abroad" silence, and hear my orders! First, how far
are they off, Johnny Donellan?"
"About three miles, when I saw 'em from the hill."
"How many?"
"The double of us, I think."
"Horsemen or foot-soldiers?"
"All horsemenI seen them blackenin' the road in the
moonshine."
## p. 218 (#246) ############################################
218 THE BOTNE WATER.
"Half our men to horse, then. Half of them, again, to the
first gate of the avenue, the other to the second gate. Let
the rest of the men stay in the house; a dozen, only, to watch
at the back. But, first of all, let hatchet, saw, and pickaxe,
and every man that hears me, work, work, work, for the dear
life, to tear up the ground before both gates, and fell trees
and bushes to choke themspeed! speed!" The hall was
cleared in obedience to his orders: the Whisperer only stayed
with him.
"They will give us time for this," the general continued,
"because they will advance cautiously; or our ambushed pic-
quets and videttes will make them give us time. You, Master
Evelyn, are to remain by my side. Fear nothingwe have
faced greater odds before now, and won the battle. If they
force in upon us, I will still bother them; the house over
my head shall burn to charcoal ere they possess itfear
nothing."
Evelyn wondered by what perversion of reason this
speechif the speaker was really seriouscould be meant to
allay his fears. But he did not know the character of the man
who addressed him; and whoin downright earnest, indeed
spoke of Evelyn's house as his own, from the moment it
had fallen into his hands.
"And then, as to a retreat," he continued, "my name
is not Galloping Hogan, if I forget how that used to be
managed."
All this time his vacant length of visage underwent no
change; his large staring grey eyes only roved from one face
to another around him, as was their wont; his jaw continued
dropped, his mouth open; his neck stooped between his high
shoulders. Altogether he gave the appearance of a man com-
pletely free from agitation or excitement.
"You want a straight blade," he went on; " and do you
fight with petronel ana dagger, also ?*
"Though I believe I am no coward," answered Evelyn,
"I should prefer, if you please, not to fight at all on this
occasion."
'- Why so T demanded Hogan, staring at him.
4* If you bring to mind the peculiarity of my situation, you
need scarce ask me." Evelyn replied; "some of my former
friends. perhaps, are approaching."
"And that's true. sure enough," casting his heavy eyes a
## p. 219 (#247) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 219
moment on the ground. "Here, O'Moore; stand by Master
Evelyn, in this window; and if you see us beaten, shoot him on
the spot." And he strode out, leaving Evelyn in charge with
a fellow scarce inferior in stature to himself, and well-armed;
while from the moment he had entered the house the prisoner
remained defenceless.
The moon had by this time almost set; yet, in the waning
light it still afforded, Evelyn could discern, through the
window, a crowd of men toiling, at the far gate of the avenue,
to throw up the bank and abattus their general had ordered.
A deep line of horsemen formed behind them. At the near
gate, the lights from the house, together with the brands
which flamed on the spot, and which were held mostly by
the wild-looking women attached to the band of Rapparees,
more plainly showed the operations there carried on. In the
midst of his people, Galloping Hogan soon appeared, striding
about from point to point, and issuing his orders with his
usual coolness, indeed almost indifference.
Many hands make light work; and Evelyn beheld, with the
utmost surprise, that, by the hundreds of strong men engaged
in the task, the preparations for defence were already nearly
completed, before his eye or ear could catch any signal of the
arrival of the enemy. Yet all was not perfectly arranged,
perhaps, at the far gate, when a rush of horses came in that
direction. A cheer from the assaulters, and a yell of defiance
from the Rapparees, burst on the night; and the flashing and
report of pistols and carbines were, almost at the same
moment, seen and heard. The men on foot, who had been
working at the rude entrenchments, ran up the avenue, got
inside the second line of horsemen, who stood, headed by
Hogan, behind the second abattus, and joining their other dis-
mounted comrades at that point, rushed in to garrison the
house.
"Something is as it shouldn't just be at the end gate," said
Evelyn's guard, glaring ominously at him, as he examined the
priming of the pistol.
"I hope you may be mistaken," said Evelyn. "None of
your horsemen flinch a step; and, even suppose they do, no
danger of defeat is to be reckoned on, while your general
remains at the head of his second line, and is so well protected
by the trees and earthwork."
"I don't know how that is," said the fellow, coolly and
## p. 220 (#248) ############################################
220 THE BOYNE WATER.
carelessly, as if, having his own work to do, the action abroad
concerned him only as it regarded the fulfilment of his orders,
"And more be the shame on you, Deermid O'Moore," cried
a girl, who had advanced to the window, in the recess of which
guard and prisoner stood. She was the same whom Hogan
had presented to Evelyn as a partner, and who, we should have
mentioned, had seemed much flattered by the arrangement.
"Set off wid yourself afther the women, Moya Laherty,"
said O'Moore; "they're far wid the road by this time. Be
movin'."
"Be movin' your own sef, Deermid," retorted Moya, in the
flippancy of an assured beauty of humble degree, "or else
don't be talkin' of killin' the poor young genteel afore his
time."
This might have been meant for Evelyn's comfort, but the
downright allusion it contained had a very different effect.
"Don't you be makin' a ballour o' your mother's daughter,"
resumed Deermid. "What do you know about killin' a man,
or a genteel either 1
"
"Nothin' at all, for pace sake; anything to plase you,
Deermid, a-roon. Will you taste 1" holding out a can of wine.
"Not that, but somethin' else, if you're so civil, Moya."
"Musha, what a beau your granny was," said Moya, in her
own elegant irony. "An' that's all you'd be axin', is it?"
"Take yourself out o' my way, then," resumed Deermid, in
a sulk.
"My mammy she bet me, an' well she knew how,
For stayin' out, dancin' the one-horun cow,"
was Moya's only reply, as she faced him, playing off saucy airs
of flirtation with her head and eyes, and moving her feet to
the verse she sang.
"You won't, won't you?" he asked, advancing on her.
"You don't know what I'll be afther doin' for you. Whisper
a bit, Deermid," as she wound her arms through his.
Deermid held his ear, and grinned delight.
"Whisht! we ought to be on the look out tho'," he
resumed, as a second cheer broke from the assailants at the
end of the avenue, and two full volleys succeeded to the
dropping fire that, for the last few minutes, had been heard.
"The boys gi' them never an answer," Deermid continued.
"Nien," said Moya; "they're too hard at their work to
mind 'em. Bud, stop now, a-cuishla," clinging close to him,
## p. 221 (#249) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 221
as if for support. "My sowl to glory, if they don't gallop up
to the house! Hould yourself asy, Deermid," as he struggled
to free his arm, his eyes fixed on Evelyn.
Wrought upon by the sounds of retreat abroad, as well as
by the dialogue he heard, the spasm-terror of death came on
Evelyn's heart. His temples grew moist, his eyes swam, and
he was obliged to lean against the walls of the window recess
for support.
"An' they don't run away afther all," Moya rejoined,
"ban-in' it's only for fun, like. See, Deermid, honey, Captain
Willy draws 'em up agin acrass the middle o' the avenue."
"An' now cum the Sassenachs to try 'em another bout,"
said O'Moore. "They only waited to form themsefs afther
breakin' the fencework. Curp-an-duaid! what a power of
'em is in it! An' look at their ginerals an' captains!"
"Look, above all the rest, at the dark man that rides on
afore his sodgers. See, now, he is the first to lep his horse
agin our men. Christ save us! That's frightful."
"He's the red divil, I believe," cried Deermid. "While
the two throops is at their work, threena-chela* look how he
lays round hima man down for every slash. Witherin' to
his arm! It'll be the ruin of us."
"Never say it!" cried Moya, clapping her hands, while an
arm was still passed through one of her companion's. "Cap-
tain Willy picks him out, now. Power to your elbow, captain,
jewel! Och, the Willy you war!"
Evelyn excited beyond the momentary influence of his
first natural fears, had started to the window.
"Do you know that dark man, that now crosses his sword
wid the captain V O'Moore demanded of him. Evelyn looked
attentively; the flaring light from the house fully illuminated
the faces and figures of the combatants.
"That man I know," he answered, fixing, in rallied spirits,
a watchful glance on his guard.
"Better for you if you never did know him," observed
Deermid, as he again peered out. "By the mother o' saints,
Captain Willy is down at the first thrust!"
"What's the matter for that?" exclaimed Moya; "the
gineral has his fresh men, yet. All's not lost that's in danger."
"All must be lost," replied O'Moore; "the gineral's throop
* PeU-melL
## p. 222 (#250) ############################################
222 THE BOYNE WATER.
isn't one to ten agin the Sassenach. An ' see !now he's left
alone wid that throop only at his sideCaptain Willy's men
are breakin' off thro' the gaps in the avenue wall, or thro' the
thick o' the Sassenach, down to the far gate, or across the
last fenceGod's curse on their heads!to thrample it
down, an' make it asy for their enemies. Lave my way,
Moya!"she had got between him and Evelyn" Let us do
our gineral's biddin', an' then take care of ourselfs! Stand a
one side, I say !the men in the house are quittin' it!" His
eyes turned on his prisoner. Evelyn, now collected, and re-
solved on a struggle for life, riveted his on the pistol, watch-
ing its motions.
"Look, yet!" still cried Moya, struggling with him, as she
still strove to look out" they're not over the fence, yet
an' it's harder for em', now, with the hapes o' dead men an'
horses. Now they thry itnow!"
"An' now they crass it!" roared O'Moore, as another tre-
mendous shout and a full volley echoed abroad. "See what
a gap that volley makes in our last line! An' see that born
divil, yetsee how he mows 'em down! Three times the
gineral and he met, but the hurry parted them."
"They meet agin, Deermid!"
"They do, but he gets off agin! And now the gineral is
amost alonerun, run, gineral! Why does'nt he run 1 his
life is worth us a thousand men. Look, look! he gallops off,
at last, an' now let the best o' them ketch him."
A final shout testified the retreat of the Rapparees abroad.
Those that remained in the house gave one volley from the
windows, and hastened to follow them through the back en-
trance. The salute was returned by the assaulters, and many
bullets whizzed through the glass, by Evelyn's ears. At the
same moment a smell of fire became perceptible, and the hall
filled with smoke.
"The last bidden is done !" cried O'Moore" all but mine
is done. Kneel down !"to Evelyn.
"Musha, never heed him, Deermid, for my sake !" sud-
denly appealed Moya, at last showing a hitherto disguised
purpose, as she yet endeavoured to pinion, half in fondling,
but with her whole strength, the right arm of the ruffian.
Evelyn's eye remained fixed, and he braced himself for an
effort.
"No; not for the sake o' the mother that bore me!"
## p. 223 (#251) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 223
O'Moore answered, shaking her off, as the smoke increased,
and a loud assault seemed to he made on the door of the
house. At the same time he raised his arm over her head.
" Then, only because I like it," Moya added, jumping
aside, and dashing the cup of wine, which she had placed on
the floor, over the pistol. O'Moore pulled the trigger, but the
damp powder did not ignite. "Thry a wrastle wid him, now,
if you're a man !" she went on, turning to Evelyn, with the
spirit and expression of a young tigress. Evelyn did not need
the hint; he had closed on O'Moore in an instant. They
tugged and strained; but the Rapparee soon flung his antago-
nist on the floor. Then freeing another pistol from his belt,
he was about to discharge it, or to prepare to do so, when
Moya, snatching his skein from the same place, struck it into
his left shoulder. He fell instantly ; rolled over once or twice
on the floor; and then, turning his eyes upon herdied. At
the same instant the porch door was burst open, and a body
of armed men rushed in through the smoke.
"Here comes the dark man, that is your friend," cried Moya,
"an' you are safe. God speed you! it's often I seen you afore
this night, an' wished you well, when you little thought of me.
An' now I'm afther doin', for your sake, what my own blood
used to run cold at seein' done. Loock an' speed, I sayan',
now an' then, think o' poor Moya Laherty." She hastily
kissed his lips, her tears falling on his face, and had passed
out of the hall by the time that Walker, followed by a number
of strange men, came up with Evelyn.
"He is unhurt!" cried the clergyman, as they exchanged a
greeting; "but he is weak. Bear hvrn out, soldiers, and quickly,
the house fires fast."
When Evelyn regained his self-possession, in the open air,
Walker presented him to other gentlemen, by whom he was
surrounded. After mentioning some names, "This," he said,
"is Sir Arthur Rawdon; this, my Lord Mount Alexander,
your commander. By him, and partly by the very troop you
are commissioned to command, your lifeI regret I cannot
add, your propertyhas this night been saved. I heard of
the attack on your house, by these miscreants ; and knowing
that you had returned to it, gave an intimation to friends,
who were not remiss in your behalf. Look here !" Mr. Walker
continued, as the flames, rapidly devouring the combustible
building, burst through it at the moment. Then taking Evelyn
## p. 224 (#252) ############################################
224 THE BOYNE WATER.
aside, "Are you now ready," he asked, "to forswear a King
and a Government in whose name such atrocities are perpe-
trated? Is there now anything to delay you from joining
your companions-in-arms V
"Need I be asked such questions, Mr. Walker? Am I a
man, to behold that sight, without a man's feelings? When
can I join my brave men? How soon can I have the honour
of heading them on good service?"
"This moment you can join them ; and very soon, I believe,
there may be an answer to your second question. Follow me!"
They regained the group of officers, around and before
whom more than one troop had, returning from pursuit, got
into order.
"Men!" cried Walker, addressing one of them, "behold
your captain, Mr. Robert Evelyn."
They waved their caps; and the shout of recognition with
which he was received thrilled through the veins of Evelyn.
Jerry disappeared with the Rapparees; his nephew sup-
posed to join them and their liberal courses, with a free wul
.
CHAPTER XVIII.
"Tyrconnel," said Walker to Evelyn, as the next day they
took their route, along with Lord Mount Alexander and Sir
Arthur Rawdon, and the body of men they commanded, to
garrison Dromore and Newry, two considerable towns in the
county of Down ; the latter, so far southward, as almost to
border on the province of Leinster" Tyrconnel, having seen
the mistake he made in sending the gallant Mountjoy to
Perry, has, after issuing a vain proclamation against our
Northern Union, at last appointed a proper man to command
his rebel army. I mean Lieutenant-General Hamilton."
"He who has served with such character in France V asked
Evelyn.
"The same ; and more. The very man who. having been
taken prisoner in England at the head of the first Irish levy
sent over to assist James, caused, by his counsels to the Prince
of Orange, the present obstinate continuance of Papist spirit in
Ireland."
## p. 225 (#253) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 225
"How so, Mr. Walker 1"
"It is known that he prevailed on William to allow him
to pass into Ireland, only on the conditions of doing all in
his power to persuade Tyrconnel to give up the cause of the
abdicated bigot. Before his arrival here, the Lord Lieutenant,
dispirited by the flight of James, the arming in the north,
and the general bad prospect of affairs, was well disposed
to listen to such counsel. But the moment' Hamilton found
himself in Ireland, instead of urging the advice he had agreed
with the Prince to follow, he applied himself, by every argu-
ment in his power, to rally Tyrconnel's hopes, and change his
plans from submission to resistance. He succeeded; and
the result is the near approach of a civil war. James is
every day expected from France in person; and the campaign
opens by the march of Hamilton from Dublin, to put down
our Protestant levies, and reduce Deny to submission. Let
him try both. I do not fear the trial of either."
"Nor I," said Evelyn, "with such brave fellows as now sur-
round us. Has Hamilton yet left Dublin?"
"We surmise he has; but we are prepared for him."
"Where is it proposed to make the first stand V
"Look around you," said Walker, as they approached the
suburbs of a small town. "This is Hillsborough, the prin-
cipal rendezvous of our newly-levied force. See, yonder
spreads their camp, and a considerable body quarter in
the town. But it is resolved to push on a good army to
Newry, and there first try the mettle of this invader of our
Protestant north."
"How fares the Munster Union, Mr. Walker 1
"
"I grieve to say, already broken up by the perseverance
of its enemies. We, however, are better prepared, and must
succeed better: the Lord is with us, and the Evil One against
us. Farewell! here we part, as I take a western road, to
return to my own chargethe strong place of Dungannon."
By quick marches, Evelyn, his noble commanders, and
their strong detachment, joined by the main force of the
army at Hillsborough, gained Newry on the evening of the
same day. Arrived there, two pieces of intelligence awaited
them: first, that William and Mary had been crowned in
London in the middle of the last month; secondly, that
Hamilton was certainly on his route from the Irish metropolis.
The one event was hailed by public acclamations, and by
Q
## p. 226 (#254) ############################################
226 THE BOYNE WATER.
proclaiming the new monarch; the other met attention in
the bustle of preparation that immediately became evident
Men and officers spent every available hour in acquiring
a knowledge of the tactics and discipline that, as newly-
raised militia, they naturally wanted; and Evelyn, amongst th
rest, was on horseback, sword in hand, from morning to night.
Few days were, however, allowed them for this necessary
task, when Lieut.-Gen. Hamilton appeared before Newry. As
had been determined upon, the officers of the Protestant
Union proposed to give him battle. But the spirits of the
new soldiers were not found to correspond with this arrange-
ment, and the army accordingly retired to Dromore, before
an enemy not superior in numbers, and, after all, chiefly
composed of levies as recent as their own, ahd not better
disciplined or appointed.
This movement was, however, useless. Hamilton rapidly
followed them to Dromore; and the battle they might as
I well have ventured at Newry, there became necessary. It
I was fought, and ended in the total defeat of the Northern
Union, amongst whom the slaughter there proved great, as well
- on the field as along the road to Hillsborough. At Hills-
borough, indeed, they made a second stand, but the result
was even more unfortunate. The enemy quickly routed
them out of the place, pursued, and almost entirely dispersed
them ; and, seizing the castle and depots, became possessed of
all the papers of the General Council of Union, which had
previously met at Hillsborough, as well as of the provisions
and other stores of the Protestant army. In fact, only four
thousand men, kept together by the exertions of Lord Mount
Alexander and Sir Arthur Rawdon, were able to muster
after this defeat. They, flying over the whole stretch of the
county of Antrim, took their route to Coleraine.
In the first action, before Dromore, Evelyn had been
slightly wounded. While endeavouring, with some of his
brother officers, and a handful of men, to cover the retreat
from Hillsborough, a worse accident befell him. One of
Hamilton's soldiers slew his horse with a thrust of a hand-
pike, and, ere he could fully extricate himself from the
saddle, aimed a second blow at himself. The weapon turned
wide of Evelyn, and, striking against a stone, snapt across;
but, with the heavy wooden handle, the fellow dealt him
a furious knock on the head, and Evelyn lost all consciousness.
## p. 227 (#255) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 227
When he regained his senses, everything was quiet around
him, except the trickle of a little stream near at hand. The
moon shone bright, and the stars twinkled merrily through
the cloudless blue sky on which his eyes opened. A sensation
of extreme cold and numbness affected him; he strove to
move.; but his first effort was, through loss of blood and
consequent exhaustion, useless. At last he sat up. A soldier,
also sitting, confronted him, and, with looks of great conster-
nation, demanded if he was alive. Receiving the proper
assurances, he acquainted his companion in suffering that,
from a bad wound in the thigh, he, too, had been unable to
quit the field; but, he added, there was some consolation
left; and thereupon he put his hand behind his back, and pro-
duced a small bottle of brandy, and a good piece of oaten
bread.
"I hid 'em," he said, " when I saw you move; but you are
now welcome to a shareand a waur thing than a mouthful
o' brandy and oatcake ye might have til your supper after
such a day. Ah, yon's a gude wifethe best in the bonny
north !and it's now I wonder how I ever took heart to leave
her. Ill luck to the Papists! A canny wife singing at the
ingle-corner, and a merry loom, and I singing at it, had never
brought me to this."
Evelyn thankfully partook of bottle and cake, and soon
found himself better. Refreshed, he then moved in the
direction of the stream, guided by its sound; washed the
black blood from his hair; bathed the wound with another
small portion of brandy; bound it, from the chill air,
with a handkerchief; and, finally, looked round him for a
horse. Of many which grazed quietly on the field, perhaps
between the dead bodies of those who a short time since
were their masters, he soon selected one; and returning with
him to his accidental comrade, announced his intention of
trying to get to Deny.
"And leave me here to perish, after my cake and brandy V
the poor fellow asked. But Evelyn assured him they should
not part till he had lodged him under some friendly roof in
the neighbourhood. The man urged him against his intended
journey, for his own sake. The Irish would be abroad, he said^
all over the road; he would meet sworn enemies at every step.
And Belfastthat would be filled with Hamilton's soldiers,
and he could never pass it; and, even if he did, Hamilton
## p. 228 (#256) ############################################
238 THE BOYNE WATER.
would be before him at Deny, and he never could get into the
town.
The prospect of these manifold dangers did not deter
Evelyn from his purpose. He raised the wounded man to
the saddle; led the horse, till he had succeeded in finding the
residence of a Protestant peasant; there deposited his charge;
and now mounting, himself, took a bye-road towards Belfast.
Although he agreed with his Job's comforter that some
danger must be incurred in trying to pass by or through
Belfast, Evelyn had stronger apprehensions of the road
further on, at Carrickfergus. Still he determined, using the
utmost caution, to risk everything rather than stay away
from his sister, during the siege that now threatened the city
in which she resided. He thought if he could but succeed
in clearing the two towns, already mentioned, he might,
with little prospect of interruption, then continue his journey
along the coast-road, on which, in the beginning of this tale,
we have already seen him a traveller. The better to take
his chance, Evelyn, on his first stage, at the early break of
day, divested himself of his military costume and accoutre-
ments, retaining only a case of small pistols, and assuming
the dress of a peasant, put his trust in heaven, and pursued
his perilous way.
; Belfast was cleared; Carrickfergus was left behind; and
Evelyn's spirits rose, as he found himself free, and seemingly
unobserved, on the rude mountain-road, before described,
between the villages of Larne and Glenarm. He dismounted
at the door of a miserable cabin to seek some food. While
he partook of it, the woman of the hovel informed him that,
early that morning, a party of Lord Antrim's Redshanks had
been scouring the country in quest of the Protestant run-
aways from Hillsborough; that they had gone the very road
he came, arranging to return; and that, as he had not met
them, they must have taken another course, across the hills,
and could not be far off.
'This intelligence put an end to his towering hopes; but he
was really alarmed when the poor woman, standing at the door,
interrupted her own narration by declaring that she now got
a glimpse of the Redshanks, returning. Evelyn was on
horseback in a moment. Ere he dashed spurs into his good
stout steed, he looked back in the saddle, and plainly saw a
military party just mastering the brow of the last hill he had
## p. 229 (#257) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 229
cleared on the road. But as he then started very near the
summit of another, and in a few minutes could put it between
him and them, he yet held hopes of escape, by concealment.
So, on he pressed against the steep road; his horse, though
jaded, not refusing to put forth its whole strength, to gain
the relief of the level at the top of the ascent, and the sweep
downward at the other side. But, ere the willing animal could
so far serve his temporary master, the effort became too much
for him, and he fell.
Evelyn jumped up, uninjured; but when he regained his
seat in the saddle, whip and spur failed in their usual effect.
Again looking back, he saw the mounted soldiers stop a mo-
ment to speak with the old woman he had just quitted, and
then gallop towards him with increased speed. Thus pressed,
Evelyn altogether abandoned the horse; and trusting to his
own feet, bounded up the hilly road, soon gained level ground,
and lost sight of his pursuers.
But he knew that, by keeping the straight way, he could
conceal his person and motions from them only during the
time they took to achieve his present vantage-ground. This
made him determine to trust for safety to some retreat among
the rude scenery at either side. He broke, therefore, at his
right hand, through a natural fence of wild bush, which, in
line with more solid boundaries, had hitherto shut out all
prospect, in that direction, save the sky. Looking down,
there was now a vast and sudden sweep of green land, imme-
diately under him; a tremendous valley, in fact, running
parallel to the road; with successive falls of rough ground
beyond it, and the ocean seen over all. He plunged almost
headlong down; and, his legs failing him at the first bound,
he rolled with great rapidity, though without material hurt,
to the bottom; ran across to its opposite side; soon mastered
the summit; and ere he proceeded farther, once more glanced
behind him. The height from which he had cast himself
seemed immense. Upon it the Redshanks stood, as if won-
dering at his progress, or uncertain how they should follow
him. In another instant they were in motion, and Evelyn was
at the far side of the valley, again shut out from their notice.
On he hurried, over height after height, the ground now
rocky and wild, and each descent dipping lower than the
former one, until he gained a level, which, extending hori-
zontally right and left, gave promise of an easy approach to
## p. 230 (#258) ############################################
230 THE BOYNE WATER
the sea, whose waters did not, to his inexperienced eye, seem
far removed from it, nor far under it. So, mustering his last
strength and speed, he raced to the edge of the level, gained
it, and was preparing to jump over, when he started back in
horror from a precipice that fell straight under him, into
a dizzy depth and space of the wildest and most broken
ground, which, sweep after sweep, curve after curve, still lay
between him and the ocean.
Evelyn looked round almost in despair; a cruel, and, from
private causes, a particularly enraged foe at his back, and
nothing before him but the impassable or merciless precipice.
Hib nerves got into some disorder; his self-possession wavered;
he half felt the not unusual and terrible impulse to cast him-
self forward; but, at the moment, a large eagle screamed over
his headhis eye became divertedhis attention fixedhe
looked up at the royal bird, and saw it, with outstretched
wings, descending, slowly and stately, from its realm of mid-
air, uninfluenced by the angry gust that came from the ocean.
Almost at the same time, a fox started close by Evelyn, his bush
trailing the ground, and his neck cowering. The eagle, not
regarding him, suddenly shot, at Evelyn's left, into the wild
depth beneath, and became invisible. The eye of our fugitive
followed, by an impulse of hope, the track of the less noble
animal, traced him along the continued edge of the preci-
pice to his left, and saw him, as the range became depressed,
disappear along it. With the hardihood of despair, he fol-
lowed the rugged way thus pointed out. In a moment the
fox again met his eye, still pursuing the still sinking bine of
the precipice, and, at last, deviating from it into the rocky
valley. Evelyn reassumed his full speed; in a short time
arrived at a place where the wall of rock had ended, and
where a descent from the high ground was rendered practi-
cable, though very difficult, along the steep side of a pathless,
rock-strewn, and crumbling hill. Without a moment's pause,
however, and, now, without venturing to look behind him,
he recommenced his flight into the abyss, calling upon it, in
his heart, to give him, against the hatred of his fellow-men,
the same savage shelter it did not refuse to the wild animal
whose flight had opened it to him.
With speed necessarily checked, and with a precaution that
ven the assurance of close pursuit could not affect, he conti-
nued for a time his scrambling way obliquely downward,
## p. 231 (#259) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 231
and at last sank, completely exhausted, amid an inclosure of
shivered rock, and little mounds of earth and stone, one of
many similar retreats around him. Here Evelyn lay panting
for some time, he could not tell how long, when his attention
was re-excited, by the falling of loose earth and stones, over
his head. Starting to his feet, and looking up, he saw four
men, in rude military costume, half-visible over the highest
part of the inclosure, and with their carbines, covering him,
rested upon it.
"Stand! stand !" they cried out; and, as they spoke, an
officer hastily parted from them, evidently with intent to ap-
proach Evelyn by a more circuitous way. He had thus a
moment's reflection. Determining not to be dragged from his
mountain lair, without a bloody struggle, he disengaged, with
as little motion as possible, a pistol from his inside belt, cocked
it, and put his finger on the trigger.
The officer soon appeared, entering the little amphitheatre
by the same opening through which Evelyn had passed into
it. Evelyn stood with his side to him, fully and desperately
prepared. Advancing nearer, his sword drawn
"I arrest you, in the name of King James !" he exclaimed:
"surrender or die."
"No surrender !death !but not alone !" replied Evelyn,
discharging his pistol. The moment he had pulled the
trigger, he recognised his old friend, Edmund M'Donnell.
With a loud cry, he let his pistol fall, clasped his hands
together, started back, and cried" Merciful God! what
have I done!"
"Nothing, Mr. Evelyn," answered M'Donnell, quite un-
hurt. "Soldiers !"speaking up to them, as, at the report of
the shot, they again brought to bear on Evelyn the arms
that their officer's approach to the fugitive drew for a
moment from their mark" soldiers !recover arms !I am
not hitit was accident. You have done nothing, sir; for I
see you no more knew me, than, in such a garb, I knew you."
"There you do me justice. I did not know you, by my
life, M'Donnell; and you cannot, yourself, rejoice more
heartily than I do, that my shot has proved harmless."
They stood a moment silently regarding each other.
"Now," Evelyn continued, as, with the rapidity of a
springtide, old recollections swelled up in his heart" now
let us, again exchangeand with more consistency than
## p. 232 (#260) ############################################
232 THE BOYNE WATER.
everthe hostile greeting you gave me on the banks of the
Foyle, Edmund."
M'Donnell offered his hand; but not so sternly as before.
"And now," added Evelyn, presenting his second pistol
"now I am your prisoner."
"Not so," answered M'Donnell, his own eyes glistening, as
he refused the pistol" not so, for two reasons. You would
have followed up your shot, by a second, had I been a
stranger. Perhaps your first had told better, but for your
confusion at seeing me. And, had I known your person, we
should not have met thus, at all. I need not say that per-
sonal feelings act, in the breast of an honorable man, so as
to turn him aside, on his public course, from injuring a
privateenemyfoeor one he is not friends withrather
than impel him to use official power for their gratifica-
tion. We are both above the meaness of seeking or even
availing ourselves of a personal advantage, thus obtained.
Therefore, you are no prisoner of mine," he added, sheathing
his sword" you cannotcould not be. There has been no
struggle, and therefore no victory. There is now no sum-
mons, and therefore no surrender."
"You have argued it fairly, I believe. I thank you,
M'Donnell," said Evelyn, much moved.
"If I have argued it only fairly, thank me not at all,"
returned M'Donnell.
"Captain M'Donnell, wull your honour please to bring
oop the prisoner?" here demanded the sergeant of the party,
a braw Scot, who, rather late on the field, had just arrived
with the remainder of the men, excepting those left behind
to take charge of the horses.
"This gentleman cannot be made our prisoner," answered
Edmund; "on the contrary, particular circumstances give him a
claim on our protection. Drawoffthemen,sergeant,to Glenarm,
and I will stay to conduct him out of this difficult place." A
mutter, if not a murmur of voices, was heard amongst the men
above. The sergeant again spoke, requesting to know, with all
duty, "what for did the gentleman flee awa', then?' adding, that
many of the men thought his honour might be mistaken, in-
asmuch as the gentleman was well known to them, as Master
Robert Evelyn, a traitor in arms against King James; one
whom Lord Antrim particularly wished to secure; and, along
with that, one who had done muckle wrong and insult to
## p. 233 (#261) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 233
the clan M'Donnell, and to his honour's ain sel, as the head of
that clan.
M'Donnell, in an angry tone, again desired the sergeant and
men to retire, on pain of disobedience of orders. He was
answered sturdily enough, that an older soldier than his
honour, might take the liberty of judging how it was that
orders were really disobeyed: that the men were unwilling
to return to Glenarm without their prisoner, whom, heaven
knew, they had risked limb and neck to secure. Finally,
that it was for his honour to calculate the consequences of
sending him back, empty-handed, to make such a report, as
he should be obliged to make, to their commander-in-chief,
the Earl of Antrim; the consequences to his honour's self, as
well as to the speaker.
A louder murmur followed this speech.
"Do you mutiny, scoundrels f asked M'Donnell, in much
anger.
A fellow, with a red bushy head, abruptly replied that they
were nothing but true and loyal clansmen. But that they
would best prove they were such by "having her tamned
Sassenach up awa' to ta laird's big noose." And a clatter of
arms ensued.
"Ground arms, this moment!" cried their young officer;
but, to his surprise and alarm, the old sergeant roared out a
contrary order; and while many voices applauded him,
plumply told M'Donnell that it was he himself who acted
a disloyal part; that he should be made to feel it; and that,
for the present, the men should have their prisoner.
"I am ready to go with you," here interposed Evelyn.
"I own myself your prisoner; and wish neither to accept
your officer's generosity, nor expose him to your hostility
for exercising it. M'Donnell," he continued, lowering his
voice, "this must not be; your honour, perhaps your life,
is at stake; I insist on your doing your duty as King James's
officer."
"Absurd !" cried Edmund ; "my duty I will do, in spite of
the mutinous and insulting conduct of these fellows, or even
in spitethough, pardon me, Evelyn, your course is well
meant, is honorable, and I value it accordingly. Black Coll!"
he went on, addressing one of the soldiers, his foster-brother,
who immediately bounded down to his side. They spoke
a word together, in Irish. Black Coll, after a moment's pause,
## p. 234 (#262) ############################################
234 - THE BOYNE WATER.
clutched his broadsword firmer, spit on it, and twirled it in
his hand, looking at once determined to do or die for his
commander. Both then harangued the men, in the same
language, and a division of forces took place, the sergeant re.
maining at the head of but a third of the party. "Ground arms,
now, ye dogs " again cried Edmund, " or take a dog's death
The mutineers did so ; their countenances showing, how-
ever, something in final reserve. -
"Off with them to Glenarm " he continued; and tho
who were faithful to him, gathering up the arms of the others,
all began to move up the ascent. But not before one of the
victors ran down to whisper Black Coll, very earnestly, who
in his turn whispered M*Donnell, with increased vehemence;
and when his foster-brother, after a moment's thought, Only
gave a "pshaw " in answer, he moved to rejoin his party,
half in dudgeon, half in evident anxiety.
The two friends stood, for some time, watching the disap.
pearance of the soldiers among the surrounding heights. At
last M*Donnell turned round abruptly, and
"Now, Mr. Evelyn," he said, "the sooner we get down to
the shore, and, along it, by Glenarm, to some safe place, the
better. I lead, sir, as I know this wild ground well. But
you are ill, Evelyn, or weak; you cannot stand," he continued,
as, at the first effort to follow him, his old friend grew pale,
and tottered. "Sit down a momentholdallow me to
support you," and he passed his arms around Evelyn, gently
placed him in a sitting posture, and still held him up; the
two young men feeling, in common, strange sensations; the
one at again embracing, and the other at being again em.
braced by the former friend from whom it had but just now
seemed he was for ever parted.
"I see how it is," resumed M'Donnell, as Evelyn recovered;
"you have lost much blood lately. Here has been a Papist
pike-staff at your head. You were at the Hillsborough affair,
last Thursday?"
"You guess it, indeed," answered Evelyn.
"Well, you see how it went. That was a bad beginning
for you; but let us pass it. It might have been our own fortune,
or the fortune of brave men, at any time. Do you feel better?"
"Much better; quite able to follow you, now. It was not
the loss of blood alone, but some fatigue and fasting, day and
night, since; with, as you know," he added, smiling, "agood
## p. 235 (#263) ############################################
THE BOTNE WATER.
runaway and scramble among these wild hills and rocks all
day."
"And I the hunstmanI say nothing of my packwithout
intending it. It is a wild place, indeed; yet it has its beauty
too. Come, if you can walk and climb a little still, follow
me, and admit as much. I am sorry I have no refreshments
to offer you," as they proceeded, "but I know a lone house,
lying between us and the shore, the only one in this entire
district, where we may help you to something. And now,
look around."
They had emerged from the little retreat, and Evelyn
found himself in the midst of successive inequalities of mound
and rock, running at every side, while no one form resembled
another, into the most picturesque, fantastic, and peculiar
lines and shapes. Sometimes he caught a perspective of thin
and shattered rock, shooting up into configurations such as
art might give them, rent here and there, and admitting,
through and through, the slanting beams of the declining
day, as if through so many archways, windows, and loop-
holes of a line of ruinous palaces and fortresses. Yet, in
some of the spaces left between these pilings-up of rock and
earth, spots of the tenderest verdure, clusters of the earliest
spring flowers, were to be found, looking as fresh and as
dainty as if some hand more careful than the rude one of the
wilderness had been about them. Upon one very level spread
of ground, almost entirely inclosed by bulwarks, such as have
been described, there was a covering of primroses, blue-bells,
and daisies, made out by alternate patches, rather than inter-
mixtures, of each kind of wild flower, so closely wrought, so
smooth and even, so brilliant, and showing so many curious
figures, that here again it seemed as if the solitary sport of
nature had been in rivalry with art, to produce a carpet after
which even luxurious Turkey might vainly toil in imitation.
But all these things were only the minor, though more fasci-
nating features of the scene in which he stood. Before him,
in continued sweep and curve, the land fellnay, was hurled
to the ocean, which, its shore yet hidden, now expanded
beyond the last shattered line in the evening sun. Nearly
opposite was the remote Point of Garron. Behind him
towered the abrupt and majestic precipice, withthat nothing
might be wanting in unique beautythe crescent moon just
faintly peering over the white mass of rock.
## p. 236 (#264) ############################################
236 THE BOYNE WATER.
"And this," said M*Donnell, after they had made some
progress, still over hill and hollow, towards the beach"this
is the little Deer Park of Glenarm. It is so called, I know
not why, since it shows few features of a park, great or small;
unless the name be applied in compliment to the few will
deer, that, time out of mind, have been allowed to range
through it, rather, indeed, on account of the impossibility f .
chasing them through it, or out of it, than with any feeling
of indulgence to them. It is, however, a tremendous, and to
me a most delightful solitude. Here might a man rove or
sit, and. But we lose the evening. One scramble mot,
and we reach your house of rest. Adieu, then, to little Dtt
Park, with all its delights, as fast as possible."
The first shadows of evening fell around them as they (0.
tinued their often-interrupted descent towards the short,
130th relapsed into silence inspired by the scene. Often, t,
forgetful of the lateness of the hour, they paused to surveyi's
ever-changing features, now rendered even more impressive
by the gloom which began to wrap their depths and recess.
Peculiar and indescribable loneliness was the character of the
place. The wild deer, started by them, to seek his heatly
lair, or the king of birds floated majestically towards his
eyrie, or the lonely and melancholy crane was seen perched
at a distance, on the pinnacle of some seashore rock,
only to give, by contrast, a stronger sense of solitude. Nor
did the sounds they listened tothe heavy booming f
the seathe wild screams of its gullsthe bark of the
fox among the more remote hillsthe hoot of the owl, r
the croak of the raven, from the precipice behind, unity
echo through such scenery. Like the light which but made
darkness visible, these noises only served to confirm a sense
of the reigning silence.
In this mood of excited feeling, a similar effect was pr:
duced by the appearance of the solitary house MDonnell had
spoken of Its individuality of character had no influence
over the vast desert of hill and water around it; nor could
the assurance, that it gave shelter to one or two human
beings, induce any cheery expectations of human fellowship.
The two young men held their way to it in continued silence,
The evening had crept deeper over the sky; all sharp effects
of light and shade had disappeared from the bulwark preti.
pice behind, and from the heaps of natural ruin it overhung
## p. 237 (#265) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 237
Everything looked monotonously brown arid undefined;
amongst the rest, the hut they were approaching, of which
the thatch, alternately bleached, blackened, or patched with
dark green, could scarce be distinguished from the similarly-
tinted crags with which it grouped. Our friends gained the
rock-strewn platform before it; all was silent within; no
lights appeared through the windows. They stood stationary
an instant, both experiencing feelings as agitating as they
were novel and unaccountable. At last, M'Donnell entered
the black, wide-open doorway, and Evelyn followed him closely.
The house contained but two large apartments, divided by
the passage running straight from the door, along which they
stepped. Other doors on either hand opened into these
rooms. M'Donnell stood at one, Evelyn at the other; after
a moment's survey, they changed places. Nothing was to be
seen in either of the apartments, except large dark masses,
that, in the deep shade of the corners, could not be at once
analyzed, and no living creature appeared. They tried to
exchange a glance across the passage, and hastily left the
house.
Abroad, they again stopped. "I do not understand why
my sensations should be as they are," M'Donnell said; "but,
to me, there has been something heart-chillingsomething I
never before experienced, in finding that house so unex-
pectedly deserted."
"Our sensations are common, then," said Evelyn; "I did
not like to remain in it."
"But a few weeks ago it was inhabited by a man to whom
Lord Antrim had given nominal care of the wild deer of the
place, and by his numerous family: what can have become of
them all1! Let us conquer this childish nervousness, and enter
the house again; perhaps some one yet is to be found in it;
either its old or some new inhabitants. You noticed the
dark shapes in the corners?'
"I didlet us in," answered Evelyn.
They recrossed the threshold, and stepped lightly along the
short passage. They separately entered the two rooms, and,
a moment after, again confronted each other in the passage,
more agitated than before.
"Hush!" said M'Donnell, in a whisper, "all around this
room," pointing into the doorway he had issued from, "armed
men are sleeping."
## p. 238 (#266) ############################################
238 THE BOTNE WATER.
"And in this also !" said Evelyn. "Do you know who they
are?
"
"No; how could I know V
"But I dospeak lowertread softlylet us get out, and
I will explain."
They accordingly left the hut a second time, and walked
rapidly away from it. "These men," he resumed, "are part
of a Rapparee army from the south, who, joined to their whole
body, have lately been routed from my house, after they had
possessed it for some days, plundered, and finally set-fire to it.
They now, I suppose, await here a re-union with their scattered
party. Extreme fatigue, assisted perhaps by the desolate
security of the place, has sunk them in the deepest sleep. But
a ray of twilight, such as it is, streaming down from the
broken roof, showed me the gigantic limbs of a man, which,
though his dark cloak envelopes his face and the rest of his
person, can belong to no other than the great Rapparee general,
Galloping Hogan. While, by his side, I distinguished the
features, simpering even in sleep, of our old acquaintance, the
Whisperer. Startled as I was at this discovery, I ventured
another glance around in quest of a person who, albeit my
near relative, I expected to find in their company; I mean my
uncle Jeremiah. But I could see no form that corresponds to
his. Did you happen to light on such a one in the other
room?"
"No," replied M'Donnell; "but your whole account sur-
prises me. These fellows have plundered and burnt your
house, you say?'
"They have left me, for the present, penniless.
"Where were you when it happenedwith your corps V
"No; nor did I take a sword in my hand; until returning
to the house of my birth, I found it held by these men in the
name of King James, and at last saw it consumed to ashes by
their hands."
"Ha! small wonder that you then acted like an outraged
man. But, Evelyn, one discrimination you must make. King
James no more authorizes the violence of these scoundrels,
than Kingthe Prince of Orange does. On the contrary, his
Irish justices are just now about to take a special circuit
to try and put them down. And no wonder; for the rieving
Rapparees prey on friends as well as foes, whenever it suits
their convenience; attacking and plundering the suttlers
## p. 239 (#267) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 239
and other people belonging to our camps; and even besieg-
ing and storming the houses and castles of Roman Catholia
gentlemen."
"I am glad, at all events, that such men are not recognised
by the more legitimate spirit of your party," said Evelyn.
"My party, sir," replied young M'Donnell, resentful of the
tone in which these words had been spoken, "are, doubtless,
thankful to you for your good opinion. But, now we at last
gain the shore, it behoves us to make as much speed as we
can out of this place; there are reasons why we should be
speedy, and prudent, too. Do you feel strong enough for a
last scramble, over rock and stone, by the seaside?"
Evelyn answering in the affirmative, they moved on, in
resumed silence.
CHAPTER XIX.
Nearly on a level with the sea, our friends continued their
course along a natural causeway of soft white stones,' made
with much uniformity by the tide, which, from time to time,
cast up the material in its flow, and confirmed it in a certain
shape at its ebb. After a quarter of an hour's walk, this
footing failed, and they found the remainder of the beach, as
far as they proceeded, heaped with round, black rocks, great
and small, from one to another of which they were obliged to
step, or else clamber over or round the bases of some, that,
from their bulk, proved otherwise impassable. Here and
there, among an unusual confusion of these mountain-
fragments, they encountered a rock of gigantic magnitude,
leaning, angle-ways, against a second, that similarly inclined
to it, both thus forming a rude archway, through which it
seemed foolhardy to pass, but which afforded, nevertheless,
the only outlet for pursuing their way.
All this time, the evening grew darker and darker, yet
not unusually so. Though threatening towards the decline
of day, the sunset had been almost cloudless; and the stars
now began to peep out through a clear cold sky. But the
breeze came from the ocean fresher than was pleasant; assist-
ing with its impetus, as M'Donnell soon perceived, a rapid
and furious tide.
## p. 240 (#268) ############################################
240 THE BOYNE WATER.
"We must hasten," he said, after glancing sharply along
the savage beach, "or this tide may prove more trouble-
some to us than Rapparee or Redshank."
They accordingly quickened their steps, over stone and
rock, till they arrived at the edge of a little inlet, in which
the tide was breaking, tumbling and roaring, with a heavy surf.
"Fairly baffled, by St. Senanus!" cried M'Donnell, in
tones of dismay.
"And what are we to do ?" asked Evelyn.
"Nothing for it but climb up as fast as we can. You see
it is impossible to pass yon pile of rocks that meets the hill-
side, more inland; and in ten minutes the stones we stand on
will be many feet under water. Follow me; though, in
truth, I know not how or where to lead, having never entered
or left this unlucky place except by the beach, at low tide,
or by the hill-path, in the direction we have come from, and
by which, as I judge, you gained the spot where I first found
you. Yet, courage! I have heard of an old track from the
brow of the precipice, at the village side, winding all through
the successive sweeps between us and it. If we can find
that, it will .serve. At all events, we must now change our
place."
So saying, he led the way, and Evelyn followed, up the
side of a steep hill, that took its rise about thirty yards from
the beach ; both hastening away from a great swell of tide,
which, before they moved, had broken over their feet. Evelyn,
quite unused to such exercise, found the ascent he was engaged
in very severe, to say nothing of its peril. The hill produced
but a meagre vegetation, and was composed, on the surface
at least, of coarse, loose earth and unbedded stones, which
gave little assurance either to hand or foot.' The wavy
kind of furrows into which it hadheaven knows how
become broken, afforded, as he crept upward in an oblique
direction, the best help. But even this surface sometimes
disappeared, and was succeeded by a vein of bare, mouldering
ground, at the least safe places tooacross which Evelyn felt
both difficulty and alarm in endeavouring to pick his steps.
M'Donnell pressed on, however, with little seeming toil or
apprehension, some distance before his companion. One way
or another, the effort was persevered in by Evelyn; until,
after more than a quarter of an hour's uninterrupted climbing,
he was at last obliged to cry out for a rest; and, clinging to
## p. 241 (#269) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 241
the soil with one hand, sank, completely exhausted, in a sitting
posture. Thus situated, his face was, for the first time since
their ascent, turned downward to the beach. When he
measured, with one hasty glance, the great height he now
found himself elevated from it, and, with another, spanned
the continued towering of steeper hills above himthe barrier
precipice frowning over all; when he felt his position so inse-
cure, that the slipping of almost a handful of clay might have
been enough to whelm him among the rocks, or into the
boiling ocean below; and while his strength seemed altoge-
ther unable to dare the incalculable strain yet necessary to
free him, if he could be freed, from present dangerthe
blood chilled at his heart, and he felt such a shuddering for
life as, perhaps, none can imagine, save those who, like him,
have, for the first time, stood in a similar situation.
But, after a good rest, and many assurances from M'Donnell
that he thought they should soon come on the right path,
Evelyn found his novel misgivings gradually give way, and
his strength return. Again he followed his guide oyer
ground somewhat less difficult, wondering at the weakness of
his recent apprehensions. Evening now began to yield to
positive night. The hillside grew indistinct, and increased
caution in placing their steps became necessary. As they
advanced (Evelyn knew not whither, for he ventured no fur-
ther looks up or down), this necessity increased. Once again
the soil proved smooth and loose, and the hill, the second in
elevation they had climbed, almost perpendicular. But up
they still pulled; Evelyn ashamed to request another pause,
and, indeed, from the nature of the ground, afraid also. Still
up, without any promise of an end to their toil; and, after all
his resolves and efforts to the contrary, Evelyn again sank
upon a ledge of rock, almost reckless whether or no it
remained firm under him.
"I fear I shall not be able to proceed farther, to-night,
M'Donnell," he said, as his friend, retracing the way he had
been in advance, came to join him.
"Good heart! good heart!" answered M'Donnell,
.cheerily; "only try once more, and all will be over. I
have found the path. At about twenty yards on, it winds,
zig-zag, over the bosom of yon other dip of hill, which
we have nearly gained. And see, a little on still, and a
little upward, where the precipice, gradually encroached on
R
## p. 242 (#270) ############################################
242 THE BOYNE WATER.
by that hill, at length meets its topthere is our firm and
level ground."
This, little farther-on-and-upward, proved, to Evelyn's view,
immeasurably high and distant. He did not, however, re-
fuse, after a short breathing time, the last effort he was called
on to make; and once more young M'Donnell led the way.
"Here it is!" he resumed, after another long and strong
pull; "we are now on the path. And seeyon's an inclosure
of some kinda park-wall, I thinkso, we must be nearer
to release and relief than we had reckoned. It is a wall
come on!"
But the young mountaineer, experienced as he generally
was in such kind of scenery, now proved altogether at fault.
He ascended no regular, or even irregular path, formed by
man's foot, but a wild sheeptrack, worn by flocks of those
animals, just as wild as it, and, in their wanderings amongst
the hills, nearly as adventurous and nimble as goats. Neither
did he see a park-wall, nor any other wall raised by man's
hands; but a natural wall of rock, which often shoots from
the summits to the bases of a range of basalt hills, completely
intersecting them; and, in many cases, having a ditch or a
dyke at one or both sides, accompanying it through its whole
course, and, therefore, partly conferring its present name of
whyndyke. He is not charged, indeed, with being ignorant of
that present name, as applied to the object he then looked upon,
inasmuch as its invention and use are of a very recent date. But
had not his eye been cheated of its usual power of determining
proportions, as well by the tremendous scale of the only com-
mon objects around, as by the darkness, and, perhaps, his
own impatience, it should have informed him that what he
took for a low park-wall, of about five feet high, was, in fact,
fifteen feet high, at the point in which he saw it.
Full of his own idea, however, young M'Donnell scrambled
on; the increasing steepness and looseness of the hill over
which he stepped scarce baffling his foot, or checking his
ardour.
"Here it is, indeed!" he again said, now within a few yards
of the dyke. "A good step across, and a catch at the top of
the wall, is all we wantover, then!"
He half-bounded, half-stepped across, and, as he had pur-
posed, vainly strove to catch at the top of the natural barrier.
His hand, not reaching half-way, grasped a slight projection
## p. 243 (#271) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 243
of stone, just as his legs, overstrained, and in an untenable
position, rested, one on the far and slippery edge of the dyke,
the other on the more solid, though still dangerous ground he
had just abandoned Thus situated, Evelyn found him, as,
in much alarm, he gained his side. He was more alarmed
when, even in the imperfect light, he saw M'Donnell's jaw
drop, and his face grow ashy pale. Nor did the words he
uttered, when Evelyn offered his hand, serve to alleviate
apprehension.
"Touch me not!" he cried, or rather screamed" touch
me not, if you would not share my fate! I am lost for ever!
The earth crumbles from under my feetthe stone slips from
my handand beneath me is an uninterrupted yawn of
hundreds of feet, to the beach! Stand back, Evelynlook
not even downit will overpower you. But, farewell!and
Eva, my sister!"
"Your hand! your hand!" interrupted Evelyn !" this ob-
stinacy is madnesscome, I have it now. Keep yourself col-
lected. Do not pull me, nor spring round. This near foot is
firm-enoughrest on it, and plant the other here, too, while
I bear against your weight. I am pretty safe; a furze-root
gives me a grasp on the hill. Nowslowly!"
"I shall but drag you with me!" cried Edmund, as he
strove to follow these orders, given by a man who rose in
constancy of spirit with real occasion. "We shall but perish
together!"
"Fear not; or if so, let it be so!" cried Evelyn. "Turn
turnnowyour foot on yonder little rise. Bravo, M'Don-
nell, you are safe!"
They embraced each other, both sinking on the most secure
spot the hillside afforded.
"And now, Evelyn," said M'Donnell, after he had some-
what regained his breath and self-possession, "you, I fear,
must take the lead in this adventure."
"If you allow me to prescribe our movements," answered
his companion, "I would advise, then, after retracing our
steps along this last wild track, to gain some secure, level
ground, where we may rest for the night, and await the cheer-
ful aid of day in freeing ourselves from this fastness of hill
and crag."
"Lead on, at all events, to such a resting-place; here is no
sure footing. We shall then talk more on the subject. But
## p. 244 (#272) ############################################
244 THE BOYNE WATER.
first Evelyndear Evelyn !" he added, with all the old cordi-
ality of manner, "accept my thanks for the part you have
just acted. I know your nature now for the first time
thanks ! thanks!"
"I will not have thanks from you, dear M'Donnell," said
Evelyn.
"A renewal of friendship, then, soldier-foes, aswe are. Will
that serve 1"taking his hand.
"That will serve,' answered his reinstated friend, his voice
broken, as they exchanged a warm pressure.
Downward they immediately moved, Evelyn leading the
way, along the sheeptrack they had last followed, and which
had so nearly led them to their ruin. Arrived at the point
where they first struck into it, Evelyn looking attentively
around him; and pointing to a wide gully, or water-
course, between two hills, very precipitous, and running
up so high as to be almost lost in the darkness, challenged
M'Donnell to scale it.
"Wherever may be its origin above," he said, "there, at all
events, must we find the level ground which concentrate's the
waters that, during heavy rain, have formed it. The struggle
upward will prove less toilsome, and, though the gully is
abrupt, less dangerous than any we have yet made, on account
of the sharp projecting rocks and stones that line its sides.
Shall wo venture V
"Yes ! yes! But, as I know more of these places than you
do, with this precaution. Let neither of us look downward,
during our progress, nor, if possible, speak a word to each
other. There will be little breath to spare; neither let us
pause a moment. Lead on; attend to yourself, and never
uuiul mo. To prepare, I doff my military coat."
Evelyn began to ascend. As he anticipated, the jutting
rocks and stones at first greatly assisted his efforts. But
when lunch time had elapsed, and much way been made,
and that still, as he looked up, no termination appeared to
the gully, this momentary sense of relief was lost in a return
of misgiving, impatience,and the greatest weakness he had yet
felt. Upward he pulled, howeverup! up !perspiration
teeming from every pore; and his head getting dizzy, as, at
every step, the broken lines of the savage hills, around and above
him, blurred and ran into each other. The bed of the water-
course soon proved less firm, too, than at the outset he had
## p. 245 (#273) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 245
found it: large stones slipped from under his feet, and rattled
and thundered downward. This necessarily increased his
agitation, both on his own account and that of M'Donnell.
At every fragment which leaped away, his own or his
friend's death seemed an inevitable result. Often he wished
to stop, turn, and look behind, to assure himself of that
friend's situation. But he dared not. Towards the edge
of the heights over him, his strained eye alone turned, but
there found no relief. The ever-varying forms of the
dark hills, backed by the sky, perplexed and almost con-
founded him.
More than once he thought some living shapes started to
the outline of a height to his left, and then seemed to mingle
with the darkness: at last he felt really assured that a human
being stood against the dim blue sky, in the same direction.
He looked again, scarce pausing in his ascent. Instead of
such a figure, there appeared a four-footed form, as if engaged
in watching his motions. It stirred, here and there, still in-
clining its head; and Evelyn, taken by surprise, allowed him-
self to yield to horrid associations, which froze his blood, and
made his hair to bristle, while the thing seemed to swell to a
huge size, and assume monstrous particularities of appearance.
At this instant, another piece of rock plunged downward;
and presently he heard a scream; while, at the same instant,
the wild sheep, that had so much worried his spirits, ran off
was succeeded by a flock of others, who all peeped down to
reconnoitre the strange visitant of their solitude, and then
scampered after their leader, their identity at last evident to
the clamberer, whose presence of mind somewhat rallied, in
consequence, although the cry he had heard curdled the blood
at his heart. It was, he concluded, the last breath of
Edmund M'Donnell.
But self-preservation did not allow him to dwell on the
sickening thought. The termination of the gully at last ap-
pearing, the same powerful stimulus lent him a final effort,
and he soon stood, quite free of it, on a little space of level
land Hopelessly did his eye then dart down the abyss he
had clearedno living thing appeared in motion after him.
He cast himself on the damp soil in agony and despair. He
rushed again to the edge of the watercourse, and now, some-
thing white stirred, a good distance beneath. He riveted his
glance, and became assured he saw a moving object, coming
## p. 246 (#274) ############################################
246 THE BOYNE WATER.
towards him. It grew larger and more distinct; and, presently,
M'Donnell's voice was heard, shouting, "Evelyn! Evelyn!"
"Here! here ! safe, and awaiting you !" he shouted, in reply.
"Thank God!" returned M'Donnell.
In about five minutes, Edmund gained the edge of the level
space, in his white undress, and dreadfully exhausted. Evelyn
grasped his arm, and pulled him to his side.
"Why did you cry out 1" gasped Edmund.
"It was not I," replied his friend; "but, Edmund, I feared
it was you."
"I did not utter a sound till I approached you. What voice
could it be?
"
"I know not; its tone was very horrible."
"It was terrific. From all evil things of this wild, good
Heaven deliver us!" said Edmund, piously crossing himself.
"Amen," answered his companion; his heart not free
from superstitious weakness.
There was a mocking laugh at some distance.
"Amen," echoed a voice.
The young men stared at each other, in dismay and silence,
which was at length broken by Evelyn.
"Come," he whispered, "let us lie down on this platform,
and tiusting ourselves to God, attend the rising of a more
friendly morrow."
"It is impossible, Evelyn," answered M'DonneU, in the same
tone ; "we dare spend no more time here than will serve to
recruit our strength; and, though I did not intend it, I
must now tell you why. Draw nearer," he continued, lower-
ing his voice still more. "You saw Black Coll hold some
secret communication with me, as he retired with my party
to-day? It was to warn me that he had overheard the
sergeant and his friends pledge each other to obtain a sufficient
number of men at Glenarm, to intercept us both on our way,
or pursue us, as the case might be. I make little doubt,
but the moment he reached Antrim Castle he was freed from
the custody of my few faithful fellows. Norso deadly is
the present spirit of political hatred on both sides
can I hesitate to believe, that he further obtained the
help he spoke of, and has since been looking out for us.
This moment, perhaps, we are watched by his spies. At
least I am inclined, on reflection, to attribute to one of them
the cry and sounds we have just heard. Now, the case
## p. 247 (#275) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 247
is this. Should we wait until morning to pass by Glen arm,
there is no chance for us; in the darkness of this night
our retreat to Glenarriff is possible, and barely possible.
Yet, perhaps, our wandering adventure here has been all
for the better; perhaps, our non-appearance, farther on our
route, at the time we might naturally have been expected,
has, until morning, thrown them off their guard. At all
events, should we, before daybreak, succeed in getting
among my own immediate people, I shall not then value even
the hostility of my titled cousin himself. And there is more
to urge you. Black Coll will not fail to report, at the Strip
of Burne, our situation and peril, when he parted from us;
help and friends will be on the road between Glenarm and
the caves of Cushindoll; farther, towards proud Antrim's
castle they cannot advance. Perhaps, indeed, one or two
friends have already been despatched in search of us, and
now wander, like ourselves, among these very mountains;
friends that might advise us of the best course to be taken,
but friends that we cannot see."
"Friends that you cannot see!" echoed the invisible
listener.
"I think I know the voice," said M'Donnell, starting.
"Come forward, Onagh."
"Onagh it is," the poor girl answered, appearing from
a high embankment; "and reason you have to know her
voice."
"Was it you that screamed out, just now, Onagh?"
Edmund continued.
"And why shouldn't I," she answered, "when I saw the
both o' you so far below in the darkness, creeping about like
the ship at a distance, when the evening is black and
stormy, and I stand at my dour to sign the cross on the
waves and wind for it?"
"But, Onagh, why are you so far away from your own
house, to-night V
"For your sake, Edmund M'Donnell," she answered;
"an' at the biddin' o' your own people. I am sent to clear
your road o' some that are waitin' to give you no welcome on
it; an' I'm to walk before you, as others once walked before
me, to the threshold o' my house, by the bay-side."
"Who sent you?" asked M'Donnell, apprehending some-
thing either from the sincerity or consistency of Onagh.
## p. 248 (#276) ############################################
248 THE BOYNE WATER.
"One that wore that ring when she spoke to me," Onagh
replied, giving one; "and that wore another, too," glancing
at Evelyn, "that is newly come on her finger. Have no fears
o' me, Edmund M'Donnell. The turn I am here to do you, I
never would refuse to do. Though there is a different cause
that I would cross you in, if it were by opening an early grave
at your feet. But now, fear nothing." M'Donnell, inatten-
tive to the latter part of her speech, only looked on the ring,
which he knew to be his sister's. As he held silence a
moment, Evelyn asked in a low tone of Onagh:
"She yet wears my ring 1"
"She does; and will never part it, Sassenach."
"And does she yet love him who put it on her finger V
"As well as he loves her."
"Has she told you as much?"
"She told me nothing; no one ever speaks their heart to
Onagh. Still, she loves you."
"I am determined to be guided by this poor woman," here
interposed M'Donnell; "she gives me a true token, Evelyn.
It must also be evident to you that we can soon wholly escape
from this place, by following her over the path she has so far
descended."
Evelyn agreed to give up his project of spending the re-
mainder of the night among the hills. The young men and
their guide moved onward; and after half an hour's further
toiling, the friends were led by Onagh to the superior height,
from which the precipice took its range, and, over it, into an
open, level country, by the very path Edmund had spoken of,
and which he had so long sought for in vain.
During a last rest, here, Onagh produced some refresh-
ments, which, though coarse, were well relished by the ad-
venturers, and lent them a little fresh strength to pursue their
still dangerous way. Turning to the right, every step now
led downward, by easy descents, to the village of Glenarm;
and they were on the alert to see if their path remained clear.
They gained, however, the brow of the last descent to the
bay, without any interruption; and were about to venture
forward, when Onagh interrupted them.
"Let me first go down," she said, "and make ye sure, and
not sorry. I will run close by the bay, not passing near the
houses, the same road you must follow me. If I come back
a step, all is safe; if I stay away, remain ye where ye are."
## p. 249 (#277) ############################################
- THE BOYNE WATER. 249
She hurried from them; and they soon recognised her
figure, rapidly moving by the edge of the sea, far below. She
proceeded a good way along the strand, till she met the road
that, winding with the bay, turned off towards Glenarriff;
there they could indistinctly observe her pause, and, standing
on a high point, look around her. At last she waved her
arms in the direction they were, and got into motion, return-
ing towards them. The friends instantly ran to meet her;
and encountering Onagh on the wet strand, about the middle
of the little bay, all were soon safe on the Glenarriff road.
But as the friends began to congratulate each other, a
Redshank, armed with a carbine, started from behind a
beetling rock, stood before them on the road, and gave his
challenge.
"Friends to King James!" answered M'Donnell. "Good
night, and speed you!"
"Stand!" continued the soldier, presenting his piece.
M'Donnell rushed on him; they closed; the man's piece went
off harmlessly; Edmund wrested it from him, clubbed it, and
dealt him a blow that stretched him at his feet. Other shots
were presently heard towards the village, and a gun was fired
from the castle.
"Now," said Onagh, "nothing but the speed o' the red
deer can save ye /' and she instantly set a good example of
flight.
"The poor woman speaks true," exclaimed Edmund; "man
and horse will be on our track in an instant. Hark! do you
not already hear a rush by the rough road near the strand?
But I am not hopeless yet; there lies the last sentinel between
me and home; the next man we meet will be a friendat
least I think and pray so. Let us decide it."
Both followed Onagh, at the utmost stretch of their limbs
and muscles. They were near the summit of the first ine-
quality on their road; they soon gained it; and, with re-
doubled velocity, shot down its opposite descent.
;' I think you were mistaken," said Evelyn, when they
faced another disheartening hill; "no sounds of pursuit come
through the night."
"It may be so; but on!" answered Edmund.
As, spent and staggering, they approached the second high
point of the way, the figure of a man was seen standing
motionless upon it.
## p. 250 (#278) ############################################
250 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Look!" cried Evelyn.
"Friend or foe, let us front him!" said Edmund. "Hush!
hark! I am not mistaken now: here come the horsemen!"
Beyond what nature could afford they had already exerted
themselves. Now, in a final and desperate effort, the young
men often fell on the rocky road, as they approached the
stranger. Onagh continued to lead the way, frightening,
rather than cheering them, by her wild cries of alternate en-
couragement and despair. At last, as a party of horse
clattered down the first hill, they had gained the second.
"Who goes there 1 " cried the man they had seen at a dis-
tance.
"Carolan's voice!" answered M'Donnell. "Is it you, dear
Carolan V
"Speak no words," he resumed, his ear turned towards the
coming sounds of alarm; "your pursuers are too near. I am
left here to watch for you, by one who, when the shots were
fired, galloped back to bring on your own men, in time, or
else get the cot ready in the first turn of Red Bay. Up on
your horses!" he continued, pointing to a shadowed part of
the road, where, to their great joy, three strong saddle
horses stood" up, and do your best!"
"Up, you, with us, Carolan !" cried Edmund, as he and his
companion, scarce commanding strength enough for the exer-
tion, made many efforts to gain their saddles"here is a
third horse."
"Heed me not," returned the blind man; "it is better for
me to stay here, and speak the Redshanks fair. Soon may
we meet againspur, spur !I hear the horses under me."
"God bless you, then !" cried the friends, dashing off.
"One left for me!" exclaimed Onagh, springing side-
ways on the saddle of the third horse, and galloping after
them.
Soon after they had got into a third hollow, shots were
heard behind.
"He is killed," cried Edmund; "let us ride back, and
revenge him."
"Agreed," said Evelyn" or share his fate."
"This way !this way !are you mad 1"cried a shrill
voice before them. They looked up the again climbing road,
and discerned, at a short distance, a female figure, on horse-
back, in rapid motion towards them.
## p. 251 (#279) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 251
"Mind her voice !" exclaimed Onagh; "they will not dare
to hurt a hair of the harper's head."
"It must be Eva!" said M'Donnell; "and Onagh is, per-
haps, right. We must at least protect my sister."
"My wife !" echoed Evelyn: and they strained against the
hill.
"Spur! spur!" continued Eva, as they approached; "the
madmen are almost on you! Hear that!" she continued, as
some shots came from the top of the second height, and the
bullets whizzed past them, or struck against the rocks that
crowded the mountain-road.
"Thank God !" she went on, as they joined her. "One rush
now down the point, and the cot waits us at the first level of
the bay; and you will see a crowd of friends on the opposite
shoreride f
All dashed, like its own winter-torrent, down the last frighti
fill descent, which has, twice before, been the ground of our
story. With iron-clenched knuckles and joints, the reins were
held tight, and the brave horses scarce stumbled till they had
won the side of the water. Eva flung herself off her jennet;
the young men and Onagh followed her example; then all ran
to the bay's edge, and jumped into a long, narrow boat,
manned with four oars, which there awaited them. The
moment they were within it, the men pulled from the shore.
"Row ! row !" cried Eva" row till your veins burst, rather
than that the blood of the M'Donnells shall be shed by a
brother clan!"
The little boat shot like a seabird across Red Bay, scaring
the faint starlight that slept upon its bosom. Scarce had it
cleared the shore two ropes' length, when a clatter of horses
was heard down the Point of Garron; and, in an instant, the
pursuing party stood on the spot where the fugitives had em-
barked. But a short time only they stood, to observe the
progress of our friends, and to'give them another volley, when
they again dashed spurs into their steeds, in an effort to gain,
by a sweep round the square of Red Bay, the point to which
the others rowed in a straight line.
"They may get round before us yet!" said Edmund. "I see
not the friends you promised, Eva."
"They cannotmust not! Look along the coast to the
rightsee you not a close body of men darkening over the
strand?"
## p. 252 (#280) ############################################
252 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Yes; hut they are too far, and move but slowly to meet
us. Pull men! pull!"
"Pull! pull!" echoed Onagh, "for see how the horsemen
turn, like a blast, round the bay, and hear how they gallop,
gallop! Pull! or may the next wave swallow ye!"
Pull they did, as if, indeed, to shun her malediction. And
on came the horsemen, as if they coursed on the "sightless
couriers of the air." Already had they nearly gained the
second angle of Red Bay; but the boat was near to shore, and
the men, to whom Edmund continued shouting, near the point
of safety. Another minute, and the pursuers turned the side
on which the boat was to land, but which, at the same instant,
shot into a little placid creek, fully covered by the timely suc-
cour of a host of friends. The pursuers, becoming aware of
this, reined up their horses at but a short distance, and then,
baffled and enraged, rode back slowly by the bay.
CHAPTER XX.
"No pause, still!" cried Eva, soon after they had gained the
land; "you are too important a prey to escape so easily;
your route will be at once ascertained. I reckon that you,
Evelyn, are bound to protect your sister, in the besieged
northern city. A stronger party will be sent to intercept you
on some point of the coast-road, more northward."
"This I believe," said Edmund. "And we cannot even
take from your side, sister, in these convulsed times, any por-
tion of these faithful friendssome," he continued, addressing
Evelyn, "who, after the repulse at Derry, left Lord Antrims
regiment, and, joined to others who had never quitted Glen-
arriff, formed a body for the immediate protection of our
house."
"You cannot, you mean, take them from our father's side,
Edmund," she resumed; "for, think you, I shall see you ride
on, in danger, and remain inactive, and oh, how miserable at
home! No ; your companion I will be till you are out of
immediate peril. Heaven knows how you can yet be safely dis-
posed of, till the savage anger of the old Earl and his people
## p. 253 (#281) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 253
is appeased and reasoned down. But I think that you should
push on sufficiently near to the English lines to remain out
of reach of your own friendsyour foes, alas ! for the time."
"What a wretch I am," said Evelyn, "to have caused this
trouble and danger to you, Edmund!"
"No," cried Eva, "you caused it not. Orbe that as it
may, my brother only did what, if he had left undone, must
have made him for ever unworthy of the blood and name he
bears. But let us think solely of our present situation."
"A few of our people," said Edmund, "should be quickly
despatched along the road we have to travel, and take post
about the passes of Knocklaide, outside Ballycastle, as that is
the point where, in all probability, Lord Antrim's soldiers,
rapidly approaching by another route, will try to intercept
us."
This proceeding was, after some discussion, decided upon.
Two men accordingly moved in the direction spoken of.
"And now to the Strip of Burne," resumed Eva; "yet
only for an hour's rest and refreshment. It is long past mid-
night, and the early dawn should see us sweeping by the
Fair Head, towards Knocklaide."
All turned to the right, to gain the Strip of Burne. As
they proceeded, Edmund and Evelyn pronounced, in a breath,
and with great alarm, the name of Carolan.
"Fear not for him," said Eva; "he has since been in the
south, and is now entrusted with such credentials to Lord
Antrim as must insure him not only a safe guidance, but a
cordial welcome. None, amongst our enemies, suspect the
wanderings of the poor harper; yet was not his late visit to
the black north entirely on account of his private griefs, nor
has he now returned to it without a purpose. So much I
learned from him, this morning, when he crossed our threshold
to make a passing visit. Andto speak of other matters
never, Edmund, shall I forget the zeal and promptness of his
feelings and exertions on your and Evelyn's account, when,
as we sat conversing together, Black oll came running from
the little Deer Park, to tell us of your danger. He com-
forted me, he counselled me, and he acted for me. He would
not quit my side. And when, at last, the shots sent me back
to make one desperate contrivance for your safety, poor
Carolan assumed the post of service and of danger, on the
road, where you found him."
## p. 254 (#282) ############################################
254 THE BOYNE WATER.
Accompanied, or rather kept in view by the body of men,
they soon gained the Strip of Burne. Once more Evelyn was
kindly received by Eva's father; once more he sat in friend-
ship at her father's hearth; once more he sat in friendship by
her own side. But he could not avoid noticing in the manner
of all, a something that had no share in their former inter-
course. Only a few hours ago, Edmund and he had warmly
agreed to admit their old understanding ; yet Edmund,
though kind indeed, was not the Edmund he formerly knew.
His permitted kiss was yet warm on the lips of Eva, and she
seemed to have forgotten her late hostility; yet she was not
the Eva who had once confessed that her soul, life, and
happiness were in his keeping. He fancied that the whole
show of warmth he met, and all the zeal and d'evotedness
evinced in his behalf, sprang from a spirit of pride, not of
returning confidence and affectionfrom a haughty sense of
honorable duty, rather than from a sincere wish to renew the
vows that had so often been mutually interchanged.
This view of his situation kept Evelyn restless and dispirited
during his short halt in old M'Donnell's house. And such
feelings were increased in consequence of the part acted by
the dumb man, Con M'Donnell, who, at Evelyn's entrance, had
shown him but a cool welcome, and who afterwards refused
to sit down to eat or drink with the party; taking his
stand on the threshold of the door, and looking wistfully
abroad; or else flinging himself on a remote seat, either
very seriously or sullenly, and again starting from it to the
open doorway.
At last, the man's proceedings became still more strange,
if not still more alarming. Getting some sudden whim into
his head, he ran suddenly from the door towards Evelyn, took
his hat from the table, abruptly presented it to him, and
motioned that he should depart. Old M'Donnell checked
him, by signs, as Evelyn calmly replaced his hat on the table.
But Con seemed little put out of countenance ; again he stood
at the door ; again rushed in, and again urged Evelyn's speedy
departure.
"He fearsI should almost say, 'foretllssome coming
danger," said Edmund. "For, afflicted as our poor uncle is
cut oft' from all ordinary communication with probable occur-
rences, one can scarce attribute to anything but a spirit of
prophecy, the frequent consciousness he has evinced of
## p. 255 (#283) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 255
approaching events. I will give you a remarkable instance of
what I mean.
"One dark, stormy night, in November, when all had re-
tired to rest, he was observed to get hastily out of bed, run
to the cowshed, drive out the cattle into an adjacent field,
and then return to his sleeping-chamber. The servants, who
watched his motions, not wishing to leave the poor animals
exposed to the rigour of an inclement night, drove them back
again to their shelter, as soon as they thought he was asleep.
But to their increased surprise, they had scarcely retired,
after doing so, when my uncle again visited the place, again
compelled the cattle to leave it, and again went to bed. A
second time the servants counteracted his measures; a third
time he renewed them. The people, at last getting weary,
allowed him to indulge his humour. Towards morning, all
were aroused by a great noise; and, on examination, it ap-
peared that the cowhouse had fallen in, oppressed by the
weight of a large hayrick that was piled on its roof, and
which, had it fallen on the cattle, must certainly have crushed
them to death."
The anecdote was not well finished, when the subject of it
repeated his urgency to Evelyn.
"Whatever may be his meaning," said Eva, "it is time we
were on the road;" and she rose to prepare for her journey.
Edmund and Evelyn also rose. When their uncle saw them
obviously getting ready, the pleasure he had shown at a
prospect of Evelyn's parting yielded to the wildest surprise,
terror, and, finally, indignation, as soon as he understood who
were to be his companions. He uttered one of his unnatural
cries; plucked out of the hands of his nephew and niece the
whips, hats, gloves, and other articles they had taken up ; shut
the door, put his back to it, and with frantic signs commanded
them to remain where they were. It took some precious
time, and much earnest interference, on the part of his
brother, to oblige the dumb prophet of evil to yield a free
way to the young party. When he was at length compelled
to leave the doorway, he burst off, in a mighty passion, to
his own apartment, without any leavetaking; and they could
hear him lock himself in, as if implacably enraged and offended.
Just before they got on horseback, he as furiously rushed
back again, renewed his admonitions in a more entreating
style than before, and, when every endeavour failed, burst
## p. 256 (#284) ############################################
856 - THE BOYNE WATER.
into tears, uttered cries of the wildest pathos, clasped his
niece uml nephew to his heart, and ran, as if despairing, from
them.
The young travellers, once more reunited in the dangers of
the road, and attended but by two men, who were to return
with Kva, sot off, on fresh horses, for the village of Ballycastle.
The road did not continue to run so near the coast as, be-
tween (ilenarm and Glenarriif, it had done; but, sweeping
through valley after valley, and over hill after hill, shut out,
for the greater part of the way, all view of the ocean, taking
an almost straight direction towards Fair Head, and dispen-
sing with the curvatures formed, on the way, by Tor Head
and other nearer headlands.
Before leaving Glenarriff, Evelyn had silently resolved to
lead Kva, if possible, into some acknowledgment of her for-
giveness of the past; or, at all events, into some conversation
relating to it. For this purpose he took, the moment they
started, the most favourable place at her side. Gratified that
M'Donnell seemed intentionally to lag behind, in conver-
sation with the men, he now only waited to arrange his
thoughts into the best mode of expression, when Eva sud-
denly turned in her saddle, and called out her brother's
name, who, immediately attending her, remained, during the
whole night, at her other side. The sister and brother con-
versed fluently together. Evelyn, disappointed, grieved, and
somewhat vexed, was silent.
(>ft en he asked himself why he should be so ; why he should
consider M'Donnell's presence as an obstacle to any conversa-
tion he might wish to hold with Eva. Why, in fact, he did not
speak out, before him. as freely as he wished to do with his
sister, inasmuch as the explanation he was disposed to give
certainly concerned the one as much as the other. Often,
too, having persuaded himself of the propriety, indeed ne-
cessity, of such a course, he was about to break silence, and
begin. lut, as often, his heart, or his temper failed him; he
felt disinclined, he knew not why. to humble his spirit to
young M'lVmnell; or, at least, to address to him, in common
with the woman of his choice, any words that would ac-
knowledge the rash and unfeeling part he well knew he had
acted.
\Youdoiing, jterhaps, at his taciturnity, M;Donnell directed
to hiiu, ftvui time to time, a question or remark upon some
## p. 257 (#285) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 257
common subject; or Eva appealed to him for an opinion, in
support of her own, and connected with subjects discussed
by herself and her brother. But the brief or embarrassed re-
plies of Evelyn, giving, unknown to him, an appearance of
reserve and coolnessthey were, in fact, only the natural
result of his agitated state of feelinghis friends soon became
as taciturn as himself. Their journey thus continued a very
cheerless one; the bad Yoad, and the monotonous succession
of hill and valley, valley and hill, little cultivated, scarce in-
habited, and lying blank and undefined in darkness, contri-
buting not a little to the dreariness of their sensations.
But when the morning broke, and that the travellers,
sweeping over a commanding eminence, saw it calling into
shape the distant ocean to their right and straight before
them; the islands that lay upon it, the bold headlands that
ran into it, and the intervening hills, clad in green or brown,
or crested with rocky pinnaclesthe spirits of each rose with
the rising day, and, all individual vexations for a moment
unthought of, they fplt cheered, if not happy.
"Yon," said Eva, pointing to the headland right before
them, and which lay at about three miles' distance" yon's
the Fair-Head."
"Why called fair, I know not," said her brother, "for 'tis
as foul a point as ever was doubled in a rough sea."
"And to the left," she resumed, pointing to a very high
inland mountain, with a curious round, flat top" behold old
Knocklaide, which has, on its summit a cairn, called, by
some, 'The cairn of the Three'meaning the three sons of
Ushna, whose chivalrous adventures and tragical death form
the subject of one of our most beautiful Ossianic poems.
That, however, is not our present concern with it."
"No," said M'Donnell, "but the rather to see whether
or not there glimmer on its sides, or at its base, some score
hand-pikes or broad-swords more than at present we have
need for."
The two men who had been despatched to reconnoitre now'
jumped on the road.
"What news V asked Edmund.
"You must not pass Knocklaide, to-day," they answered;
"your enemies are there before you."
"Then, where shall we shelter us?" he asked, turning
to Eva, "back we cannot go. And there is no housenot
s
## p. 258 (#286) ############################################
258 THE BOYNE WATER.
even a safe cavernin this wild nook, nearer than the Fair-
Head."
"And thither a M'Donnell should not face for safety,"
added Eva, half smiling.
"No, sister; the place was never friendly to our family,"
her brother replied, more seriously.
"What do you mean? " asked Evelyn, "is not the whole
district uninhabited V
"Yes," replied Edmund, "but not the less objectionable,"
"It has only one inhabitant," said the elder of the couriers,
"an' that's the Grey Man."
"He was seen on his path, last night," subjoined the other,
mysteriously" where he hasn't been since the night when
your honor's father lost his own."
Edmund's countenance assumed a still graver expression,
and he appeared occupied with disagreeable thoughts. Evelyn
knew not what to make of the conversation he had heard, and
much wished to ask for information; but, in the presence of
the men, delicacy checked him. One of them continued by
stating that, previous to the event last mentioned, the Grey
Man of Fair-Head had not appeared on his "path" since a
celebrated chieftain of the M'Donnells, returning from a visit
to Scotland, was wrecked on the coast.
"Come, come, Edmund," resumed Eva, " you know I have
always tried to laugh you out of this conceit, and I must do
so now. First, let me correct the bad and lame tradition of
these men; they are wrong in saying that from the time of
Cromwell's confiscation, this bug-bear of our family was not,
until last night, seen on his path. Do you not recollect when
our uncle Ronald broke his neck, hunting the deer over the
flat land between our present resting-place and the Head?
Did not the whole country aver that the Grey Man appeared
the evening before? Was not our grandfather's second bride
also lost on the coast, when only crossing home, after her
marriage, from Rathlin, to our continent 1and all in conse-
quence of another appearance. Nay, there was yet another,
for which none of us could account, except, indeed, that, in
two days after it, my mother's black cat died. You see I
am skilled in all this lore. Need I remind you alsoapart
from the absurdity of the whole thingthat scarce an old
family in the north, but appropriates, in common with our-
selves, the Grey Man, his path, and his talent for making
## p. 259 (#287) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 259
them miserable, allowing to no others a claim over their
assumed and unenviable privilege? Come, I say, yon awful
ground we will tread, notwithstanding the warning of ages.
Nay, should we be necessitated to wear out the precious night
there, upon yon still more awful path shall we keep midnight
watch, and dare this portentous man, black, brown, or grey,
as he may behobgoblin, ghost, or living seerto a friendly
interview. It is time we were moving from our present
exposed stand; the morning begins to shine fully out, and, if
there be keen eyes on Knocklaide, we must soon beif we have
not already beenobserved. Follow me, sirs."
Deviating from the road, she put her horse in motion, and
was followed over trackless and uneven ground, which, gra-
dually descending, soon deprived them of a continued view of
the sea. After some further progress, the land became, for a
short distance, level, though still very rough. Then it once
more rose, but not precipitously. Eva continued to lead
against this ascent, leaping across many natural drains, which,
at first, intersected the ground, and then through clumps of
furze, and over patches of bedded rock. Until, finally, the
party gained a nearly flat stretch of barren land, terminating
straight before them, in a horizontal line, beyond which was
the parallel line of the ocean. Here they dismounted, and,
leaving their horses to the men, continued their way forward.
As they approached the bounding line, all became conscious
that they verged towards a great precipice. Indeed, they soon
stood on a safe point, from which they could hazard a look.
downward.
"Sit down by this broom-tuft," said Eva, "and let us look
around. I have sat here before, and can act the guide.
Yonder," pointing a little to the left, "at only a few miles'
distance, is Rathlin Island; or, as the natives call it, Raherry
dear to Scotchmen for having once afforded shelter to Robert
the Bruce; you can catch a glimpse of his castle. The more
distant land over it, or at either side of it, are Isla and the
Paps of Jura. Still to the right you plainly see the hills of
Arran. How beautifully, as the eye follows the horizon line,
appears that long, craggy, isolated island, and that other
Tound one, the most remote of all, rising out of the blue waves
like the dome of a great building, the continuation of which
fancy may suppose sunk below theman ocean-god's palace,
based on the bottom of the sea."
## p. 260 (#288) ############################################
160 THE BOTNE WATEK.
~ But.-* asked Evelyn. "before we travel so far, what is that
large sweep of Land. nearer to us than any we can see, except-
ing the Bruce a island f
"The Mull of Cantyreonly about rwice the distance,
indeed. of Rnherry: and. although an island. too, yet con-
sidered part of the Scottish main-land. To your extreme right,
and. at a greater distance. you look on bonny Scotland still.
Over part of the Water between Cantyre and that more
remote land. your eye traverses the month of the Frith of
Clyde. Is it not inexpressibly. indeed unaccountably ex-
citing, to art. thus, on the verge of one country, and look
across the dividing waters into another 1 I. at least, have
always felt it so. though I know not clearly why. But, as
one gazes on hills and mountains. trodden by a strange people,
anch common features of nature assume an aspect as strange
as our thoughts of them. You imagine you have seen none
hke them, at home : and the young heart beats with curiosity
to wander among them. half with awe at the venture. Such
have been. I believe. the nature of my sensations, particularly
when I tirst saw, walking on a shore then hostile to her, the
land of beautiful France: and again when. after a long absence,
and having before known nothing of our sister country, I
gazed across the sea, on the white coast of powerful Eng-
land"
"I have felt the like emotions." said Evelyn; "I have felt
how strange a thing it is to see the family of earth so divided.
How strange to stand on the edge of one nation, and look,
but a few leagues into the bosom of another. yet know that it
contains a branch of that common family, so different in
language, dress, complexion. manners, and policy, as might
serve for a contrast in another world. But where is your
Grey Man's Path I Have we already traversed it? Does it
lie concealed in the wild, at our back! Or, perhaps, with
some violent contradiction of words, you may point it out in
the pathless ocean V
"Follow me," s&id Eva. Tue young men rising, followed
her to the right souie short distance by the line of the cliff;
then, turning a little inward, they gained the opening of the
Grey Man's Path.
If, to compare great things with smallthe reader sup-'
poses himself looking down a straight. tremendous staircase
(such as Piranesi might dream for one of his cloud-piercing
## p. 261 (#289) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 261
palaces) confined between two walls of rock, and of which I
the bottom, on account of the irregular projection of its \
craggy steps, cannot be seen, he will at once have a general
idea of this natural wonder. At some remote period, during I
an explosion of earthquake, or perhaps of frost, the outside
precipice had been cleanly cleft through its face, some paces
inland, and half the displaced fragments hurled to the beach,
or to the sea; while the other half, arresting each other in
their descent, formed an abrupt and rugged inclined plane, of
nearly one thousand feet from the flat ground that gave
descent into it, to the very level of the ocean.
"This," resumed Eva, "is the Path of the shadowy being
whose imagined existence so much frightens us all. On the
eve of some coming calamity he. may be seen, to appearance
a tall, gaunt, aged man, clothed in some vaguely-conceived grey
dress, toiling up and down among the rocks that give him his
only footing. Look at this huge natural pillar that has fallen
over the chasm, at top, from side to side. Sometimes he has
been discerned, from the sea, sitting upon this pillar, no ways
fearful of adding his weight to its already insecure positionfor
you may see it has hardly any rest, at either side, and looks as
if the hopping of a bird upon it could hurl it down the path.
But whether he be seen sitting or moving, the fisher who, in
the twilight, or while the midnight moon shines clearly,
discerns, afar off, the Grey Man's figure on the Fair-Head,
will tack his little vessel, and, for that night, tempt no further
the iron-bound coast. While, at any hour of day or night, at
which his bark ploughs by, he prays to be delivered from
the bad omen of his appearance.
"But, come," she continued, "as he does not frequently
reveal himself, and especially, as it is now broad daylight,
who will descend, with me, this rude staircase, for the matter
of fact purpose of trying to hail a boat which may convey us
round the coast, to our place of destination f'
"You do not surely mean to venture down that chasm,"
remonstrated Evelyn; " it cannot be safe or practicable."
"I do, indeed, propose to go down, because I know it is
both. I have gone down, and come up, often before."
"Then I will accompany you," cried Evelyn, eagerly, his
one thought of a private conversation with Eva, still upper-
most, while he sincerely hoped Edmund would refuse.
## p. 262 (#290) ############################################
262 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Do so," said Edmund, meeting his wish; "I shall remain
here to look out towards Knocklaide."
Eva paused a moment, in quick thought; then, as if she
had taken her resolution, moved towards the opening of the
path. Evelyn offered his hand. "No," she said, "no such
ceremony here ; it is useless, because unavailable. I only re-
quire you to follow, and give yourselfyour eyes especially
no trouble about me."
Both accordingly begantodescend, very slowly, stepping and
clinging from rock to rock, and sometimes inconvenienced
with a spot of abrupt loose earth. In such a progress it was
impossible for Evelyn to address Eva, who, as he moved, still
kept some distance below him. Or, if a favourable moment
for speaking did occur, she seemed designedly to anticipate
him, by speaking herself, and directing his notice to the
features of the scene around them.
The fissure, at top, was but a few feet broad. As they
descended, however, it gradually widened; showing, at either
side, basalt pillars, of a nearly perfect kind, beautifully varied
in range and elevation. Until, at the bottom, they rose to a
height of between two and three hundred feet.
Evelyn gained the base of the precipice, and looking up
and around him, his private feelings gave way, for a moment,
to the tremendous influence of the scene. Straight upward
ran the basaltic pillars of the Fair-Head; before him was the
vast ocean. Around were the mighty fragments that, at its
making or marring, had tumbled from the precipiceenough
to yield material for all the cities that earth ever saw; and
looking, on account of their columnar shape, like the ruins
of some elder city of giants, who, ere man's present dwarfish
race sprang from the slime of the flood, might have possessed
the world, and built themselves fitting palaces upon its surface.
"What a sight and sound must have been here, Evelyn,"
said Eva, "during the creation or the ruin that caused this
scene! Was the sea here before it happened? Did the strong
hand of God rend into pieces a previously solid globe, pushing
one part here, and another there, to form so many countries.
And then did the foamy waves come roaring and tumbling to
fill up the abyss 1 Oh! mighty is the God of nature, however
it has beenmighty, thrice mighty, is He in a place like
thiseven though He seems to have wrought here but for
## p. 263 (#291) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 263
destructionthrice mighty!" Overcome by enthusiasm, she
clasped her hands, knelt down, and prayed, fervently, although
silently. This, Evelyn felt, was no purposed direction of
discourse, to keep him from a dreaded topic, whatever might
have been the speaker's first object. He saw that from Eva's
soul tears started to her eyes, and that her spirit had for a
moment flown to do homage to its Creator. His own eyes
filled, as he looked upon her with admiration, sympathy,
and profoundest love. Perhaps his tears were bitterer than
Eva's, at the thought that a creature so beautiful, so gifted,
and so good, waseven after she had sworn to be hisgrown
indifferent to him. He turned away his head, as she arose,
to hide the emotion that a continuance of this misgiving ren-
dered too evident.
"I offer no excuse," she said softly, "for having acted as
if you were not present."
"How, Eva !am I as a stranger to you, then V he asked in
a sad voice. Eva, not noticing him, spoke wide of the point.
"Now, however, as one acquainted with this scenery, I
owe you some information. Look up, and see, in Fair-Head,
the Robogdiurn Promontorium of Ptolemy. See, alsowe just
get a glipse of itan unbroken, unjointed, pillar of rock, two
hundred feet high, the largest in the world. But what is the
matter 1you are very illor agitated."
"Oh, Eva," he said, overpowered by his feelings, "forgive
me! I have acted, I know not howdone, I know not
whatbut everything that was at once unworthy of you, and
of the love I bore you. I was madI have suffered! I am
miserable, penitent, and humbled, too, in my very soul. I
entreat your forgivenessI kneel for it."
"No, Evelyn," she said, arresting him, "you shall never
bend a kneeyou never ought to bend it-to the woman
who has vowed to you the honour and obedience of a wife to
a husband."
'' Then say I am forgivensay"
"This I say, Evelyn. Although in the first burst of that
most extraordinary outrage, and while its first effects con-
tinued, my mind and spirit utterly cast you off; still was
my heart reclaimable to you. And when I lately reflected
on the whole occurrencethe political deception practised
on both sides, the bad advisers on both, the hastiness of
## p. 264 (#292) ############################################
264 THE BOYNE WATER.
Edmund, and the hot words he used; when, also, I recollected
my promise at the altar, and was further reminded of it
by the good old man who joined our handsand when, t
I saw that my brother was wretched in consequence of out
common separationbut, most of all, when I heard that yu
were in misfortune and danger, then Evelyndear Evelyn
even before our last meeting, I had nothingnothing t
forgive "
Speechless with delight, Evelyn clasped her in his arms
After a little, Eva continued :
"An oath I had sworna bitter, angry oath, never t
forgive or know you, Evelyn. But it was an unlawful and
silly oath, along with being an angry one. It could not
affect my previous vow to stay by your side, even unt
death. God has no registry of it, except to my confusion-
That, too, ceased to be an obstacle between us. I now own
I but waited your introduction of the present subject, to say
all I have said; whilewhileI thought, once or twice, yu
made me wait too long;-and that your manner showed the
reverse of the anxiety you now express."
"Could there have been such a seeming! Alas! i
so, it was the effect of very different feelings, my Eva, l,
too, had formedthank heaven erroneous opinions of your
g!
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*}
s
ly
ul,
il.
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ls
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thoughts towards me. But now doubt is flown from both
our hearts, and there is nothing but happiness in the future'
"Of that future, dear Evelyn, I wished to speakdo nt
interrupt me. You and I are still politically opposed at the
very momentin the very fervourof a political contest.
Either of us must retire from the field oruntil the storm
has passed overwe must remain separate."
" Eva," he said, tenderly, but gravely, "I will not under.
stand that you wish me to turn traitor to a cause in which I
have taken an oath to remain faithful."
"You do right," she answered, her eye flashing, "not to
suppose it. Having once chosen your side, I should, on the
contrary, despise you for betraying it. No ; I meant not
that. But there is another course. It is no treachery t
withdraw, altogether, from the contest."
"Except, Eva, the treachery of cowardice."
Both paused. Evelyn continued softly.
"But, if such a course be indeed necessaryif one or the
,
t
## p. 265 (#293) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 265
other must stand neutralwhy, dearest Eva, should not you
be that one 1 You, a womanmy wifewhom no human
being can expect to take an active part against mewould
it not be more natural than that I, a man, and an accountable
one, should forsake the friends who have called me to an
honourable place by their side?"
"Ask me not that," she answered, vehemently; "name it not,
Evelyn! I, who in this cause, have at stake the lives of a
brother and a father, the freedom of my country, and the
worship of my God; who, from my cradle, have dreamt of
such a cause, and felt my whole soul expand to meet itcan
I be expectedcan I be asked to stand coldly neutral while
it abides the trial 1 No; though the consequences should be
ruin to my earthly peacedestructive to my love of you
though I lose you in the struggleworsethough we should
clash in it!Though what does now seem so unlikely, we
should meet in the very field of strife, armed and sworn foes
to each other, yet must I not show coldness or indifference
in acting the part I am called on to act! Every consideration
requires the contrary at my hands. The pastthe present
the futureour former wrongsour present sufferings,
joined to the call of a king betrayed and insulted, an altar
overthrown and darkened, and a country outraged and
defied; the hopes of honourable redress, too, if I may not
add, honourable revenge, judge for me if here be not sufficient
and irresistible obligations!"
"But, beloved Eva, nothing to show a necessity for our
lives and fortunes continuing separate."
"What!do you hope for peace and warfare in the same
family 1confidence in divided interests 1union in struggle 1
love in political jealousy ?No, Evelyn; if we really love
each other, let us not tempt its blasting in the rude storm
that already has begun to howl. Let us shelter it from the
unnatural contest that must soon rage between our parties;
since foes we must be, let us be such, as far as is unavoidable
only. This I must in candour say," she added sadly, "Had
I been aware of your intention, Evelyn, to take up arms
against me and mineagainst the religion that gives me hopes
of God, and the king that gave me hopes of libertynever
truly and dearly as I loved younever should my hand
have been yours. Since, in my ignorance, I have become
## p. 266 (#294) ############################################
266 THE BOYNE WATER.
your wife, force me not into the wretched, half-trusting, half-
devoted intercourse which, if we at present meet, must ensue
between us. The battle shall soon be fought, and, one way
or other, decided. Then, whatever is the result, let us cling
to each other for ever, and love and serve each other un-
dividedly. That is all I wantopportunity from circum-
stances, and permission from heaven and my own heart, to
love my husband as a wife ought to love."
"These reasons, Eva," he said, considering them, as well
as the heated language in which they were expressed, nothing
more than the hasty feelings, uttered upon impulse, of an en-
thusiastic girl"these reasons, dearest Eva, might have
weight, provided it was to follow, as an inevitable result of
our union, that we were to live unhappily together. That
because obliged to think differently on general matters, we
were also of necessity obliged to think differently of each
other."
"I, at least, Evelyn, could not sufficiently draw the dis-
tinctionplainly and candidly I tell you I could not. And
there are other reasons. In such a time of civil discord and
jealousy, each party will be watchful; each will exact from its
friends a scrupulous line of conduct, the overstepping of
which must be followed by dishonour or deathruin, at all
events, in one shape or other. Both of us will necessarily be
subjected to this nice scrutiny. Supposing us socially, domes-
tically connected, how could we hope to satisfy it 1 Would
not your friends suspect the husband of a Papist? And mine
my father's and my brother's friendssuspect the wife of
a Protestant, and through her, the dear relations, whose
heart's-blood might be spilt in consequence 1 Evelyn, you
mayfor you cancommand me. But oh! in the name of
our mutual lovein the name of honour, nature, and delicacy
-command me not in thiswhere submission would be a
mockery and a misery. Where affection, first outraged,
might at last be disgustedwhere man forbids, and God would
seem to disapprove."
"Well, Eva," he answered, at last touched, if not con-
vinced by her strange earnestness, "be it so. I have no
wish, perhaps, after all, no right, to force your free inclina-
tions. For the sake of my own happiness, dear one, I will
not, at all events, make the trial. Let us live as strangers to
## p. 267 (#295) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 267
each otherexcept in the heartuntil, as you say, we can
meet in undivided love. I have no fears of you, in one
respect: no doubts of"
"Of my truth 1of my constancy?" she interrupted. "Do
you mean that V
"I only meant to say I did not fear either."
"Oh, Evelyn, why glance at such a matter? "Why start it,
even in thought? I hopedI believed I was far elevated
above suspicionfar above even the little doubt that would
prompt you to tell me you did not fear me. Oh, you know
not the heart of woman, such as it beats in the bosom of Eva
M'Donnell!you know not its deep, tranquil faith and
loyalty where duty sanctifies love !when the word of God,
and the hands of God's minister, have approved and blessed
the enthusiasm of affection! Evelyn, dear Evelyn, I wish
you had never breathed that word."
"Then, dearest EvaEva Evelynnot Eva M'DonnellI
wish it too; and never shall you hear it repeated. But there
is still another point on which I would fain receive your as-
surances. Just now, you made an allusion that pained and
startled me. You said as much as that it was not improbable
you should take some personally-active part in the civil com-
motion which surrounds us. Gracious Heaven, Eva! do not
suffer me to entertain any such shocking apprehensions as
that hasty expression must, if" unexplained, give rise to. Do
not, dear one, permit me to fear, during the sad period of our
separation, that you are disposed to place yourself in personal
danger or responsibilityto do aught, in fact, forgetful of my
anxiety for your safety and honourhear me, Evafor your
character as a woman, a lady, and a wife."
"Fear me not," she replied; "should we both outlive this
struggle"
"Dear Eva," he interrupted, in dismay, "again your indi-
rect meaning afflicts and affrights me! What, supposing you
to bear yourself as a delicate though zealous woman ought,
what can be the possible peril to you 1 I, indeed, a man and
a soldier, destined for the fieldI may not outlive itI may
fall, Evabut you ! what can you purpose or think of V
"Still, my answer is the same I was just about to give, and
will be found sufficient for all your fears and questions.
Should we both meet, I say, after this coming strifemeet,
## p. 268 (#296) ############################################
268 THE BOYNE WATER.
never again to sunderI will not ask you to take me to your
side, if there shall appear, in my conduct, a flaw to dishonour
or displease you. More, EvelynI will not cross your
threshold, to sit at your board or hearth, until I have in-
viteddemanded your scrutiny. Is not this enough? But,
Evelyn, I repeat, over and overfear me not. Fear not
your party-prejudices of course forgotten in the investigation
fear not the woman who, while she is called on to befriend
her unfortunate country, is also called on to support the
character of your wife."
Evelyn, still believing that Eva, fired and agitated by reli-
gious and patriotic zeal, either conjured up, as probable,
circumstances that could never occur, or else imagined her-
self of more importance than, in any circumstances,* she
could ever be, professed himself contented with this expla-
nation.
"And now," she continued "let us attend to our business
here. We descended, I reckon, to look out for a boat, by
which we might get round the coast to some landing-place
beyond Bally castle. But" looking over the sea, "no such
help appears. Can any boat have passed while we discoursed
together?
"
"I cannot answer yes or no. In truth, my Eva, I did
not sufficiently take notice."
"Nor I, indeed," she said, ifieeting his smile with one as
fond. "Well, then, since our attendance here seems useless,
we should return to Edmund." She moved towards the
chasm by which they had descended, paused, came back to
him, and said:
"Farewell, dear Evelyn; I propose to make our adieus
here, because, although we do not immediately part; yet, we
soon must; and then, doubtless, with witnesses. Farewell,
my dear Evelynmy husband !" the girl added, as she yielded
to his farewell embrace. "I ask you not to wish me success
till our next meeting; but, Evelyn, should I return to you
with it, who then shall share with Eva the honourable
rewards of success? It may be that defeat and confirmed
degradation, shame, and utter poverty shall attend my coming
back; if so, Evelyn" her voice faltered.
"If so, Eva," the husband said, his voice sinking to a
whisper, as he continued to hold her to his breast, "then
## p. 269 (#297) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 269
will it be my time to act, as it is now my time to speak.
But, no; why need I utter it 1 Farewell, Eva. I am now
ready to echo your farewell. God bless you, my wife. Yes,
I have full trust in you! Let us return to your brother."
With more toil, though less difficulty than they had de-
scended, Eva and Evelyn gained the top of the chasm, upon
the edge of which Edmund was still seated.
"No boat V he asked, as they approached.
"No," replied Eva; "and no Grey Man, either."
Edmund fixed his eyes, inquiringly, on the conscious fea-
tures of his sister and his friend. When they had quite
gained his side, Eva saved him further questioning.
"Edmund," she said, her hand slipping into that of Evelyn,
"the past is, as it ought to be, forgotten."
He arose, with a smile, took their disengaged hands, and
repeated.
"As it ought to be, indeed. But for the immediate future,
sister?
"
"Protect Eva, Edmund, till we meet again: for she will
have it so," said Evelyn. "When we do meet another will
enlarge our circle."
The men who had met them on the road produced some
coarse, but very welcome refreshments, and nature thus
recruited, they awaited, with what patience they might,
the coming of night. The day wore away, and, at last,
evening fell, somewhat before its time, on account of the
dense watery clouds that blinded the setting sun. In the
first twilight the men were despatched to reconnoitre, once
more, the road to Ballycastle. In their absence, Eva, M'Don-
nell, and Evelyn, sat on the edge of the Grey Man's Path
as the best place to afford them, through its downward
chasm, a sight of the ocean, and, with it, a view of any boat
that might be passing.
But the mists that gradually swathed the waters, soon
rendered unnecessary their continued watchfulness. Their
situation only served to afford them a view of that most com-
fortless and desolate of all the appearances of naturethe
mingling of the vapours with those of the heavens, until the
very horizon-line is lost, and all becomes "one face" of
shapeless and tintless monotony.
"Who would think," asked Edmund, "but for his eternal
## p. 270 (#298) ############################################
270 THE BOYNE WATER.
voice, grown hoarse in calling out, that the furrowed and
angry ocean tossed beneath that shroud of mist, and that all
the fair islands and land we this morning gazed upon, sleep
under its shadow V
"And who," demanded Eva, "as the white vapour comes,
curling up this chasm, would suppose that the Grey Man had
so steep a path for his walk, as we know it to be 1 Look,
the view down is already more than half interrupted: and
up, up, still rolls the mist."
"A proper evening for his appearance," observed Evelyn.
"Most proper. How fitly would he appear, emerging
from that abyss of vapour, and toiling among the rocky
fragments, towards us. But see! has not yon grey stone
moved V
"No," said Edmund; "yet look closer."
All did, indeed, glance more attentively down the chasm,
and beheld the head and shoulders of a man protruded
through the body of mist. It was, however, only vaguely
recognisable, on account of the evening shadows, and of the
thinner portions of exhalation that skirted the principal
mass, and which, floating between them and him, gave but a
dreamy indication of form and feature. So far as the specta-
tors could discern, however, the face was aged and the
hair grey. The apparition stood still but for an instant,
as if regarding them, and then sank back into obscurity.
Edmund started to his feet, and began to descend the
chasm.
"Do not throw away your life," cried Eva, detaining him,
"you shall not venture down."
"I will, sister, and instantly. Who now allows super-
natural fears to terrify them V
"Not I, EdmundI fear no spectre here so much as living
men disposed to do you harm."
"Tush, Eva, am I a child, to be swallowed in a mouthful?
Pray release me."
"Then you go not alone," said Evelyn.
"No," cried Eva, "we shall both accompany him."
"SisterEvelynstay where you arethis is my ad-
venture, and mine only. Be seated, I entreat. If I require
help, I shall give you notice by firing one of these pistols
farewell."
## p. 271 (#299) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 271
He rapidly clambered down the path, soon entered the
mist, and was lost in it.
"Though, as I have said, I feared no ghost or demon, on
Lis account," continued Eva, "yet do I now feel a supersti-
tious horror at seeing him swallowed up from our sight in the
silence and mystery of that cloud of vapour, to confront,
singly, whatever peril may await him within its void."
"WeI have done wrong in remaining inactive, notwith-
standing his entreaties," said Evelyn. "Do you fear to rest,
here while I follow him V
"I should not fear; but 'tis better not to follow him. I
must, for the first time, acquaint you, dear Evelyn, that the
spirit of Edmund has, of late years, changed from that of a
youth of, mayhap, too great gentleness and bashfulness, into
a sharp and wayward manhood. From me, who, when we
were boy and girl together, could call him to me like my pet
doe, he will now scarce brook even slight contradiction.
Although, indeed, his manner is not directly hurtful or un-
kind, and, though I know he still loves me well. Therefore I
join my entreaties to his, that you stay where you are, and not
give cause for any unseemly contest between us, by thwarting
what appears to be his fixed purpose. Let us sit here,,
patiently if we can, and pray for his speedy and safe return."
"As you please, then. But, Eva, 1 have, myself observed
the change of character you speak of, and wondered whether it
was a mature shew of nature, or caused by the sudden and stern
change of the times. I have heard you speak of two other bro-
thers; one, who died in youth, much your elder; another, who
went for his education to Spain, almost yourown age, and, withal,
very like you. Does Edmund resemble in spirit either of these1}"
"The first, not at all, " she replied, "my elder brother,
Donald, was, as I recollect, only remarkable for good nature,
good humonr, and love of ladies. My younger, James,"
tears filled her eyes" had much, I believe, even since his
childhood, of the fiery temper only lately shewn by Edmund.
Mayhap, as Edmund has changed from gentle to bold, James,
during the long period he had been absent, might have
changed from bold to gentle. But 'tis no matter now."
"What do you mean?Does that younger brother soon
visit Ireland t'
"Alas, alasspoke I not of him as of a brother that has
## p. 272 (#300) ############################################
272 THE BOYNK WATER.
been tOur last accounts of him told us he had died of a
malignant fever."
Evelyn, who had proposed his questions chiefly for the pur-
pose of diverting Eva's attention from Edmund's absence,
now found it impossible to continue the discourse. Both
became silent, gazing down the rocky chasm upon the wreaths
of mist which choked it, and conjuring, out of every motion
of the vapour, the figure of Edmund, or of some more un-
welcome visitant.
A considerable time thus elapsed. The shades of night fell
thicker; the throat of the chasm filled, more and more, with
vapour and darkness. And still he came not. Eva's fears
grew ungovernable. She and Evelyn prepared to plunge
down the path, when, at last, a human form appeared strug-
gling through the dense medium, in motion towards them.
The first glance determined no shape, and Eva's worst terrors
nearly overpowered hershe thought they were approached
by her brother's murderer. But a little pause reassured her;
it was her brother's self.
Slowly and silently, and with a manner very different from
that he had worn at his departure, did Edmund now gain the
verge of the chasm, and sit down by their side. He was pale
and agitated, but that might have been from toil; his hair and
clothes were damp, too, with the mist. They paused till he
should speak; but he continued silent and thoughtful.
"What is this, Edmund?" at last asked Eva; "has any
real injury happened to you 1 Was that person an enemy %
a spy, perhaps V
"Dear Eva," he answered, " ask me no questions about this
matter. I have met neither foe nor spy; let so much content
you, for the present at least. But I have other intelligence.
A small galiot has just moored below; I have spoken to her
people, and they consent, thank God ! to take us, on the turn
of the tide, which is near at hand, round the coast, as far as
Ballintoy. We shall thus, in all likelihood, escape our present
foes; and Evelyn will be free to continue his north-west
journey. Let us descend at once; the galiot expects us.
At the same moment the two scouts re-appeared, with
assurances that all the passes at their present side of Knock-
laide were still beset. No delay was then made in once more
braving, even amid the extreme perils that the night flung
## p. 273 (#301) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER 273
over it, the descent of the Grey Man's Path. The men
attended them; abandoning, in their urgency, the horses that
had conveyed them to Fair-Head. After many pauses, and
many dangers and escapes, about half an hour brought the
whole party to the base of the precipice.
Here Edmund gave a hail, and was answered by near voices
from a little sandy covethe only safe one on that point of
the coast. As all advanced, four men were dimly seen through
the mist, standing up in a boat. Our friends and their attend-
ants got in, and were instantly rowed, they knew not where,
outward through the vapour of the ocean. A hazy light at
last shone a-head, and they gained and were hoisted into a
small, dingy vessel, whose sole recommendation, to the expe-
rienced eye, was that she seemed built and rigged for quick
sailing.
The crew were, a set of rude, boisterous fellows, having for
captain, or commander, a man scarce more respectable, in ap-
pearance or demeanour, than themselves. On the fore part of
the deck other men, rolled up in cloaks, coverlids, and sacks,
slept, or appeared to sleep, evidently no part of the crew.
Evelyn, seeing one of their faces by the gleam of a lantern,
thought he should know it, but wisely said nothing. From
the cabin, which was interdicted to the chance passengers, he
heard a voice, which was also familiar to him : still, he said
nothing. Glancing into the hold, and along a goodly range
of casks which were lashed on deck, he finally thought he
could guess at the nature of the cargo on board; but, still, he
was prudently silent.
The tide turned. The breeze was fair; the anchor was
heaved; and the galiot, standing out to sea, soon doubled the
Fair-Head. Passing close by the island of Rathlin, where she
had to contend with a heavy surf, she emerged into what may
be regarded as the confluence of the great western and north-
em oceans;no broad land, after an hour's tacking between
her.and the unknown pole.
Ere break of day she stood off the little seashore hamlet
of Ballintoy, and, anchoring in its safe and good bay,
lowered a boat for our friends to gain the shore. As Evelyn
prepared to get into the boat, he offered the captain money,
which, to his surprise, was refused. The boat put off; and,
after half an hour's rowing, the fugitives landed in the dark-
ness of the night, on the edge of a village, where there did
T
## p. 274 (#302) ############################################
274 THE BOYNE WATER.
not seem to be a single soul awake to receive or direct them.
But, tempted by a fee, the men who had rowed them from
the vessel, engaged to knock up the inmates of a house they
well knew, and from whom refreshments, horses, and gui-
dance, might be obtained. Accordingly, our party accom-
panied them up the straggling street of the village. After a
noise, sufficient to awake the dead, the doors of a mud-cabin
were thrown open, and men, women, and children appeared
half-dressed within, ready to afford any accommodation in
their power.
This, indeed, was not much, nor of a superior kind. But,
as three horses and a guide could be obtained, the travellers
were satisfied. In less than an hour, Eva, Evelyn, and
Edmund, followed on foot by the men, rode, at an easy pace,
towards Coleraine.
CHAPTER XXI.
Within a few miles of Coleraine, the friends were about to
part; M'Donnell to proceed towards the house of a Protestant
relative, where he purposed to remain till his late seeming
errors might be explained to Lord Antrim; Eva, with him,
in order to obtain some rest previous to her return to her
father; and Evelyn, through Coleraine, to Derry. But here
a new interruption changed, in some degree, their plans and
destinations.
A party of horse, headed by Lord Mount Alexander, came
up with them from Coleraine. The nobleman and Evelyn
recognised each other, and exchanged greetings. Edmund
was then noticed, and desired to account for himself. Inter-
rupting his friend, he told, bluntly, his name, and his political
and military situation : he was instantly placed under arrest.
Evelyn warmly pleaded for him; but Lord Alexander would
not hear of his being set at large ; conceding, however, to the
entreaties of Evelyn, that M'Donnell might remain as his
prisoner, only giving his parole not to attempt an escape.
Eva, who, boiling with indignation, had silently witnessed
these arrangements, was permitted to dispose of herself
as she pleased. The gallant commander even offered two
## p. 275 (#303) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 275
of his men to protect her. But the attendance of the scouts,
now mounted on the horses Edmund and Evelyn had
ridden from Ballintoy, enabled her safely to decline the
favour.
"My own people will prove sufficient, my lord," she said.
"Edmund farewell. I rest a few hours at our friend's house;
then home to comfort our father, and to use my influence
with our angry cousin. Farewell, Evelyn. This," she whis-
pered, "this, in any case, shall be our last parting."
She turned off with the two men; and her brother and
husband faced towards Coleraine, along with Lord Mount
Alexander and his troop.
"As yet," said this nobleman to Evelyn, as they rode
side by side, "we have fared badly. Those two affairs at
Dromore and Hillsborough were very unfortunate; Sir Arthur
Raw don and I have saved or kept together but four thousand
of our whole army. A few weeks ago the nine counties of
Ulster, and one in Connaught, were held for William and
Mary. Since then, we have been beaten out of Down,
Antrim, Armagh, Monaghan, Donegal, Cavan, and nearly
Tyrone ; the counties of Londonderry and Fermanagh, and
a few places on the banks of the Finn, in Tyrone, being
our whole present possessions in Ulster. And these, too,
I fear, we shall soon losethe counties at least. Derry
county must quickly be overrun, from Donegal at the one
side, Antrim at the other, and Tyrone at the south. The
undisciplined Irish have done more than we expected: it is
quick work during one month."
Alarmed, by these accounts, for Esther's safety in Deny,
Evelyn expressed his wishes to be allowed immediately to
repair thither. But his commander over-ruled him; stating,
in the first place, that Derry could experience no distress
till they had reached it; in the second, that Evelyn's services
would be necessary in Coleraine. Coleraine gained, Lord
Mount Alexander at once engaged him in business of a nature
so urgent, that it scarce allowed him any conversation with
his nominal prisoner, Edmund, although the young men
shared the same quarters and the same board.
Some time thus elapsed. At a late hour, on a particular
night, as Evelyn and other officers sat in conference with
Lord Mount Alexander, an uproar was heard in the town.
Soon after, three or four military gentlemen, pale with
## p. 276 (#304) ############################################
276 THE BOYNE WATER.
fatigue and emotion, broke into the room. "Sir Arthur
Rawdon!" cried his lordship, starting up, "Col. Edmonston
Major MichelburneThe Bann is forced 1"
They answered that it was; that they had been attacked
in their entrenchments by Gordon O'Neile, and routed at
every point; that the pass of Portglenore had proved particu-
larly fatal; and that the enemy was in rapid advance.
"Ulster, then, has but one strong-hold leftDeny! We
must quickly throw ourselves into it.'
"That, indeed, is our only course," said Sir Arthur
Rawdon. "Yet, do not call Deny our last dependence.
The Finn and Foyle are still guarded by Walker, Colonel
Mervin, and others, and a good stand there may yet serve us.
1 have, already ordered my dragoons, by the most direct road,
to Deny; Skivington and Caning, their foot. Whitney's and
Edmonston's men are in Coleraine, to assist yourself in a
defence, but this is not now possible."
By the 9th of April, all the retreating forces had appeared
before Derry, and had been severally ordered to repair to
the passes on the Finn and the Foyle, by Lundy, the gover-
nor of the city, now confirmed in his appointment, in con-
sequence of advices received from King William. At the
instance of his considerate colonel, Evelyn was permitted to
join his sister within the walls, his prisoner, Edmund, still
attending him.
After providing quarters for M'Donnell, and paying a
visit to his sister, Evelyn could not remain inattentive to
the uproar around him. Numbers of people of every rank
were hastening to quit the beleaguered city, and seek refuge in
Scotland or England. Those who remained had no trust in
their governor, no hopes of opposing a hitherto triumphant
enemy. The suburbs were fired, however, the neighbour-
hood swept clear of provisions, and every step taken that
haste could take, to provide for a siege.
In the midst of the panic, the enemy appeared at the
water-side ; but, after making a show of crossing, marched
oil' along the opposite banks of the Foyle, towards the passes
of Lifl'ord and Clady Ford, where the Finn and the Foyle
were fordable, and where they had been expected. Increased
consternation attended this movement, which was plainly
observable from the walls of the city; but some Derry
energy was also shown. At a hasty and scant council it
## p. 277 (#305) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 277
was resolved, that, by the day the enemy were expected
to attempt these passes, "all officers and soldiers, horse and
foot, and all other armed men whatsoever, that could or
would fight for their country against popery," should, in
addition to the considerable force already on the ground,
"appear near Clady Ford, Lifford, and Long Causeway," the
latter place within a short distance of Deny, "and then and
there be ready to oppose the enemy, and preserve life, and
all that is dear, from them." At this council, Lundy,
though so much suspected, was chosen commander-in-chief,
the doubts of him originating in his refusal to send assist-
ance to Coleraine, but mainly caused by the bitterness of
failure on every side, not weighing, after all, against the
high opinion of his military zeal and talents, which were
supposed to render him a match for Hamilton himself.
A. little confidence now seemed to spring up. It was
known that the advancing foe did not exceed seven thousand
men, while the Ulster Protestants could still oppose them,
one way or another, with double that number. And when,
at the head of a reinforcement of ten thousand, Lundy
marched to join the forces already on the appointed ground,
good results were fully anticipated by the remaining popula-
tion of Deny.
Soon after his departure, another circumstance increased
their hopes. Two well-disciplined English regiments arrived
in Lough Foyle, together with some arms and provisions
for the relief of Derry; and one of the commanding officers
addressed a letter to Lundy requesting his advice, but, at the
same time, offering some of his own, which, from the posture
of affairs, it was impossible could, at so late a period, be
adopted. At all events, as the governor was not at hand,
the letter remained unanswered till his return.
And for that return, all who remained behind him in the city,
waited, in the greatest anxiety and trepidation. Upon the
tidings he should bring home, seemed to depend their proper-
ties, liberties, and lives. The day passed in painful and al-
most wordless suspense. Evening came, and still no courier
from the field of battle; still no triumphant governor to an-
nounce success and safety. At last, late in the night, Lundy,
accompanied by his scarce diminished force, hastily re-en-
tered the gates. Every post, every pass had been lost, and all
who defended them had fled from the face of a still irresistible
## p. 278 (#306) ############################################
278 THE BOYNE WATEF.
though very inferior enemy. In fact, it appeared that the
governor's reinforcement did not strike a blow; but, after
Hamilton's men had carried the most important point, re-
treated at once before them. Louder than ever was he now
charged with determined treachery, and by the very men who
suspected him before they marched to the field under his
command, and who, at his first word, had readily fled home
with him. However that question may be decided, the day
was lost, and Deny left without a protection, save her walla
and her garrison.
The first order issued by the governor on his arrival was to
shut the gates, and, on no account, and to no person, to open
them. This was obeyed, much to the annoyance of such
portions of the force stationed on the Finn and Foyle, as had
not entered along with Lundy, and who, from time to time,
during the night, arrived in confusion under the walls, vainly
craving admission. With them came crowds of the country
people, of both sexes, screaming for shelter and protection.
They were answered by the cries of the fear-stricken citizens
within, and the scene became so terribly exciting, that Evelyn
could not remain a moment off the walls, which gave an un-
interrupted view of it.
At an advanced hour of the night, a new body of fugitives,
horse-soldiers, galloped furiously up, headed by a man whose
person and bearing Evelyn thought he recognised. Arrived
at the nearest gate, their leader dismounted, and, in a com-
manding voice, asked for admission. In obedience to the
general order, a sentinel, inside, refused his demand, and the
challenger exclaimed:
"What! abandoned in the field, and now shut out of the
city t Is it thus your governor orders it? Hear this, brave
and unhappy mengallant and betrayed friends! Vainly
have we sought safety even in the confusion of flightlor
here are we still left to the mercy of the merciless."
"Mr. Walker's voice V inquired Evelyn, stooping across
the low range of outside wall, over the terra-plane.
"I am George Walkerwho asks?' at once replied and
queried the reverend captain, turning up his face, which the
light of some torches used in preparing the cannon on the
walls, showed to be unusually haggard and agitated.
"A friendRobert Evelyn," he was answered. "Have
you been engaged in this affair, Mr. Walker?
"
## p. 279 (#307) ############################################
THE BOYNK WATER. 279
"In bitterness do I say, yes, Master Evelyn. Having
vainly urged your governor to reinforce us yesterday, I re-
turned to Iifford, and joined Colonel Crofton; the enemy
came to Clady Ford; all night long the enemy and we fired
at one another; and this morning I took my post at the Long
Causeway, from whence my men and I were the last to re-
treat. Now, after having often been sorely beset on the way,
we crave a night's shelter in the city, on whose account we
have fought and bled, and it refuses us a roof, a crust, or a
cup of water."
"I will repair to the governor, and demand admittance for
you, sir," said Evelyn.
"Do soand, to urge his compliance, tell him I have news
for the cityterrible news," cried Walker.
Evelyn accordingly repaired to Lundy's house; was per-
mitted to see the governor; but returned to the walls with
this sole answerThat, as there was not provision enough
in the town for those who already occupied it, he could
not, consistently with his duty, admit any more useless
mouths.
"Well," said Mr. Walker, "patience. Let the governor
play out his own part. We may do better by looking on."
The night lapsed while the fugitives still remained outside
the walls. At early day-break, the two English officers who
had arrived with their regiments the day before, approached
the city, by orders of the governor, to attend a council. As
the drawbridge, outside the gate, and lastly the gate itself,
were lowered and opened for their admission, Walker hastily
whispered his men; and when the officers were proceeding
in
"Charge, soldiers !" he exclaimed; and, followed by horse
and foot, gained the gate. The sentinel on duty presented
his piece, but Walker struck it out of his hands, and he and
all his friends entered Derry.
"Citizens !" he then cried, in a solemn voice, as, at the head
of his defeated regiment he rode slowly up the street" Pro-
testant citizens of Derry !To-morrow morning the tyrant
will be at Johnstown, only five miles from your walls. His
Papist rabble there await him. Proclaim this news. Run
from street to street, from house to house, and tell it. Pre-
pare each other for the fate that must follow submission to
enemies, who, after what you have already done, can never
## p. 280 (#308) ############################################
280 THE BOYNE WATER.
forgive you. Prepare your wives and daughters for the
shame and misery to which the deaths of their natural pro-
tectors must expose them. The destroyers are at hand
even the ruthless and perfidious Galmoy is with them. They
come, they come!" he continued, in accents of alarm and
lamentation, waving his sword round his head.
The groans of men, the screams of women and children
arose as he passed along, from the street, the doors, and the
windows, to which his address had attracted them. Many
voices, inspired by the courage that desperation gives, were
uplifted in exclamations of resistance.
"This is good," resumed Walker, to Evelyn, who had
joined him; "the thought of having no alternative but
resistance, may supply the want of cool determination.
Death on their walls must appear preferable to death at the
hands of the tyrant. Could we but support such a feeling,
we, the heads and movers of this struggle may yet be saved
from the terrible vengeance of the bigot James and his
blood-thirsty advisers. The councils of our governor, too, may
be counteracted. Let us watch their present result."
"But is King James indeed so implacable and cruel f
asked Evelyn. "Is it indeed so sure that we must expect
no safe and honourable capitulation? Why not await, at all
events, his"
"Hush !" interrupted Walker, sternly; "name not that
whisper it notor else stand accountable to God for the
compounding of his cause, and for the blood of his zealous
soldiers. Silence, young man, and let us watch the council,
I say."
The two English officers here passed down the street
towards the gates.,
"I read it on their foreheads," continued Mr. Walker;
"they have withdrawn from us in our sore need."
The town clerk, who was known to him, approached from
the governor's house.
"The council have broken up?" asked the clergyman of this
person.
"They have, sir," answered the town-clerk; "and I was
the only member of it who opposed that resolution," handing
a paper.
Walker snatched the document, and, as his eye glanced
over it, anger and impatience violently agitated his features.
## p. 281 (#309) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER.
281
At length, however, Evelyn could observe a change. He
paused; turned his eyes sideways to the ground: in the
gradual compression of his lips, and the slight elevation ot
his eye-brows, the hope of an ultimate triumph was indicated.
"Be prudent, sir, on my account," continued the town clerk.
"The council holds its vote secret for the present; and I
should not be safe, were it known I disregarded its order.
"Fear not," answered Mr. Walker; "I shall keep your
confidence. Rejoiced I am," he continued, turning to Evelyn,
as the discreet town officer retired, "that there is a necessity
so to do. The governor has served us by this vote; but
tenfold is the service to be drawn from his 'close councds.
Bead the paper."
Evelyn read aloud, as follows: - - . .n,
"Upon inquiry it appears that there is not provision in the
garrison of Londonderry for the present garrison and the two
regiments on board, for above a week or ten days, at most.
And it appearing that the place is not tenable against a well-
appointed army" ,
"Well-appointed !" interrupted Walker, "except the hand-
ful of French, they are more than half rabble, with pikes,
scythes, and bludgeons. James, himself, was sickened at the
first sight of them."  . .
"Therefore, it is concluded upon and resolved, continued
Evelyn, reading, "that it is not convenient for his Majesty s
service, but the contrary, to land the two regiments, under
Colonel Cunningham and Colonel Richards, their commanders,
now on board, in the river of Lough Foyle. That, consider-
ing the present circumstances of affairs, and the likelihood
the enemy will soon possess themselves of this place, it is
thought most convenient that the principal officers shall pri-
vately withdraw themselves, as well for their own preserva-
tion, as in hopes that the inhabitants, by a timely capitula-
tion, may make terms the better with the enemy." ^
"Read you not treason and treachery there? asked
"Whatever may be Lundy's secret sentiments," answered
Evelyn, "I cannot suppose that my Lord Blaney, and the
two English colonels, who, along with him, and a dozen other
gentlemen, have signed this resolution, are traitors."
"But must it not appear so, to-morrow, or after, when,
with proper address, their vote shall become known to the
## p. 282 (#310) ############################################
TEA bo mm WiTH.
people! Or bust not the zr^reniiTr have imposed, by!
aewwnsa. on trhem al * Let aa wiai him. I say. Give me
the paperhaste. haste "as many rf those who had signed
the wfcr ot* eorrzotL together with Sir Artanr Bawdon, and
other officers of' mr.-rm.T appraeh*d. on their way to the
gMML
"Let them ao.'' resumed Mr. Walker. when they had
posed, *~ mayhap all mis is bearer sriH. Hold, here comes
another crowdshall we avoid them V He turned towards
the walls. and was accompanied by Evelyn. as. in addition to
those who had. some days before. abandoned the city, a num-
ber of inhabitants. with some clergymen. passed to the water-
ade.
"Aye. let them go." continued Mr. Walker, "let none stay
here who do not resolve to die amid the rnins and rubbish of
this last Protestant fortress. rather than yield to the false
promise of a Popish tyrant. And let oar governor continue
his policy. too: let Him step. deeper and deeper, into the
quagmire that, at last. and soon. shall swallow him. I tell
you, Robert Evelyn, we have no hope of life itself, but in the
holding out of this place. If it can be held until proper suc-
cours come from England, William may still wear his triple
crown."
"But pardon me, Mr. Walker, if, even for William's sake,
I see no reason at your side. in this desperate and hopeless
resistance. Shall we madly sacrifice our lives to his interests
who will not protect ours 1 You talk of English succour, at
his hapds : why has it not already come \ Why not long ago.
So early as December and January he had advice of the
voluntary peril incurred here by taking up arms against his
father-in-law, with urgent requests for assistance. It is now
the middle of April; yet to this hour have we been left to
struggle alone and unnoticed; until at last we are de-
feated and shattered on every side, and reduced to utter
extremity."
"Be not rash in condemning," said Mr. Walker; "had you
closely watched events, you would have found that William
was so employed with more important business, as not to be
able to assist us. About the time we applied, Louis, by the
perfidious invasion of Austria, had broken the peace of Nime-
guen : in March, the Diet of Ratisbon declared war against
him, as the common disturber of Christendom: the Dutch
## p. 283 (#311) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 283
soon followed them: but a few days since, the Elector of
Brandenburgh has echoed both. And to all who know that
it has been the constant policy of William to accomplish a
general league against his insolent rival, it must not seem
strange that, in awaiting the proper time to issue an English
declaration, also, as well as in watching the manifestations
of Spain, he has scarce found opportunity to attend to Ire-
land."
"These reasons, sir, could not have influenced his conduct
with respect to us, from December to the middle of the last
month, inasmuch as the causes for them did not, until that
time, exist."
"You criticise closely; and I will not refuse you a sequel
of the confidence I have, ere now, imparted. Recollect, first,
that William was by no means sure of his English crown,
when our addresses reached him. That he was then await-
ing the decisions of the English Convention, which, at times,
seemed to bode him little comfort or honour. That, in fact,
he was not acknowledged king until late in February. Recol-
lecting this, we must next note the opposition he experienced
from the blinded Prelates, and others who style themselves
Non-jurors; the vexation caused to him by the intrigues of
the disappointed Tories, and even by the restrictions, in the
matter of supplies, laid on him by his own Whig Parliament.
All of which so inflamed his difficult temper, as to induce him,
in disgust, to make a motion for returning to Holland, and
wholly abandoning his English crown"
"Indeed, Mr. Walker! interrupted Evelyn; "I thought
the new monarch and his people agreed well together."
"I am scandalized to admit the contrary. Either too
much of the loose whims and manners of the court of the
last Charles continues among the nobles and councillors who
encircle Dutch William, and offend his notions of propriety;
or else he is, himself, framed by nature or habit, so opposite
to the English taste and character, that he and his subjects
do not seem likely ever to love one another. Since, in
so important a question as the justly ascertaining the nature
of the man called to rule over us all, truth is, even for
policy-sake, to be prized, I must confidentially advise you that
I incline to the latter opinion; particularly on account of
a passage in the letter of a great man, who has had good
opportunity to observe the King, and of whom I have before
## p. 284 (#312) ############################################
284 THE BOYNE WATER,
spoken to you. For the purpose of enlightening your mind
on this point, attend while I read the following."
Mr. Walker produced a letter, from which he read, aloud,
a character of William, penned by his best eulogist, Burne,
and which appears retained, word for word, in that authors
history of his own times. It ran thus:
"The Prince has been much neglected in his educatin
for all his life-long he hated constraint. He speaks little,
he puts on some appearance of application, but he hates
business of all sorts; yet he hates talking, and all house.
games, more. . This puts him on a perpetual course of hunk
ing, to which he seems to give himself up beyond any man
I ever knew; but I look on that always as a flying from
company and business. He has no vice but of one sort, in
which he is very cautious and secret. He has away that was
affable to the Dutch, but he cannot bring himself to comply
with the temper of the English, his coldness and slowness
being very contrary to the genius of that nation."
"This," resumed Mr. Walker, hesitating, with some reason,
to read any more, "would not seem to augur a good under
standing between William and his English subjects."
"Or between him and his English wife, sir," said Evelyn.
"Pray, Mr. Walker, do you surmise what that one pecca.
dillo is, about which your friend gives him the implied praise
of being so cautious and secret?"
"No ; I am left ignorant of the matter; nor do I wish to
probe the imperfections of Princes. The sole information
we get from what I have read, consists in the establishment
of a certain point, which was necessary to our discourse,
namely, that, along with other causes mentioned, William's
personal dislike of those around him, and their consequent
dislike of him, may have tended so to keep matters embroiled
and disarranged, on the other side, as, up to the present
time, to deprive us of his assistance."
"I think I have heard, too, that the English army is
discontented and mutinous," said Evelyn.
"I grieve to admit the fact. Indeed, my letters apprize
me that so much does William doubt their steadiness, that he
fears to send them over here. His own faithful Dutch are
absolutely indispensable about him, to secure, in every way,
the new establishment. Fresh troops would require fresh
expenditure, which his parliament does not allow him t
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## p. 285 (#313) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 285
enter into; and much time, in the raising and disciplining.
Scotland, too, is to be settled. In fact, there are abundant
reasons why we have been left to fight our own battle."
"And," continued Evelyn, "none of them, mayhap, more
cogent than the policy of allowing our failure, and James's
success over us, to frighten the English people and parliament
a little. That so men's eyes may be more turned upon
William, and, at the same time, more liberal concessions
made to him."
"I believe in my heart, youth," replied Mr. Walker,
riveting his eyes in some surprise, and perhaps admiration
upon Evelyn, "thou hast truly fathomed the under-current
of this political tide, and guessed the very master-motive of
King William's backwardness towards us, confirmed by the
deep counsels of my Lord Halifax. Is it thy own thought V
Evelyn modestly -admitted that it was, and Mr. Walker
went on.
"However that may be, we have still only one part to act.
Deny must be held against James, until its walls crumble,
and its defenders lie buried in the heap. Succours will at
last come :. when they do, let Ireland boast one strong place,
at least, one little nook, where they can be received, and
taken advantage of. I care not for this governor. He steps
to his own downfall, as you shall see. There is one bold
gentleman whomthough now at a distance and beset with
dangersI expect at the gates: were he arrived, we should
make a stern defence. Meantime, I must attend to my
duties. Silent and secret they shall bemore prudent and
cautious than the shallow policy they opposeand, let us
hope, more successful. To-morrow, at the farthest, come and
see me."
Evelyn could not remain ignorant that Mr. Walker's secret
efforts consisted in hinting here and there, and amongst
those he knew were most likely to be inflamed, the nature of
the order of council that morning issued. It required little
argument to convince the majority of the people and garrison
that Lundy was a traitor to King William, prepared, accord-
ing to a perfidious contract, to deliver up the city of Deny
to the vengeance of the Papists. The effects of this
conviction soon became apparent in the clamours of all
against his measures, and in form of a desperate resistance.
Parties of dragoons sallied out, in quest of provisions;
## p. 286 (#314) ############################################
286 THE BOYNE WATER.
obnoxious individuals experienced their hostility; and One
suspected officer was shot.
The next morning, a clergyman from Johnstown came int | 
Derry, despatched by James from that place, to know "if the
arrison of Derry would surrender on honorable terms, which is
they should have, to prevent the effusion of christian blood;
and also bearing a proclamation that gave solemn promise f
safe conduct, in and out, to such of the citizens as might he
appointed to negotiate. Another council was immediately
called, and diplomatists appointed, with liberty to any gentle.
man to join them on their peaceful mission.
Mr. Walker did not appear at the council, nor take a part
in the proceedings, contenting himself with a counteraction f
both, which, for his views, was more effective than personal
opposition, or, under the immediate circumstancesoyer
hostility of any kind. Seconded by a gentleman, who after
wards shared with him the honours and dangers of his succes
he went from house to house, from group to group, through
the streets of the city; zealously, though secretly and
prudently, creating a general hatred of the governor, and 4
general distrust of the good faith of James and his adherents
He met Evelyn coming out from the council that had sat 10
consider the message of the deposed monarch.
"Have you been appointed?" he asked. Evelyn answered
* No."
"Go, notwithstanding. Your eye and ear are sharp, and
your judgment ripe beyond your years. Goand as one!
can confide inBring me back a true account of this tritor
ous negociation."
Evelyn, learning that he might accompany those who were
regularly named, did not hesitate, from feelings of gene
interest, as well as curiosity, to take advantage of this hint
Edmund, hitherto a silent, and seemingly indifferent spectator
of what was going forward, encountered him on his way t
join the commissioners. Learning his purpose and destin
tion, he started Evelyn by expressing a wish to ride out by
his side.
"I am extremely anxious," he said, "to satisfy myself by
personal observation, of the appearance and condition of the
army, to a portion of which I belong."
"That is natural," said Evelyn, " and you may meet some
old friends, too."
## p. 287 (#315) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 287
"Perhaps hear something of my father and sister," added
Edmund.
"Come then, but need I observe, my dear M'Donnell, on the
situation in which we at present stand towards each other 1"
"It is indeed unnecessary to remind me that I am your
prisoner. Still less so to remind me that my word of honour is
pledged to consider myself as such. I shall not press my suit."
"You shallor notake it, willingly, without a word
more. I was wrong, come, we may be late; the commis-
sioners depart immediately."
CHAPTER XXII.
Upon a rising ground, a little at the Deny side of Johns-
town, they came in view of James's camp. It was gay and
imposing, and produced an evident effect on the commis-
sioners. The deposed king had marched from Dublin at the
head of about twelve thousand men; five thousand French,
well appointed, in every respect; the remainder, however,
native levies, deficient in arms, uniform, and, worst of all,
discipline. In fact, on a par with the few thousands com-
manded by Hamilton and Rosen, and who were now joined
to James's grand army; the whole making a present force of
twenty thousand.
The French auxiliaries exclusively occupied the camp; the
natives being posted in the village, or, out of sight, at the
back of the eminence, as if their friends were ashamed of the
appearance they made. This arrangement was, at all events,
in conformity with the spirit of rather insolent self-sufficiency
and dictation which had characterized, since their landing at
Kinsale, the soldiers of his most Christian Majesty, and which
caused many disagreeable, and some fatal squabbles, between
them and the proud people they sought to depreciate and
humble in their native land. But whatever might have been
the motive of the present arrangement, its effect was happy
and politic. The sight of a regular, though small army, of
warlike foreigners, shining in rich uniforms and polished
arms, or prancing on caparisoned war-horses, being calculated
to impress the Deny deputation with more respect, at least,
'
## p. 288 (#316) ############################################
288 THE BOYNE WATER.
than could the appearance of a host of Irish peasants, huddled F.
together in confusion, and clothed and armed as chance might
provide.
The camp spread over two successive little eminences. On F
the higher of which was seen the royal tent, richly draped
and adorned, in French taste, and surmounted by the royal
standard. The city cavalcade passed some outside lines, and
approached, following a guide, the first height, where they
expected to find the officer who should marshal them to the
king. Arrived at the point, they saw, sitting on the gras,
before his tent, and surrounded by inferior officers, a person
whose uniform proclaimed him of some importance, but whos:
features, air, and general expression, caused a sentiment f
dislike and fear rather than of deference. He was about
forty years of age ; his body and limbs coarse and muscular;
his nose hooked; his eye grey, small, indolent, and cruel
The pallid, overshadowing brows; the lank, colorless hair
that hung at either side of his face; and the long, thick il
moustache of the same which fell over his upper lipgave to
his whole visage an inexpressible character of cool ferocity.
This was Lord Galmoythe disgrace of the cause he abetted
the terror and aversion of those he oppressedone of the bad
spirits that, in every time of convulsion, are let loose t
affright and disgustwho went forth to the destroying of his 
fellow-creatures as if summoned to a banquetand who, from
all that can be gathered, warranted Oldmixon in defining him | \,
as a man "whom no titles could honor." l
When the officer in attendance upon the Commissioners ||
had announced them to Lord Galmoy, he neither rose not l
inclined his head. He only vouchsafed them a cool state
which, although one of indifference, was more disagreeable
than if he had frowned. Presently he rose, however, and
motioning them to follow, was about to lead towards the
second eminence, when a Redshank quickly gaining his side
presented a packet, with the words, "From his Lordship f
Antrim to his Lordship of Galmoythese."
Edmund instantly recognised, in this courier, the Scottish
sergeant who had opposed his authority in the little Deer
Park. The man's observance of him was equally quick
When Galmoy had done reading the despatch, the sergeant
touched his bonnet, and, approaching closely to the noble
man's side, whispered him, and pointed to Edmund. The
## p. 289 (#317) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 289
grey eye of Lord Galmoy turned round, and fell, ominously,
on the person to whom his notice had been directed. Again
the sergeant said something in a low voice, and extended his
arm towards the group of commissioners. Again Lord Gal-
moy's glance seemed to fix a victim in the person of Evelyn.
"This requires present attention," he then said, advancing
a few steps towards the group. "Is there here a native Irish
subject of King James, called Edmund M'Donnell ?"
"I answer to that challenge," said Edmund.
"Forward," resumed Lord Galmoy.
MDonnell stepped from Evelyn's side.
"What are you?" questioned the nobleman.
"An officer in Lord Antrim's regiment."
"Why are you absent from your colours, and now found
by the side of traitors?"
"I am a prisoner, on parole, accompanying hither the
person who is accountable for my safe keeping," replied
... Edmund, haughtily.
"Where were you made prisoner, and by whom "
"Outside Coleraine, by my Lord Mount Alexander."
"What duty drew you towards Coleraine 7"
"The duty of honour and humanity, which prompted me
to escort thither one who was a dear private friend, although
a public enemy, in order to save him from the bloodthirsty
hands of my own people."
"What was that dear friend's name 7"
"Robert Evelyn," answered the person spoken of
"Are you the man?" still demanded the catechist.
Being answered yes"Forward," he said again
"Whose commission do you bear 4for I see you, also, are
an officer."
"One granted in the name of King William and Queen
Mary," answered Evelyn. A French officer, by Galmoy's side,
started, and stared first at Evelyn, and then at his
Colleague.
"Very well," continued Lord Galmoy. "And did you wear
that sword, and bear that commission, when Captain
MDonnell rescued you from the sergeant and soldiers, near
Glenarm"
"He did," said M.Donnell.
"Very well, again. It seems, then, Master Robert Evelyn,
that you are a traitor, found some time since in arms against
U
## p. 290 (#318) ############################################
290 THE BOYNE WATER.
King James, taken prisoner, rescued after you had surren-
dered, and now a second time found armed against your
sovereign. And it also seems, Captain Edmund M'Donnell,
that you, holding a commission from King James, have
played the double traitor, in rescuing, harbouring, and
protecting a traitor."
"I know not who or what you are," said Edmund; "but
I call you the falsest knave that ever spoke, for daring to
name me so."
"Very well," said Lord Galmoy, quietly, while a smile
played over his features. "Order round a dozen muskets,
here"to an officer, who immediately disappeared"Irish
ones. Just kneel down, Master Evelyn, and you, Captain
Edmund M'Donnell. Stand aside, gentlemen."
"Murderer!" cried Edmund, as both started at this
sudden and unceremonious arrangement, whiie the blood first
rushing to their cheeks, then retreated to their hearts; "you
cannot mean this violence! You cannot assume the power
of taking two lives, without inquiry or cause, authority or
the permission of others!"
"My friend," exclaimed Evelyn, "if at all accountable, is
accountable to his own commanding-officer. As a prisoner, in
my charge, he is further protected; and I am protected by
the pledge of safe-conduct which King James has given to
the deputation at my side."
"I cannot find your name in the list," replied Galmoy.
"People of Deny, has Robert Evelyn been appointed one of
your number?"
The commissioners answered in the negative, but reminded
him of the understanding which gave equal protection to any
who accompanied them.
"That is a difference for the counsellor-at-law, not for a
soldier," resumed Lord Galmoy. "Here come the muskets.
Kneel down, you dear friends, with your faces to that rise
close to it. You will not? Men! tie them back to back,
and place them on the ground."
"I appeal to King James, or to his officers, against this
mure er !" exclaimed Evelyn, as the men approached.
"jf there be here a gentleman, a man, or a true soldier,"
echc d Edmund, "we appeal to him!"
"What say you, General De Rosen?" asked Galmoy, of the
French officer by his side, and who, though not so terribly
## p. 291 (#319) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 291
...'
distinguished as his lordship, yet has left behind him some
character for cruelty and tyranny.
"Qu'ils meurent," answered De Rosen, laconically.
"Do your duty," continued Galmoy to the soldiers.
The young men flew to each other's arms, and then advanced,
hand in hand, to the place pointed out. They knelt; bandages
were tied hard over their eyes; and, - still grasping each
other's hands, they awaited, in silence and darkness, a sudden
and miserable death.
"Fall in!" they heard Galmoy say; and the soldiers got
into motion.
"Ready V the muskets, as the men brought them into the
position required, flashed. The friends heard the sharp click
of the locks, from half to full cock, and, slight as the sound
in reality was, it filled their brains with horrid noise.
"Present!" continued Galmoy, in a deliberate, distinct,
and, withal, a mocking tone.
"Recover arms!" was the next command.
The hands of the two friends, which had been clasped
together, fell by their sides. They were more unnerved by
the abrupt relief than they had been by the prospect of imme-
diate death.
"On second thoughts, young sirs," Galmoy went on, "this
shall be done better. You, Captain M'Donnell, take the
bandage off your eyes, get up, and advance hither. Master
Evelyn need not be at the trouble of moving."
Edmund, faint, and almost bewildered, obeyed these orders.
"In consideration of your late courtesy to me," he sneered,
as they stood face to face, "I ask you, are you willing to do
a slight piece of service for your life?"
"Life is dear to every man: let me hear your terms,"
answered M'Donnell.
"Give him a musket." A soldier placed one in Edmund's
passive hands. "Now, to save so dear a friend from common
executioners, shoot him yourself," added Galmoy.
"Do not urge me to this," said Edmund, glaring on
Galmoy, though he spoke in a subdued voice.
"I only command you," replied the torturer.
"Do not, I entreat you," continued M'Donnell, a terrible
energy renerving his frame, although he still spoke slowly
and deliberately : "for the sake of manhood and decency, as
you love or fear God, do not."
## p. 292 (#320) ############################################
292 THE BOYNE WATER.
Galmoy repeated his command.
"Well, then," said Edmund, bringing the musket to his
shoulder. "Yet, once more, do not."
"Fire!"
"Yes, monster !" screamed poor M'Donnell, turning madly
upon him, and pulling the trigger. A soldier just had time
to strike aside the muzzle of the piece, so that Galmoy's hair
was only singed, although he staggered, and fell.
"Leap up, Evelyn !" roared Edmund, who thought Galmoy
was killed. His friend was instantly at his side. But both were
as instantly seized byDe Rosen, by some of the near soldiers, and
by Galmoy himself, who soon started to his feet. The young
men, urged by thoughtless desperation, firmly grasped, in
turn, the two generals. The soldiers tugged hard to tear
away their hands, fearful of injuring Rosen or Galmoy, should
they fire on the youths, until both parties stood on separate
ground. And thus some short time had elapsed since the
report of the musket, when a stir took place all through the
camp, particularly near the royal tent. Officers and soldiers
stood to their arms; trumpets sounded a salute; kettle-
drums rolled; cheers arose; horses in full gallop were heard
approaching. There was a rush round the sweep of the emi-
nence on which the struggle went on; a gallant party, splen-
didly mounted and attired, appeared in view. "The King!
the King !" cried many officers who rode before. "Make way!
make way!"
At these words, Edmund and Evelyn readily freed their
persecutors, who, in turn, allowed them to stand free;
Galmoy making a hasty signal to the soldiers to wheel round,
and come to a salute. M'Donnell darted forward, and, fling-
ing himself almost under the feet of a proud steed, cried
out:
"My king and master!where is he? To him I appeal
from an assassin!"
The rider skilfully checked his prancing horse, and backed
him amongst the group by whom he was surrounded. As he
sat erect in his saddle, he seemed a man about fifty years of
age, above the middle size, well and rather squarely made;
his features large and rigid ; but wearing, instead of the mild
melancholy of his father's, or the grave voluptuousness of
his brother's, a somewhat bolder and haughtier expression;
with perhaps more enterprise than was apparent in the coun-
## p. 293 (#321) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 293
tenance of either. His flowing periwig descended over his
shoulders and back; his round grey hat, looped up at front,
displayed a red and white plume, that was secured by a bril-
liant cross ; many orders, foreign and national, surrounded
the royal star that blazed on his breast; the holsters at.
his saddle-bow were richly embroidered; his horse nobly
caparisoned; his boots furnished with golden spurs. It was
evident that Louis's attention to the outfit of his royal
brother, left naked but for him, had been worthy of the
respect he always professed for the exiled monarch.
"Blessed saints !" cried James, after he had reined back
his horse" what bold fool is here V
"Royal sir!" continued Edmund, dropping on one knee;
"I am your Majesty's faithful subjectan officer bearing your
Majesty's commission; and I appeal for protection against yon
murderous man, who, because I once saved the life of a friend
a near friendthe husband of my sister, and the brother
of my own betrothed ladycalls meand falsely calls me
disloyal to your Majesty, and here seeks"
"My Lord Galmoy, what means this tumult? Who fired
the shot, just now V interrupted James.
"I did!" answered Edmund; "'twas I, sire, and at him,
too. But it was when he placed a musket in my hand, and
commanded me to murder my affianced brother!"
"All this is something very scandalous," replied James.
"Sarsfield, we request you to inquire into it, and report to
us. Rise, man, and stand before that gentleman: he will
protect you, if so you merit. Hold! be these the commissioners
from Deny? Turn off along with us, Hamilton, and you,
Messieurs Maumont and De Rosen, with his Grace of Ber-
wick. Let the citizens attend us."
He was followed to a little distance by the officers he had
named, the commissioners accompanying them; and the capi-
tulation of Deny became the subject of discussion between
all, while Sarsfield proceeded in the inquiry his sovereign had
commanded. The attention of this celebrated general had,
before James's speech, been riveted on Edmund, either in
astonishment or strong interest. M'Donnell now found him-
self equally attracted by the mien and person of Sarsfield.
He was in the prime of life, that is, about forty, tall, straight,
robust, and, both by nature and the dress he wore, stamped
with the character of a plain-looking man. His features,
## p. 294 (#322) ############################################
294 THE BOYNE WATER.
strong and well-defined, bespoke a simple intenseness of mind
and purpose, that atoned for their want of vivacity. In strong
contrast to the French pageantry around him, he had on an
unembroidered, unwrought buff coat, that must have seen
service; over it, a rusty cuirass, together with the pauldrons,
or shoulder-pieces, inseparable from the solid body-piece, of
recent use, but in which he was now rather singular. A
straight sword hung from a broad, plain baldric, loose at
his side; a close steel cap partly confined his own long black
hair, in lieu of periwig; and great jackboots completed his
unpretending costume.
"What is your name, young master 1" was the first question
asked by Sarsfield, in commencing his investigation. Edmund
having answered.
"The son of old Randal M'Donnell of Antrim V
"The same, sir," replied Edmund.
"I know him, or rather I knew him well. It will grieve
me if, in this business, the son has forgotten the father. Let
us see about it."
Galmoy, seconded by the sergeant, told, in a sulky tone,
his charge against Edmund. Sarsfield then turned to him
for an explanation.
"First," said M'Donnell, "I could not consider as my
prisoner, the man who, having an advantage over me, de-
clined to avail himself of it. Next, sir, he was, as I have
informed his Majesty, my brother, twice told. That is my
answer."
"My Lord Galmoy," resumed the judge, after a little
pause, " there is some allowance to be made for both those
arguments. Let us not set at nought, though some have taught
us the lesson, the natural yearnings of the heart to kith and
kin. especially when young blood sets them a-going. A man
will be never the worse soldier or subject for remembering
that he is a man."
"General Sarsfield." replied Galmoy, bitterly, "if this be
meant as grace to the prisoner, I take the freedom of protest-
ing against your single decree. The King will not surely deny
me the indulgence of another judge, that may know nothing
of the pedigree of the traitor."
"False lord." interrupted M-Donnell, "I tell thee once
again thou art nearer to traitor-blood than I am."
Sileuce, youth," said Sarsfield, gravely, though not sternly.
## p. 295 (#323) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 295
"I take you at your word, my Lord Galmoy; nay, you can
even appoint the umpire without trouble to his Majesty.
Here spurs General Hamilton from the council: will he serve
your turn 1"
"I accept him," replied Galmoy.
The officer who now approached was, although a gallant
commander, too, of an appearance and mien very different
from Sarsfield. The reader has before got a sketch of his
history, in a conversation between Mr. Walker and Evelyn,
from which it may be recollected that he had served with suc-
cess and credit in France. Fame adds, that his career was there
interrupted by a sentence of banishment, in consequence of
his having presumed, not, however, against the lady's liking,
to fall in love with Louis's daughter, the Princess Conti. Dis-
tinctions of rank apart, that royal maiden, in this matter,
certainly gave no proof of bad taste. Hamilton was young,
a fine, Apollo-looking fellow, with large luminous black
eyes, straight nose, high colour, out-folding lips, and a
grand air, as much, perhaps, the result of personal pride,
as of the will of nature. His dress fully proclaimed how
well the wearer stood in his own opinion. Without being
gaudy, it was rich, almost to grandeur, and studiously adapted
to set off his figure to as much advantage as the costume of
the day permitted. Gold fringe hung from the edges of his
scarlet vest, from the edges of its flapping pockets, from the
pockets of his broad-skirted coat, of the same colour, and
even from the edges of the ample gloves, that reached almost
to his elbows: he wore a neckcloth of the finest Point
d'Espagne; his breastpiece shone like a mirror; even his
heavy boots were made, so as to give some indication of
the symmetry of the limbs they covered.
Dashing up to the group with whom we are immediately
concerned :
"The King," said Hamilton, "wishes me to inquire the
cause of some loud speech here, and if possible to assist in
soothing it."
"And we wished your presence for just such a purpose,"
said Sarsfield. "Pray lend us your ears, General Hamilton."
The matter in dispute was again stated on all sides:
Hamilton unhesitatingly confirmed the judgment of Sarsfield
on the first point of issue.
"Had the young officer done otherwise," he added, "I
## p. 296 (#324) ############################################
296 THE BOYNE WATER.
should vote him the volley my Lord Galmoy thinks he
merits."
"But now that we hold in custody the rebel and traitor
whom Captain M'Donnell" Galmoy began
"He cannot have rescued one who was never taken
prisoner," interrupted Hamilton. "Tush! that is the plain
truth."
"And, of course," said Sarsfield, "Master Robert Evelyn
comes before us simply as one of this Deny deputation;
and, rebel and traitor though he be, is protected by the
King's pledge of safe-conduct and safe-keeping to all who
form it."
"I thank you, gentlemen," resumed Galmoy, smiling
hideously. "And, I pray you, what is to be my satisfaction
for the attempt on my life 1
"
"The satisfaction of reflecting that your lordship has not
shed innocent blood," answered Sarsfield. Hamilton only
smiled.
"Or of seeing myself the butt of a youngster V continued
Galmoy, fixing a look on Hamilton.
"Or of thanking God and your saint that the ball erred
so widely?" retorted the young commander, carelessly meeting
his glare; "for, unauthorized in your hasty course, as it now
appears you have been, your death, on the spot, had been but
a justifiable homicide at the hands of the young officer. Bah!
let it end. His Majesty moves this way."
"My lords and gentlemen," said James, as, with his other
commanding officers, he joined them, "we congratulate you
on a promise of the peaceful and bloodless ending of this
affair. Our good citizens of Derry thankfully accept, by
these, their deputies, the terms of surrender we have gra-
ciously allowed them. To-morrow we ride, in person, to the
gates of yon foolish city, when, by contract, they shall open
to receive us. Meantime, we concede to rest, with our force,
on the ground we now occupy; and, to-morrow, only a
detachment of the army is to accompany us. Farewell,
gentlemen commissioners. To our tent!" he continued,
waving his hand to those around him. All who had accom-
panied him down the hill, Sarsfield excepted, galloped back
with him, amid renewed cheers, presenting of arms, trumpets,
and other bustle.
"M'Donnell," said Sarsfield, advancing to Edmund, as
## p. 297 (#325) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 297
the commissioners prepared to return homeward, "for your
father's sake and your own I am interested in you. Stay in
my tent until I can effect your reconciliation with my Lord
Antrim. Or should you incline to wear a uniform more Irish,
you shall have the rank you at present hold under that noble-
man, confirmed in my regiment of Lucan horse."
"I thank you from my heart, sir," replied Edmund; "but
you forget that I am a prisoner on parole."
"True; I had forgotten that," said his patron, with re-
gret.
"And then, should my cousin of Antrim make no difficulty
of the present question between us, you know that my im-
mediate service is due to the head of my own clan."
"Well, well, I did not bring to mind, either, your half-
Scottish formalities. Adieu, then; you return to Deny with
your foe-friend 1"
"That must be my course, in honour, sir."
"Be it so. I only add, if you ever want me, come to me
and say so." He shook Edmund's hand, and spurred from
him.
The commissioners, accompanied by M'Donnell and Evelyn,
returned to the city. The moment they entered Bishop's
gate, Mr. Walker tapped Evelyn on the shoulder, took his
arm, and, drawing him aside, demanded an account of the
negociation. When Evelyn had rendered it, he was silent
for a moment; then he asked:
"To-morrow, you say?"
"To-morrow, King James will personally require a fulfil-
ment of the treaty formally entered into with him."
"Most traitorously entered into with him! Well; he
has not yet got admission."
He called a man, one of his own corps, and giving some
directions, in a low but earnest tone, the soldier instantly
mounted his horse, and left the city.
"Ride, ride, day and night!" cried Walker, as he departed
" for life and death, ride!"
Then he abruptly joined a group of young men and sol-
diers, whom Evelyn recognised as some of the warrior 'pren-
tices of Deny, and the most resolute of the garrison. With
them, the clergyman conversed energetically; their faces and
action, as they spoke in reply, argued a warm seconding of
his words. Finally, he disappeared into the house of a gentle-
## p. 298 (#326) ############################################
298 THE BOYNE WATER.
man before alluded to, with whom he kept up a full under-
standing, and Evelyn saw him no more for that night.
Next morning, the town was in great commotion at the
intelligence of the advance of James's army. Evelyn and
M'Donnell ran with a crowd of the citizens to the wall, at the
south-east end over Bishop's gate, which commanded a view
of the road from Johnstown. Thence, indeed, they beheld a
long line of horse and foot, with flags and colours, winding at
some distance down gentle slopes of land, and by glimpses of
water, a bright April sun flashing on their spikes and muskets,
steel caps, and breast-pieces, and giving brilliancy and life to
their appearance.
"As God liveth," loudly exclaimed Mr. Walker, who stood
by, throwing into his manner more vivacity than was natural
to him, "we are betrayed, even in the treaty made with us.
It was promised not to march a Papist army within four miles
of our townbut the false Papists come!"
Here the town bells rang out, and it was understood that
the governor had called another council.
"This utter perfidy," continued Walker to Evelyn, in the
same loud tone, "I could not reckon on. I fear we are lost."
"James could not come unattended," said Evelyn, "and
he does not come with his whole army."
"Tell me not! Hide not our ruin from us. My friend, my
zealous and brave friend, where art thou 1ha !" interrupting
himself, as the man he had despatched from the city the day
before, here galloped up the street. "Well, sir, well V
"He is at Butcher's gate, by this time, or close to it,"
answered the jaded messenger.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Mr. Walker; "there is hope
yet."
A thundering at Butcher's gate, so loud as to echo through
the little city, was now heard. Walker hastened thither.
He found the whole guard resolute in refusing admission
to the persons that clamoured at the outside.
"I tell you it is Captain Adam Murray, a brave gentleman,
and your best friend. Undo the gate !" cried Mr. Walker.
Still they refused. The governor's orders had been peremp-
tory. He ran up to the terra-plane, and called for ropes ; he
descended, and asked for the officer of the guard. He was
absent. He inquired his name. Captain James Morrison,
he was answered; one of the apprentice boys.
## p. 299 (#327) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 299
"Where is he V Morrison appeared coming down the
street. In a few moments, contrary to the orders received,
Butcher's gate was opened, and Murray, with a large body of
well-appointed horse, rushed in. Walker and he clasped
hands.
"I have left fifteen hundred infantry a mile off," said
Murray. "Come I too late V
"Do you know who approaches Bishop's gate V demanded
Walker.
"The tyrant 1with his army?"
"Even so. But, patience; come now to the council. To
the council!" he continued, addressing those around him,
including Murray's dragoons" to the council, loyal citizens!
Haste, or we are betrayed !treason, treason!"
Evelyn followed him and his new friend to the market-
house, where Lundy and his council were deliberating, and
could scarce push in among the anxious crowd that closed
round Walker.
The deliberators had just come to a resolution of immediate
surrender, when Walker and Murray confronted them at the
table. Some agitation was instantly evinced among the
adherents of Lundy, for Walker was pale, and the sturdy
militia-captain red with anger.
"No surrender!" cried Murray, the moment he had heard
the nature of the resolution"no treason will we join you
in, Mr. Governor and gentlemen. No such treason as left
our passes unguardedas sent back to Deny the ten thousand
willing men you took out of it to the banks of the Finn, and
would at last deliver us to our perfidious enemies. No
surrender, men of Deny!"
A loud cheer answered him. Liftidy seemed appalled.
But he tried to repel the dangerous charge thus brought
against him and his colleagues.
"Patience, Captain Murray," said Walker, giving him a
private signal; "mayhap you are too hasty in accusing. All
that you have spoken of was done openly, and therefore let
us say fairly. I propose only one questiononly one." He
grew paler, with the conscious importance of the climax he
was thus approaching; his eye flashed; his figure became
more erect; and, in his purple coat, and his large bands,
forming a strong professional contrast to the military sash
round his waist, and the sword he held under his arm,
## p. 300 (#328) ############################################
300 THE BOYNE WATEF.
together with the whole expression of his features and
manner, Evelyn saw in him a striking specimen of a soldier
of the church militant. "And," he resumed, after a pause,
"this is my question. What has become of the order, in
consequence of which King William's officers, and their two
disciplined regiments, sent by his gracious Majesty for our
especial comfort and relief, were compelled to abandon this
wretched city in its sorest need 1 Why was not that made
public?" Lundy looked confounded
.
"The suppression of such an order was not fair. What
Captain Murray has charged may have been so. I judge no
man, because it was openly done. But that was secretly
donedone in the dark. As the Lord liveth, that, I believe,
was treason!"
"It was!" cried his seconder; "and let it be punished as
such."
"It was! it was!" shouted the soldiers and citizens.
"String them up; they have betrayed us!"
"They have !" echoed Mr. Walker, at last flinging off his
mask of moderation; "but, if ye hold the hearts of men, not
yet unto the death. To your wallsto your poststo your
gates! the exterminators beset them this moment. To your
guns! Follow us !" he continued, bursting through the crowd
with his friend. "Let every man who loves life, religion,
liberty, and his fireside, mount such a badge as Captain
Murray now ties on his arm." It was a white handker-
chief. Hundreds instantly obeyed this command; and with
cries of "Come on!" from the two leaders, and of acclama-
tions from themselves, soldiers and people, ran up to the
church bastion, and to the whole line of wall over Bishop's
gate. 
James appeared, with his detachment, but one or two
hundred yards from them. Double rows of muskets were
instantly formed, the guns loaded with small shot, and reso-
lutely manned. Messengers arrived from the council, exhort-
ing the soldiers and citizens not to fire, until a deputation
should be sent out. Numbers of the elder and more respect-
able citizens seconded this request: Evelyn raised his voice
on the same side. Even Walker seemed outwardly willing to
recommend forbearance; but Evelyn, being closer to him
than he suspected, overheard him add, in a low voice, to
Murray:
## p. 301 (#329) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 301
"Let us lull their feaxs; it may save a struggle within the
very walls."
Still the army approached; and now their music burst
gayly on the air.
"Yonder," resumed Mr. Walker, still in a low voice, and
addressing himself to one of the enterprising apprentices, who
had before done him a service" yonder is the cruel tyrant,
in person."
"Where V asked James Spike, standing to the side of his
gun, a ready match in his hand.
"See you not the crowd of gay officers who push on before
the army1? See you not two of them that ride alone, sur-
rounded by the others? The man on the grey horse, to the
right, is the tyrant."
James Spike rested his match across the saker. He and
Walker looked earnestly at each other.
"Touch her," at last whispered the clergyman" but no
not yet; bear her muzzle down, a little. Softly; none need
note youthere, that allows for your elevation. Touch her
now."
"Well, my mother, honest woman, little thought I'd have
lived to do this," said Spike, laughing. Flash and roar went
the saker, with a mouthful of shot for King James, from his
good city of Derry, to which, with colours flying and music
playing, he ambled so tranquilly. Ere the smoke came
between, Evelyn saw an aid-de-camp drop, while others fell
in the ranks of the approaching line. Well might the musi-
cians stop both their melody and their march; and, unsup-
ported by cannon as James at present was, well might he, too,
turn his horse's head towards Johnstown; and, like the king
of France, who,
-" with forty thousand men,
Marched up the hill, and then marched down again,"
fall back with his army to safer quarters. One single horse-
man stood a moment behind, his face turned towards the
false city. Evelyn, looking sharply, recognised him to be
Sarsfield. He stood as if astonishment and indignation kept
him motionless, or as if to dare another shot in his own
person. More than a minute he so stood; then suddenly
wheeled round and galloped after his friends.
The determinations of the council became useless; nay, the
## p. 302 (#330) ############################################
302 THE BOTNB WATER.
council itself, not conceiving their presence of much further
import, stole, one by one, out of the city. Lundy, however,
being so well known, feared to expose himself to the infuriated,
garrison and people, and remained secreted in his own house.
Mr. Walker hearing this, visited him.
"I grieve for you, Col . Lundy," he said; "believe me, I
never meant to involve you in the danger that now so nearly
threatens you."
"It increases then, Mr. Walker V demanded the governor.
"So much so, that my poor influence has proved almost
ineffectual in saving your house from an attack."
"What would you advise, sir V
"Why, your friends have all contrived to escape; but,
doubtless, the peril to you, at this late period, is more
grievous than it was to them. I am anxious, however, to do
you any service in my power."
Lundy paused, and looked keenly into the speaker's face.
After a minute's scrutiny he rose.
"To you, sir, I commit myself," he said.
"Procure a disguise, then. Follow me; and Providence
may yet befriend us."
Lundy obeying his suggestions in every respect, was con-
veyed by Walker and some friends past the gates. There
they parted.
"Take heed of yourself now, and Heaven guide you," added
the plotter, who had led Col. Lundy almost to death, who
now delivered him from this danger.
As he returned up the street, a crowd were collected round
. Captain Murray, shouting loudly.
"No, citizens," this gentleman was saying, "I am not fit
to be your governor. Your champion I hope to be. But here
is the man of our choice. Long live our governor, the Rev.
Col. George Walker!"
This nomination was immediately confirmed; and also a
deputy chosen in the person of the Derry friend before
mentioned as much in Mr. Walker's confidence. Evelyn
curiously watched the eye of the new governor, but could
detect, under the modesty of its lid, no sparkling of the
gratified ambition and triumph he had expected.
. The energy of Mr. Walker became more than ever con-
spicuous. He promptly examined the stores, the magazine,
the guns, the gates; he arranged the garrison under eight
## p. 303 (#331) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER; 303
colonels, of whom himself made one ; and found it to amount
to seven thousand five hundred active soldiers, and between
three and four hundred officers. With this force, Deny
commenced a regular resistance to King James. But it
should not be forgotten, that the men, women, and children,
natives and strangers, who, exclusive of the garrison, finally
remained, amounted to twenty thousand. A population
frightfully disproportioned to the supplies of the besieged
| city; and, indeed, even to its extent.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Some weeks after the events last detailed, Mr. Walker called
on Evelyn late at night, and took him by the arm to the walls.
"Stand here with me," he said, "and, first, consider our
situation. Although James, about a week following our
salute, was obliged to return to Dublin to attend his plun-
dering parliament, yet has he left behind the whole of his
power. On every side, from every point of the compass,
does it beset us. Look north. About five miles down the
river stands Culmore fort, formerly our only hope of com-
munication with the broad Lough and the open sea: now is
it in the hands of the foe. Between us and it, Kilkenny
Butler, and his Kilkenny men, guard the .river. Southward
you see Ballowgry hill. There prance Lord Galmoy's horse.
Over him, Lord Gormanstown holds his magazine; and, were
it daylight, you could see Lord Clare's yellow flag streaming
in the same .direction. Turn, again. Yonder, in the sheriffs
ground, He Lords Louth and Slane. Near them, Bellew from
Duleek, Fingal, and Fagan of Filtrim. Looking back,
towards the Lough, Clancarty keeps Brook Hall, and O'Neill's
dragoons the opposite shoreGordon O'Neill, the son of the
accursed Sir Phelim!
"At the other sides of the city, and far and near around
them, are commanders and forces of as high names and as
fearful recollections. Down from Tara's hill, Plunket has led
his horse. From Tredagh rushes Lord Dungan's army!
Tyrconnel's from the land of the Fitzgeralds. Luttrell's
from King's County. Lord Dillon's heir comes to us from
## p. 304 (#332) ############################################
304 THE BOYNE WATER.
Roscommon; young Talbot from Kildare; Galmoy from the
Barrow; and Wauhup and Buchan from the wilds f
Inverary. Cork sends us the old Mac Cartymore; Glenwood,
the Hagans; Donegal, the tall Galloghers; and yon bleak
Inishowen, old Caheir's demesne, an O'Dogherty still, I have
named but half; yet, even this sounds an overwhelming
array."
"It does, indeed," said Evelyn; "but is it not now too late
to say so?"
"Well may we exclaim," continued Mr. Walker, nt
noticing Evelyn's remark, and as if really impressed, for the
first time, with the magnitude of the responsibility he had
incurred"well may we exclaim, in the phrase of Our
liturgy, 'There is none other that fighteth for us, but only
thou, O God I'. Youth, it does beget some confusion in m,
and some disorder among the people, when we look about l
and see what we are doing. Our enemiesall about us; and
such friends as have not yet gone, still running away from
us. A garrison composed of poor people, frightened from
their own homes, and more fit to hide themselves than to
face an enemy. No persons of any experience in War
amongst us; and those who were sent to assist us, flying
from the first sight of the place. But few horse to Sally Out
with, and no forarge. No engineers to instruct us in Our
works. No fireworks. Not so much as a hand grenado
to annoy the enemy. Not a gun well mounted in the whole
town. Thirty thousand mouths to feed, and not above ten
days' provision for them, in the opinion of our former gover
nors. Several leaving us every day, and exposing our situs.
tion and our councils to the foe; that foe so active in
endeavouring to divide us, and so athirst and hungry for my
own betraying. So numerous, so powerful, and so inveterate
withal | God be our shield, I say! The poor Israelites, at
the Red Sea, stood not in Sorer trouble."
"If so, Mr. Walker, and if you really think so, of what use
can be the conviction and avowal of this danger, unless yu
determine to avert it?" demanded Evelyn.
"How'" asked the governor, gravely.
"How but by accepting the favourable terms of surrender
that even yet are open to you, That come into the city almost
every day, inclosed in a blind shell, sent by an emissary, or in
some shape or other. And do not these terms promise you,
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## p. 305 (#333) ############################################
THE BOYNE "WATER. 305
on the word of a prince, perfect tolerationnay, protection
of religious opinion, of property, and lifeforgiveness of the
pastfreedom for the future 1"
"Aye, young man, thus they promise. But, oh, that
promise! He that would depend his life on a rush may
trust it. Not I; I, who am especially marked down for
vengeance! I, their single foetheir confusion and shame!
I, a heretic priest, in their blaspheming mouthswith
whom no faith is to be held. The word of a prince! Yes,
I remember that cantthat sickening echo; I remember
it as the charm that too long lulled us asleep, until tfiieves
stole to our bedsides, and awoke us with their hands on our
throttles, boasting permission from the very lips that had
spoken tho.se words to our credulous senses. Toleration!
such as the tiger gives the herd. No; think not I
spoke out plainly before you, because I was disquieted with
what I have done, or afraid of what I have to do. Good
night!retire to your bed, and court slumber; for, if I mis-
take not, your watch comes to-morrow nightadieu!" He
turned hastily along the wall, and Evelyn soon heard his
"All's well!" echoed from post to post round the city.
Evelyn also turned from the walls, deeply revolving the new
light in which he had just caught a glimpse of the governor.
He did not, however, bend his steps homeward, as Mr.
Walker had advised, but to a house next his uncle's, in
which, unknown to Mrs. Evelyn, Edmund occupied quarters
as his nominal prisoner.
Although the pressure of more public and important events
has, for some time, kept us silent regarding the private affairs
of certain of our friends, it must not be supposed that these
affairs remained altogether stationary, or that we were altoge-
ther indifferent to their progress. In fact, it was because we
continued well aware how they went on, that we have allowed
ourselves to omit recent allusion to them; particularly as we
were meantime employed in reporting other matters, upon
which depended, and upon which still depend, the final turn
of good or bad fortune to the individuals in whom we are in-
terested. It was because we knew, that, from the second day
of Edmund's coming into Deny, Evelyn had constantly brought
his prisoner comfort, in the person of a young lady he was well
pleased to see. All the past forgotten, or the happy part of
it only remembered, Esther and Edmund had thus enjoyed,
x
## p. 306 (#334) ############################################
306 THE BOYNE WATER.
in the society of their brother, uninterrupted dreams of adt.
lightful future; while Evelyn laid before them his own hopes
of happiness, and, now and then, successfully prevailed on
themno easy taskto discuss them with him, Previous
to the actual besieging of Derry, advice had come from Eva
that she was well, at home, and her father in good health
In fact, circumstances considered, the lovers were as well f
as any words of ours could describe them; at the same time
that a continued report of their sentiments, or of the scents
between them, might prove, as it before happened, t
difficult for us to manage; or, had we attempted it, t
monotonous to the reader.
But on this night, some conversation took place between
Evelyn and M'Donnell, which should be noticed.
"Your air is melancholy," said Evelyn, as he t
tered.
"And my heart, too, Evelyn."
"Why now more than ever ?"
"I must have your permission to answer fully. Sint
politics divided our public opinions, and particularly since we
became placed, with respect to each other, in the strange
political relations we at present hold, it has been my care not
to make a single allusion to passing events. Now, howevel,
they so closely press our private interests and feelings, that I
cannot explain to you why I am thus sorrowful, unless you
are willing to hear me allude to them."
"Perfectly willing I am. Proceed, with all license." ..
"I begin then by expressing my confirmed belief that this
city cannot long hold out against its besiegers."
"Such is my own opinion, to whatever it may lead. We
speak, of course, confidentially."
"Of course. My only wonder is, that it has held out 50
long."
# agree with you. It is by no means a fortress. It
stands on a sloping ground, exposed on every side to the
fire of the enemy; for the walls are, at no point, more than
twenty-five feet high, in some points but fourteen. As
the summit of the town rises two hundred feet above
the water, the walls cannot, thus, screen an eighth part
of its elevation. Even if it were a well-fortified place, the
French, who direct this siege, are good engineers, and formi
dable besiegers; witness what they have done in the Low
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## p. 307 (#335) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 307
Countries. I repeat, I can altogether but express my surprise
as to what they are doing here at present."
"Into their hands, and those of the Irish army, it must,
however, soon fall. But, Evelyn, never, I fear, by capitula-
tion. At all events, not by one timely enough to insure,
according to the usages of war, good and safe terms to the
garrison and inhabitants."
"Of that I have thought, too, M'Donnell."
"Let me take the freedom to observe, that the holding out
of Denyindeed, its holding out, in the teeth of terms
negotiated by its most respectable citizens, and those who
ought to have been the most influential of its garrison
against pledges of good faith, given and taken, has been the
work of men whose uncompromising prejudices, and whose
fear of retribution, left them no other resource. It was, in
fact, the forlorn hope of a shattered and baffled party, reduced
to one last and desperate chance of escape or death, of
revenge or self-destruction."
"Your comments are severe, M'Donnell. But go on; apply
your reasoning more closely."
"Too severe, Evelyn 1 Come, come; I only meant to say,
that we, the native, undisciplined, unarmed, and despised
force of the country, have, alone and unassisted, beat you,
inch by inch, from the borders of your northern province,
into the gates of Deny. Alone and unassisted, for the
French reinforcement and supplies, trifling as both are,
did not reach us till we had done that good service. So,
pardon me; no more did I wish to say; and if it is
disagreeable, I regret I have said so much. Now to my
argument.
s The hatred, bigotry, and, I may add, despair, which, in
the face of treaties and honorable confidence, have shut your
gates against King James, will, I fear, keep them shut, while
safe and advantageous proposals are still made to you, and
until the time has lapsed for continuing to make them.
Deny must then fall by blockade, or storm; or else surrender
at discretion. In either case, an enraged and ungovernable
soldiery will pour into its streets and houses, and act almost
at pleasure. Do you now guess what I would drive at t"
"I fear I do."
"Do you think of no dear being whose safety should,
in such a crisis, be cared for? Gracious God, Evelyn!" he
## p. 308 (#336) ############################################
308 THE BOYNE WATER.
tinued, rising in much emotion, "in such a terrible day, have
you no fears for Esther?"
"I have, M'Donnell; nor are they newly come into my
heart. What is to be done for her f
"You will not, surely, await the arrival of the danger to
provide against it; you are anxious to place her out of peril
as soon as possible V
"To-night, if I could. But have you thought how V
"I fear, Evelyn, that my answer may seemI know not
whatselfish, perhaps. Or that, from its nature, you may
think I proposed this case as much in calculation as in true
affection. But no; we understand each other; and without
any such fear, I will speak openly to you."
"Do so. I can never wrong you."
"Mark me, then. As the niece of an alderman of Deny,
and as the sister of one of its garrison, poor Esther would meet
little respect. As the wife of a man in arms for King James,
she would be protected. Let her assume that character; let
me, by virtue of a former arrangementright, I may almost
sayonce call her my wedded wife, andapart from the
good-will of my friendsthen show me the man, friend or
foe, who dares, but with a glance, aggrieve her!"
"Your hand, M'Donnell; and accept my approval of a
still freer and safer course. When you make Esther yours,
fly with her from Deny. I give you back your parole; you
are no longer a prisoner. Take her far from even the pre-
sence of danger. Make us both doubly sure. Take her
to Eva, at Glenarriff; and there you can all rest in peace.
For myself, my heart and mind will be at peace, too,
though distant from you; though obliged, by the stern
duties of my situation, to face the storm, and, perhaps, fall
in it."
"Dear Evelyn, I cannot, will not speak a word to turn you
from the pathdangerous as it may be, and hostile as
it is to meof an honorable gentlemanof a soldier.
But do not forebode ill. Do not imagine a misery that,
during our lives, should shadow the joy of Esther, Eva, and
Edmund. Our happiness must be mutually participated, or
not worth the name. As to the rest, I thank you, Evelyn,"
wringing his hand; "brother in the heart and'at the fireside,
though in the field my foe, I thank you."
"The great difficulty," resumed Evelyn, as his strong
## p. 309 (#337) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 309
emotion abated, "will be to procure an officiating minister.
The Protestant clergymen, of different sects, residing in this
city, we cannot ask."
"Some Roman Catholic priests must be attached to the
besieging army," said Edmund; "but how get one of them
even near the walls 1 And Esther and I can leave Deny only
as husband and wife. Suppose Eva were summoned hither,
.with our old clerical relative 1 They might remain safe
abroad until we could communicate with them; and they
would then venture more for us than strangers."
"As great a difficulty will arise in conveying an intimation
to Eva," resumed Evelyn; "but let us consider it. And now,
let us pursue this conference in a walk along the walls. 'Tis
a fine night; the moon shines clear; and my spirits require
the open air."
They left Edmund's quarters, and ascended the steps of
Bishop's gate; the never-to-be-forgotten spot, from which
Deny sent her first conclusive answer to the summons of
James. It has since been rebuilt, by the way, into a triumphal
arch, with a sculptured head of that Sovereign on the outside,
and with one of his successor on the inside ; the former hang-
ing, most dolorously, his family lip; the latter frowning over
a tremendous hooked nose; and both features seeming to be
the only ones that the artist was able or willing to insist on
as likenesses.
Evelyn paused a short time over the gate.
"Before we renew our topic, M'Donnell," he said, "I must
betray a little trust to you. Under us, and at the works out-
side Bishop's gate, strong picquets are this night stationed,
in apprehension of an attack, directed against the ravelin you
see below, and the embankment at the other postto be
headed, as rumour goes, by a strong party of our old friends,
the Rapparees, who, under some arrangement or other, have
lately become attached to the besieging army."
"I thought, when we last met them, they seemed, in your
opinion, collecting their scattered forces, after the affair at
your house, for a retreat to the south."
"So, indeed, I then thought. But you remember the
smuggler that took us to Ballintoy? On board that vessel
I saw the face of Rory-na-chopple, and distinctly heard the
voice of his captain sounding from the cabin. Doubtless, the.
rogues were then getting round the coast, to try their chance
## p. 310 (#338) ############################################
310 THE BOYNE WATER.
in the fighting and scrambling about Coleraine, and afterwards
on the Finn-Water."
While Evelyn spoke, the voices of the picquet, under them,
which, since their ascent to the walls, had not been very
quiet, grew boisterous in mirth, and, amid all, the tinkling of
a harp was heard. Edmund started.
"Hush!" he said, "that is Carolan's finger, if Carolan be
a living man."
They listened, and were confirmed in the opinion, by
hearing the musician strike up Carolan's celebrated "Receipt,"
and accompany it with his voice.
"Heaven befriends us, Evelyn," continued M'DonnelL
"Carolan can have come to the walls of Deny only on a
mission to us; and he shall be our envoy to Eva. Speak to
him; you can safely do so. But first, let me write a line
await my return, here."
When he came back with the note, Evelyn hailed Carolan;
M'Donnell not appearing from the walls. The harper
instantly saluted his old acquaintance by name, inquiring if
all his friends in Deny were well.
"All; but how came you here, Carolan!"
"Myself knows never a know, sir; these good fellows
brought me."
"Please your honour, captain," said the sergeant of the
party, "we found him sleeping within our lines, at the other
side of the town, and thought he might be a spy."
"That would be hard for me, Captain Evelyn, as you
know," resumed Carolan; "a man without an eye in his
head makes a bad look-out."
"Yes, sir. He says he is blind, and only a travelling
harp-player, benighted and tired. So if all's as he says, in
the daylight, he may go his way, again. Meantime he con-
sents to play us a tune, or so, till morning," said the sergeant.
"I can assure you that the poor young man gives a true
account of himself," continued Evelyn; "and it would be
cruelty to detain him outside the walls so long. Let him in,
if you do not let him depart."
"Please your honour, that's against orders. But he may
go away, if he likes, on your word, sir," replied the sergeant.
"Very well; I will just descend to shake hands with
him."
With much caution the gate was opened to Evelyn; he
## p. 311 (#339) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 311
clasped Carolan's hand, and left in it the crumpled paper
Edmund had written.
"God bless you, sir, for taking the poor harper's hand, on
his wild road, and bidding him luck and speed. And now
you won't refuse this little clarseech I offer you, as a parting
token. It will be of no use to me till I get home again, to
the fair south, and there I have another before me. Take it,
Captain Evelyn; and when you touch its wires, remember
the giver."
Carolan went his way; Evelyn, not finding Edmund on
the wall, followed him to his lodgings; and gave him the
little harp, as the person for whom it was really intended.
Both, however, believing that Carolan must have left the
clarseech for something more than a token, closely examined
it, and secret hinges and a spring were, indeed, found in the
sounding board, which, at last yielding to their pressure,
showed two letters, one for Edmund, and another for his
friend, both written by Eva. Both told of good health; of
the perfect tranquillity of her part of the country; but what
was scarce less important to Edmund, of the implacable
anger of Lord Antrim for his late attributed misconduct.
The young men parted for the night, just as a dropping fire
of musketry, mingled with cheers from the skirmishers, and
cries from the walls, were heard through the town.
Hastily mounting the wall over Butcher's gate, Evelyn
looked down upon a gentle slope of land that ran towards a
line of eminence called the Bishop's Demesne. But, by this
time, the firing had ceased, and he could only see a party
of horse, belonging to the town, sweeping furiously round
the heights, as if in pursuit of an enemy; at the same time
that three or four infantry approached with a prisoner
towards the gate. He descended; a loud knocking was
heard.
"Who knocks? and the word?" demanded the sentinel.
"Friends," and "Orange is the word," he was answered.
"We are part of Captain Michelburn's picquet, and here we
have taken a little Rapparee."
The gate was opened; the soldiers entered with their
prisoner; and Evelyn recognisedthough scarcely recogni-
sable, his uncle Jerry, "all tattered and torn"we cannot add
"all shaven and shorn." His hair and beard were of a Rap-
paree growth; while the blue kilt-like kind of sailor's dress
## p. 312 (#340) ############################################
312 THE BOYNE WATER.
he always wore, was rent into ribands; his blue breeches and
stockings full of holes; and one shoe gone.
"Are you all merry fellows here 1" he asked, the moment
he had passed the gate.
"March on to the guardhouse, you Rapparee thief," cried
the soldiers.
"I'm no Rapparee, I say again," cried Jerry. "They but
took me on a visit with them. Not that I mean a word to
their dispraise, for hearty lads they are, and like a Commo-
dore they treated me." *
"Move on as you are told," urged his guard.
"Why I can't," he replied; "don't you see I've got a
rudder shot away? Give me one cup of canary."
"March!" roared a corporal, "or"presenting.
"Stop, man ! hear reason. I'm no Rapparee, but a loyal
subject of the King's gracious majesty."
"What King?"
"What King?' repeated Jerry, in a tone of astonishment at
the simplicity of the question. "What King but our own King
the King of England! Here be a serious set of fellows to
ask such a matter. Where's your officer?" limping up to
Evelyn. "A-hoy! dear nephew! afloat yet1? Not burnt nor
sunk, as I thought you were? Well; this makes up for all!
You won't refuse a grapple; no, that you wont," smacking
his hand. "So let this galley-foist crew sheer off': you and I,
lad, in any storm. And, I say, nephew, let's go below, and
have a twist at your locker, for I havn't been so run out of
grog, and so near seriousness, since I left shore."
"At least, sir, I will try and protect you from the rude
treatment to which you have exposed yourself. Corporal, this
is, indeed, my uncle, the brother of Mr. Paul Evelyn, forced
from my house by the Rapparees. I will be his surety for
loyal intentions and peaceable demeanour, if you give him
into my charge; and I earnestly request that favour at your
hands."
The soldiers assented: and Jerry, supported by Evelyn,
limped to Edmund's quarters; eagerly inquiring, on the way,
when he knew his destination, if the hearty fellow, the dumb
lad, was on board.
## p. 313 (#341) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 313
CHAPTER XXIV.
The friends remained very anxious about their message to
Eva; weeks elapsed, and no answer came. This suspense was
most painful, for two reasons. They feared either that
Carolan had been intercepted, searched, and perhaps mur-
dered, on his way to Glenarriff; or that Derry would be
taken sword in hand, before Eva replied to their summons,
and Esther consequently exposed to the dangers they anti-
cipated.
On the latter point, however, they need not have been so
apprehensive. To their surprise, as well as gratification, the
city continued to keep its besiegers in check. And the
reader will join in their astonishment, after recollecting the
true statement of its preparations and resources, given by
Mr. Walker, and of its situation and the strength of its
walls, alluded to by Evelyn. That it should have been able
to make more than the faintest show of defence is, indeed,
all circumstances considered, unaccountable. Had it stood,
in these later days, in the place of Burgos or of Badajos, we
know that Derry must have capitulated in a few hours, or
else have been battered and burnt into a heap of smoking
rubbish. Nor are we, by implication, to attribute to an
imaginary backwardness in the military science and prowess
of its own day, the want of skill or energy evinced by its
besiegers. Louis XIV., or William III., would have made
of it as light a morning's work as Wellington, or any hostile
contemporary at present could; witness, out of a list of
instances, what both these sovereigns did, in two successive
campaigns, at the fortress and castle of Namur. We can
only surmise, then, that the few thousand French before
Derry were totally inexperienced in the military knowledge,
necessary to their service, and for which their countrymen,
in general, had, even at that time, so great a name. As to
their Irish allies, a body of undisciplined peasants, just come
into the field, we must consider them, apart from the plain
work of charging in onslaught, completely out of the question,
or, at all events, as much so in regularly carrying on a siege,
as their equally inexperienced enemies would have proved
## p. 314 (#342) ############################################
314 THE BOYNE WATER.
in resisting any such operation, vigorously and systematically
directed.
But it was, perhaps, the object of the besiegers to starve
Dcrry into submission. The increasing scarcity of food now
began, indeed, to threaten sufficient misfortune. Completely
hemmed in, as, on every side, they were, scarcely anything
had been added to the first supplies found in the stores at
the beginning of the siege; and. day by day these fearfully
decreased. The bad omen of slaughtering the horses of the
garrison soon made its appearance; and peremptory orders
were issued that every house should send in its stock of
private provisions, to be joined to' what remained of the
public one, and both to be served out in small daily portions,
to each individual within the walls, rank, sex, and age undis-
tinguished in the arrangement. Edmund found himself
limited to one coarse meal in the day. But it was not his
own situation that smote his soul with horror. He knew
that the woman he loved was exposed, in bad health and
wretched spirits, to the same privation; and as, during this
sad economy, he looked on her pallid cheek and sunken eye,
the lover's blood curdled to think that hungerthe most
wretched and humiliating of mortal evilswas now her
spoiler.
Whilst he and Evelyn met, from time to time, and gazed in
silence on each other's gradually wasting features, this senti-
ment, commonly felt, though never expressed, caused them
to speculate with increased anxiety on Eva's remissness in
sending an answer. They became assured that poor Carolan
had really fallen a victim to his disinterested zeal, and that
they had nothing to expect for Esther. But one night, as they
walked mournfully along the walls, the blessed tones of his
harp were again heard near the gate below; and, stooping
over, they recognised him surrounded, as before, by some of
the men, who, in his former visit, had attended to him, but
who now, rendered less sensitive to sweet sounds by the
grumbling of their stomachs, did not seem disposed to treat
him kindly.
"Begone," said the sergeant; "I say you can have no
business here, unless you come as a spy; and that I said before.
You, Corporal Sharpeyou acted but as a bad vedette to bring
the blind beggar to our walls."
"I ask but to see Captain Evelyn, in your presence," replied
## p. 315 (#343) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 315
Carolan; "and when we speak together, you'll find I come on
no unfriendly business."
"I am here, Carolan," cried Evelyn, running down to the
gate. After much persuasion with the officer in command,
he passed out to the harper.
"This, then, is all I have to say," resumed Carolan, in a
broken voice, taking a small wallet from under his garment.
"I bring youand I have brought it through the Irish lines,
with some hazarda meal of Christian food, and a flask of
cheering wine for your sister, Mistress Esther Evelyn."
"Share! share !" exclaimed the soldiers, as Evelyn accepted
it: "all provisions are common to the garrison."
"No, sirsshame, shame, to ask it!" cried Carolan. "It
is for a sickly, a young and beautiful ladyit is to cherish the
failing blood in her heart, and give her life a day longer. I
have brought it to your gate, in hunger and in thirst, myself.
The road was long, and my own tongue cleaved to my palate
for want of food and drink. I am, this moment, a fatigued
and hungry man, yet I touched it not; and I do not ask to
touch it. If you are men, able to bear a little want, let it go
to the poor, sick young lady? you will never miss it, and she
will die without it: let her gentle blood get nourishment.
Yes, they will, Captain Evelyn, they will: hide it, sir, and
take it to your sister."
Carolan wept as he spoke; no further opposition was offered.
Evelyn shook his hand, and joined Edmund. The little wallet
contained, indeed, some delicate and nutritive food; and,
secreted amongst it, the note they had expected from Eva.
After satisfactorily explaining her long silence, she informed
them that, attended by the old clergyman, she now rested in
the Irish camp, and would try to meet them and Esther, out-
side Butcher's gate, near Columbkill's well, four nights from
the date of her writing. When the friends had interchanged
hearty congratulations on this welcome intelligence, Evelyn
took up his wallet, and hastened to Esther. He did not ask
Edmund to taste the generous food; he would no more have
done so than he would have trenched on it himself. He did
not think of asking him; nor did Edmund think of tasting;
yet both were hungryin the hearts of both, nature yearned
for a wonted relief. It may be said that this is a vulgar
illustration of disinterested feeling. Yes; it may be said by
some, who, after a dainty evening banquet, peruse our pages
## p. 316 (#344) ############################################
316 THE BOYNE WATEK.
amid luxury that has never known want, and to whose
privileged ear the word " hunger" brings only coarse or mean
associations. But if so, we only wish such a critic plunged,
with all speed, into a besieged city, and gradually made
acquainted with that commonplace and unceremonious mon-
sterstarvation.
Eva's note being left in M'Donnell's hands, he was about
to destroy it, after Evelyn's departure, when, at a side
hitherto supposed to be blank, he discovered the following
postscript: "Be watchful; for there is one, opposed most
inveterately, though unaccountably, to your success, who
seeks admission into the city to confound you."
To whom did this allusion apply 1 Edmund could not tell;
nor, after hours of surmise, even imagine. The next morn-
ing, however, gave him some inkling on the point.
Jerry, now his fellow-lodger and messmate, had been
looking out of the window, whenbut let us interrupt
ourselves, to say a few digressive words about Jerry.
Hitherto he had pretty well obeyed the injunction laid
upon him by his nephew, to absent himself from his brother's
house, and even from the streets of the town, in which he
might be likely to meet Mr. Paul Evelyn or his lady. Content
with singing his favourite sea-songs, together with some scraps
of rude verse he had lately picked up among the Rapparees,
sipping whatever liquorwater exceptedmight be placed
in his way, he was, perhaps, the only man in Derry who
ate his one scanty meal a-day with Christian resignation
and indifference. Indeed, he seemed just as careless of
the state of affairs around him, as of their effects on him-
self, no matter in what shape those effects might visit him.
His little paunch decreased; the fresh colour left his cheek;
worse than all, the wound in his foot grew bad and ob-
stinatehe cared hot. He was told that, in a few days,
there would be no food at all in the city, and that the
people either must starve to death, or fall into the hands
of the wild Papists. "Be not serious," he said; "what
know I of it 1 Starved 1 merry men never starved. Papists?
I have known of some hearty fellows among them. City
besieged 1 tilly-vally ;be thou hearty."
But, amid this good-humour with his lot, and submission
under the commands laid upon him, he was heard, now and
then, to mumble a threat of visitation to his brother and his
## p. 317 (#345) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 317
sister-in-law. They both looked as well, he averred, as
ever they had looked, notwithstanding the general changes
that took place in all others. And therein lay a mystery he
was determined to solve. The appearances that gave rise
to his remarks were, indeed, rather evident, and commented
upon, too, by more people than Jerry. Public prayers were
held in the church every morning and evening ; at the proper
hours Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn regularly passed by to join in them.
And at the request of their discarded brother, Evelyn and
Edmund often stood at the window to note, as they went
along, the undiminished globularity of Paul's person, the
enduring vastness of that of his good lady, and the sleek,
contented character of the faces of both. On tottered little
Paul, patting the stones with the gold-headed cane he held
in one hand, and grasping in the other two huge prayer-
books, which Mrs. Evelyn obliged him to carry. Some
paces behind, the lady followed, in full sail, watching him
with a severe eye, as a nurse might watch the straggling
sallies of a child just beginning to walk; when they arrived
at church, still making him kneel before her, in order that
she might see, and promptly check, with a tap on his head,
or a pinch at his arm, Paul's frequent lapses into slumber, for
which (Jerry said) he often got whipped when he came home.
But Jerry must not teach us digression upon digression.
He had been watching, as usual, their expected progress to
church, when, instead of summoning Edmund to see them
pass by, he called him to witness a loud commotion that was
going on at Mr. Paul Evelyn's door; the next, it will be
remembered, to Edmund's quarters. A crowd of people,
some soldiers, and some townsfolk, had collected round
a wild-looking, meanly habited young woman, who seemed
eager to be admitted, and noisy and vehement at Mrs.
Evelyn's repeated refusal given from the window.
"Let me in!" screamed the applicant; "I have that to
say to your husband, which concerns him and you, and all
your family."
"Away with thee, woman!" answered Mrs. Evelyn; "or
I will have thee sent to the black hole. Take her away,
soldiershow dared you bring her hither 1"
The soldiers answered, that the woman had come to the
gates with a pass from Lord Kingston, commanding her
admission to the presence of Mr. Paul Evelyn.
## p. 318 (#346) ############################################
318 THE BOYNE WATER.
"It is a forgery," resumed the lady, "or a plot to murder
us. Take her away, I say; I know her well."
"And I know you," continued the woman; "we know
one another. Do you remember the word I spoke to you
the first evening we met? Let me inor listen to it again."
Mrs. Evelyn shrieked, as if her recollections were sorely
touched, and shut down the window.
"Then starve!" cried Onagh, now, as she turned round,
well known to Edmund; "that was the word. And here it
is againstarve!"
Edmund, recollecting Onagh's previous and unaccountable
hostility to his union with Esther, and now comparing it with
her anxiety to get access to Paul, was struck with the thought
that she might be the person of whom Eva, in her note,
warned him to stand on his guard. Acting under this sud-
den impression, he ran down to the street, accosted her
civilly, induced her to enter the house along with him, and
when she had come in, seized her, and, assisted by Jerry,
conveyed her to a secure cellar, where, leaving her a small
portion of food, they locked her up in darkness and solitude.
M'Donnell- gave his fellow-lodger some apt reason for the
proceeding, and engaged him, should he himself be out of
the way, in a few days to restore her to liberty.
Soon after, Evelyn visited them. Acquainting his friend
that he was summoned to attend an extraordinary council, to
be immediately held, in consequence of suspicions entertained
by some of the garrison that certain gentlemen of the corpo-
ration, and even their worthy governor, Mr. Walker, had not
complied with the order to send in all their private stock, but
kept secreted in their houses an unpermitted abundance, for
their individual comfort and fattening. Jerry, hearing this,
offered himself as a presumptive evidence, at the investiga-
tion. But he was overruled, and Evelyn went alone.
It had not been usual to permit an indiscriminate assem-
blage of persons at the former peaceable town-councils of
Deny. Now, hunger, which breaks through stone walls, was
every man's passport to witness debates in which every man's
stomach was commonly interested. Along with the governor,
superior officers, and the corporation, a crowd of haggard
countenances thronged, therefore, the hall of the market-
house.
Uncle Paul, who, from his reluctance to attend, had
## p. 319 (#347) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 319
been late, was seated on an extremity of the magisterial
bench, his short, stout legs dangling most uncomfortably, and
his little grey eyes staring round in childish fear (the result
of a certain consciousness), as he leaned, the better to support
himself, on his gold-headed cane.
Governor Walker certainly appeared in good case, as also
did other patriotic gentlemen of the corporation. But none
belied, so much as Paul, a strict adherence to the order for
indiscriminate starvation.
The rude, because hungry, soldiers made their statements;
bluntly named some they suspected, and hinted at others.
Paul found himself involved among the former, and Governor
Walker among the latter. Both were, however, ready to
rebut the accusation.
It was at the private request of Mr. Walker, made, in order
to get rid of the clamours against him, to an apprentice ensign
in his confidence, that the meeting had been called. Paul
flattered himself his house exhibited no proof of guilt. The
persons who brought the charges were ordered to search the
dwellings of the accused. They returned, unable to say that
they had not been in error, but still grumbling, and scowling
with their socket eyes towards the magisterial bench, as they
muttered:
"Why should the great ones be fat, and poor folk lean?
If they fare as we do, let them show it as we do."
Among the indiscriminate throng was a group of the
apprentice boys, who, in consequence of the leading part they
had acted, thought themselves entitled to much privilege,
and therefore stood near to the aldermen. James Spike was
at their head, sadly altered from the look of boyish health
and waggery he had shown upon the day when, with his
compeers, he scampered down the steps of Ferry-quay gate,
to commence the Protestant war in Ireland against King
-James. His plump cheek had yielded to a hollow one; his
ruddy colour to a monotonous greenish hue; and his springing
beard stood forward from his chin and lip,
"Each particular hair on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine;"
or (to show our own independent skill in simile) somewhat
of the fashion in which a starved horse will indicate his bad
feeding by the roughness of his coat.
## p. 320 (#348) ############################################
320 THE BOYNE WATER.
But Jem's spirit was not gone. Or, like some great wits
who have miserably striven to die with a jest upon their lips,
he still remembered his reputation for humour; and now there
arose opportunity for still supporting it. He had observed
Paul's alarm during the proceedings ; he saw that his horny
lips were white with fear. Pallid, he did not, indeed, grow:
his was one of those faces, of which, from a constant habit of
purplish ruddiness, the skin at last becomes stained into
colour, and ever after remains little influenced by the rushing
of blood to the heart. But James Spike observed enough to
cause him to address his companions aloud.
"Well, lads, what say you to this matter V
"I don't know, I'm sure," croaked Will Crookshanks.
"To my thought, there may be something to find out in it,
yet," said Harry Campsie, in a squall; the character of each
young man's voice being changed to its extreme.
"We hoped not a knowledge of it from you, poor Will,"
resumed Jem; "but, as Harry says, there may be something
to find out yet. Look along this bench. Think you there
sits on it none who eat more than a sparrow's mess for a
meal?"
"By the goose," answered Harry Campsie, "I see some
who have not been looking at empty trenchers of late. That's
still my cry."
"And mine too," growled Crookshanks. "And mine, and
mine," echoed others.
"Note you the little Alderman at our elbow?" questioned
Spike, and the glaring eyes of all were fixed on Paul. "There,
at the least, be a sample of your great folk, nothing the worse
for the standing order. 'Tis plain as the nose on one; and
never were noses plainer than at present, being the better
part of our faces. Will Crookshanks himself says so."
"I do," said Will; "'tis a matter to be noted."
"A good may come of it, however," continued Jem. "In
a day or two, horses, cats, and rats will be eaten up; a cap
of broad pieces will scarce buy a lean mouse. Then must we
needs fall foul of each other; and your goodmen fat fellows
especially your aldermenshall first draw lot, by the rood!
Skin and bone would be but niggard diet: we, fighting men,
must be kept on our limbs. So, harkye"
He whispered his companions, keeping a glance fixed on
Paul. The eyes of his fellow-apprentices, and now almost of
## p. 321 (#349) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 321
the whole throng, more seriously imitated the kind of look
Jem but assumed; something between a bitter grin and a
natural creeping of disgust marking their features. Paul,
ready to faint with terror, thought that the leathern lips of
Crookshanks quivered in greedy anticipation.
"Aye," added Jem, "your aldermen be no every-day folk.
It's an honour they merit to fall to the share of fellow-
creatures, while the feasters of yon churchyard can have your
leaner and commoner sort to revel on."
Paul did not hear the conclusion of this reasoning. He
continued, since about the middle of the dialogue, gradually
to slip down from his high seat, and at last made his exit by
a door that led into the boardroom, followed by a gurgling
growl from Jem and his companions, such as the nursery
"buggaboo" sends after a frightened child.
He tottered home. After a prudent peep to see who
tapped, Mrs. Evelyn admitted him. He sank into a low
chair, especially constructed for his comfort. "Woe's me,
Janet! woe's me !" he cried.
Mrs. Evelyn asked many questions before he could bring
himself to begin an explanation.
"Oh, Janet, Janet, they talked" his teeth chattered, and
he stopped.
"Courage, and speak it boldly, man," herself terrified a
little, though she knew not exactly why"they talked of
what 1 Of coming again to devour our household stock V
"Of coming to devour me, Janet, love!Janet, coney!"
She stepped back, repeating his words, in consternation.
"Forsooth, yes; they said I should be good diet! Oh,
they are main hungry, Janet; and I saw them look as though"
his flesh crept"oh, Janet, as though their stomachs
yearned to me!"
Mrs. Evelyn reflected for a moment. Her thoughts seemed
to give her a sudden relief.
"I have heard of such doings, Paul. Hungry folk have,
ere now, truly eaten one another. You must bide in the
secret vault till Christian food comes among them."
"Oh, woe's me! woe's me!"
After another pause, during which she contemplated her
husband" Truth to say, Paul, you do look unseemly plump,"
Mrs. Evelyn added.
"Do I, Janet, chuck, do I? Woe's me! woe's me 1"
Y
## p. 322 (#350) ############################################
322 THE BOYNK WATER
"And it were well," she continued, her countenance again
brightening up, whether from pure pleasure at the hope of
preserving her lord, or, in a degree, at a recollection how much
better her gradually decreasing stock would comfort a single
regular claimant, we cannot readily determine" it were well
that you stinted your own stomach,.coney, when you are safe
hidden, and, day by day, eat a little less and less. Until, in
the end, you may safely walk into the streets again, as proper
a man as any amongst 'em."
A knocking was heard at the door.
"Oh, Janet, they come!haste, haste!"
She caught him up in her arms; conveyed him to his
hiding-place; returned to open the street-door, and admitted
Evelyn. He wished to speak with his uncle on business. She
had not seen him; and she rapidly questioned Evelyn as to
what could have happened to her Paul. He set out in quest
of the lost alderman; and, as evening closed, returned really
distressed at his uncle's absence. It is said, by those who
give themselves a very undue license of slandering the fair
sex, that, on fit occasion, ladies can assume a character with
much greater success than the less gifted members of the
other part of the creation. We reject the invidious praise;
although we are, at the same time, obliged to admit, that
Evelyn and his sister, while sitting, this night, by Mrs.
Evelyn's side, were struck, in their hearts, at the sincerity of
the grief with which she bewailed her husband He must
have grown over-valiant, she said, and joining in a sally made
that day, was doubtless cut off, nay, cut up, by the Papists.
The nephew, though he did not think with her, yet knew not
what to think. The night was wearing away, when the
lady's mock grief became changed into real terror, and some
real suffering.
A tremendous cannonading was heard from the besiegers.
Mrs. Evelyn listened in profound silence to the bellowing of
the guns at a distance, and to the nearer din of crashing houses,
and the screams of their inmates, as the balls and shells thrown
into the city spread unusual devastation around. She did
not hope that her own house or herself could escape; and she
was correct in her foreboding. A large shell, falling on the
tiled roof over her, broke through it, and lay on the attic
floor till it burst. Mrs. Evelyn, her nephew and niece, just
had time to start up, at the noise, when it did bursttearing
## p. 323 (#351) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEK. 323
piecemeal an old. woman, who slept by its side; shatter-
ing its way into the chamber underneath; splitting the gable
of the house; and, as if the enemy had a particular eye to
one point, another descended, almost in the same direction,
till, by the repeated explosion, the wall was rent from the top
to the foundation, and the mistress of the mansion received,
from a displaced stone, such a contusion in the temple, as, for
some time, deprived her of all sense, and, afterwards, of all
her senses. ,
For three days Mrs. Evelyn did not sufficiently recover to
understand what had happened, where she was, or who were
about her. But at length she found herself in a strange house,
whither, with his sister, Evelyn had caused the lady to be
conveyed. Very soon after her restoration to reason, she
arose from her bed, much to the surprise of all; watched,
silently and earnestly, till the night fell; then quitted her
friends; procured a dark lantern; issued forth; entered her
own ruined dwelling; locked the street-door after her; de-
scended to the kitchen; locked the communicating door, also;
traversed the range of cellarage; through a well-concealed
door, gained the vault in which she had left her husband; held
up her lamp, and not seeing him, cried out, "Paul! why,
Paul!"
A strangely cadenced laugh was the only answer she re-
ceived. Advancing to a recess, she found him seated on the
ground, his knees crippled up; and, as he continued his chat-
tering laugh, an expression of childish fatuity stamped on his
relaxed and wasted features.
"Paul! Paul!" she repeated, keeping at some distance, and
looking much terrified. "What's to do here, man 1 Want of
meat itcannot be; Heft enough for two orthree days, did I not?'
"Enough, enough!" he echoed, still jabbering at her, and
gazing vacantly.
"Oh, Paul!" cried Mrs. Evelyn, overcome by conjugal
affection, "know you not Janet, your own wife 1 Bless us,
how wild he looks! Your handquietly, Paul"in some
misgiving of him" and come, now, and rest you in Janet's
arms;" sitting down by him, when she thought he was
not mischievous. "There, lay your head, so. Woe's me ! what
has come over him V and the woman's tear, which, be their
cast of character what it may, women only can shed, be-
dewed the poor little man's forehead.
## p. 324 (#352) ############################################
324 THE BOYNE WATER.
The voice to which he had often been too well accustomed,
but which now sounded like sweetest music on his ear, gra-
dually restored him. He grew conscious of his wife's identity;
and bursting into tears, hid his face on her shoulder, while
he pointed to the far wall of the dungeon. Mrs. Evelyn
saw a breach large enough to admit one person. The floor
of the vault, near it, was strewed with stones. She repeated
her questions for a full explanation, and, sentence by sen-
tence, Paul strove to satisfy her; but as his method was bad
and disjointed, we hope to translate it into more intelligible
order.
Upon the evening of his concealment, Mrs. Evelyn, con-
trary to the assertion she has just made, had left Paul but
a scanty meal. She promised, however, to visit him at
night. In many fears and horrors, which his temporary
abode was well calculated to increase, the marked victim
crept into a corner, where his little easy chair had been
fixed for him, and strove patiently to await the return of
his kind keeper. About the hour she might have been
expected, he had just fallen into a slumber, the irresistible
result of more fatigue of spirit than his nature was capable
of supporting, when a tremendous noise called back his
fleeting senses, and crash, crash went the wall of his dun-
geon, and clatter, clatter, came the tumbling stones. Con-
sternation, and the terrors of an instant death, seized upon
his heart, and, as was his wont on all occasions of peril,
he cried aloud, "Janet! Janet!"
"Whisht!" answered a female voice, but not that of Mrs.
Evelyn. He stared towards the far wall, and by the dim
light of a lamp his lady had left burning, saw, standing in
the breach just made, a woman, of whose face and figure he
retained a confused, but most disagreeable recollection. This
sight did not serve to quiet his fears, and he cried out louder
and louder.
"Whisht, whisht, I bid you!" repeated Onagh, darting
through the aperture, from the vault in Edmund's house.
-' Be silent, and listen. Do you remember who I am?"
Paul redoubled his cries for " Janet, Janet V
"Answer." resumed Onagh, " or, at your next word, every
wall around you shall tumble, and here will you find your
grave. Answer, have we not met before V
"No! ves! ves, mistress!no !Janet!"
## p. 325 (#353) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 325
"Omadhaun !* you forget: let me be sure of you." She
took the lamp and held it to his face. "Aye, you are the
man. I come far to see you, and to speak these wordsyou
heed me V
"Janet! help, Janet!"
"Do you heed me, I say ?" shaking him.
"No, no! Janet!"
"No 1 " another shake, and an angry grin, close to his face.
"Yeshold! Truly do I, mistress;" his features relaxing
into a silly smile, as terror at length quite bewildered him.
"Hearken, then. You have a brother's daughter in the
house; and it is your part before man, and it is your part
before God, to save her from a near danger, from
Omadhaun!" fiercely interrupting herself, "as well may I
speak my words to the walls. You do not heed me."
"I doof a truth I do," said Paul, giggling; "and I give
thanks for your visit; am glad of the heart to see you, for-
sooth Sit, mistress; rest you."
"Courp-on-duoul! I am no mistress; I am Onagh, that lives
in the black house by the roaring sea; Onagh, that the world
first trampled down, and now is afraid of; Onagh, the friend-
less," she continued, in a changed tone, "left without kith or
kin by them that were her own kith and kinby themand
by him who was more to her than them; Onagh, the unknown;
Onagh, the broken-hearted! Faugh! there is no use in talking
to this nothing of a creature. But give me to eat!" she
continued, again turning on him. "They have left me without
a mouthful. Your meatyour meat!" She snatched it up
from a stool, and retreating through the aperture, added,
"Starve! That was my first curse upon you bothyou and
your baushuck ;t and now let it stick to you."
She disappeared into her own cellar; but of this poor Paul
remained unconscious. His senses had quite failed him; he
neither stretched out his hand in search of food, nor wondered
at the absence of Mrs. Evelyn, although, as we have before
seen, her own personal sufferings kept that lady from visiting
him at the appointed hour. And thus, in hunger, imbecility,
and soon in darkness, passed the following three days and
nights, during which he was still left alone, without a second
interview even with his near neighbour, Onagh. At all
events, without his being conscious of it.
* A silly fellow.  A brawling woman.
## p. 326 (#354) ############################################
326 THE BOYNE WATER.
When Mrs. Evelyn had, by repeated questions, gathered this
story from Paul, her indignation against Onagh was loudly
expressed. "The gipsy vagabond! the Papist witch!" she
cried. "0, had I been here! had I met her! had I but
ah !" a scream of interruption, as her eye, glancing towards the
aperture, fixed on the pale face of the person she rated so
roundly, and on her dim black eyes, dully glaring in the red
beam of the lamp.
"You are here, nowand you are with her here," said
Onagh, striding into the vault; "what is your will of mef
A rusty skein was in her hand.
"Mercy, good mistress Onagh!" cried the lady, dropping
on her knees; "only mercy."
"Give me food, then!" continued Onagh, grasping her
shoulder. "I laugh at your wordsbut give me food! They
have left me to starve like a wild cat, in that black den, till
I am made as wild and as wicked. Somethinga morsel they
flung me every day, but the rats tore it from me. Food, wo-
man, food I Get up, and bring me to your cupboard; or, look
at this !" raising the skein.
Mrs. Evelyn quickly obeyed. Without, indeed, leaving the
vault, she handed to Onagh a supply out of her pockets. The
woman devoured it like a wolf.
"And now let me out!" she resumed, after her speedy meal;
"let me out through your own door into the street. I came
here to speak to your husband of what concerns him, but ano-
ther ear shall listen to it allanother man, more like a man,
and better able to right me. Let me out."
The lady willingly conducted her to the street-door.
"Starve! still starve!" cried Onagh, by way of thanks, at
parting.
Securing the hall-door, Mrs. Evelyn hastened to replace,
from her private store, the pockets full of good things of which
she had just been plundered, benevolently intending to hasten
to Paul with her new supply. Arriving at the secret cupboard,
she knelt down to unlock it, and, in the same position, to
swallow a few mouthfuls of cold meat, and a few glasses of
home-made cordial, ere she attended her husband.
"Halves," said Jerry, at her back, whilst she was thus em-
ployed. He had entered the house from his own, through the
breach, which, in this part of the wall, was considerable.
Mrs. Evelyn at first screamed; but, ascertaining who it was
## p. 327 (#355) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 327
that watched her, quickly sprang up, and laying hands on
Jerry, as quickly brought him to the ground, crippled and en-
feebled as he was with hunger and his bad wound. Holding
him down, she snatched a knife.
"Plundering old pirate!" she cried. "Tory, Rapparee,
Papist! come you- on my back, too? Oh, ill-omened cast-
away! I'll teach you!"
"Tilly-vally, sister Janet," answered Jerry; "you must not
hurt me, or up you go, you know, over the yardarm. Better
for you let me rise, and give me some prog, or I'll report to
the governor, and have you sent to the hulks. Let me up; I
strike. For, shiver my timbers, you're too heavy a decker for
me."
These words brought Mrs. Evelyn to reason. After a bitter
internal struggle, and a long pause
"Here, then," she cried, giving him some eatables, "take
that, blotch of your family, and let me never see your face
again, nor hear the wag of your tongue. Remember, on no
other condition do I give it."
"Agreed, Janet. But I will have halves of every thing.
Half of that pasty, that ham, that flitch, that hung beef.
Three of those loaves, those tongues. Six of those little black
bottles. I will, as I'm a Christian, or all shall go among the
crew, and yourself into the bottom of the hold, Janet.
After much indignant remonstrance, Mrs. Evelyn was, in
prudence and policy, obliged to submit. Jerry retired through
the breach, well laden; singing a verse of one of his Rapparee
songs
"Thady Murphy lost his cow,
And didn't know where to find her;
And 'twas all the token he could give,
She carried her tail behind her.
Mrs. Evelyn, in diminished spirits and circumstances,
returned with a scanty supply to Paul's cell. As she entered,
the lady wondered he did not speak nor move. She called
him; no answer came. She advanced to his corner; he lay
on the floor, in a heap. She stooped and raised him; poor
Paul's sufferings were over. The last shock of Onagh's ap-
pearance had been too much for him.
## p. 328 (#356) ############################################
328 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTER XXV.
"Starve!" cried Jerry, entering the room in which Edmund
and Evelyn, all their arrangements made, awaited the hour of
midnight to join, along with Esther, Eva, and her reverend
companion, at Columbkill's well. "Starve, quoth-a! tilly-
vally! Good men never fare ill! That's my word, in any
storm. Serious men have I seen go down, in scores, but
merrily swam the merry. Come, goodmen lads, he hearty."
He laid down his freight of good cheer, his friends staring
at him.
"Where, and how came you by this, uncle V asked Evelyn.
"It came to my hand," answered Jerry; "it ever does so;
it ever did As hoy, man, and lad, in every quarter of the
globe, sea and land, have ever cried to meeat and drink,
Jerry, and keep a heart,' still. 'Tis an excellent world."
His companions did not refuse to partake of his supply,
without asking any more questions. When Jerry had pretty
well satisfied himself, he thought of imparting some of his good
luck to their prisoner, Onagh, and for this purpose left the
room. In a few moments he returned, informing them that
she had hoisted all her sail, and sheered off.
"Gone!" exclaimed Edmund; "we have no time to stay
here then, Evelyn; not even to inquire into her means of
escape. Come, the hour has struck."
"It has," said Evelyn. "But why should you seem affected
by the movements of that poor woman, M'Donnell? Indeed,
why should you have held her in any restraint? But that I
did not think it important, I could have informed you of her
being at large, an hour ago; for, on my way hither, I saw her
standing at the door of the governor."
"Aye? " said Edmund, changing colour; "then must we
not stay here, indeed."
They hurried out of the house, and met Esther, disguised in
male attire, awaiting them, at an appointed place. Edmund
was also disguised as a soldier of the garrison. They all
joined a body of men who were about to issue, on a foraging
## p. 329 (#357) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 329
sally, through Butcher's gate; got out with them, and
contrived to let them pass on. In a few seconds the young
party stood by Columbkill's well.
Over a bubbling spring was raised a little arched building,
open at one end, and surmounted by a shattered cross. Here,
if local history errs not, the patron saint of the north, and
particularly of Derry, the famous Columbkill, used to seek
water for his cell in the adjacent monastery, and spend many
hours of meditation and prayer. On his departure for Scot-
land, he made his adieus to the spot, along with others to
which he was attached, in four lines, which are thus trans-
lated:
"My fragrant banks and fruitful trees, farewell;
Where holy mortals, mixed with angels, dwell.
Here angels shall enjoy my little cell,
My sloe, my nut, my apple, and my well."
By the side of this consecrated little pile stood Edmund,
Esther, and Evelyn, shrinking at the voices around them, and
looking wistfully at every side for the friends they came to
meet. None met them. Edmund supposed they might have
hidden themselves under the arched roof of the well, and was
approaching its black mouth, when, from the other side, two
figures appeared. Both seemed of the male sex; but, coming
nearer, Eva was recognised, clad, like Esther, in man's attire,
but that the costume seemed foreign, and of a more martial
cast, and supporting on her arm the bent and palsied old
priest. In silence were mutual embraces exchanged, and in
whispers were conveyed their mutual greetings and tidings.
Sheltered from observation, at the remote side of the well-
house, stood two horses, upon which Eva and her guardian
had, after many previous precautions to ascertain the means
of possible approach, stealthily gained the point of rendezvous.
She told them that in Hamilton's camp they also would find
horses.
Weeping and trembling, Esther clung to Eva's breast. In
silent wonder and love did Evelyn gaze on the metamorphosis
of his adored lady, who, in her present attire, looked the very
personification of a boy-hero, completely baffling his recollec-
tions of her former air, figureself, in fact; every motion,
even her features, seemed different. But this was not the
hour nor place for much indulgence of emotions, such as all
## p. 330 (#358) ############################################
330 THE BOYNE WATER.
experienced; time lapsed; opportunity, perhaps, with it;
hither they came for one certain purpose, which was to be at
once engaged in ; and, at the earnest urging of Edmund,
Esther gave him her hand.
Without book, the old priest began his ceremony,
when
"Hush !" interrupted Evelyn; "let us step back a little.
The gate opens."
Before they could gain the shelter of the well-house, a body
of horse, galloping straight across the open ground, at their
faces, came suddenly upon them. At the same time, a single
man walked from the open gate, and, when he drew near,
they knew Governor Walker.
"Stand, all!" he said, as he joined them. None moved;
in fact, the horsemen had surrounded them.
"You, Captain Evelyn, I arrest in the name of King Wil-
liam," he continued, gravely, "for remissness of duty, in
abandoning your detachment that has just sallied out. You,
Edmund M'Donnell, as our former prisoner, now found
outside the city, in breach of your parol. Miss Evelyn
returns with her brother. The strangersthe old priest and
the masquerading girlare free."
"Sir," said Evelyn, "I am astonished at this interference."
"Doubtless; but you need not be," answered Mr. Walker,
drily. "I was fully advised of your rash and unseemly
adventure, and had taken measures to counteract it."
"Seize her !" here screamed Esther, whose eyes, since the
appearance of Mr. Walker, had been fixed on the dark mouth
of the well . "I knew it. She is there. She stirs in the
dark."
"Who 1 " demanded her brother.
"Come," resumed the governor; "time is not to be spent
here. Soldiers, follow me with the prisoners and Miss
Evelyn; let the others go."
He walked slowly towards the gate.
"Farewell, friends," said Eva, embracing them separately;
"still shall we meet again."
"Never," said Esther, as she sank, weak and weeping, on
the arm of her brother; "andhear that! she has echoed
me."
"What mean you, dear Esther? " asked Evelyn; "there
was no voice but yours. Nor is there any one where you
## p. 331 (#359) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 331
point, and fix your eyes so wildly. Up, Eva, and away! these
men will, at least, let us stand here till you and the clergy-
man are beyond our linesfarewell!"
"Farewell," replied Eva, as she and her grey-headed
companion spurred onward. At this moment Esther's hints
received a confirmation. Onagh ran out of the shadow of the
well-house, following the track of the departing friends; and,
as was always her habit, when much agitated, clapping her
hands, as she exclaimed bitterly:
"Speed you! speed you! luck and leisure over the road
ye came so fast. This night we are travellers together."
As Edmund, who had not opened his lips during the
whole of this scene, watched his sister and the old priest
pass safely through the, hostile lines, Onagh also ran on in
the same direction. The two friends, supporting between
them the fainting Esther, then turned their faces towards
the gate, and, guarded by the horsemen, re-entered the
town.
Mr. Walker, with the lady from whose house Esther had
just escaped, met them in the street. Esther was committed
to her charge, parting almost in an insensible state from
Edmund and Evelyn. They were marched to the guard-
house, and, at express orders from Walker, confined in dif-
ferent rooms. As they separated, they sadly exchanged an
embrace, but spoke no word.
Esther's fate, in the increasing distress, occupied the
friends more than their own. A few days after their con-
finement a ray of hope and relief reached their minds, in
consequence of intelligence, communicated by those about
them, that ships had appeared in the Lough, and, firing
at the Castle of Culmore, endeavoured to pass it, and reach
the city. No doubt was entertained of these vessels being
sent from England with the long-promised supplies and
assistance, and great joy reigned through the town. But
it was of short continuance.
The friends soon after heard that, galled by a heavy fire
from the fort, as one of them ran, and for some time lay
aground, the ships were obliged to drop down the river,
and now remained inactive. While the besiegers, taking
advantage of their inactivity, increased their forces, at each
sides of the Foyle, within a mile of Deny; raised heavy bat-
teries; brought thither many guns; andall these movements
## p. 332 (#360) ############################################
332 THE BOYNE WATER.
fully visible to the soldiers and people from the north-east
range of their wallsconstructed across the river a ponder-
ous wooden boom, well secured at either bank, and regarded,
by the despairing garrison and citizens, as impassable.
Thus, then, from the only quarter to which hope might
look for relief, none could now be expected. Day by day,
the little stock of provisions still decreased, while fever,
dysentery, and other hideous diseases, began to accompany
the nearer approaches of utter famine. In their separate
prison-rooms, the friends found their coarse meal, before scanty
enough, still abridged; in the pallid faces and meagre forms
of their guards and attendants, they read the general suffer-
ings; and the situation of Esther came, in increasing horror,
upon their hearts. Shrieks of famishing women arose in
the streets, and they fancied they heard her voice calling
for food.
In about a fortnight after their imprisonment, word was
brought them of the return of the French general, De Rosen,
to the Irish camp, principally with instructions to oppose the
English, but also to assist Hamilton in pressing the siege.
From Rosen's character everything vigorous, persevering, and
cruel, was reckoned on, and in a short time he realized the
expectation. Many threatening changes were made in the
positions of the besieging army; their works were pushed
closer towards the town; several strong batteries were raised
on heights to the west and south-east of it, one within ten
perches of Butcher's gate. Lines were drawn round all the
land sides of the walls; the trenches well manned. Supplies
of waterthe last supplies open to the besieged, outside their
gates were thus cut off; and at length it seemed that Derry
was in reality a besieged city.
The cannon now roared louder and more frequently than
ever, and shells of great weight fell in the streets. Numbers
of the garrison and citizens were killed on the walls, or in the
houses, or crowding to sleep under the walls, as their safest
screen. Thus spending the nights in the open air, the effects
of their unwholesome place of repose added to the ravages
of their previous distempers, until mortality, in every frightful
shape, abounded.
Consternation and despair began at last to contemplate a
surrender; and the friends remained in momentary dread of
the entrance of an enraged enemy, when a second glimpse of
## p. 333 (#361) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 333
relief was opened to the besieged, and, once more, obstinate
resistance became the fixed resolve of the governor. A
person, escaping from the ships, arrived at the water-side,
where Lord Antrim's Redshanks had first made their appear-
ance, and boldly swimming across a stretch of water of more
than one thousand feet, informed the city that the vessels,
still faintly seen in the Lough, contained provisions, and a
disciplined force, under the command of General Kirke, ex-
pressly sent for the relief of Deny; that the general was
most anxious to reach the town; that he would try every
means of doing so; and that he earnestly recommended the
holding out of the garrison.
Mr. Walker instantly prepared a message to Kirke, con-
veying the best hints that, under the circumstances, could be
given, and the adventurous courier proceeded some distance
back with it. But, being watched, fired at, and wounded, he
was obliged to return to the city. Another person attempted
the service, and he was taken prisoner.
Still Rosen continued his violent cannonading. He had
arrived about the 20th of June; by the 27th, General Hamil-
ton desired a conference with the garrison, and once more
proposed terms of capitulation in the name of James, that
still proffered forgiveness and safety; and, by the way, that
showed a jealousy of his French colleague, and seemed to
speak of some previous quarrelling between them. But the
governor and his garrison, buoyed up by the message from
Kirke, totally rejected those terms. The negotiation at once
ended, and besiegers and besieged again flew to their guns,
both more enraged than ever.
De Rosen's rigorous measures have been glanced at; other
measures of his, alluded to as cruel, remain to be noticed.
Upon, the first or second day of July, as Edmund, after a
sleepless and feverish night, sat, almost distracted, thinking
of the probable fate of Esther, he was surprised with a visit
from Evelyn. They started at the first sight of each other;
want of food, watching, and sorrowing had, during a separa-
tion of three weeks, prepared a shocking change for the eyes
of both. Their greeting, too, was strange and solemn, almost
as if they had not been the affectionate friends they indeed
were. For some time, no words were spoken between them.
Edmund first broke silence.
"The governor has set you free V he asked.
## p. 334 (#362) ############################################
334 THE BOYNE WATER.
"But now," answered Evelyn, "he visited me; and, in
consequence of something that has recently occurred, gave me
my freedom, and sent me to you to release you also. But, I
must deal very plainly, M'Donnell, to lead you, as my private
prisoner, to a court-martial, where you, along with the other
Irish prisoners in the garrison, are to be tried for your life."
"And all this in consequence of some recent matter, you
say. What is it?
"
"Have you heard no news within these few days V
"Not a word; my guard seemed unusually disinclined to
speak with me."
"Listen, then. A few days ago, De Rosen sent into the
city a declaration, threatening, in case of continued resistance,
to demolish it to its foundations; to put all to the sword,
sparing neither sex nor age; to burn up the whole adjacent
country, that so any reinforcement from England may he
left destitute; and to collect, from the barony of Inishowen,
round the coast as far as Charlemont, all those of the Protes-
tant party, whether protected or not, of every rank and sex,
who can be found, and drive them, in a body, to starve
under our walls."
"Impossible," said Edmund, warmly; "this must be a false
rumour. No man of human feelings could even threaten
such a barbarity."
"I agree," resumed Evelyn; "but what will you say ifa
specified time having elapsed since the threat was madepart,
and the worse part of it, is already put into force V.
"What part? what do you mean V
"Come with me." He took Edmund's arm, led him to the
walls, and showed him thousands of men, women, and
children, of all conditions, crowded under them, and crying
to their brethren within for the shelter and "food it was im-
possible to afford.
"These," added Evelyn, "are all the Protestants of the
north, found out of Deny and Enniskillen, and driven
hither, according to Rosen's promise, at the point of the
sword."
"Blessed God!" exclaimed Edmund, as, in the utmost
consternation, he surveyed the unhappy crowd; "do I wit-
ness it? Is this done by my friends, and those who call
themselves the friends of my country? By the honest man's
hope of Heaven, it is enough to bring down a curse on our
## p. 335 (#363) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 335
cause, and to turn from it, in anger and disgust, the eyes of
its best well-wishers!"
"I can give you one relieving thought, foe as I am," said
Evelyn; "it is not the work of Hamilton or his soldiers; it
has not been conceived nor perpetrated by your countrymen.
Of late, the Irish and French generals have had some bicker-
ing between them, both striving to show an authority inde-
pendent of the other. And this deed has been planned and
carried into effect by foreigners only, unconnected in country
or fellow-feeling with the victims of their cruel impatience."
"Hamilton must be applied to  that is my proposal,"
resumed Edmund, eagerly.
"Then you will soon have opportunity, and need, too, to
follow it up, Edmund. These are hideous times; let us walk
to the market-house."
They did so. Edmund found a court-martial sitting upon
the Irish prisoners, some of whose names have before been
mentioned. He was ordered to join them, and abide his
trial by their side. In a few moments, the court pronounced
a sentence of death on the gallows, which the governor
declared should be carried into effect upon all, by ten o'clock
next morning, provided the miserable crowd were not allowed
to depart from the walls.
Edmund demanded permission to write to Hamilton, with
a pledge of conveyance for the letter. His fellow-prisoners
earnestly seconded him. Their united prayer was granted;
and they immediately prepared and despatched a statement
of the sentence, requesting their general, "as one who did
not delight in shedding innocent blood," to represent their
condition to the marshal-general; and adding that, in consi-
deration of the inhuman proceeding which caused their
danger, they could not lay their blood to the garrison of
Deny, from whom they had hitherto experienced "all civility
imaginable."
The prisoners were then strongly guarded to the gaol,
instead of the lodgings they had before occupied. Evelyn
accompanied his friend. On their way they passed a gallows,
already constructed on the walls, in sight of the enemy, for
their execution the ensuing morning. At the gaol door,
Evelyn was refused admission with M'Donnell.
"We part here, then," said Edmund, taking his hand for
the first time since they had met. "I have not yet asked
## p. 336 (#364) ############################################
336 THE BOYNE WATER.
you a word about your sister, Evelyn; I feared the question.
But how is she V
"I found her very ill, and very wretched," answered
Evelyn; "but principally afflicted on your account."
"Well, I expected it, if not worse. Farewell! Should
this letter fail, and the rest follow, do not mention it to her
till she is better. But should Esther ever be well enough to
hear about it, tell her"his voice failed him,, and, wringing
Evelyn's hand, he was only able to add" farewell!"when,
with his sad companions, he retired into the gaol.
Evelyn turned, through the streets, to the walls, afraid of
meeting Esther till an answer should arrive from Hamilton.
Houses had been battered down, at every step, as he walked
along, and the pavement torn up with shells. Faint and
sick people crawled out of their homes, for safety, or lay
powerless on their own thresholds. Still roared the insatiable
cannon, within and without the city.
Alone he stood for hours on the walls, careless of being
exposed to the enemy's shot, with his face turned in the
direction from which an answer might be expected. At last
came the messenger, with his flag and escort. Evelyn ran
down to the gate to ask for tidings; it was asserted that
Hamilton returned an answer confirming the fate of the
sufferers without the wallsand of the prisoners within.
He bent his steps to his drooping and half-famished sister,
and strove to impart to her the hope, a spark of which he did
not feel, and, did she know all, the hope which was not for
her. That night he enjoyed no sleep, and the early morning
found him at the prison-door of his friend. As he prepared
to go in for a last farewell, an unusual stir was heard on the
walls; he ascended them, and beheld the crowd below,
preparing, under escort of the Irish army, to depart home-
ward. Weak though he was, Evelyn flew back to the gaol,
and brought to the prisoners the first announcement of their
safety.
"Edmund, dear Edmund," he said, as M'Donnell looked
vaguely at him, " I am sure Hamilton wrote that note only
in hopes of terrifying us-the cruelty having once been
committedinto submission to his master. I doubt even
that he ever wrote it. At all events, the wretches have been
allowed to retire from our walls, and you are at liberty." In
fact, James had sent a peremptory countermand to De Rosen.
## p. 337 (#365) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 337
He took Edmund's arm; and, after the necessary forms had
been gone through, they gained the street together.
"Bring me to see Esther," said M'Donnell, "I am in
agony till I see her."
They turned towards the house in which she lived,
Edmund walking, faster than his strength and a newly
come agitation warranted. About half way, his limbs sank
under him; his eyes closed; his cheeks grew fiery red; his
lips dry and ashy; and Evelyn perceived that his friend was
struck down with fever. He called some people to his
assistance, and had him conveyed to his old quarters, where
M'Donnell immediately sank on a bed of sickness, that
Evelyn feared would be his last.
Evelyn was his nurse; dividing his days and nights between
his bedside and that of Esther, when garrison duty did not
command his absence. Then, poor Jerry filled his post,
faithfully and kindly attending the sick man, and still
exhorting himthough some tears at last stole down his now
meagre cheekto keep a heart, and be merry.
About ten days after Edmund became ill, Evelyn received
a summons to attend the governor. It was evening. He
found Mr. "Walker pacing up and down a large apartment, his
step still firm, his eye still powerful, though, in common
with all around him, want and anxiety had much reduced his
face and person.
CHAPTER XXVI.
"Sit down, Captain Evelyn," said Mr. Walker, taking a
chair himself, resting his forehead on his hand, and casting
his eyes on the floor.
"I require counsel; at the least, a calm and friendly hear-
ing, from some one, as to what I shall say. Mr. Baker, my
colleague, is, along with the thousands we have lost, dead.
Capt. Murray is honest, but perhaps too warm, and too
devoted to one view of the present subject, shift as it may.
Though you are but a youth, nay, though we have some-
times differed, I know no third man in Deny to whom I
would so soon speak freely. Therefore attend.
z
## p. 338 (#366) ############################################
THE BOTME WATER.
* You have heard that, notwithstanding our reliance on
Kirke's messagein consequence of which we flatly refused
the other day to treat with Hamiltonall the ships yester-
day disappeared from the river."
"Yes, sir; I am aware of that distressing fact."
"Gone they are. And so ends Kirke's promise, upon
which we staked alldared all. "lis like the conduct of
the heartless bravo, first boasting and engaging, and then
deterred, by the appearance of a little difficulty and danger,
from attempting what a man of any bowels, or a truly brave
soldier, would almost have dared a sea of flame to do. "lis
like him who has learned humanity from the Turkwhose
school of war was on the ground of the turbaned infidel.
Aye, and 'tis like the accomplice assassin of Jefferies, who
helped to depopulate a fair district of England, and whose
name is, by other particular acts of abomination, accursed
unto posterity. Better success could not have been per-
mitted by Heaven to the cause which brooked alliance with
him. With him, too, who was James's hangman, and now is
William's."
After thus giving vent to his embittered feelings, Mr.
Walker paused, but soon continued:
"All hope thus shut out; death and famine still increasing
their demands upon us; nearly our last wretched meal
served: I cannot blame the city for at last inclining to the
terms of honorable capitulation again proposed by Hamilton.
You know, that even since the ships disappeared, he once
more speaks us fair?"
Evelyn assented.
"If he be sincere, it is considerately done. No longer
opposing the city, I have myself drawn up articles which
have been presented to the enemy's council, debated upon,
and, with some exceptions, allowed. To-morrow morning we
are to send a final answer; and, doubtless, it will meet
Hamilton's wishes."
"In other words, the city of Derry will surrender to-
morrow morning to King James," observed Evelyn, as Mr.
Walker again paused.
"Thou hast said it," answered Mr. Walker, groaning
deeply. Just then a pallid and meagre soldier entered, leading
a sturdy, 'fresh-faced lad of sixteen years, in whose bold and
mischievous eye Evelyn recognised, now ripened to a more
## p. 339 (#367) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 339
active maturity, the glances of his old guide over the Point
of Garron, upon the first memorable day of his journey to
Cushindoll. At sight of the intruders, Mr. Walker rose, and,
with a self-command that to Evelyn was surprising, calmly
inquired their business.
"This boy," answered the soldier, "says he has come
through all the enemy's lines, with a letter to you, sir, from
General Kirke."
"From Kirke !" cried Mr. Walker, his eye flashing. "Im-
possible; the brat deceives us."
"Na, then," said the boy, stoutly and pertly, "he does na."
"Who are you V asked the governor.
"A ridin' Rapparee," he was answered.
"What! and you come here, young spawn of Satan, to tell
us as much."
"Troth jest," replied the lad, coolly; "and wi' a civil letter
til your honour."
-" Where is it, imp?"
The young thief drew his skein out of a broad belt of
undressed horse-skin, and with it cut off a large cloth button
from his jacket of purple velvet, which, united to its skirts,
now invisible, had once been worn by a different character.
"But," he continued, after having held out and drawn
back his hand, "bide a wee, and I'se tell your worship a'
about it. It's no lang since I joined wi' the southern Rap-
parees. And hearing them say ane til another, that your
worship would gi' a muckle penny for a bit writing frae
General Kirke, and some talking o' the venturefor your
honour kens the Rapparees are no at ony particular side, but
awheen poor bodies striving to live on their ain accounttroth
jest, why I thought I might e'en try it myself. So I e'en
went: and here I am, wi' the writing in this muckle button,
when your honour has the siller ready."
"Guard the door," said Mr. Walker to the soldier; "and
if this fry of wickedness deceives us, let him sorely rue it.
Here," he continued, handing a purse; "and now let me have
your button.
The young Rapparee deliberately emptied the purse on the
table, sounded and counted the pieces one by one, and at
last said:
"Your honour will just gi' me three jacobuses along wi' it,
and Ise gi' your honour the button."
## p. 340 (#368) ############################################
340 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Rascal!" cried "Walker, snatching it, "you are already
overpaid."
He cut round the button, and found it to contain a piece of
paper, folded small and hard, which he hastily opened, and
read with devouring eyes. Strong emotion shook him, as he
proceeded; and he had not yet ended, when, a moment for-
getful of the presence of the spectators, he broke into a shrill,
"Ah !" struck the paper triumphantly, and shouted "All's not
lost."
In an instant, however, he corrected himself, ordered the
boy out of the room, and desired him to be well looked after
till he should require his attendance. Then finishing the
reading of his despatch, he handed it exultingly to Evelyn.
It proved, indeed, to be a genuine letter from Kirke, in-
forming Mr. Walker that he had received his last letter; that
finding it impossible to approach the city, he had sent round
a party to Inch, a small island found in Lough Swilly, after
coasting round Inishowen Point, and was about to follow
them, in order, if possible, to divert the enemy from the
town. That he expected a large force from England; and,
along with less important things, that he had stores and pro-
visions for Deny, and was determined to relieve it.
"This, then," said Evelyn, when he had perused the letter,
"will put an end, I presume, to the treaty with Hamilton."
"As the Lord liveth, it shall!" answered Mr. Walker.
"Yet, like some others," continued Evelyn, "it is a treaty
concluded upon."
"Tush, let it be. But we should temporize somewhat.
This party to Inch sounds so triflingly that it will never in-
duce the city to reckon on speedy relief. Give me the pen."
Without ceremony, Mr. Walker substituted for the words,
"a party to Inch," "six thousand horse and nine thousand
foot to Inch;" and
"That," he added, "reads better, and will give them hopes
and spirit to quash this treaty."
"False hopes, sir," said Evelyn, rather warmly, as in this
well-known act he read a trait of the real character of the
govenor" false hopes, sir, to tempt to falsity a wretched
crowd, already distressed beyond another day's dependence
upon even certain relief."
"Boy!" cried Mr. Walker, trembling with impatience,
"how can you judge the policy of experienced men 1 I fear
## p. 341 (#369) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 341
though all along my heart yearned to your father's sonI
fear I have heen mistaken in your zeal and spirit, and most of
all, in your feeling for me. What! would you so meekly
prepare for degradation and ruin, and so readily abandon
me, your appointed teacher, to the mercy of the merciless?
Would youbut leave me !I am carried beyond Christian
temper; leave me to my reflections."
Evelyn, taking him at his word, departed to Edmund's quar-
ters. He found him safely past the crisis of his fever ; sensible,
but weak as an infant. This was about the middle of July. In
a few days, the patient proposed to visit Esther, concerning
whom his inquiries had, from the moment he regained his
senses, been continual, while Evelyn gave him only evasive an-
swers. Now he insisted on seeing her. His friend urgently op-
posed him, and, for the present, Edmund complied with his en-
treaties. During another week, Evelyn watched by his bedside,
now scarcely provided with a drop of water to cool his friend's
parched lips, and almost destitute of a scrap of food for his
own mouth; Jerry offered, indeed, some brandy, which
Evelyn had not recollection to wonder how he could have
obtained, and which he only declined. Still the governor's
hopes of relief from General Kirke seemed vain and ill-
founded. The last horse of the garrison had been slaughtered
and devoured; and a true, though perhaps not very agreeable
idea of the wants of the soldiers and people will be formed,
when it is known that considerable sums were offered for
cats, rats, mice, horse-blood, raw hides, greaves, and such
offal, while a dog, "fattened cm the dead bodies of the Papists"
was invaluable.
Before the 30th of July, Edmund's strength, notwithstand-
ing the foul and scanty food he received, was somewhat
recruited, and, on that day, he found, or fancied himself able
to resume, with more consistency, his determination of visit-
ing Esther. In Evelyn's absence he rose and dressed himself;
and was met by his friend, preparing to go out.
"You see," he said, "I am not to die without beholding
her; let us go together; if you refuse me I shall go alone."
Thus urged, Evelyn gave him his arm, himself scarce able
to walk. Upon this memorable morning, the garrison of
seven thousand five hundred men, regimented in Deny about
three months before, was reduced to four thousand. Even
of these, one thousand was disabled; and more than ten
## p. 342 (#370) ############################################
342 THE BOYNE WATER.
thousand of the population had died. As the friends slowly
walked along, the streets seemed deserted by the living.
Groups of dead bodies almost exclusively filled them; here
and there a famished wretch dropped down dead, or to die.
In one case, indeed, they saw a frightful instance of life and
death linked together, where a starving infant sprawled
upon the breast of its lifeless mother, tearing at it for the
milk that was dried up for ever. Further on, an affluent
gentleman, dying on the pavement, stretched out his hat,
half-filled with gold, to a beggar, for the bone he gnawed;
and the beggar spurned the gold. A very old man, respect-
able too, had crawled to a wall to devour a handful of some
carrion food, and a young lad, stronger than he, though like
him a skeleton, tore it from his clutch, and, when resistance
was offered, dealt him a stunning blow. Passing by the
churchyard, the bodies of those recently dead, and carelessly
buried, were exposed to view, rent from their grave by a
succession of the showers of shells, which had first sent many
of them thither, and now refused them its repose.
Buying and selling was at an end; greeting and saluting,
visiting and returning of visits. Money lost its artificial
value; there was no food that it could purchase, and stark
hunger required no other necessary. Shops were left open or
shut at random; houses had lost their tenants; the man
inclined to theft might rob and plunder; but when he was
laden with booty he found it of no use, and he cast it in the
mire of the streets. Distinctions of rank were almost lost;
in some cases, natural connexion was forgotten. There were
no mastersno servants; they had no reciprocal duties to
exercise; or else common suffering equalized them.
The friends gained Esther's house, and found their way,
unushered, unattended, into her presence. She was sitting
in an arm-chair, dressed in white, wasted to a shadow; her
blue eyes enlarged, and glittering; a touch of fiery red on
her cheeks; her flattened chest labouring with respiration;
and incapable of moving a joint of her body. It was evident
that her former tendency to consumption had been renewed
and precipitated by the shocking distress she recently expe-
rienced.
As Esther recognised her brother and lover, and beheld
the horror of their looks, she strove to smile; Edmund
staggered against the wall. She could not even speak to
## p. 343 (#371) ############################################
THE B6YNE. WATEK. 343
him, but silent tears ran down her burning and emaciated
cheeks.
"Ask her to eat," whispered the mistress of the house;
"she so loathes the only things we can offer her, that the
poor young lady has not tasted food these three days."
Edmund made no remark; he asked no question; he
offered no consolation; he spoke not a word: but, after a
moment of frenzied agitation, burst out of the room into the
street. Evelyn strove to follow him; but the desperate and
unnatural strength that now winged the despairing lover,
made pursuit useless; and at last Evelyn dropped.
Edmund rushed on through the streets, glaring at every
lonely wretch he met, as the she-tiger might look round for
a prey, when, herself famishing, she has left her young ones
in the lair, voracious for food. He ran into open houses, but
found none to answer his claim. Continuing his course,
Jerry approached him, altogether in such a fashion, that had
Edmund felt any woe less than his present one, he must have
forgotten it, and smiled. The little man had necessarily
suffered in proportion with all around him; and the skirts of
his coat, recently supplied by Evelyn, and always too large,
hung in helpless waste about his limbs; the pockets, by the
way, swelled out to some bulk. The wound in his foot,
growing worse every day, and wholly unattended to, so
lamed him that he could not move without a prop; and he
now limped along, his body half bent, as he leaned with both
hands upon a short-handled shovel, procured, heaven knows.
how or where; his motion being, crab-like, backward.
"Food, sir !I want food!" cried Edmund, stopping
him.
"And so do I! But what of that 1 " said Jerry. "We
all want something or other, some day or other. What, then,
I say 1be hearty. I wonder to hear people about me talk
so; I wonder at any man's fretting, who can have a pound
of good cat's flesh for some shillings; a house to cover him,
and a good town to walk in. You are all serious people.
There was my sister Janet, never satisfied, and she has just
kicked the bucket. Rest her, say I: though that's a Papist
prayer, 'tis a Christian one. Rest to her who never gave it
to any."
"Unfortunate old man !" said Edmund, as Jerry, more
broken down than he would acknowledge, or even suffer
## p. 344 (#372) ############################################
344 THE BOYNE WATER.
himself to suspect, sank against a wall; "how can you trifle
with nature's sorest misery 1 Your niece, tooEsther Evelyn
gasps /or proper food. I ask you to help me to some, and
this is your answer."
"So bad, is she ?" resumed Jerry, really affected; "I
couldri't think that; and they wouldn't let me see my poor
niece. Stop, I'll bring you where we can have good things;
some friends of mine in the campno matter whom
hearty fellows, I promise you. Poor Esther! I never
thought it. Come "attempting to rise, he fell back again
" stop; I'm foundered, myself, only there's no use in
believing it. Come, I say "another failure. "But I can't,
though. Here, then," fumbling at his pockets, "here's what
will steady me. Did you never admire where I got the drop
of brandy, now and then, while the serious poor souls of
Deny were quarrelling for a drop of water?"
Edmund impatiently answered.
"Stop, then;bless my heart, what's to do Vhe
continued, as dizziness, and benumbing pain, and sickness
came upon him. "Ship's in a fogcan't see a rope's length
a-head ;you're a hearty lad" grasping Edmund's hand
"I know how it is, nowget to the Rapparees, as fast as you
can. The whole fleet of'em is anchored near Ballougry hill;
say I sent youthat's enough." He grew fainter, but
rallied;" Shiver my timbersold ship going down ?
Tilly-vally; it all comes of thinking of it. I'm growing
serioushearty, still; and so we ride any squall. Where's
my ballast;aye" at last plunging a hand in his pocket
"here it is, if it would but come out;merry, goodmen boys,
merry
I met a fair Rosy by a mulberry tree,
And tho' mass was my notion, my devotion was she"
a shred of a Rapparee song, which Jerry tried to repeat, as he
still tugged at his pocket
"I met a fair Ro"
His voice sankhis eyes fixed; he shiveredand died.
Proving that hunger will not spare a merry man, any more
than a serious; and that, on earth at least, mind cannot,
live without body, however well disposed to life it may
## p. 345 (#373) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEE. 345
be. Certainly ifcombined with simple-heartednessgood
humour and unaffected resignation under every possible
evil, could ever have disarmed death, poor Jerry would be
alive to this hour to boast of a victory.
Edmund seized the hand he had thrust into his pocket;
it was clasped round the corked neck of a bladder, half
filled with brandy: in Jerry's other pocket he got a second
large bladder, crumpled into a lump with constant squeezing.
Upon sudden and wild impulse, Edmund drank a maddening
draught, and gaining from it an accession of artificial strength,
ran, acting upon Jerry's hint, concerning the Rapparees, to
Butcher's gate.
Here he told the men the object of his speed, and offered
them the brandy as a bribe to open the gate. They readily
took the liquor, but refused him egress. He became furious;
snatched a sword from one of them; ran on, like a maniac,|to
where the wall was not much more than a dozen feet high,
and jumped down upon a soft embankment of earth and
sods. Shots were fired after him, as, regaining his legs,
he raced towards Ballougry hill. He escaped them, and
gained an outpost of the Rapparees. Edmund knew them by
their costume. "Food, food!" he cried, breaking through
them. They had beheid his approach in great amazement,
rather than in hostility; and it was not till he endeavoured
to force them aside, that they offered violence: then, how-
ever, some cuts were aimed at him, and he was wounded
in the neck and arm. But still he made way; and in a few
moments came upon the main body of freebooters, as they
sat, before their temporary huts, on the grass.
"Food !give me food!" Sword in hand, he rushed on
them; but now his strength failed, and he fell prostrate.
All that followed was like a dream. He afterwards brought
faintly to mind, that some had gathered round to injure him;
some to save. That the Whisperer and Galloping Hogan had
questioned him; that he had answered; and lastly, that as
if wrought upon by his sad story, the rude men had given him
food and wine. Clasping it close, he made a second des-
perate effort, and flew back to the city. Little opposition
was offered to his entrance, freighted as he came The
gates were opened; the soldiers seized him, and dragged
the food from his hands; he saved a little, and gained
Esther's house. She was not at home. He learned that,
## p. 346 (#374) ############################################
346 THE BOYNE WATER.
according to her daily custom, she had caused herself to
be borne to the church, to attend prayers, which, never
neglected in the city since the beginning of the siege, were
now, in their terrible distress, more than ever the resource of
the pious. To the church Edmund hastened. Pushing in
among a great crowd, he vainly looked round for Esther.
Again faintness came upon him, and he sank on a seat.
For some time he was insensible to everything. Gradu-
ally, however, the feeble though shrill tones of old. age filled
his ear; and looking towards the pulpit, he saw it occupied
by a very aged, white-headed, emaciated clergyman, who, with
an energy beyond what his strength could bear, was preaching
to the miserable people. As Edmund's eyes turned heavily
downward, the shrill, childish voice stopped; then there was
the sound of a sudden fall. "He ia dead!" exclaimed the
congregation.
This more effectually roused Edmund. He saw the lifeless
body of the old man borne from the pulpit. Immediately
after, Mr. Walker, assisted up by two young persons, filled
his place; and at the same moment began to preach. His once
full and sonorous voice was at times husky and scream-
ing; sometimes it sunk into a hoarse whisper. But so
hushed was the crowd, that every cadence of that whisper
was audible.
"Gaunt suffering has made another breach," he said,
"another, of the sorest; but, as is my duty, I mount it. Nor
do I fear so to do; nor shall you fear for me, my afflicted
brethren. The voice that, even in a prayer for us, has just
been cut short, and silenced on the earth for ever, but mounts
into the actual presence of God, to finish, there, the petition
here interrupted. Although its echoes have failed in the fretted
roof of this holy place, yet, with the ear of faith and hope, ye
can still hear it ringing, piteously and beseechingly, before
the footstool. Let us join our cries to itour cries of anguish
and feebleness; and surely will the Lord at last deliver us.
As when Moses lifted up his hands upon the mount, against
Amalek, praying that the battle might be turned, and it was;
as when at the prayer and sacrifice of Samuel, the Lord dis-
comfited the Philistines by thunder, and they were smitten
before Israel; as when the great host came up against
Jerusalem, and Hezekiah spread the letter of their captain
before the Lord, praying for deliverance, and the Lord sent
## p. 347 (#375) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. S47
His destroying angel into their camp; yea, as Shadrach,
Meshech, and Abednego, were delivered from the furnace of
fire, and Daniel from the lions' den; yea, as Elijah obtained
rain when the famine prevailed"
The preacher was interrupted by a hoarse weak shout, that
came from abroad. He did not attempt to go on. Wild with
expectation, he turned and fixed his eye upon the doorway,
and thither the feverish glances of the pallid congregation were
also directed. The shout came nearer; voices were heard at
the door. At first, no words could be distinguished; but
soon a thousand tongues cried" The ships! the ships!"
"He hath heard us!" exclaimed Mr. Walker, dropping on
his knees. The congregation, uttering cries of hope and
anxiety, hastened from the church. Many died as they sat
or stood; in the streets as they staggered along, or on the
steps leading up to the walls. When almost all had aban-
doned the church, Edmund looked round for Esther. He
found her left helpless, and nearly insensible. He caught her
up in his arms, and followed the people.
It has already been said that, from the north-east side of
the walls, in which was Butcher's gate, a full view of the
river could be commanded. The whole prospect formed a
pleasing picture. The horizon was bounded, at a distance, by
a sweep of blue hills, called Magilligan's creeks. About five
miles off, a line of low land, on which stood Culmore fort, ran
under them, into the water, swelling high, as, at the left hand,
it came near and nearer, and overtopped, in its continuation,
by the barren summits of Inishowen promontory. To the
right, cutting against the blue creeks, rising grounds also
swept into the water, apparently narrowing it from thence
down to Culmore fort, but allowing it to spread, up to the
eity, into a fine sheet. And, at the back of this last little
point, appeared the formidable boom, crossing the river to the
opposite shore.
Esther continued nearly insensible, as Edmund bore her to
the walls. But when they had gained them, she recovered
sufficiently to understand what was going forward.
"Eat, eat," he then cried, eagerly" eat, my beloved.
You but want strengthnourishing food. And herethis is
nutritive and good; and this wine is also gentle and
strengthening."
"In a moment," she replied, very faintly. "But first set
## p. 348 (#376) ############################################
348 THE BOYNE WATER.
me down, and look you over the walls, and tell me how this
ends. Let me hear that you and Evelynwhere is Evelyn f
"I know notamong the crowdbut safesafe, dearest
Esther."
"Let me first hear that he and you are to be saved indeed.
And then But set me down, Edmund."
He complied, and cast his eyes around, and over the water.
Near him, and at every side from which a glimpse of the
boom could be obtained, the ghastly crowd thronged close;
sons bearing their parents, brothers their fainting sisters,
husbands their fainting wives; friends supporting each other,
in lines and groups, with arms locked or hands clasped. And
as they stood, silent and breathless, in the garish sunshine of
that midsummer day, all looking more like a concourse of the
dead, placed upright out of their graves, than living men to
whom its ray was dear.
And all eyes strained down the broad river, up which, by
Culmore fort, four gallant vessels just then came, with a fair
and fresh breeze, canvass crowded, and flags and pennons
flying. A light frigate, the convoy of the store-ships, led the
van. She had been exposed to a terrible fire from the old
fort; but she had passed it, giving more than one broadside,
and hauled her wind, and lay to, in order to cover the other
vessels, till they should get a-head of her. This they effected,
and all steadily approached the ponderous boom, though still
receiving the fire of hundreds of small arms from the shore.
The largest of the store-ships at last ran straight for the
boom.
"What is that V inquired Esther, as she heard a drawing-
in and hissing of breath among the miserable multitude,
which sank into a hollow groan.
"A ship has struck the boom," answered Edmund, "hut
without injuring it; while, with the shock, herself rebounds,
and runs ashore. And now "a loud yell echoed along the
banks of the river" now the Irish put off in boats to board
her."
"God's will be done !" said Esther, scarcely audible.
He cast himself on his knees, by her side, and renewed his
entreaties that she would taste food and wine. Of the latter
she allowed him to give her a mouthful.
"Despair not, yet, my people," he then heard Mr. Walker
say near him; "the frigate will guard the stranded ship
## p. 349 (#377) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 349
will resist and overcome them. See how her brave crew man
the deck, and her gallant captain, hat in hand, cheers them.
Ha !he drops."
A second groan came from the unhappy crowd.
"But her crew are not dispirited," the governor continued;
"they divert the fire of the batteries and lines from the other
ships. And up another comes. But, no ; hers will not be the
glory. The first bold adventurer frees herself with that broad-
side, and once more she runs for the boom.'
The crowd again sucked in their breath, and their arms
and hands were raised, and waved in sympathy of action
with every movement they saw.
"Esther, my life, my only life!" cried Edmund, as she
grew worse, gasping piteously. "Take heart, my beloved; all
will be happy still. Eat, eat, sweet Esther," he continued,
tears blinding him; "only eator droop not for thisthe
bold vessel tries it again!"starting to his feet. "Now,
Esther !"
"Now!" echoed Mr. Walker, pressing his lips together,
and his arms over his breast. In a second after" Long live
King William !huzza!" he shouted aloud.
A hoarse and awful cry of joy burst from the spectators, as
now, indeed, the strong ship, again striking the monstrous
impediment, broke it into pieces, and, followed by her sister
vessels, sailed on, proudly and triumphantly, to succour the
wretched city. As that cry arose, the last breath of many
escaped with it. Joy had her victims as well as famine and
despair; and Esther was among the number. But, in her
case, another shock, of a different kind, assisted, perhaps, the
general one.
"Hear them, my adored!" exclaimed Edmund, as the people
shouted.
"She hears not them nor you," said the voice of Onagh, at
Esther's back, now sounding rather sorrowful than stern.
But her words, at least, the maiden heard; for, starting from
her lethargy, her eyes fixed their last look on Onagh, and then
closed.
## p. 350 (#378) ############################################
350 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTEK XXTII.
A relapse into fever was the instant consequence of the
shock suffered by Edmund. Evelyn also fell a victim to the
same disease, against which he had, indeed, long struggled.
When consciousness returned, his recollections of the past were
dull, and of its saddest event he half doubted. The first
person who spoke at his bedside was a good old Protestant
clergyman, long the friend of his family. The next face he
saw was that of Father M'Donnell. The two old men
comforted him; but delicately and dexterously avoided much
conversation. Evelyn himself did not dare to ask one certain
question. In a few days more, Father M'Donnell spoke of
Eva. When the invalid had been sufficiently prepared, there
was a rustle among the drapery of his bed; then a tender
mumming, and Eva sank on his breast. She had watched
his pillow since the day after he became ill.
Still afraid of the question that lay at his heart, he asked
for Edmund. She arose and left the room; but speedily
returned with her brother by the hand. Evelyn saw that
both were habited in black. He was at last satisfied.
The meeting with Edmund was mute as the grave. They
only pressed each other's hands. Evelyn was shocked at the
appearance of M'Donnell. It was not emaciation and paleness
alone that gave his figure, face, and manner, an altered
character.
'-Much as we have suffered together, I should not know
you," said Evelyn.
M'Donnell withdrew, almost snatched away his hand, and,
with an abrupt and husky "Tush! and why not V turned to
a window. Eva whispered, that, apart from other causes of
bitter despair, her brother had lately been dismissed, with a
severe and degrading sentence, from his regiment; and that
the effect of all his afflictions had made him fearfully reserved
and ungentle. It was but too evident, indeed, that he was
## p. 351 (#379) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 351
devoured by the stern sorrow that fastens upon the heart,
empoisons its life-springs, and causes them to flow in sullen
und selfish misanthropy.
When Evelyn grew much better, passes and protections
were, through his interest^, and that of the kind Protestant
clergyman, obtained for Edmund, Eva, and Priest M'Donnell,
and all prepared to visit Glenarriff. The perfect re-establish-
ment of Evelyn's health made such a change necessary. But
he was further tempted. Eva, expressing her zeal in the
public cause to be much cooled since Edmund's undeserved
ill-treatment by King James's officers, listened to his whispers
for a future re-union of their hands and fate, in her father's
house, at the Strip of Burne. And now, other reasons made
all most anxious to leave Deny.
Tidings arrived that Schomberg, at the head of an army of
twenty thousand English and foreigners, had landed near
Carrickfergus; reduced it and Belfast; and proceeded south-
ward towards Dublin. While Kirke, with his considerable
force, marched from Deny to join him. Colonel Lloyd, com-
mander of all the remnants of the northern Protestant levies,
now collected into one body, and called by the general name
of Enniskilleners, after also forming an unwelcome junction
with Schomberg, continued in his rear, making incursions
among the Roman Catholic people of the country, and ac-
quitting himself much to the satisfaction of his corps, who
honoured him with the title of " their little Cromwell."
From one or other of these cruel men, Eva and Edmund
feared an attack on their father, at Glenarriff: hence arose
the increased anxiety of all to commence their journey.
The day was at length appointed. Upon the evening be-
fore it, Evelyn secretly left the house, and walked to the
adjacent churchyard. He wished to bid farewell to the
mouldering remains of his sister; and also to judge, from the
situation of her grave, of the fittest kind of monument to be
raised over it. When the sexton led him to the spot, he
found his second intention anticipated. A little white
marble urn already rose above the grave; and, looking close,
in the waning light, he. read thereon" Farewell, Esther !
Ed. M'D."
As, deeply touched, he stood by the urn, a soft step ap-
proached. It was Eva; he concealed himself. She bore on
her arm a little garland of white flowers. Gaining the spot
## p. 352 (#380) ############################################
$52 THE BOTSE WAXES.
on which Evelyn had just stood- ahe gazed at the bos? of the
monument. as if her eves could have pierced the dense earth,
and riveted themselves on the still features of her sister.
Then she removed from the urn a faded garland: and. weep-
ing profusely, fell ou her knees. and prayed. according to the
usage of her Church, for the happiness of the soul of Esther
Evelyn.
Some stones tumbled from the wall of the churchyard ; a
man jumped over. prilling bis hat over his brows, muffling
himself in his cloak. and looking fiercely around. Eva hastily
arose, threw the fresh garland over the urn, and retired. The
man walked forward, still glancing behind and around him.
When he thought he was unobserved and alone, he suddenly
flung himself on the earth where Eva had knelt, spread-
ing out his arms, and grasping the long grass in his
convulsed hands, while every muscle quivered, and his
sobs echoed through the churchyard. Evelyn knew it was
Edmund. Some slight noise occurred, and M\Donnell started
up, again pulled down his hat, ran to the wall, and bounded
over it.
Evelyn came from his concealment; took his own farewell
of his sister's grave, and returned, stealthily, to his chamber.
The friends did not meet that night; and each supposed the
other was ignorant of the sad visit which each had paid in
the churchyard.
Early next morning, accompanied by Father M'Donneh,
and, to insure their safety, the Protestant clergyman, they
left the city of Deny.
"Does Schomberg's army contain many veteran foreigners,
sir?" asked Evelyn of his reverend friend, when they had
been some time on the road.
"About a fourth, mostly French; William does not think
he can yet spare many Dutch, from England. And upon the
same policy, this newly-raised force of English is generalled
by a brave old soldier of fortune, who has, from time to time,
served every rival court in Europe, always most faithful to
his temporary paymaster, though indifferent to the principle
of the cause he zealously promotes in his name. Therefore,
perhaps, very fit to conduct a war like this, in which party-
spirit runs so high."
"The sending of Kirke to assist our northern efforts, may
have savoured of the same policy," resumed Evelyn. "A man
## p. 353 (#381) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 353
whose indifference to cause or country is as notorious as his
infamy."
"Know you what road Kirke has taken towards Schom-
berg's quarters, sir V asked Eva, in alarm.
"The same we now pursue," replied the clergyman. "But
do not, my good young lady, give way to uneasiness. He has
scarce a day's march of us, and, with our good horses, "we may
easily come up with his division before he gains the point I
know you think about; and when we do join him, -our docu-
ments will fully protect all. But let us push hard."
The injunction was unnecessary. Those that heard, were
most anxious to anticipate it. With scarce a rest or pause,
night or day, the little party held on for Glenarriff, over the
same road by which Mr. Walker had led Evelyn and his sister
to Deny.
The sultry evening, one in the latter end of August, had
just begun to approach, when Eva recognised, from a distance,
the well-known line of hills that enclosed Glenarriff.
"We are now past all danger from those whom you consider
as your foes," resumed the clergyman, at this period of their
journey. "Kirke must have deviated from our route, soon
after leaving Deny, otherwise we should, ere this, have
certainly overtaken him."
"God grant it, sir," cried Eva.
"While I, and my loyal Protestant charge," continued the
clergyman, "have now a right to fear for our own safety, in
entering these remote and hilly fastnesses, amongst which, it
is reported, that young wild-cat, Yamen-ac-knuck, occasionally
wanders with his freebooters."
Eva and Evelyn (Edmund remaining silent, as he rode a
short distance behind, during the whole journey) expressed
their ignorance of the individual spoken of, and inquired if he
was a new Rapparee captain, accommodated with the nom-de-
guerre mentioned, Yamen-ac-knuck, or Ned of the hill.
Their informant replied that they had conjectured aright.
"We heard nothing of him in Deny until after the relief of
the place. Then, however, his exploits reached us, together
with some accounts, true or false as they may be, of his person
and private history. He is said to be a mere lad, who joined
the Rapparee body only while they lay near Hamilton's
camp, pretending to give that general assistance. When the
Irish retreated southward, the Rapparees, as is always their
2 A
## p. 354 (#382) ############################################
354 THE BOYNE WATER.
custom on such occasions, broke into different bodies. One
portion of them remaining without a commander, it is added
that this boy, on account of the many instances he had given
of great personal courage, ferocity rather, and of clevemesin
other needful respects, was unanimously elected by them
Since when, he has outdone all his predecessors in those it's
which make the reputation of a Rapparee commander. Other
accounts add, that he is partly indebted for his sudden
elevation to a visit which he made to Derry, during the
siege; when, on some private business, he had audience ft
governor, and, along with a considerable purse, homestly
obtained from him, carried back plunder to a great amount f
which the desolate state of the town enabled him to posts
himself, and which gained him much consideration with his
fellows."
"I begin to think I have had the honour of knowing, 
many years, the distinguished person you speak of" said
Evelyn. -
"Indeed " and the clergyman was about to make it
quiries, when, with a faint scream, Eva, unconsciously, as it
seemed, backed her jennet, pointing towards the middle f
the line of hill that, at the right hand, formed the bounday
of the valley of Glenarriff, into which, at the end opposite t
the entrance from the coast, they were now turning.
All looked, and saw the black ruins of a cabin, recently
burnt down, before which, from the branch of a tree, a mans
body was suspended.
"He has been in the glen " she cried, now urging her
jennet forward.
Edmund spoke not a word. Regarding for a moment t
object to which every eye was directed, he turned deal
ale, set his teeth, made a motion to draw the sword, which
he had not, felt for pistols, of which he was also deprived
and then dashing, in rage and desperation, the rowels int
his steed, soon came up with Eva. Evelyn rapidly followed
them. The two old clergymen stood a moment behind, Ont
uplifting his hands, the other, with uncovered head, crossing
himself. Both then also hastened down the glen.
As the party proceeded, the few cabins on their way, at
the right hand and at the left, presented the same ruin
appearance of the first they had beheld. But nothing told
that the destroyers were at present in the valley. The
## p. 355 (#383) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 355
silence of death reigned over it. No human tones broke the
deep repose of the hill-side, or of its rocky and barren
summit. Not even the low of a cow, or the bark of a
household-dog was heard; nought but the voices of water-
falls, far and near, which, blended in one hoarse whispering
cadence, might seem to lament the devastation that had
visited their ancient demesne.
On spurred the little party, in hopelessness and horror,
every step they moved adding confirmed anticipations
of the worst. They gained a glance of the Strip of Burne,
and Eva and Edmund beheld the humble home that had
sheltered their childhood half burnt down, and yet smoking in
the evening sun. From the sycamores and ash thus that had
once shadowed it, those of their poor followers who had dared,
after the landing of Schomberg, to cling to the house of their
chief, hung dead.
Indescribable passion kept the brother and sister silent and
motionless, for a time.
"Our father!" they exclaimed, at last flinging themselves
from their horses, they prepared to rush forward, partly in
the wild hope that, as his dead body did not appear, he might
have escaped.
"How! the song of mirth amid ruin and desolation!" cried
Eva, as, after a few steps, the tones of a harp met her ear.
Turning the angle of an intervening bank, she saw Carolan
seated, immediately before the ruin, on the smooth, flat stone,
where he was accustomed to strike up his announcing lay.
The contrast between his smiling face and song of joy, and
the horrors he could not see, petrified, for a moment, the
brother and sister, and rooted them to the spot; while the
poor blind lad began to sing words like the following:
Come out, old man, at dusk of day,
Come out and hear the harper play;
For I have rhymes,
And chimes
Of times long past away.
So come out, come out, come out, old man,
And hear the harper play.
Come out, young girl, and list my lay,
Young girls like other tunes, they say,
## p. 356 (#384) ############################################
356 THE BOYNE WATER.
And I've an air,
So rare,
To cheer the fall of day.
So come out, come out, young girlcome out,
And hear the harper play.
Men, women, alllet no one stay
Lads, lasses, boys, or old wife grey
Down from the moon
I'll croon,
A tune, or make ye gay,
So come out, come out, man, woman, child,
And hear the harper play.
But before he had ended the words we here translate, the
brother and sister broke off to the house. Eva shrieking, as
she said
"Great God! he thinks he plays his accustomed air to ears
that still hear him!"
"Who speaks?" cried Carolan, stopping instantly. "Eva
M'Donnell, why do you scream 1 " He arose, anxiously turn-
ing his face in the direction where he had heard the words.
But no one replied to him. Evelyn and the two old clergy-
men followed the brother and sister. He heard the rapid
retreating stepsthen silencethen wilder screams within
the house. In vain the poor harper continued to demand,
tears of mixed agitation and bitterness, at being so abandoned,
running down his cheeks, "What has happened, I say? God
of heaven! why do you cry out, Eva 1 Eva M'Donnell!"
Edmund, his sister, and Evelyn, together broke through
masses of fallen thatch and wall, that choked up the door-
way, and together entered a part of the large room of the
house, which, with the smoking roof yet over it, was most
free from impediments. The dead bodies of others of their
faithful followers were strewn around, half covered with
rubbish; wounds on their fronts, and weapons near them, told
that they had fallen where they lay, while resisting a superior
force. One other glance round, and Eva was the first to per-
ceive the corpse of an old man stretched on the clotted hearth
Gashes were visible on his bald head, which lay, crimsoned
and cold, upon his once cheerful hearthstone. A short,
straight, basket-hilted sword was in his hand, and a wounded
stag-hound crouched at his feet. At the first noise of in-
## p. 357 (#385) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 357
traders, the faithful animal opened his languid eyes ; exposed,
-without being able to utter a sound, his formidable tusks;
made an effort to rise and attack Evelyn, but, staggering, fell
dead across the body of his old master.
It need not be added that the shrieks Carolan heard were
uttered by Eva. As she cast herself upon the mangled body
of her only parent, they rose, peal after peal, with a shrillness
.which mortal agony could alone send forth, and which,
piercing through the open roof of her ruined house, re-echoed
to hill and rock, far beyond the place where the harper heard
them.
A mile and more from where he stood, they were heard by
the man who had caused them, and who rode slowly, at the
moment, at the head of the chosen body he had trained to
such acts as this, while the main force of his detachment pro-
ceeded, at some distance, on their route southward.
He sat stooped in his saddle, his round shoulders and slight
figure having acquired the kind of crouch (the crouch of the
tiger before he springs) which sometimes marks the turbaned
race, amongst whom he had learnt his humanity. His small,
half-shut, jetty eye, glanced upwardly around, as if over-
shadowed by the turban ; and as he rode he kept twirling his
coal-black moustaches, which, according to their early fashion,
he wore unusually long and curled. Thus sitting silent,
and watchful of every face around, while none dared to ad-
dress or look at him, the infamous Kirke heard a faint echo
of the despairing shrieks of Eva.
"Hark ! sergeant," he said, turning himself in his pad; " I
think there be some of my lambs not yet done bleating."
"With submission to your honour, I think no," replied the
favoured sergeant, returning an expressive leer;" the prettiest
of 'em, in that wild nook below, sleeps by this time."
"But there again; heard you not that 1"
-. "I believe we hear but the cry of the gull on the shore
-mder."
'Thou gull and goose to say so! I tell thee that is the
of one of my little lambs, in pain, doubtless ; and I will
ave a single one in pain, poor things. So turn, sirrah."
.e troop was soon in rapid motion, back to the vale of .
larriff. ^ ^ f^r
Cease, Eva, cease !" cried Edmund, sternly, as her r" 'Tj^Q-^.
.tow still escaped in deafening shrieks. He had w
## p. 358 (#386) ############################################
358 THE BOYNE WATER.
uttered a cry, nor spoken a word, nor wept a tear, nor flung
himself on the ground. "Cease this vain frenzy, girl. Rise;
kneel at that side of our father's corpse, while I kneel at this;
and then give rue your hands."
She heard or heeded him not, and her screams still rang out.
"Hear me, I say !" he continued, the dreadful passion that,
like the intense though brooding fire of a kiln, burned within
him, now getting a first vent in impatience at not being
obeyed. "Sister! woman! silence, and listen to the voice
of your last relation!"
This had effect. She raised up her head, and looked at him.
When he repeated his former instructions, Eva, seeming to
understand and fully sympathize with him, hastily knelt at
the one side of their dead father, while Edmund knelt at the
other, and gave her hands across the body, which he in-
stantly grasped in his. Eva's own tears were at last dried
up; her features still, though terribly rigid. The glaring
eyes of the frantic brother and sister fastened on each other.
"Let us now swear an oath," resumed M'Donnell. "Re-
peat the words I shall speak."
"I will," she answered, convulsively pressing his hands.
"Here, over his mangled corpse, by the blood of him who
gave us birth, swear!"
She repeated the words, and said
"By this I promise to swear."
"Against the doers of the murderagainst their abettors
and their causetheir seed and breed, root and branch
revenge, by every plan and wile! With the eye of the wood-
cat to watch themwith the thirst of the life-hound to track
themwith the subtlety of the hill-fox to encompass them
with the mercy of the forest-wolf to deal on them! For this
we give up all other practices of lifefor this, while we swear
to hate them, we forswear their fellowshipbread never to
break with them, roof never to enter with them, hand never
to cross with them, word never to change with them, with
those of their side or their creed, their party or their country,
their blood or their descent, their race, from generation to
generation!"
"Hold, Eva, and remember what you do !" cried Evelyn.
"Forbear, my daughter, and swear not, in madness, a horrid
str<*Y'" echoed the old priest,
stag-noun, ve^ or gy , interrupted the agitated voice of Carolan,
## p. 359 (#387) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 359
through the choked doorway. "Fly, or hide ye! they are
upon ye! I heard their tramp, tramp, down the glen; and I
know the trooper's tramp, so different from our own."
"Who are upon us?" questioned Edmund, his voice and
manner changed into a kind of satisfied composure, as if all he
wished was near at hand, in the approach of his enemies, al-
though he stood so poorly prepared to receive them. As he
spoke, he rose slowly from his knees, still holding his sister's
hand, and obliging her also to stand up. Evelyn flew to take
her other hand.
"Who comes V repeated the harper, "who but those who
were here before, returning to end their work? But if
where is Eva M'Donnell 1 If ye can hide, behind rock or
hill, for a little start of time, I have sent word to some who
may yet save us. Where is she 1 Let Eva give me her hand;
I can guide her, blind as I am."
"Eva M'Donnell holds by her brother's hand, Carolan,
rejoined Edmund.
"And will not let it go," added Eva.
"Where have you sent, or on whom have you called?
asked Evelyn, more collected than his wretched friends.
"When ye left me alone, by the flat stone, Con M'Donnell
came from his hiding-place and threw himself, weeping, at
my feet. He did not see ye enter the glen; he could not
hear the tramp of the red-coats; but I did. And, as I knew
his signs from Eva, I sent him to seek one who spoke to me
on my path, as I crossed the hills this morning, and who can
save ye, if he will. So, hide ye, hide ye, as ye can. Whisht!
I hear them nearer and nearernow there is little time. But
yet, use itmake speed!"
"It were useless," said Evelyn, drawing his sword; "they
are before the house. If they mean us harm, little depen-
dence must we place on the mission of the poor harper."
The dragoons were heard hastily dismounting.
"On this alone I depend," said M'Donnell, stooping to the
hearth. "Your sword, old man!" he added, as he took the
weapon from the stiffened grasp that held it.
"Edmund," said poor Carolan, " I felt a sword at my feet,
just now. Put it into my hand."
"Let there be no swords used," said the Protestant clergy-
man, " and we shall come to no harm. I hold protection for
all. I will stand at the door, and first meet them. Throw
## p. 360 (#388) ############################################
360 THE BOYNE WATER.
down your blades, young men, and let peace be amongst.
you."
"Throw it from your hand, Edmund M'Donnell," repeated
the old priest.
"Gentlemen," answered Edmund, with a return of one of
his grim smiles, "I stand upon my father's hearth, under my
father's roof-treehe at my feethis daughter by the hand.
Here will I fall, or revenge him, and save her." And his eyes
fixed like those of a couching panther on the doorway.
Little time had he to watch or wait. Kirke was immedi-
ately heard saying, outside, as he used the terms of cruel
mockery we have before heard him use, and which were
familiar to him.
"Aha ! now do I hear you bleat, indeed, my lambs. Knew
I not you were here? Corporal, post half the men at the
back of the housethe rest, enter with me; we shall want
none at the front. And harkye, cut me down two or three
of my lambs from those trees, to make room, you know.
Sergeant, forward."
The sergeant, obeying orders, stepped over the threshold,
Kirke close behind him, surrounded by his dragroons. In
another instant Edmund's highland blade was through the
sergeant's heart. In another, drawing it back, as the man
fell, he had bounded to the hearth again, seized his sister's
hand, and riveted his glance on the door, as if nothing had
occurred.
Kirke jumped far from the door, and, with oaths and
blasphemies, was heard to urge on his men to burst, in a
body, into the house. The shadows of several came before
them, over the floor; when the Protestant clergyman,
anxious to prevent more bloodshed, stept boldly upon the
threshold, and addressing Kirke, said
"Here, sir, are no subjects for violence or cruelty. I am
a minister of the Established Church. At my back is an
officer in King William's service; and my other companions
are, by these documents," showing them, "protected from all
aggression. In the name of God and of the King, retire, or
give your pledge to approach peaceably."
This stopped the dragoons for a moment. Kirke, taking
the protections from the outstretched hands of the clergy-
man, glanced over them; but immediately said, as he re-
gained his self-possession
## p. 361 (#389) ############################################
THE BOYKE WATER. 361
"Not worth a straw to my lambs. Protections to submit-
ted and disarmed rebels, these. Here I have to deal with
sturdy ones, who meet King William's soldiers with arms in
their hands, and have already taken the life of a loyal subject.
So come out, old gentleman, if you are what you say. Let
the officer you speak of also range himself on the side he
ought to take; or both abide the consequences. Forward,
soldiers, if they do not instantly appear. Forward, pell-mell.
Hah {"interrupting himself, as he caught, through the door,
a glimpse of Eva" I see within a fairer advocate, and one
that may have more persuasion. Let the lady step out, and
entreat us for her friends."
Poor Eva shrank back, Edmund again bounded towards
the door, while Evelyn grasped closer the now trembling hand
he heldall in recollection of the well-known story that
stamps upon the character of Kirke its deepest infamy, and
to which his presentwords seemed the beginning of an intended
parallel; the story that every historian, Hume included, holds
up to the curses of posterity; that a poet has also "curst in
everlasting verse;" the reverse pendant to the story rehearsed
in history, and by the muse, of another captain under similar
circumstancesof the Roman Scipio, on the field of New
Carthage.
To the door M'Donnell again sprang. It seemed as if he
was about to break through all opposers, and all prudent
recollections too, for one good thrust at Kirke. But the two
clergymen and Carolan blocked up his way, and together
exhorted him to refrain. While Evelyn, and even his sister,
also besought him to proceed to no further violence, until it
should be provoked by violence.
During the debate, Evelyn's eye caught a strange vision.
Over the doorway, visible to any who, from the opposite side
of the room might front it, but disguised by a remnant of
thatch from all without, the figure of a man stealthily crept,
winding itself like an eel through an orifice in the roof, until
he had got astride on a rafter. Across the rafter he imme-
diately flung, with great adroitness, a rope having a noose at
one end. This done, he looked downward, rubbed his hands,
as if satisfied so far, and pleasantly reckoning on the result.
Then he faced Evelyn, who, at a glance, knew the Whisperer.
And the recognition was mutual. Rory, his face wearing
its usual simper, immediately nodded and smirked at him;
## p. 362 (#390) ############################################
362 THE BOYNE WATER.
made a gentle sign of caution with his hands; and patting the
rope, and pointing downward, again composed himself to
attend to the business of his situation.
"Will she not out ?" Kirke was once more heard to exclaim
abroad. "Then must we in. What means this silly tumult
at the door? Do my lambs butt at each other! Forward!"
A clamour arose among Kirke's dragoons, but it did not
sound like the cry of attack. Shouts followed, which were
not theirs, although they strove to echo them. They received
and returned a volley, and then pressed, rather in disorder
than in enterprise, against the doorway, some, who were first,
stumbling backward into the room. At the same moment
another scuffle was heard at the back of the house; while
upon the dragoons who entered half a dozen of Rapparees
instantly jumped from the open roof, led by Evelyn's old
guardian of the donkey, and seconded by Con M'Donnell,
whose cries of onslaught and contortions of feature were
deafening and hideous.
Eva shrank to a corner with her reverend guardian ; Evelyn,
Carolan, and the Protestant clergyman still tried to restrain
Edmund. The dragoons were cut down or shot, as those from
abroad continued to press them into the ruined house. At
last Kirke himself was forced upon the threshold, and, with
outstretched arms and hands, endeavoured to avoid the doom
of the men who had preceded him. The eye of the boy-
captain, or, as he was now called, Yamen-ac-knuck, fixed on
him, and, instantly springing forward
"Take him alive !" he cried. Two other Rapparees seized,
along with Yamen, Kirke's arm and shoulders, and tugged to
get him in. At this juncture commenced the operations of
the Whisperer.
Hastily rubbing his hands, and smacking his lips, he gave
one or two preparative glances downward, and while Kirke
yet remained fixed in the doorway, gently lowered his noose;
coaxed it a little round its object; at last gave it a sudden and
knowing chuck. And as to the surprise of all parties, Kirke's
head as suddenly turned aside, his neck stretched, and his
feet began to miss the ground.
"Mille milloone mullah!"* said Rory. "I have him in
the very little bite of a sneernrO-skibbeahi he was so fond of all his
* A thousand million of praises, f Hangman's knot.
## p. 363 (#391) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER' 363
life, for others. Captain Yamen, a-chorra-ma-chree, jest
lend him a hand-you know it's nothin' but the kindness
you wanted to keep him for. You, Bryan, a-vich, take this
end o' the sthring. An' you, too, Murthock, steady the
darlin', a littlethere. Asy, nowfair an' asy goes far in
the day. Musha, what bolgh* is on you, Gineral Kirke,
a-hager 1 Throth, I don't think he loves or likes that lift, by
the faces he makesthry it agin, anyhow. Asy, asy"
"Much, ruchl"\ interrupted some of their friends' voices
from the back of the house; "here comes all the Sassenachs
to see what's keepin' him. A power o' themall that went
by to-dayruch, ruch!" and the over-mastering shouts of a
great body of soldiers, mixed with the trampling of their
horses, and the blasts of their trumpets, sounded very near
the house.
In the pause of consternation which this produced on
those of the Rapparees who were in the ruined dwelling,
the few remaining dragoons abroad rallied. Answering the
cheers of their approaching friends, they burst through the
doorway, cut down their general, and received him, in
convulsions, in their arms.
Eva's shriek arose, and M'Donnell grew more frantic than
ever, in his efforts to free himself from the well-meant
violence of his friends'.
As the retreating Rapparees struggled on the floor with
the dragoons, as their shots flew round, and their cries and
execrations mingled with the still-approaching uproar from
abroadhis voice, louder than every other sound, was heard
to exclaim:
"Evelyntraitor-Sassenachlet me go! MenIrish-
menfriendsassist me! He holds me, to betray me to
them! Strike, if he will not free me!"
No sooner had he spoken, than the cat-eye of the young
captain, the last to retreat, fastened on Evelyn with a startled
recognition. He presented his pistol, and snapped it at
his head; it missed fire. He seized it by the muzzle, and
sank the lock in Evelyn's forehead, who instantly went
down.
All that followed of the scene was confused to Evelyn.
* What's the matter. f Run. run.
## p. 364 (#392) ############################################
364 THE BOYNE WATER.
But ere the young bravo, or some one for him, could repeat
a threatened blow, the scream of another female joined that
of Eva, and a woman's figure swam before his eyes, and fell
on him. Then came a burst of shouting, roaring, firing, and
sword-clashinga rush into the housea trampling upon him
and then insensibility.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
When Evelyn regained his senses, the first glance around
told him that he was still beneath part of the roof of the
ruined house; that it was night; and that some feeble taper
just served to break the thick darkness. At another glance,
he saw himself surrounded by piles of stones and thatch, rising
on every side, so high as to shut him out from a view of the
rest of the apartment. He stirred, and then became sensible
that a hand held his, that a woman's eyes watched him, while
his head was pillowed on her lap. But she was silent as all
else around her. The full sense of his situation crowded
upon Evelyn; though while the dreary stillness smote his heart,
he snatched at the hope that it was Eva who watched him.
For, added to the confused state of his thoughts, his nearness
to the down-turned face, and the imperfect light, did not
allow him at once to become certain.
So, still holding the hand that gently grasped his, he strove
to rise. A sudden swimming of his head baffled the effort,
and he sank down again.
"Sleep, sleep, a-chorra-ma-chree," said a soft voice, some-
what familiar to him, though not the one he had hoped to
hear. "The pain and thewakeness is on you yetsleep, sleep."
Yielding a moment to the overpowering faintness, it soon
passed away. Evelyn was now more successful in his effort
to sit up, and fix his eyes on the girl's face, which he slowly
recognised to be that of Moya Laherty; his champion and
saviour during the attack on his own house.
"An how is it wid you now, a-hager V questioned his young
and not unattractive companion, while surprise kept Evelyn
mute.
## p. 365 (#393) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 365
"My poor girl!" he said, as he gratefully pressed her hand,
"is it you who are my nurse, and, I suppose, a second time
my preserver V
Tears started into her eyes, as, blushing, and casting them
down, she replied
"Avoch, don't, don't say them kind words to me. They
sadden the heart within me, whin they'd fitther make it glad.
Sure it's poor Moya, hersef, is here, an' a good warrant she
had. Why for no whin the word that came to our men, an'
I wid my mammy among 'em, tould me you war here in
throuble!
"Ah! I seem to remember now having seen a woman
you, I supposerush between me and some fellow whose
hand was raised over me when I fell V
"It's the thruth you did, I'm thinking."
"And, my God!" continued Evelyn, gazing at her in
alarm and regret, "thisthis wound on your breast must
have been received in your struggle to save me V
"What wound, a-gra 1 it's nothin' at all. Only the blood
that cum from your own poor head, more to talk of nor
anything that 'ud happen to twenty o' my likes." She said
this in some confusion, as she tried to draw the coarse drapery
closer over her bosom.
"Merciful heaven!" cried Evelyn, as in her nervousness
the covering fell, and exposed a gash on the poor girl's left
breast.
"Why would you deceive me t What a cut is there, poor
Moya!"
"Bother on it!" said Moya, roughly pulling up the cover-
ing, and re-applying some herb-dressings that had also fallen
off. "Where 'ud it be goin' wid itsef, for to vex me this way?
It's nothin' I tell you agin, Sassenach, a-chorra; or" tears
once more gushing. "Sure if it war, what is it only a dhrop
o' the blood spilt for you, that 'ud come, out-an-out, to save
one dhrop o' yours 1 I'm glad it's next the heart, anyhow,"
she added, striving to laugh off her emotion, but with a
glance, perhaps involuntary, that Evelyn could not mistake.
It told him that the sentiments entertained towards him
by Moya were such as, for many reasons, he could not in
manliness or delicacy encourage. He therefore resolved to
shun, as much as possible, all personal topics between them.
And the subjects which really engrossed his mind, fully
## p. 366 (#394) ############################################
866 THE BOYNE WATER.
returning after this interruption, he was about to thank her,
in a formal strain, for her disinterested exertions in his behalf,
and then pass to other inquiries, when Moya resumed.
"An' how is the head that's on you, now, Sassenach?'
"Oh, I scarce feel any inconvenience from the wound?'
putting up his hand. In some surprise, he found it carefully
bandaged. He could not avoid adding" for this, too, I am
indebted to you, Moya."
"Not the laste in the world. Only whin I watched my
time, an' struv to lift you over the stones an' rubbish, out o'
their sight, sure when all was quiet agin, I jest crept out, an'
pult the little heribs that my mammy often showed me in the
fields an' by the wather's brink, an' tould me war good for a
cut or a bruise. And then, I come back, an' washed off the
blood wid the dhrop o' liquor I had about me, an' tied em' on;
youGod look down on you !not mindin' me a bit all the
while. Oh, many's the salt tear I cried, from the heart, out,
thinkin' you'd never mind me, nor anything else in the
world, wide!"
Now conveying his thanks, as he intended, in a manner
calculated, without directly shocking or offending the girl, to
impress her with the uninterested state of his feelings towards
her, Evelyn, with some embarrassment, changed the subject.
"You know, Moya, I accompanied hither some very dear
friends : can you tell we what has become of them?' He asked
this question in a dreadful misgiving, glancing around, though
his view of the whole apartment was interrupted.
"There was two ould men, one a Sassenach clargy, an' the
other a raal clargy, an' a young man an'an' thehis sisther,
I'm thinkin', all in black, poor crature? " demanded Moya, in
some hesitation. Evelyn answered that she had truly de-
scribed the parties.
"Then," added Moya, "put up the Keenthecaun for 'em, if
they war any friends o' yours."
"My God !howwhat do you mean?"
"In regard o' the clargy, myself know nothing. But, my
eyes decaived me, when they opened, afther a time, by the
side o' you, if they didn't see the young man stuck thro' the
heart, an' his father's daughther dragged off by the Sassenach
Gineral."
He was horror-struck, although he had expected, indeed,
some tale of the kind. After a moment he started up.
## p. 367 (#395) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 367
"Where 'ud you be for goin', now, a-cushla, an' the legs o'
your body not able to carry you?"
"Take the brand, Moya, and follow me," he cried, with a
fierceness that startled her, and admitted of no opposition.
Without another word, but with looks of gloom, she obeyed.
They scrambled into the middle of the floor, and Evelyn
peered eagerly around.
"He is not here. Edmund M'Donnell is not here!" he
cried. Indeed, except those of the dragoons, now stript and
rifled, no dead bodies appeared, although Evelyn recollected
to have seen many Rapparees fall. Even the corpse of old
M'Donnell had been removed from the hearth.
"You must mistake, good girl," he resumed. "My friend
cannot have fallen here. And, oh! God grant you may be
mistaken in the rest also."
"God grant, Sassenach, dear. But sure little good is on
the eyes o' mean' it's little is on 'em any way, for the
matther o' that." This she said with the conscious glance of
acknowledged beauty. "Bud the bat himself, the baste, has
worser in his head within, if they could make a fool o' me
that-a-way, I'm thinkin', wake as I war."
Evelyn again reflected for a moment.
"Before I fell, Moya, a numerous reinforcement came to
the dragoons, and the Rapparees were defeated, and flying.
"Was it not so 1"
"Jest the very turn it took," said Moya.
"And how then, the soldiers remaining victors to the last,
and last on the groundhow can it have happened that the
dead bodies of your friends are alone removed, an' that those
of the dragoons appear plundered and neglected 1"
"Avoch, an' how do I know 1" said the girl, pettishly.
"It is very strange," Evelyn went on rapidly, hoping, from
all these appearances, that, in her faintness and confusion, she
had really been mistaken as to the distressing events she said
she had witnessed.
"Only," resumed Moya, "whin I went a good way, by the
brook an' the hill-side, to gether the green heribs, maybe the
boys cum back, an' I out o' the house, an' lifted their dead, to
give 'em Christhen berrin, and put a hand to the red-troopers
at that same time. Sure it's a way they have."
This hint was destruction to Evelyn's previous hopes. The
only contradiction to which he clung seemed accounted for
## p. 368 (#396) ############################################
368 THE BOYNE WATER.
he could no longer doubt the correctness of Moya's story.
Eva, then, had indeed fallen into Kirke's hands! As Evelyn:
once more brought to mind the anecdote before alluded to,
and also remembered Kirke's approach to a conference with
Eva in the early part of the fray, he clenched his hands and
teeth, stamped, and cried out
"Accursed villain! Come, girl, let us leave this glen."
"An' where to go 1" asked Moya, in a commiserating and
entreating voice, as she watched the emotions of Evelyn.
"Where to go, at this dead o' the night 1
"
"On to the village first."
"Och, Sassenach, honey, don't go to stir a step, if you love
the dear life, or care for poor Moya. Every nook of the hills
on our road hides a Rapparee, an' all o' them your book-sworn
foes. An' the village is full o' your own red-coats."
"Is it 1 That's all I wish. Come."
"But wait a deechy bit, a-chorra-ma-chree! It's the red-
coats is in it, sure enough, bud your inemies, as mooch as the
Rapparees. Didn't I hear the gineral, while the colleen was
screechin' in his hands, the thief-o'-the-world."
"Accursed monster! Come, girl, or stay behind me!"
Evelyn burst out, almost with a shriek.
"Is that how it is now? Musha, God forgi' you, Sassenach
o' the hard heart! Will you lave poor Moya alone in this
black glin, an' the night in it, when she has nowhere to turn
her face; when it's her life's-worth to face among her own agin
afther her stayin' wid you; afther them seein' her whin she
put her body betuxt them an' you, an 1 Bud I'll say little
of it. Only this I'll say, what I was sayin' afore. Go not to
the village, where your own sodgers are waitin' to be the ruin
o' you. I hard their gineral, I tell you agin, biddin' em look
for you well, and tie you behind a throoper's saddle, an' take
good care o' you till the march was over. Now, you may
jest throw away your own life, that she gave up all to save,
an' lave her in this wild glin to loose her own too. Never 'ill
she go a foot wid you over the road that's to lade you to your
death, let her own loock be whatever the mornin' 'ill bring
wid it.
Evelyn, struck, if not touched, with the apparent devotion
and disinterestedness of the poor wandering girl, hastened to
assure her that it was impossible for him, by act or word, to
show a forgetfulness of her kind services. Then he was about
## p. 369 (#397) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 369
to give reasons why their reception at the village should not
be as bad as she apprehended, when Moya interrupted him.
"Ochown! I want no talk like that to pay me for what
I done, with a good heart. Bud, Sassenach, Sassenach, dear,
I gi' you the warnin', an' take it. The world wide is agin us
two, this black night. Let us turn from 'em all. You have
no house or home, an' I have no house or home ; kith or kin,
friend or gossip, we have none, or else they stand up agin us.
Och ! sure we're the only friends of one another. So, till
betther times come roundtill you can get a house agin, an'
sit down in pace an' quiet, an' till Ibut little's the matther
about Moya. Only turn wid her, till you can be rightified,
an' made safe an' sure. Turn your feet, wid hers, from the
black north, an' from all its roads and towns, into the green
country. I know a lonesome place, and a weeny, waste cabin
in it ; the grass about it is as .green as a May mornin', an'
the little sthrame as clear as your own blue eyes, an' no livin'
thing near, bud all as quiet as the Summersk y. When we sit
down there, Moya 'ill have a cow for you, to gi' you milk, for
she has the goold to buy it; an' a cock to crow for you, at
break o' day, and the wolf-dog to watch while you're sleepin';
an' she'll dig for you, an' lay good food forenent you, an' be
your sarvent all day long. Come wid her, acuishla machree,
that she may know well you are safe from the rievin' world
that she may thry to be to you the comforts now lost to you.
Ochown ! come wid her, to give her heart pace!"
Here the poor Rapparee girl, with a quick, impulsive
gesture, laid her weeping face upon his shoulder.
"No, Moya," he replied, gently, "with the sincerest
thanks, and with friendship for your kindness and friend-
ship, this cannot be. I am encompassed with doubts which
I must, one way or another, clear up. I am torn with
fears, which I must, one way or another, make certain.
And my first necessary step is to follow the soldiers who were
here to-day; therefore, let us to the village. As to your fears
for me when I get there, depend on it I shall meet as many
friends as foes. Friends able and willing to protect me; and
friends to protect you, too, whose safety shall be my imme-
diate care. Were I satisfied, Moya," he added, moved by
the contrast between her devotion, and his otherwise desolate
condition" in one way satisfieddid I know that I stand
as blasted and wretched as I fear I dothen might you lead ,
r
2 B
## p. 370 (#398) ############################################
370 THE BOYNE WATER.
me where you pleased. Then, my poor girl, I would not care
what lonely and savage spot on the face of the earth sufficed
to hide me." Hot tears of anguish dropped, as he spoke,
upon the girl's head, which, fearful of hurting her, he had
allowed to remain upon his shoulder.
"Our only true danger," he resumed, "is from the Rap-
parees on the roadbut that we must dare. Cheer up,
Moya; lean on me, and let us pursue our way."
She allowed him to take her hand in a silence that seemed
like sullenness, mixed with bitter grief, and, perhaps, womanly
mortification. As he moved a step she sobbed loudly, and
resisted a little. But after a struggle, her buoyant nature
enabled her to rally, to dry her tears, to assume a careless,
laughing air, and at last to say:
'* Well, Sassenach, I will jest go wid you, to show you
the roadI wont refuse the last good turn, anyhow." And
with these words they walked into the dark glen, Moya hum-
ming a merry tune.
Evelyn, alarmed, he knew not why, at this sudden change
in the girl's manner, observed:
'' If you really fear we may be surprised by your angry
friends, Moya, such loud singing is rather imprudent on your
part."
"Divil a taste, Sassenach," replied Moya, lightly. "When
the merry fit comes on a body, who can help it 1 " And she
sang, at the top of her voice:
"Oh! my Moya's dhressed so fine an' gay,
She wears an Irish mantle;
Wid frenge about the petticoat,
That never knew shame or skhandle."
"That's me. It's a scrap of a good song, Terry O'Regan,
the handsomest young piper on Ireland's ground, made for
me. But it wouldn't doI turned him off. An' then he
made another dhass or two, when he thought red Murraugh
was my likin'. This is a lilt of it:
"' May you never see the harvest, nor hear the young cuckoo,.
For you robbed me of my darlin', Murraugh, Murraugh Rue.'"
The last air she began to sing was of the first order of Irish
## p. 371 (#399) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 371
musical pathos. Ere poor Moya could get through with it,
her bosom became again filled, in accordance to the tune, -with
the vainly-checked sorrow, that was its real passion for the
moment. Her voice trembled; and, bursting into tears, she
interrupted herself with
"Och! what 'ud I be thinking of, at-all-atall!"
Evelyn let the fit work on, as Moya, disengaging her arm,
walked forward some distance ;. and, after a short pause, her
voice was again heard singing to another pathetic air these
words:
"He's my love an' he's my likin', bud he cares not for me;
I'd lay down life for Paudeen, so his love he'd let me be.
But while I'd die for Paudeen, of me no thought he has:
Och ! my heartmy heart, it's breakin', wid lovin' Paudeen Dhass !*
"I'd beg the wide world over, to bring him comfort home;
But he'd never think about me, wherever I did roam.
An' war I in my could grave, my could grave he would pass,
Widout a look or token, from my own Paudeen Dhass!
As Moya finished the last verse, two or three voices chal-
lenged them at some distance. Ever since they left the
ruined house, Evelyn had been apprehending that, through
vindictiveness at his slight, or else mere whim and inconsis-
tency, it was the girl's intention to attract, by her loud singing.
some couching body of Eapparees, and betray him into their
hands. As the voices now echoed down the glen, his former
suspicion amounted to certainty, and stopping full before
Moya, he asked
"Girl! will you destroy me, after all 1
"
"Gch ! God forgi' you agin, I say," she answered; "an' is it
that you're thinkin' of in regard o' the little lightness o' the
heartan' maybe it's a sorrowful lightness, after allthat jest
cum over me! I know it's the poor boys you'd be afeard of;
but listen well to their voices."
The challenge was repeated, and Evelyn, indeed, recognised
the broad north country tone that he had been accustomed to
among his own volunteer corps. As the party advanced, he
promptly answered them. When challenged and challengers
met, he further recognised an old brother officer in command
of it; his previous surmise that the village of Cushindoll
* Handsome Patrick.
## p. 372 (#400) ############################################
372 THE BOYNE WATER.
must have been garrisoned by a handful of native troops,
rather than by any portion of Kirke's regular armies, thus
proving true.
After a cordial greeting on both sides, he briefly informed the
officer that his present situation was one of extreme anxiety,
.calling on him to push southward, after Kirke's division,
as soon as possible; and he therefore required to be accommo-
dated with a horse and attendant. His old acquaintance re-
plied that he should have both, with the greatest pleasure,
early the next morning, when the principal part of their de-
tachment, now in Cushindoll, should march, taking the same
route with Kirke, for their head-quarters, at Schomberg's
camp, near Loughbrickland.
"And why not to-nightnow?" asked Evelyn, in some
misgiving.
"The answer is one that I am distressed to render. Gene-
ral Kirke, who assumes, at his pleasure, the command and
-disposal of our native troops, left express orders with me, in
his hasty -march through the village, this evening, to make
you a prisoner, should you happen to come in my way. I
need not add, however, that your captivity shall be nominal,
for this night. Early to-morrow we shall ride forward, toge-
ther, and see an end to the matter, whatever it is."
There was no resource. Evelyn, boiling with rage, im-
patience, and terrible apprehensions, saw himself obliged to
submit to one night's restraint. After getting upon a horse,
and requesting that Moya might be accommodated with a
seat behind one of the men, the whole party were about to
move back to the village, when Evelyn took the officer aside.
"Sir," he cried, "lama most injured and most unhappy
man. That villainthat fiendthe cause of allgood rea-
son has he to put me under this arrest! No matter for the
circumstances, at present; but answer me one question. Did
you see any prisonersor strangersof either sex, accom-
panying him on his route, this evening, through the village f
The officer paused a moment, and answered no.
"But could not such be spirited along, without your ob-
servation? Could there not be disguisesa horseman's cloak,
or the likeand was there no whisper, no surmise?"
"I am aware of none. Nor can I form any opinion on the
secret practices you suggest. I only know, that after Han-
mer's and Stewart's regiments, and the greater part of his
## p. 373 (#401) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 373
own, moved back to this glen, from the village where they
had halted a moment, in some apprehension on Kirke's
account, they all again returned to us, in much haste, and
immediately pushed southward, without any explanation."
"Well, 'tis no matter; to-morrow shall satisfy me. When
we gain Schomberg's camp, I entreat your support, sir, and
that of the men here, and, if possible, that of our whole
native force, on the spot, while I publicly appeal for justice
against most villainous aggression."
His brother-in-arms promptly engaged to' render Evelyn
all the assistance in his power; and they immediately rode
on to Cushindoll. Arrived in their temporary quarters,
Evelyn once more entreated that poor Moya might be looked
to for the night, and in the morning allowed to remain with
the women of the few volunteers who should stay behind;
the Enniskilleners being accompanied, wherever they went,
by flocks of their wives, daughters, mothers, and sweethearts,
much to the surprise and scandal of the more regular English
army. When he had received promises to all he solicited for
Moya, he sent to call her before him.
She entered, silent and pensive, with a mixture of obstinacy
or determination in her manner.
"I march early to-morrow morning, Moya, and wish to bid
you good-bye, before I retire to rest, as there will be no time
for adieus in the bustle, at break of day."
"Avoch, we thank you, Sassenach."
"Be assured, my good girl, I can never forget your great
services and kindnesses; and if it shall ever be in my power
to repay them, depend on my gratitude."
"Avoch!" was Moya's only answer, as, with her chin sunk
in her neck, and the knuckle of a finger tapped against her
under lip, she twitched, with the point of her huge brogue, a
rush that lay on the floor. Evelyn, not well skilled in the
manifestations of sentiment usual amongst those of her caste,
felt hurt at a manner that he feared seemed to flout his empty
words, and point to some more solid remuneration. Under
this feeling, he resumed:
"You know I am not rich, Moya; you were, yourself, a
witness of the temporary ruin that has come upon my pro-
perty. But stillas, separated from your old friends, you
may feel certain embarrassments, I have this at your service."
He approached and placed a small purse in her passive
## p. 374 (#402) ############################################
374: THE BOYNE WATER.
hand. She retained it a moment, as if no such thing had
been in her possession; at last held it up, glanced at it, fixed
upon the giver a look in whioh, through eyes floating in tears,
an outraged and indignant spirit shot forth, then dashing
it on the floor, and stamping on it
"As the dust o' the road I care for it, and I thrate it! she
exclaimed. "Ochown! Sassenach, little do you know the
heart in poor Moya's body, withinan' little, I'm afeard,
little kith there's betwixt your heart an' her heart, when
you'd kill her, entirely, this-a-way. Bud I'm wrongin' you,
maybe; I'll say it war meant kindly, though not done as our
people 'ud do it. I'll say it waran' so "stooping and tak-
ing up the purse" we gi' you many thanks, aroon, bud it's
not wantin' the present time."
"Then, my good Moya, farewell!" said Evelyn, convinced
he had erred in his reading. He took her hand, rough and
red as it was, though small, and of perfect shape, and rather
chivalrously, and in something of the air of a courteous knight
of yore, condescending to comfort, as far as honour permitted,
the tears of a devoted damsel to whom he was indifferent,
kissed it earnestly.
This was too much for poor Moya. She instantly set up a
wild lament, or song of joyit might have been either,
so far as Evelyn's startled ears could telland eagerly re-
turning, with interest, upon the hand she held, the kiss he
had vouchsafed, while all the time her yes rained tears, she
broke from him, exclaiming
"God be your speed !but we may meet agin."
Retiring to bed, but not to repose, Evelyn counted the
hours till daylight. As soon as morning broke, the party to
which he was attached commenced its march. All day he
urged his fellow-officer to speed. But the usual regulations
observed on the march did not permit his request to be at-
tended to. When they halted for the night, Evelyn found,
in increased impatience, that owing to the difficulties of
the road, not more than a dozen miles, out of between thirty
and forty which lay before them, had been accomplished.
And he now perceived, what he had at first omitted to calcu-
late, that, owing to the start Kirke had over them, he must
not expect to come up with that individual until the detach-
ment should reach Schomberg's camp.
Evelyn appealed to the officer for permission to ride forward
## p. 375 (#403) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 375
alone, giving his parole for a re-appearance at the point
of rendezvous; but he was informed, that against any such
indulgence Kirke had taken the precaution of issuing his
commands. Evelyn then inconsiderately threatened to push
on, in defiance of every order; but his grave and prudential
companion gave notice that, after the avowel of such an
intent, it became his duty, forgetful of all private feelings, to
look more attentively to his prisoner. Accordingly he called
two men to ride at each side of Evelyn, asking his pardon for
the measure.
Evelyn saw he was obliged to submit, while hope must be
his only solace. Thus did he endeavour to check the impa-
tience of his spirit, until, on the evening of the third day,
after the beginning of their march, the party came in sight of
Schomberg's temporary camp.
It was pitched a little to the north of the village of Lough-
brickland, partly on a plain, divided by a very bad road,
partly on gentle heights to the left; a small lough of
water near at hand. Almost all the troops, including the
main body of the Enniskilleners, were under arms, in line,
and in the act of being reviewed, as the little detachment
came up. It was a beautiful August evening, and it lit up a
beautiful, a fine, and, to Evelyn, a novel and stirring scene.
Pressing as were the claims of his private feelings, he could
not avoid paying some attention to the first regular military
display which, soldier though he was, had come so closely
under his notice.
Ehiring the approach of his party towards the commanding
officer, the left of the line he passed was composed of part of
the finest-looking among the English army, completely ap-
pointed, bestriding large, strong, and handsome horses,
their accoutrements and uniform bright and perfect. It was
scarce necessary for him to passas, immediately after, he
didthe whole body of the Enniskilleners, in order to draw a
oontrast between them (including himself) and their English
allies. Wondering at his former lack of observation, he now
saw, with a feeling like shame, the uncouthness and compara-
tive wildness of their appearance; their different coloured
clothing; their various weapons; their pistols dangling by
cords to their sword-belts, instead of being secured in hols-
ters; the ugly and diminutive "garrons," on whose backs
they sat ; and the hordes of women, almost as rough as the
## p. 376 (#404) ############################################
376 THE BOYNE WATEH.
garrons, and uncouth as themselves, who, squatted on the
grass at their backs, kept up a shrill gabble, or watched their
every movement. He could detect, too, in the glances of the
English troops at his old friends, and then at each other,
some contempt, some mirth, and doubt of the usefulness, if
not certainly of the uselessness of the Enniskilleners. Senti-
ments in which they were countenanced by Schomberg.
But Evelyn could not long suffer the intrusion of such
general thoughts. Having passed the greater part of the
line, his eye caught, seated in his saddle in the middle of the
plain, the figure of the man he panted to confront. This,
at least, was enough to master every operation of his mind that
did not concern himself.
"Yonder," he whispered hastily to his brother officer
"yonder is the villainlet us spur forward."
"Hold," cried his friend, "we must approach with some
ceremony. Schomberg is at his side."
"Were his particular devil there, I care not!" cried Evelyn.
"Follow, if you will."
"I needs must follow my prisoner," answered the officer,
now speaking to himself; "though this is wild work. Fall
back, menI ride on, alone."
As Evelyn approached the place where Kirke stood, he was
struck, in the midst of all his speed and impatience, with the
figure of the person to whom his detested enemy addressed
discourse. This was a very old man, tall and bulky, with a
high-coloured face, screened by a profusion of snow white
hair, that flowed, almost as fully as a periwig, from under his
old-fashioned, though rich and picturesque, helmet. Tena-
cious, like all old people, of the costume of his early days, he
further appeared clad in a corslet of solid plate armour, with
pauldrons, or paudrons, gardes-brasses, vambrace, and cuishes,
to match. While in lieu of the graceless jack-boots, now
generally adopted by all horsemen, he sported a pair of the
elegant, falling half-boots, of russet colour, that marked
the era of Charles I., drawn over a tight-fitting pantaloon,
which, although the wearer lapsed into Shakspeare's sixth
"stage," health and exercise still kept from looking " lean and
slippered." Thus, in contrast with the muddy-seeming huff-
coats, the "potts," or close steel-caps, and huge hats, around
himseldom relieved by so much as a gorgetSchomberg's
dress did not appear less stamped with antiquity than hi3
## p. 377 (#405) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 377
features. For Evelyn could see, at a closer approach, the
marks of extreme age upon them, shown in the red-fringed
eye, and in that changeless, unconscious, and expressionless
smile of the mouth, which is the forerunner, if not the evi-
dence, of imbecility and dotage.
Before Evelyn had quite reached his point, and just as the
eye of Kirke shot round upon him, and Schomberg had begun
to stare, the officer of the Enniskilleners overtook him, and
said:
"For God's sake, and for decency's sake, patience. Com-
pose yourself, fall back, and let me open this matter. Schom-
berg has already imbibed unfavourable notions of our
temper, and want of discipline; do not afford him this new
proof."
"Well," said Evelyn, somewhat convinced of a necessity for
self-command, "I will do as you please. Pass on."
The officer accordingly passed him, and, with uncovered
head, said: "This gentleman, General Kirke, is the prisoner
you desired at my hands. And in his person, may it please
your Grace," turning to Schomberg, "behold Captain Robert
Evelyn, an officer of account among our native troops."
As Evelyn bowed, his head also uncovered, Kirke leered,
and a glance passed between him and Schomberg.
"We hafe heard about Mashters Robert Evelyn," observed
Schomberg, touching his helmet.
"No ill, I trust, my lord duke?" asked Evelyn.
"Now dat is one of your littel big Irish questions," an-
swered the marshal, again exchanging a glance with Kirke.
"Perhaps I should have proffered my question elsewhere,"
retorted Evelyn, fixing his regards on the other general.
"Be prudent, I entreat you," whispered his companion;
"only be prudent, and fear nothing. I have possessed my
troop with all I suspect of your case. They will spread it
amongst the rest of the Enniskilleners, and they amongst
the English, who dislike Kirke as much as you do; and
"Fear nothing," interrupted Evelyn, "I will only be
firm.'
Then moving his horse a few paces forward, he continued
to address Kirke.
"My brother officer, sir, informs me I am to consider my-
self a prisoner, under your arrest."
"He has correctly informed you, sir," sneered Kirke.
## p. 378 (#406) ############################################
378 THE BOTXB WAXEK.
"May I beg to be made acquainted wih. the nature of my
offence, General Kirfce T
"Some other time. perhaps. Captain Evelynruns no*
the address so? For I beHeve you are all Captains."
Once more he looked at Schomberg. but the bhnf probity
and good feeling for which that old commander was re-
markable, did not, in this instance, accord hhn any answering
grin.
"I respectfully appeal to the commander-in-chief. to decide
whether or no I am entitled to an answer," continued
Evelyn, on whom Schomberg's expression of countenance
ws3 not lost.
"Oh, certainlies. yon are, mein goot sir." said Sehomberg;
"and General Kirke does not refuse his answers."
Kirke slightly bit his hp: and
"Yau know the offence, already, my lord." he said; "and
it is, as I have informed your grace, aiding and abetting
rebels, found with arms in their hands."
"That is it," resumed Schomberg, addressing Evelyn.
"Then it is false, may it please your grace," Evelyn
answered.
"Mein Heafen f exclaimed Schomberg, "here is much
more of the Irishers' hot tempers; it will expose us afl.
Dismiss the men," to some officers who had begun to crowd
around, "and let them not see such bad examples." The
officers drew off to obey his orders. <: Basta! I hafe never
met such things in any service, with your Frenchmans, your
Portuguese, your Brandenbergians, your Englishmans, or
your Dutchmans, Sacra! nefer. You, one Enniskilleners
you ride here to join us on your very big lean cats, and all
de wild womans of Irelands at your backs, to eat up our
food, or to thief it. You cry, in great spirits, indeed, 'send
us always on de forlorn of de army,' and you get one little
command which does not put you on de forlorn at all. And
den you cry again, ' Oh, we can never do any good now no
more, indeed, for we are put under orders f And now you
come here over again to give us de challenge for de rencontre,
de duello, just only because we put you in arrest for fighting
against us, mein goot Gott!"
Evelyn prudently allowed this little burst of heat, uncon-
nected as it'really was with his individual case, to work itself
out. Nor did he hasten to reply even when the old dis-
## p. 379 (#407) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 379
ciplinarian had done, hoping that he himself would come
back to the point at issue.
And he was not disappointed. After a short pause, while
the broken lines were moving hastily across the plain, Schom-
berg again spoke.
"And so, Masthers Captain Evelyn, you say you did not
aid and abet rebelsno, indeed V
"May it please your grace," answered Evelyn, "the case is
this. I accompanied from Derry (a Protestant clergyman
also in company) some very old and dear friends, who had
obtained, before we set out, passes and protections from the
proper authorities. While visiting with them their ruined
house, which General Kirke had just burnt, and while they
were bewailing their aged father, who lay dead on his own
hearthstone (though for him, too, we brought a protection
with us), this same General Kirke returned to the house, and
endeavoured to gain entrance for the purpose of sacrificing my
friends. Some resistance his people did encounter from the
son of the old man who lay murdhered. He then called on
me to assist him in murdhering that son, also, which call I
refused, because I durst not lay hand on those who were
regularly protected. Against him or his soldiers I never
pointed a sword. Such, my lord duke, is the aiding and
abetting with which I am charged."
"But it was not aiding and abetting, not at all, whendat
is, if the peoples were, as you hafe said, protected, indeed.
I did not hear of protections, before," he added, glancing at
Kirke.
"Nor are you likely to hear of them again, to much pur-
pose, my lord," said that officer, still sneering. "Supposing
such documents to have ever existed, one of my men was
killed before a word of explanation could be offered or de-
manded."
"Yes, by the old man's son, when, his father dead at his
feet! More, more, your grace !his sister at his side !the
soldier crossed the threshold of his house to execute the cruel
orders we had heard General Kirke issue against us," said
Evelyn.
"Then we cannot help that mans," resumed Schomberg.
"He was cut down by a protected rebel, in which you call
self-defences. Always, that is, if he had his protections.
Where is it, now, or where is he V
r
## p. 380 (#408) ############################################
380 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Aye, where is it, indeed V repeated Kirke.
"You know, sir," rejoined Evelyn, "that the Protestant
clergyman put it into your hands."
"I am not to know any such thing, at your pleasure, sir.
The clergyman you speak of is now in Derry, or God knows
where," answered Kirke.
"Well, this is unlucky. I shall only ask you then, to
declare the name of the young person in question. It was
Edmund M'Donnell, I believe T
"I have heard so."
"Then here, my lord duke," resumed Evelyn, shaking
with impatience, as he produced the protection, which, having
fallen from Kirke's hands during the struggle with the Rap-
parees, he had picked up before leaving, late at night, the
ruined dwelling of the M'Donnells" here is the document."
Kirke grew pale, as Schomberg, on looking at it, pronounced
it to be a true one. "And General Kirke will now take off
your arrest, mein goot sir," he added.
Kirke bowed. There was a murmur either against him, or
in approval of the arrangement, among many officers, and
some privates, English and Irish, who, after the dismiss, had
ventured to draw towards the spot.
"I humbly thank your grace ; and would crave the freedom
of another word," said the liberated prisoner. "Since it now
appears that Edmund M'Donnell stood free from the power
of General Kirke, and since it can be shownif, indeed, the
general denies itthat his own eye informed him of the fact, I
hope I am not too bold to expect, through the justice and tender-
ness of your grace, that some account will be given of the
fate of the young man, who, when I became insensible, in
consequence of this wound," pointing to his head, "was
surrounded by a numerous body of soldiersbut whom, upon
my recovery, I could not find on the spot, alive or dead; and
who has not since been heard of."
"Certainlies. General Kirke will give accounts."
"I know nothing of the matter," said Kirke, sullenly.
"I charge him, under favour of your grace, with a full
knowledge of the matter," continued Evelyn, still trying to
check himself, though his bosom was bursting with passion.
"Oh, sureties, the general will remember," said Schomberg,
addressing himself coldly to Kirke.
"I pray your grace that he may be exhorted to do so. And
## p. 381 (#409) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 381
there is another occasion for his memory. Your grace has
heard me speak of a sister of Edmund M'Donnella young,
beautiful, and now orphan lady"the emotion Evelyn vainly
strove to hide filled his eyes, and choked his voice.
"Basta !" interrupted Schomberg, frowning suspiciously on
Kirke, in full recollection, doubtless, of his well-known
character. "Is there one handsome young womans, missing,
too?"
"And protected, also, as your grace may see, by this other
paper. Let me add, my wife, my lord duke; though our
marriage was a private one." A second loud murmur arose
among the by-standers, which, perhaps, had the immediate
effect of encouraging, or sympathetically exciting, all the
long-smothered feelings of Evelyn; for, quickly turning his
horse" Villain !" he exclaimed, "where is that lady?"
"I am not bound," replied Kirke, with a ghastly smile,
"to hold any errant damoselle under my care, for any errant
knight that may choose to claim her from me. Though, to
say truth, it was a pretty piece of flesh and blood, and, I re-
member, won some favour in my eyes. Or supposing me to
know aught of the wench, even in that case am I bound"
"Damnable wretch!" interrupted Evelyn, the taunt and
implication wholly depriving him of reason and self-command,
as, spurring his horse, he dashed at Kirke, and seized him by
the throat. "Monster! what have you done with that lady?
Produce her, and produce her as she fell into your tainted
handsthe chaste and orphan daughter of a virtuous, a
murdered father. As my wife, produce her !as my wife,
blasted villain!" Evelyn's voice rose piteously shrill. "Do
this, and do it soonnowthis instantor by the Heaven
you scoff, and. the Hell that aids you"
"Mein Gott!" interrupted Schomberg, advancing, as the
repeated murmurs of the spectators seemed to encourage
Evelyn, while a portion of Kirke's own regiment galloped
hastily across the ground.
"Mein goot Gott, I do say! Here will be one littel en-
gagement among ourselves, and one victory for the rebels,
whoever shall win. Mashters Captain Evelyn ! draw off and
fall back, or, by mine honours, I will cut your crown. Take
your hands away, or expect nothing from me. Sacra!" he
continued, as these words brought Evelyn to his senses, and
caused him to unloose his grasp; "what you mean, Mr.
## p. 382 (#410) ############################################
382 THE BOYNE WATER.
Enniskilleners, to take all de laws into your own hands, and
cut every one man's throat as you like? Fall back, sir; fall
back, too, General Kirke, de other vay. Some of you, gen-
tlemen, stand between them. Basta! your Spaniard is not
half so hot as your wild Irishmans. I do a littel begin to
think dey will be very goot for a charge, when their one
starved garrons are made fatter. So> vary goot. Let both the
gentlemens grow cooler, dere, and let all the peoples that make
one crowd, here, for nothing at all, go away, and den we will
talk of this matter."
But to Schomberg's surprise and vexation, the Ennis-
killeners firmly, though respectfully, preferred to remain until
they should see their officer righted.
"Vary goot, again. Andbasta!if I order you to lay
down your arms," addressing the volunteer officerthe friend
of Evelyn, who had brought him this message, "which I
ought to do, I suppose you will all go, with all your lean
horses, and all your fat womans, over to the rebels, early
in the morning? Or else draw out to fight General Kirke's
men, that I do see are also come to afford us their com-
panies 1 It is all vary goot, I say; I will obey your orders,
every one. And so let us now end the affair, General
Kirke."
"I rely upon your grace to afford me prompt satisfaction
for this insultfor this abuse and assault from an inferior
officer," said Kirke.
"Yes; if you tell him where to find his wife," replied
Schomberg.
"That I cannot; orlet your grace excuse meI am not
bound to do."
"You will see, mein goot General Kirke," resumed the
old marshal, quietly, but angrily. "I am a father myself,
and I have been a husband, and I cannot hafe an old man's
child, nor a young man's wife, made away with, in this
fashion, by any officer under my commands. You shall also
see I am your commander, here, though you were your own
commander .when James was. up, in the west of England,
yonder. So, if you know vary much about the poor young
womans, you will tell me, orthough I cannot force you to
give answers, nor punish you for silenceyou shall have
very little satisfactions at all for Captain Evelyn's words and
blow."
## p. 383 (#411) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 383
"I thank your grace for the choice you leave me, as well
as for the whole spirit of the decision. But I heg to de-
cline answering the impertinent and wild assertions of any
coxcomb."
"Sacra ! hafe you the lady in your hands? Answer me,
man."
"Again, may it please your grace, I shall be silent."
"Diavolo !Diable !Deyvil!take cares what you do;
I will get proofs against you, and, then, look to yourself,
General Kirke. Here, Mashters Evelyn, can you give me
proofs that this womans-eater took off your wife 1"
"I can, my lord, by your allowing me a few days to send
for the witness," answered Evelyn, advancing.
"Basta, sir, what will you mean, at all? Why will you
come here to make charges without the proofs by your side 1
I tell you, Mashters Robert Evelyn, only let me hafe proofs,
and I will change his general's commission into one dirty bit
of waste papershagel! I will."
"Meantime, under your grace's favour, I stand, in the
absence of all proof, clear of the charge; and, therefore,
I humbly presume, entitled to the satisfaction I have de-
manded," resumed Kirke.
"No, mein worthy sir, not till we see whether or no
Captain Evelyn can make his stories goot."
"Or," said Evelyn, "until my witnesses can arrive. Or
without at all troubling your grace to wait for further proof
of the matter, I will be content with one plain course. Let
me have your grace's permission," he continued, in returning
rage, "to prove my words upon the body of the wretch
I accuse of this crime, and, at the same moment, let him
have the only chance of satisfaction for my former insults,
which, waving the formalities of nominal rank, one courageous
gentleman can seek from another."
"That will all happen as General Kirke will like,"
answered Schomberg, not displeased, perhaps, at the pros-
pect of a summary discomfiture,. in one shape or another,
to Kirke. "I am satisfied, in order to put ends to this
affair, to enable him to meet your challenge, without endan-
gering his rank, and you to give it, without fear of the articles
of war. Mein Heafen!let it be so, if your Irish fashion
of the duello likes his English prudence."
"Thanks, my gracious lordthanks. Here, then."
## p. 384 (#412) ############################################
384 THE BOYNE WATER.
"But you will remember, mein good Mashters Evelyn,
that this rencontre, end as it may, puts it out of your powers
to renew the questions, in any other way, at all."
"I am content, my lord-moreI am grateful. And
now do I pronounce General Kirke a false villain, if he denies
my charge, or if he refuses to render up the lady; and a
treble coward, if he refuses me satisfaction. Or iffor my
past insultsand for thisand this"-he continued, his
passion again overcoming him, as he struck Kirke with the
flat of his sword" if he refuses it."
"Fool!" cried Kirke, in sudden frenzy; "I do not re-
fuse. Dismount, and follow me."
They flung themselves from their horses at the same moment.
"Not a step from the ground we tread on!" continued
Evelyn, thrusting at him. There was no alternative but
combat on the spot. Kirke skilfully parried the thrust with
a beautiful crescent sabre, and seemed content to stand, for a
time, upon the defensive, and allow Evelyn's rage to exhaust
itself. Their troops closed round, and Schomberg looked on
with much tranquillity. Evelyn continued the attack, and
by a rash and desperate effort, seized Kirke's blade, near the
handle, and closed upon him. But his antagonist had a
dagger ready in his left hand, at the sight of which the
Enniskilleners cried out" Equal weapons !fair play !"
and one from among their body, a very young, fresh-
coloured lad, rushed forward, jumped on the ground,
and running to the combatants, twitched the treacherous
weapon out of Kirke's hand, and disappeared, in a trice,
back again among the dragoons. Evelyn, at a slight glance,
thought the face familiar to him.
During the diversion this incident caused, Kirke regained
full use of his sabre, and the combat continued with fury on
both sides. At length, having overreached himself with a
violent push, Evelyn's foot slipped on the damp and trodden
grass, and he fell. Kirke's point was instantly at his heart,
as he forced Evelyn's sword from his grasp.
"Strike, villain!" cried the despairing youth; "you have
left me nothing to live forstrike!"
"It is not worth the while," replied his adversary, appre-
hension of those around assisting, perhaps, his wish to appear
magnanimous. "Live longer, and grow wiser." And he imme-
diately turned away.
## p. 385 (#413) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEE. 385
"Kirke!" shrieked Evelyn, starting up, following him, and
casting himself wildly on his knees" Kirke !wretch
monstercowardstrike! Or, oh! since I can no longer
compel your justiceyour mercyI implorebeg it! Re-
store heruninjured, if you can; but in any case, restore
her, and I will bless you as fervently as I now beg for the
boon!"
"Tush, sir," answered Kirke, twitching the skirt of his buff
coat out of Evelyn's desperate grasp, "this is too Quixotic."
And he left the ground.
"Rise, Captain Evelyn," said Schomberg, advancing, appa-
rently somewhat affected; "I am sorry for all thisbut rise
the discomfiture does not touch your honour. It was a fair
combat, fought with all courage on your parts; and you will
not yet despair entirely, indeed, of success in the other
matterand you will come to my tent when you are more
composed."
CHAPTER XXIX.
Evelyn was led by his brother officer and others, almost
insensible, to one of the huts belonging to the encampment.
Despair had fully seized him. He continued nearly uncon-
scious of the friendly words addressed to his ear, and of the
friendly actions performed towards him. And when their
duties called his friends away, Evelyn felt as indifferent to
their absence as he had been to their presence, and equally
regardless of the mute attentions of a young private of the
Enniskilleners who remained to wait on him, and who, having
placed refreshments on a coarse table, stood behind his officer's
seat, deeply interested, apparently, in the affliction he could
not presume to console. More than once, indeed, a vague
idea entered Evelyn's mind, that the slight, short, and
youthful figure which noiselessly moved around him, might
be that of the lad who, during his combat with Kirke, had
plucked the dagger from the hand of his detested adversary.
But so clouded and inane were Evelyn's thoughts and feelings,
2 c
## p. 386 (#414) ############################################
386 THE BOTKE WATER.
with reference to anything not absolutely making part of
his grief, that this notion occurred but to be forgotten; and
he did not once raise his eyes to pursue it by looking at the
face of his mute attendant.
When he began to reflect a little more regularly on the
occurrences that had just taken place, Evelyn's keenest
anguish and self-reproach arose from the recollection, that by
madly giving way to passion, and putting all upon the chance
of a personal combat with Kirke, he had, in the presence of
a crowd of witnesses, abandoned all right to seek, in any
other shape, a future explanation of the fate of Eva. And
as this thought continued to present itself, he writhed, and
groaned aloud.
When he strove to consider the matter consecutively,
he found that, distinct from the entanglement in which it
was involved by his own state of mind, it was otherwise
clouded and confused. Where could Kirke have disposed
of Eva? Was she in his tent this moment 1 If so, would
he dare to refuse the explanation sought from him, with
the proof of his crime so near at hand, and so accessible 1
This seemed extraordinary, improbable. Yet, where else
could he have conveyed, her 1 Orand the bare surmise
was torturehad the ruffia'tf first gratified his brutal passion,
and then called on murder, to hush, at once and for ever,
the voice of his victim, and the witness against him? And
Edmund,little doubt could be entertained that Moya's
account of him was true. It did not appear possible that,
after the strong reinforcement had reached Kirke at the
Strip of Burne, he would have spared, in the moment of
returned success, the man on account of whose resistance he
had incurred, including the Whisperer's agency, so much
danger, vexation, and outrage. Above all, the brother of her
on whom he had fixed an unholy eye, and from whom the
most determined opposition must have been expected. There-
fore, M'Donnell had, doubtless, fallen by his father's side the
moment he escaped from Evelyn's control, and that the
soldiers surrounded and overpowered him. For, in Evelyn's
calculations, retreat or surrender was out of the question on
the part of one so excited and so desperate as Edmund con-
tinued to be; further maddened, too, by the sight of Eva
dragged from him to shame and ruin. Had the Protestant
## p. 387 (#415) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 387
clergyman witnessed that horrible event? Here came the
first ray of hope. Although he could not answer the question,
it seemed almost certain that such must have been the case.
He therefore determined to write after his reverend friend to
Deny, and thus arrive at evidence, which, if it went hand in
hand with Moya's previous story, would amount to proof.
Yet, of what use to him were such proof, when he had
beforehand recorded against himself a renunciation of it 1
Once more, this reflection brought with it intolerable and
despairing agony.
But, as the evening wore away, Evelyn's mind gave some
slight indication of returning self-control, in the comparative
facility with which it continued to debate other things,
but of secondary consideration. What had become of Father
M'Donnell and Carolan? Had they, too, fallen victims to
the rage and revenge of Kirke 1 Alas! it was very probable.
And might not the Protestant clergyman himself have shared
their fate 1 He had endeavoured to stem the torrent of
Kirke's violence; he was a witness to the existence of docu-
ments which, having been submitted, would make that
violence criminal; perhaps he was a witness to the murder
of Edmund, and the forcible abduction of his sister. The
speedy ascertaining of this latter point now became the
strongest anxiety of Evelyn; he resolved, instead of writing,
to go to Deny, if, indeed, the stern duties and circumstances
of the time permitted such a step. Schomberg should decide
that question.
While sitting motionless, and now in darkness, a messenger
arrived from the tent of the commander-in-chief, to say, that
if Captain Evelyn was better, the Duke would speak with
him. Evelyn returned a hasty answer, promising immediate
attendance. His first reason for instantly complying with the
intimation, arose out of his wish to crave leave of absence
from the camp; and he was eagerly rushing out, filled with
this idea, when his natural and habitual prudence caused
him to recollect that it became his duty and his interest,
if he at all presented himself before Schomberg, to place
some decent restraint over his manner, and to prepare his
mind, difficult and repugnant as was the task, for an attention
to whatever general matters his commander might happen to
speak of. So, after a necessary pause, and much inward
...
## p. 388 (#416) ############################################
388 THE BOYNE WATER.
struggle, Evelyn manned and mastered himself, as well as he
could, and prepared to leave the hut. As he looked round
for his cloak and hat, he perceived they had been placed,
by his mute servant, on the seat hitherto occupied by him.
In his somewhat calmed state of mind, this attention struck
him as remarkable; he began also to connect with it floating
recollections of the whole demeanor of this individual during
his long fit of abstraction; then the incident of the dagger,
and his fancy, at the time, that the boy's face was familiar {o
him. At last, won into something like interest, he glanced
around in an involuntary wish to make more particular
observations. At first he saw no person in the hut; but,
advancing to a corner, he saw the youth, wrapped in a
dragoon's cloak, lying motionless on the damp floor.
"He sleeps," said Evelyn; "and is too happy to be dis-
turbed." And he hastened forth, in a renewal of bitterest
feelings at the contrast between his own bosom and that of
the sleeping lad. But ere he crossed the threshold of the rude
doorway, a deep sigh, at his back, seemed in some degree to
lessen the strength of the supposed contrast.
Gaining the tent and the presence of the commander-in-
chief, he was bluntly, though kindly received, and found the
old veteran engaged, with his secretary, in tracing district
maps, examining engineers' plans, and accounts of the agri-
cultural state of the country through which he was about to
march. He informed Evelyn that he was in want of an in-
telligent, loyal native, acquainted with the roads and the
present condition, in many respects, of the southern route he
determined immediately to take; and he paid him the com-
pliment of at once appointing him as a person better qualified
for this duty, than any one he had yet met since his arrival in
Ireland. Evelyn bowed in silence, fearful of saying a word
towards declining the honour, but miserably conscious, at the
same time, that, should the appointment last, he would
be obliged to sacrifice his intention of getting back to
Deny.
Schomberg gave him little time, indeed, to utter a word
on the subject, but immediately invited him to sit by his
side, and, referring to the maps, plans, and reports, plunged
at once into business. Following up the wise reflections
he had previously made as to what topics he might be called
## p. 389 (#417) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 389
on to discuss, Evelyn laboriously endeavoured to abstract his
mind from its private griefs, and fix it on the matter in hand.
He was partially successful; and the shrewd old general
making, doubtless, the allowance that his knowledge of
Evelyn's situation suggested, expressed much content, notwith-
standing fits of absence, and hasty and unintelligible answers,
with the local information Evelyn was able to convey.
Finally, Schomberg intimated his resolve of marching upon
Newry, early in the morning. His raw army had already
suffered a little, he said, from the very bad condition of the
roads, the bogs and swamps they encountered, whenever a
campaign line of march had been attempted ; lastly, and par-
ticularly, from the want of provisions. But they were re-
freshed by their present halt, and inspired by the recollection
that hitherto their career had been a triumphant one, un-
checked by even the appearance of any enemy. And although
Evelyn's account of the districts lying between Loughbrick-
land and Newry, and again between Newry and Dundalk,
nearer to the coast, were by no means favourable, still
Schomberg determined to lead them to both these places
in quest of the foe ; especially, as he had to meet his artillery
and stores, at Carlingford Bay.
Evelyn, now wholly engaged with his own private affairs,
only waited till Schomberg had done speaking to get in, as
well as he could, the request for leave of absence. But
just as he was about to open his lips for the purpose,
the commander kindly bade him good night, and adding,
by the way, that Evelyn would do well to prepare himself
for attending him as aid-de-camp, in lieu of a young
English officer, the spoiled child of a wealthy country gentle-
man, whom the Irish bogs, and other unexpected difficulties,
had visited with a severe illness on the second day's march
from Carrickfergus.
The complimented person heard this additional honour
conferred upon him with more dislike than is generally
felt by young and ambitious men, at an unexpected pro-
gress on the road of military distinction. Uttering not a
word in reply, he only bowed, in an embarrassed manner,
and once more endeavoured to shape his private purpose into
fitting speech, while Schomberg, as if he understood that some
demur was about to be made, and as if he thought it kind and
## p. 390 (#418) ############################################
390 THE BOYNE WATER.
useful to his young protege, not to suffer him to give it ex-
pression, hastily repeated his farewells for the night, and
would have ended all further conference.
But just as Evelyn was about to retire, confused and over-
whelmed, a sudden spirit unloosed his tongue, and he urged,
respectfully and modestly, his long-suppressed suit. At the
first words, Schomberg looked surprised; and, when he under-
stood the full nature of the request, offended and stern. If,
by such an untimely movement, he 6aid, Captain Evelyn
meant to decline the trouble or the honour of the appoint-
ments conferred upon him, he was at liberty to free himself
of them, that moment; but not to absent himself from
ordinary duty. It was another question whether a young
man, already suspected, though not by the loyal friends that
knew him well, of lukewarmness to the cause of King William,
should be permitted to
Here poor Evelyn, at first hurt by the half-uttered insinua-
tion, burst into indignant tears. Schomberg did not finish
the sentence, but, advancing to him, changed his stern
tone into one of kindness and commiseration; gave him
to understand that he suspected the object of his intended
journey; but that, under the circumstances, it were better,
even for his private interests, to keep an eye at home; that
he had not forgotten to consider what might be the more
prudent course of conduct; and that he would, himself,
assist Evelyn in adopting it. Meantime he exhorted him to
attend strictly to his professional duties, as, at once, his more
respectable line of behaviour, and that best calculated to
supersede the vain excess of thoughts and feelings that
always attended on a distressed mind. Adding, that he had
created an interest, as well by his spirited, though some-
what extravagant bearing, in the contest with Kirke, as by
his sound and well-regulated order of intellect, which would
be recollected to his advantage.
With these, to him, empty and useless panegyrics, Evelyn
was obliged to retire to his hut. Unable to make personal
inquiries in Deny, he wrote, the moment he could sit down,
the letter he had at first planned. As he folded it, the des-
perate thought occurred of abandoning the camp, by stealth,
and still satisfying himself in the speediest way. But the
charge and punishment of desertion stared him in the face:
## p. 391 (#419) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 391
and honour, the last sentiment that, amidst a crowd of mis-
fortunes, deserts the bosom which it has once solaced and
ennobled, frowned a disapproval. Then frenzy began to re-
assert her empire; and, laying his hand on his sword, he
asked himself why he did not, that moment, cut his way
with it into Kirke's tent, and at least assure himself whether
or not Eva was there. The pledge he had given, the line of
conduct to which he had bound himself, the obligation im-
posed upon him by the very defeat he had undergone;
all this, assisted by the renewed promptings of honour,
helped, however, to make him master his passion. And, at
last, exhausted and supremely miserable, he cast himself on
his rough couch', groaning bitterly.
In this situation his notice was once more challenged by a
heavy sigh from his young attendant, who, till then, had stood,
unobserved by Evelyn, some distance behind him. Still he
took no immediate notice of this person; until at last the
boy changed his place, and advancing with a cautious step,
laid on the table, before his temporary master, such food as
Evelyn did not think the camp afforded. At this he turned
round, in a half-risen posture, and looked sharply at his
attendant. He stood near the far wall of the rude hovel, the
collar of a dragoon's cloak clasped over his chin, and hiding
half his face, while the broad-leafed hat of the time, pulled
over his brows, almost entirely disguised the other half.
The head, too, was turned aside, as if confused by the scrutiny
of which he was the object. Altogether, an analysis of the
features was impossible.
Evelyn, after the effort of a moment, gave up the task, in
renewed indifference, and once more wholly surrendered him-
self to the misery of his situation. The very presence of a
second person became forgotten. The little supper remained
untouched; the hours of night passed unnoticed. It was
not till the brands which had been kindled on the hearth,
and which gave the only light of the apartment, nickered out,
one by one, and at length almost entirely darkened, that,
starting into a moment's recollection, as another deep-drawn
sigh reached his ear, and turning a second time round,
Evelyn beheld his sad and silent companion standing in the
very spot where he had last seen him, motionless as a statue,
and scarce perceptible in the increasing gloom.
Reproaching himself with cruel inattention to the comforts
## p. 392 (#420) ############################################
392 THE BOYNE WATEF.
of a being so apparently devoted, he then made a hasty sign,
and said:
"Remove these things, boy; eatretire to restand
forgive my absence of mind."
The lad slowly moved to the table ; took away the untasted
food; but, instead of partaking of it, put it up in a corner of
the hut; and then, making a rude obeisance, left Evelyn alone.
Evelyn remained sleepless and agitated. His conjectures
had lately been directed to the kind of promise made by
Schomberg to assist him in a certain course for the re-
covery of Eva. What could that course be t Something the
general had said of keeping a strict watch at home. Did
that mean closely observing Kirke, on the spot? Evelyn
believed it did: and then he set himself to plan the measure
to be taken. He would institute inquiries among Kirke's
confidants and creatures; he would by that means find
out Eva's real place of durance; when he had done so, he
would contrive a communication with her, and arrange her
escape. If indeed she still lived, it was his first duty,
now the only private one of his life, to rescue her from
a continuance of the horror and infamy by which she
might be surrounded. And if Eva were restored to
liberty, vengeance could yet be had on the author of her
wrongs. For the present, Evelyn was fixed in the dread-
ful conclusion that she was already lost to him for ever;
that an immediate effort could not prevent a foregone
event; that future retribution, and her eventual restora-
tion to liberty, were all he could hope for. Strange to
say, this self-wrought certainty, even of utter woe, calmed,
in a degree, the sufferer's mind; the future, unconnected
with Eva, began to be sullenly canvassed. Andoh,
shame to the human heart!wars and enterprises, and
the haughty front of ambition, began to suggest a stern
tolerance of life; and the new honours to which Evelyn
had just been appointed, were, for the first time, recol-
lected. All in one short night? Aye, all in one short
night! Such is the human heart.
An hour might have elapsed after the disappearance of the
singular attendant, when Evelyn heard a stealthy step at
the door of his hut. Grasping his sword, he lay quiet to note
whom the intruder might be; when, by the light of the late
moon, which shone brightly through the doorway, he again
## p. 393 (#421) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 393
saw the lad, cautiously entering, and looking earnestly towards
his couch, as if to see whether he slept or waked. Now
more than ever interested Evelyn, remaining on his guard,
gave symptoms of deep sleep, and still watched the midnight
visitor.
The figure stepped very slowly, and half bent with caution,
across the rough floor; gained the front of his couch, stooped
over Evelyn, looked long in his face, and then stepping back,
drew a rude dagger. Evelyn was about to spring up, but
another moment corrected the impulse. The attendant drew
the weapon only to lay it on the floor, where, finally, he
stretched himself, with many sighs, and continued caution of
manner, and muffling himself in his cloak, lay motionless and
silent at the feet of his chosen master.
Evelyn, hastily concluding that his brother officer had
considerately appointed this person to watch over him in
his affliction, took no further notice. Towards morning,
he was surprised into a fitful slumber. A trumpet-call awoke
him; and looking to the foot of his couch, the attendant was
gone.
The shrill reveille" continued to send its summoning voice
abroad. Evelyn hastily arose, and found the whole force in
motion; some striking the tents, some forming into marching
order. Apprehensive that he had delayed too long from
Schomberg, he hurried towards the marshal's tent, chiding
and despising the sluggish spirit that, notwithstanding an
enduring cause for watchfulness, could have betrayed him
into sleep.
His anxious attendant of the preceding night was nowhere
to he seen ; but Evelyn, meeting the brother officer, whom he
believed had appointed that person to wait on him, offered
his thanks for the considerate courtesy, and was informed
that the lad himself deserved most acknowledgment, as he
had been allowed to serve Evelyn at his own particular
instance.
Scarce afforded time to wonder at such a circumstance,
Evelyn, seeing Schomberg, in his saddle at a little distance,
spurred to join him. The white-headed general bade him
good morning, with continued cordiality ; and, in a short time,
the army was on its route to Newry.
The distance was but a short day's march; yet, owing to
the increased badness of the roads, the difficulties and
## p. 394 (#422) ############################################
394 THE BOYNE WATER.
distresses of Schomberg's troops thickened on the way. The
Enniskilleners, indeed, who formed his advance, made com-
paratively light of a succession of vicissitudes and incon-
veniences to which they had been accustomed. The blue
and white Dutch foot-guards, too, his own regiment of horse,
and the French regiments of La Mellonier, Du Cambon, and
La Caillemotte, bore their mishaps like veteran troops, to
whom patience and perseverance were familiar. But to the
English portion of the numerous army, mostly made up of
new levies, unaccustomed to the front of war, in an enemy's
country, and just ravished from the easy life and good things
of old England, the march was dispiriting and disastrous.
When, after much pause and straggling on the road, the
army got a sight of Newry, hoping for rest and refreshment
within it, their flagging spirits gained no relief from beholding
the town in flames, it having been just fired and abandoned
by the enemy and inhabitants. Schomberg entered the de-
serted and crumbling streets in great indignation and chagrin;
affecting to regard as barbarous a mode of warfare that he
knew well was in high repute among the more polished
destroyers of the Continent, and which has since told with
effect in our own improved age. He sent after the enemy a
high-toned, gasconading message, expressive of his horror at
such proceedings, and threatening them with terrible retalia-
tions, unauthorized, as he also well knew, by the laws of war,
or by the nature of the offence. But, up to this time, it was the
error of all invaders of Ireland, to imagine that the fair Cif
they are ever fair) usages of war might occasionally be out-
raged towards her, and that her native energies and national
mind might be cowed by an empty threat.
Notwithstanding the mishaps and privations of the army,
for the country through which they had lately passed was a
desert; notwithstanding the complaints and lamentations of
the men, Newry was no place to rest in; and Schomberg
speedily left it to follow the enemy to Dundalk. And now
came a climax to the sufferings of which the army had pre-
viously encountered but a foretaste. The road, falling down
towards the coast, lay through bogs and marshes, or over
barren hills. At every step, the soldiers stuck in mud, or
floundered through bog-water, scarce able to afford each other
assistance to the next dry perch of land; in many cases aban-
doning their arms, accoutrements, or horses, and only anxious
## p. 395 (#423) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 395
to attend to self-preservation. The heavy September rains,
too, began to pour down, to accumulate the difficulties and
perils of the way. And still to heighten their distress,
provisions grew scarce, and no fresh supply was to be had.
Upon every side reigned solitude and famine. The Protes-
tant farmers had quitted the country, after Hamilton's
success at Dromore and Hillsborough, the previous spring;
the Catholics now fled at the approach of Schomberg. So
that the cattle had been driven away, by one party  or
the other, or lay slaughtered and putrified in the fields, or
by the road side; while the harvest of the present year
had been cut down and was rotting on the ground. Not a
living thing was to be seen. In the thatch of the cabins
encountered on the disastrous march, crucifixes were placed
over the doorways, doubtless in the spirit of an appeal to
Christian enemies, to spare from burning and destroying the
roofs abandoned to their mercy, yet thus deemed to be pro-
tected by the symbol of a common faith. But not always,
alas! did the rancour of mere sectarian hatred acknowledge
that symbol of sufficient efficacy to restrain, or the spirit of
that appeal of sufficient power to save. While, in another
view, such vestiges of men called up, in the minds of- the new
soldiers, a stronger sense of the solitude which they served
but to illustrate, and struck a deeper terror into the hearts
of those who had just come from scenes of joyous life and
smiling plenty, to encounter the miserable contrast by which
they were at present assailed.
Evelyn had discouraged, as directly as was befitting a per-
son in his relative situation, this precipitate march of Schom-
berg through an enemy's country, bare of supplies, naturally
difficult, and with an army unused to such operations. But
Schomberg, while he eagerly sought information, disregarded
everything like advice. It appeared to Evelyn, that, for
once in his life, at least, the old campaigner had acted with
more haste than speed, more energy than wisdom, more con-
fidence in himself than prudential respect for the talents of
the enemy.
Now, however, as the fatigued army approached Dundalk,
Evelyn began to hope that things might turn up for the best.
Here Schomberg might rest and refresh his men; meet his
artillery and stores; and afterwards advance, at his leisure,
through an easier country, to look for the Irish force. The
## p. 396 (#424) ############################################
396 THE BOYNE WATER.
place though like Newry abandoned, had not like it been
fired; and this helped to improve the future prospects.
But Evelyn miscalculated. Dundalk had not been burnt
down, merely because those who had the arrangement of the
question did not think such a proceeding necessary. Schomberg
and his army had been decoyed into it, and that was enough.
After waiting some time for the little fleet he expected, along
the coast, from Belfast, and at length witnessing its arrival,
Schomberg proposed to march on Drogheda, where, at the
distance of only about eighteen miles, the main strength of
the Irish army, amounting to twenty thousand, seemed to
await him. But, at the first step, he found himself shut in;
the only two passes by which he could advance being effec-
tually secured by Sarsfield, Rosen, and Hamilton. With
nothing but a superior forcehis present one being only
about equal to the enemycould he venture to push for-
ward. As a strong reinforcement of Danes had been
promised him, he sat down where he was, entrenching him-
self, to await their arrival.
His position was strong. Fortifying Dundalk, and throw-
ing some troops into it, his front faced the west, protected by
the river between him and the enemy; on the east rose the
Newry mountains; on the south was a boggy valley, falling
down to the sea; on the north were other bogs and moun-
tains. Thus placed, he could entertain no fears of being
attacked in his entrenchments; while he was hemmed in,
he was also kept safe. But here ended the advantages of
his situation: here, too, its disadvantages began. The
ground upon which he hutted the greater part of his
army, though admirable for self-defence against a human
foe, was, in itself, the worst antagonist they could have en-
countered. Low, damp, barren, and now saturated with
the rains that every day grew heavier, its baneful effects
soon began to be visible among the plump recruits, who
formed, as has been seen, the majority of Schomberg's force.
The scarcity of provisions accumulated the distress; and while
hundreds perished with contagious diseases, the clamours of
the survivors rose loud.
Schomberg sent pressing requests to William for the pro-
mised reinforcements, and received, in answer, as pressing
injunctions to break from his entrenchments, and offer battle.
His rejoinders were, however, consistent in preferring his own
## p. 397 (#425) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 397
plan. While preparing his despatches for England, he
occasionally did Evelyn the honour of selecting him as an
amanuensis, and of communicating to him some of his opinions.
About the middle of October, after repeated instructions had
come from William, and while disease, hunger, death, and
clamour, abounded among the English lines, those of the
Enniskilleners and foreigners, remaining comparatively at
ease, in every way, the old commander was, on a particular
night, unusually confidential with Evelyn.
His master, King William, he said, laboured under the misap-
prehensions with which, partly from unwise statements given
by colonial Irishmen, he had, himself, entered upon this cam-
paign. He despised an Irish enemy too much, and reckoned
on taking them at more odds than the game seemed to allow.
The King had supposed enough done when he appointed him,
Schomberg, to command an army of young English peasants
very nearly, indeed, on a par, in point of discipline, with the
wild Irish they were sent to oppose, but unable to cope with
the difficulties of climate, season, country, and starvation, to
which the rebel kerne were accustomed, and took like a second
nature. The general applauded the fortitude and constancy
of his other troops; but as for the young English yeomen,
the very superior advantages of their life at home, unfitted
them for so venturesome a campaign at so short a notice.
Excellent soldiers they would, after a little time, have doubt-
less become, provided they could have been well victualled
every day. But, continued Schomberg, with some know-
ledge of Shakspeare, while speaking of his own countrymen:
"They want their porridge, and their fat bull beeves j
Either they must be dieted like mules,
And have their provender tied to their throats,
Or piteous they will look like drowned mice."
It was also forgotten, the old marshal continued, that Irish
officers might arrive at some military tactics, while the French
officers by their side were, he protested his "goot Gott," not
to be undervalued on any account. Finally, Schomberg en-
gaged Evelyn to copy a despatch for William, which contained
this passage:
"If your Majesty was well aware of the state of your army,
and that of the enemy, the nature of the country, and the
## p. 398 (#426) ############################################
398 THE BOYNE WATER.
situation of the two camps, I do not believe you would incline
to risk an attack. If we did not succeed, your Majesty's
army would be lost without reserve. I make use of that term;
for I do believe, that if once put into disorder it could not
be re-established."
Thus, for some time, Schomberg passively submitted to the
destructive consequences of his position, in daily hope of a
reinforcement, only satisfied that the enemy would not attack
him. Nor was he disappointed. The French and Irish
officers were content to let his army waste away with famine,
dysentery, and other afflictions too loathsome to indicate.
Once, indeed, before the date of the last despatch mentioned,
King James, against the unanimous advice of his generals,
drew his force from Drogheda, advanced and encamped within
cannon shot of Schomberg, challenged him, for some time, to
come out, and was guilty of the vainglorious bravado of cros-
sing the river in Schomberg's front, with a wing of his army,
and some field-pieces, and in every way renewing the provoca-
tions to battle. But the matter ended as he must, or ought
to have known it would endSchomberg let him go back as
he came.
Meantime, while the great question remained undecided,
some secondary affairs were engaged in, at both sides. The
Enniskilleners, commanded by Lloyd, "their little Cromwell,"
and accompanied by Evelyn, made excursions from the en-
trenchments, and on one occasion defeated a body of the
enemy, and drove in some cattle to the relief of their famish-
ing and powerless brethren. Afterwards they made a long
forced march, accompanied by some of Schomberg's dragoons,
and a French detachment, to relieve Sligo, on which Sarsfield,
after reducing Jamestown, had moved, and which was defended
by a Dutch and a French general. But here they were routed,
and suffered much, having been first out-manoeuvred. After
a gallant defence of the fort by St. Sauvier, this strong and
important place also remained in Sarsfield's hands.
Thus, it may be said, ended Schomberg's disastrous cam-
paign. Towards the middle of November, he re-embarked
his cannon for Belfast. James then broke up his camp, and
retired southward to Dublin, leaving his adversary also free
to march northward, in quest of winter quarters; a liberty of
which he was not tardy in availing himself.
When the tents and huts were uncovered, the whole
## p. 399 (#427) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 399
ground appeared like an hospital; and Schomberg found
that, in every way, his army had decreased one-half.
Ere he began his retreat northward, he appointed some
officers, English, foreign, and Irish, to carry despatches to
William, as well for the purpose of requesting anew the
Danish reinforcement, as of justifying his conduct to the
grumbling English parliament, who, unable to comprehend,
on any legitimate ground, the failure of their army in Ireland,
charged Schomberg with all the blame.
Amongst the native officers, named in this mission, was
Evelyn. The appointment came at the very moment when,
after months of undiminished suspense and torture, he had
hoped at last, in furtherance of his private concerns, to be
left master of his own actions.
During all the vicissitudes of the camp, Evelyn failed not
to employ every available means, in endeavouring to ascer-
tain whether or not Kirke kept a lady concealed in his tent.
His secret inquiries either ended in dissatisfaction, or else led
him to believe that his suspicions were, in this instance, un-
founded. Towards the conclusion of the campaign, he
became assured, that if Eva remained, indeed, under Kirke's
control, or, if she lived at all, some other retreat had been
chosen for her. After such a conclusion, he grew intensely
anxious to commence inquiries in person; but, while attached
to Schomberg, on active service, this was impossible. Baffling,
as well as he could, the agony and uncertainty which filled
his bosom, Evelyn awaited the end of the campaign, again
to request leave of absence. Now, at the very moment hope
had promised as auspicious, he again saw himself cut off
from all effectual exertion in the matter that lay nearest
his heart, and most concerned his existence. Decline the
appointment he durst not. Pride, honour, spirit, duty, con-
sistency, would not permit such a course. Social degradation,
if not actual punishment, would attend it. And he could do
no more than venture to remind Schomberg of his private
situation, and respectfully solicit him to attend to it in his
absence.
It occurred to Evelyn, also, to take advantage of the
devotedness manifested towards him by the young person
in the camp at Loughbrickland. He concluded, that such
sincere sympathy as that unknown individual had shown
towards his afflictions, might readily be turned into zeal in
## p. 400 (#428) ############################################
400 THE BOYNE WATER.
his service. But he called to mind, that, for some time,
the lad had not waited on him; that, since the march
from Loughbrickland, he had not come within his view
more than once or twice; first, immediately after the evacua-
tion of Newry, and a second time, on taking up a position
at Dundalk: on both occasions, during the confusion and
distress that prevailed, Evelyn had paid him little regard.
Now he made inquiries after him and, in some self-re-
proach at his continued neglect of a being apparently so
mild, attentive, and affectionate, learned that, at the first
breaking out of the infectious diseases of the camp, he had
become ill; was afterwards transported, with a number of
sick, to Belfast, and, at present, was probably dead.
Upon the last night of Schomberg's sojourn at Dundalk,
Evelyn prepared for his voyage to England. A vessel awaited
him and his brother officers in Carlingford Bay. Opening the
valise, which held the few things necessary for travel, and
whatever valuable little matters he did not choose to leave
behind him, he was surprised and grieved at not being
able to find some early pledges received from Eva,a ring,
a lock of hair, and such remembrances. He tossed the
contents of his valise over and over; he ransacked every cre-
vice and corner; they were not forthcoming. He must have
lost them, then, during his hurried marches from place to
place! His eye was caught by a sealed note, pinned to the
inside of the valise. Snatching it, he recognised the hand-
writing of Eva on the superscription, which was directed
to him. He tore it open, and a ring fell out of it, at his feet
Eva's marriage-ring.
The billet ran thus :
"We are separated for ever; your own course makes this
indispensable. But apart even from your conduct, ruin and
degradation have come between us. Think not of me. I am
handed over to a fate relentless as you will find it im-
penetrable. Be happy. I will pray that you may be so.
Farewell.Eva."
No date was added. It might have remained in the
valise since his arrival at Dundalk. But, no matter
when or where written, it at last brought to a horrid cer-
tainty Evelyn's worst apprehensions on Eva's account. The
"ruin and degradation" that had for ever separated them
pointed but to one possible meaning, and that coincided with
## p. 401 (#429) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 401
all his former suspicions. No farther could he calculate. He
flung himself, despairing, on the ground.
In a short time came the question, what conduct of his
seemed to make this "misery indispensable"? Tush, he
answered himself, here is but a pretence to divert my mind
from the real cause. And to what fate, "relentless as it
would prove impenetrable," had the wretched Eva consigned
herself 1 Death! replied Evelyn's heart. She could not
survive her fair name; and the question was left in doubt
only to save him an overwhelming pang.
He sprang to his feet. He grasped his sword. He was
rushing, bareheaded, to seek Kirke in his tent, and cut him
down on the spot. Past circumstances crowded on his recol-
lection, sickened his heart, and arrested his furious career. He
felt at a glance all the controlling reasons before enumerated.
And now came the additional thought, that if Eva had indeed
perished, all positive proof of Kirke's guilt must thereby
he removed, and all justification of revenge torn from
him.
How came the note where he had found it 1 At the first
difficulty in answering, his mind abandoned the matter as
insignificant; once more he relapsed into despair. Some
persons clanged, heavily armed, into his hut. They called to
him; they shook him by the shoulder; they told him the
boat waited to coast him to the vessel, which would speedily
spread her canvass for England, in a fair though high wind.
The dash and roar of a sea, canopied by blackest night, and
scourged by tempest, glanced across his thoughts. He arose;
he said he was quite ready: and so embarked for England.
CHAPTER XXX.
Allowing his motions to be guided by his friends, Evelyn
accompanied them, on the afternoon of the morning which
completed their journey, in search of Mr. Walker, who, it was
believed, would be a useful guide and prompter in furthering
their present business, and initiating them into the mysteries
2 D
## p. 402 (#430) ############################################
402 THE BOYNE WATER.
of a court, at which, if fame erred not, he had for some time
been flatteringly accepted.
Indeed, no name was now more popular in London than
that of Mr. Walker. He had just published his Diary of the
Siege of Deny, in which the reader may be assured he was his
own hero. It had yet encountered none of the discredit soon
after cast on it by men of his own party, who deemed it then-
duty, by publications also in London, to strip the reverend
egotist of some plumes which he had dexterously borrowed
from, it was asserted, braver and honester colleagues. King
William had, at the instance of Burnet, presented him with
five thousand pounds, andthe bishopric of the city which
he had preserved for his master, against the cautions of its
former bishop, not found so serviceable. Ministers of State,
lights of the Church, and ladies of illustrious title, joined in
their attentions and compliments to the right reverend cap-
tain in God. Tillotson eulogised him in a letter to Lady
Russell. In a word, his royal patron alone (though the fact
was not then suspected) was the sole person who, after all
his achievements, thought Mr. Walkera troublesome
fool.
Evelyn accompanied his friends to seek this hero of nine
days at the address in the Strand, which, ere their departure
from Ireland, they had obtained as his. Here they met a new
proof of the flattering attentions paid to their countryman.
He was not at home; but an acquaintance, calling at the same
time, informed the Irish deputation that he would most likely
be found at the house of Sir Godfrey Kneller, sitting for his
portrait,* at the request of some admiring friends, to that
humbug of his day. Thither our party repaired. Mr. Walker
had just left, and was perhaps gone to Whitehall, to attend
the King's levee. Arriving at Whitehall, they learned that,
early that very morning, the court had been removed to
* A good print of this portrait may be found, between two unau-
thentic catchpennies of the same era, in the British Museum. A sup-
posed copy of it was, in 1823, the property of a picture-trading Dublin
connaisseur, who, once a year, let (or hired it) to certain persons, by
whom it was carried to a Dublin tavern, to witness a dinner and debauch
fot up in honour of the original. Another engraving is shown in Deny,
y a descendant of Walker, as resembling him. But it is spurious, like
two out of the three already mentioned, as preserved under the care of
our esteemed friend, Mr. Smith, of the print-room, British Museum.
B. O'H.
## p. 403 (#431) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 403
Kensington, to the house just purchased by William from his
pompous minister, Nottingham. Doubtless, the Bishop of
Londonderry had followed it.
To Kensington, then, the deputation repaired. Crossing
St. James's Park and the Green Park, Evelyn and his friends
rode through what was then the open country to the new
seat of royalty. At the village, all was bustle, rattle,
and life. Noble persons, of both sexes, promenaded the
then scanty streets, in search of inconvenient lodgings, or
dashed by in their carriages; the Dutch guards were every-
where seen in motion; the confounded but delighted in-
habitants hurried about, evidently not yet at ease amid the
influx of greatness with which they were so suddenly called
to hold communication. Already might be heard the clink
of trowels, and the clattering of labourers, busy at the
nod of the enterprising builders of 1689 in erecting new
houses for the new visitants, and even so soon engaged in
commencing those respectable additions to the town, which,
continued through other reigns, in proportion to the demand
thus began for them, at last made Kensington a considerable
place. By virtue of their mission, Schomberg's deputation
easily passed the outpost guards of the new palace, and arrived
in front of the grand entrance, which was in the courtyard
on the west. Many additions have since been made to the
old pile; but the buildings which then surrounded this yard,
and those at present forming the south front, seem to have
been the only considerable parts of the original structure.
Directing, in the first instance, their inquiries after Mr.
Walker, our party learned that he had, that morning, pre-
sented himself at the palace, but not having obtained an au-
dience, was now, most probably, walking about the gardens.
The deputation separatedin to different bodies, to look out for
their accredited agent, and Evelyn was, perhaps designedly,
left alone, his fits of abstraction having all along rendered
him a useless, and even a troublesome companion. He
sauntered slowly through shades and openings, little wilder-
nesses, and noble walks, even then so well and artfully ar-
ranged and contrasted, as to give foll promise of a plaisaunce,
as much superior to the gardens of the Tuileries, or the
grounds of St. Cloud, as they were and are to the scattered
heap of red brick of which it is a shame to make them the
accompaniment.
## p. 404 (#432) ############################################
404 THE BOTNE WATER.
But little delight had this beautiful scene for the heart of
Evelyn. He did not admire ; he scarce looked at it. The
only effect produced on him was an unconscious impression of
loneliness, that assisted the melancholy of his mood. Passing
out of the secret and solitary haunts of the garden, into its
more open and frequented promenades, his eye became, how-
ever, diverted by the groups of courtly persons, clad in
richest attire, glancing along the walks, or turning aside
from them, or moving by the edge of a considerable sheet
of water near at hand. Nobles and noble dames, gene-
rals, law-officers, and other suitors, like himself and the
dignitary he came to seek, were all awaiting (what scarce any
expected) a sight and a word of the singularly unapproachable
monarch whom they had lately called to the throne of then-
country ; but who, by his rudeness, along with other matters,
already began to make them regret their election.
Inconvenienced by the sight of so many persons, Evelyn
hastily returned to seek the less public paths of the garden.
He now found himself in a thickly-planted shrubbery,
where the dark evergreen trees made a shade, although it
was winter. Continuing his way, he suddenly emerged into
an open semicircular space, at the extremity of which was a
seat, occupied by a single person, whose averted head, bent
upon his arm, seemed to indicate a mood of deep reflection.
This individual was very young; his figure slight, his stature
short, and his dress foreign. The last observation called up
quick associations that thrilled through Evelyn; exactly such
a dress had Eva worn upon the night when she met him,
along with Esther and Edmund, disguised in male attire,
outside the walls of Deny. Such had been, too, her figure,
in that graceful disguisesuch her air. Evelyn's heart pal-
pitated; he stood rooted to the spot; he gazed steadfastly
on the stranger, hoping that the head might turn, and the
features be submitted to his view. But the figure remained
a long time motionless: when at length it moved, the
face was still averted; but, in this position, the boy drew a
sheathed dagger from his bosom, half bared it, looked at its
edge, kissed it fervently, and put it up again. Evelyn
advanced a step. The solitary started, glanced one angry
and starled look at the intruder, darted into the thickets at
his back, and left Evelyn almost senseless with consternation.
The features were those of Eva, altered, indeed, under the
## p. 405 (#433) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEE. 405
influence of violent passion, and showing the same new and
strange character he had noticed in them when she first ap-
peared in her masculine dress. Still they were Eva's.
Conjecturing, in one flash of thought, that Eva, no matter
how at liberty, giving way to some wild impulse of her
romantic and spirited nature, called up by her late griefs, had
devoted herself to a desperate achievement, and was here
a concealed dagger in her bosom-to attempt it; recollecting
her former vague, though alarming conversations ; and getting
a full view of the danger and horror of her predicament,
Evelyn, after the confusion of a moment, plunged into the
thicket in pursuit. He heard rapid steps near him, and for
some time was guided onward; but no one met his eye.
Branches of trees that he broke through were in agitation
from the quick passage, a moment before, of some other
person. He still remained at fault. He emerged from the
thicket, and looked around him, on one of the broad, smooth
gravelled walks. No figure, such as he was in chase of, met
his glance. He rushed forward, at random, by the side of
the lake before mentioned, passing, without observation, de-
tached groups of people. A hand caught his arm ; a familiar
voice saluted him; he turned, and knew his old friend,
Governor Walker.
"Your haste is on my account, I doubt not, Captain
Evelyn. I heard of your intended voyage; here has- your
name been just handled," said the new dignitary, inclining
his head to a person with whom he had stood in close con-
versation, and who, as his costume declared, was also high in
the Church. "You have heard me allude to the name of Dr.
Burnet. Know him now as my Lord Bishop of Salisbury."
Evelyn made a hurried obeisance to a man about Walker's
age, but shorter, and much stouter in figure, with heavy
limbs, and a commonplace face, such as might become a
busy, close, opinionated, and moderately clever mechanic.
He looked, indeed, a plodding tradesman, but no more.
Nor did his new silk apron take from the character with
which nature appeared to have stamped Dr. Burnet, and
which all historians (except himself) are disposed to allow
him.
"Tarry but a moment," continued the Bishop of Deny,
"until my lord and I have shortly discussed our topic. Then
I shall inquire into your affair."
## p. 406 (#434) ############################################
400 the boyxe vim.
Evelyn r.Dl looked wildly around, almost cnrsng the in-
terruption, and heedless of the words which Burnet addressed
to hiss old friend. Until a sentence. striking. by cnrious
coincidence, the chord of his distracted thoughts, startled him
into attention.
"I aver," said the Bishop of Salisbury, "that no living
woman in so well-disposed to the act."
Era, the only living woman poor Evelyn could recognise as
an object of remarkEvaand the "act" he feared she was
madly engaged to perform, answered to this observation.
Pale and trembling he prepared himself to listen to an account
of her purposed detection and ruin. But a few more sentences
assured him that he only heard an eulogium (since preached
and printed by the admiring speaker,) upon the eldest
daughter of James II., Queen Mary of England.
"Her age and rank," resumed the closet counsellor of a
ftecond Goneril, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, as one
of his arms see-sawed, awkwardly" her age and rank have
denied her much opportunity for study; yet she has gone far
that way. She is particularly careful of her time, which she
chiefly directs between her books."
"Aye, my lord; but touching her Majesty's disposition to
befriend us, in this matter," interrupted Walker.
"Her needle, and her devotions," continued the imper-
turbable panegyrist. "It were easy to give amazing instances
of her understanding, in matters of divinity. She has so well
understood our disputes with the Church of Rome, that she
is capable of managing debates in them, with an equal degree
of address and judgment."
"And therefore more able and willing, doubtless, to direct
to that idolatrous Church, the somewhat torpid zeal of his
dissenting Majesty," observed Walker.
"Doubtless; and seeing how coldly our suggestions of
wholesome constraint of the Popish superstition have been
mot by her royal consort. Forasmuch," continued Burnet,
still quoting himself by anticipation" forasmuch as I found,
while in Holland, that the main thing the ministers of that
country, and those who had charge of his education, infused
into him, was an abhorrence of the Arminian, rather than of
the Romish doctrine. Nevertheless, I despair nothing of
seeing a good impression wrought. Because," he went on,
getting into a kind of Athanasian sublimity of style, "the
## p. 407 (#435) ############################################
THE BOTNB WATER. 407
sovereignty is in her; it is also in -another. Her -administra-
tion supplies the other's absence. Monarchy here seems to
have lost its very essence; it being a government by one.
But as the administration is only in one at a time, so"
A person like a gentleman usher interrupted the new
dignitary by a message to him to attend the Queen. He
gave a sign of humble compliance, but stayed to finish his
sentence
"As the administration is only in one at a time, so they
are more one than espousals or a joint tenure of the throne"
The messenger gave a hint for despatch.
"Than espousals, or a joint tenure of the throne can make
them," still continued the eulogist, as at last he waddled
off, however, see-sawing the air, and repeating his climax till
he was out of hearing.
"And there goes," said Walker, looking after him, "the
strange instrument whom it has pleased God to use in work-
ing out the greatest deliverance that ever was allowed to a
nation. Assisted by a woman, whom, notwithstanding his
praises, every father must tremble to see guilty of the joy
which she evinces at the downfall of a parent."
Having received from Evelyn an intimation of the wishes
of the deputation to call on him for an introduction to the
King, Mr. Walker, as we still prefer to designate him, de-
clared, with some vehemence, that such a service was not to
be expected at his" hands, inasmuch as he, himself, had not
yet enjoyed an audience of his Majesty. A sum of money and
a Church appointment he had, indeed, received, in the King's
name, as some recompense for what he had done in Ireland.
But all cordial approach to William was denied.
Had Evelyn been in a mood to attend to what he heard,
this must have astonished him, and what followed still
more so. Mr. Walker rapidly, and in evident warmth,
proceeded to say, that the whole conduct of the new monarch
impressed his zealous Protestant subjects with a fear that
he was arbitrary in his views, as well as disagreeable in his
private manners. Above all, that he was averse to the
interests of the established religion, and indifferent to the
encroachments of Popery. While he disgusted with his
reserve, or his rudeness, all the great men who surrounded
him, giving up to field sports the time he refused to
them, William maintained in England a Dutch standing
## p. 408 (#436) ############################################
408 THE BOTNE WATER.
army, and had been heard to say, he would, and could,
trust no other. And in this army were as many Papists,
men and officers, as James had ever proposed to have
in his. He had suspended, as summarily as James, the
bishops who refused to lay down their consciences at his
feet. He had repeatedly sought to exempt all those of his
own religion (the Presbyterian) from the test oaths; the
very attempt which, made in behalf of another sect, had cost
James a crown, and gained it for William. He had, at one
sweep, abolished the Established Church in Scotland, and
he had caused to be instituted an ecclesiastical court of
commission, doubtless in the hopes of effecting the same
thing, under name of a comprehension, in England. He had
allowed Holland to interfere with the trade of London,
which was now sensibly diminished. He had, in a season of
public debt and distress, expended large sums on the new
palace at Hampton Court, and now an additionally large one
on the purchase of Kensington. Worse of all, when certain
zealous dignitaries, and others of the Established Church,
had earnestly recommended him to bind up, in a salutary
fetter of new penal laws, the hands and energies of Papists,
he had sullenly refused, saying, that he came to England to
assist Protestantism, but not to persecute Roman Catholics; at
another time adding, that he could not pretend to screen
the Protestants of Germany and Hungary, at the same time
that he should persecute Catholics in England and Ireland.
Such a course, Mr. Walker continued, had not been expected
from the man who was called from his own country solely
for the protection of Protestantism against Popery, and of
English freedom against despotic monarchy. Men's eyes
had, therefore, become opened of late to some other imper-
fections in the conduct of the Prince, who so much dis-
appointed all. It was now recollected, that, contrary to his
solemn declarations, he had aspired to the crown, without
waiting till it was vacant, or decreed to be so. That he had
himself caused such vacancy, by treating his father-in-law
with insolence, rigour, and great cruelty, turning him out
of his palace, and, in reality, terrifying him out of the king-
dom. That the reports countenanced by him of the false
birth of the Prince of Wales, and the treaty with France
to enslave England, appeared to be false, and must be
esteemed nothing more than wicked rumours, framed for
## p. 409 (#437) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 409
certain ends. That, merely out of complaisance to him,
James had been refused a hearing in his own defence.
Lastly, Mr. Walker hinted that it became a question, whether
or no legitimate succession and divine right should have
been so speedily shoved aside to make room for a strange
prince, now so little likely to give satisfaction; and whispers
of intended resistance, in which, indeed, he did not implicate
himself, actually escaped the lips of the angry, or conscien-
tious, churchman.
Despite his abstraction and tantalising interest in a very
different subject, Evelyn was at length overtaken with
astonishment, to hear such details and sentiments from
the man who, only a few months before, had viewed and
stated the character and merits of William in a very different
light. He ventured to hint his surprise, but his friend stopped
him by the remark, that time and experience alone could
enable any one to settle in the truth. Then, still indulging
his zeal, candour, or disappointment, he found new subjects
of animadversion in William's flagrant neglect of Ireland;
insinuating that some sensible men were not slow in at-
tributing, as the cause for all the mismanagement in that
quarter, a plan to let the country get embroiled, deeper and
deeper; that so, at last, William and his Dutch followers,
for whom he could not otherwise provide, might have the
merit of subduing it, and, at the same time, of monopolizing,
to the prejudice of loyal and more deserving Irish Protestants,
the additional forfeitures and confiscations that must take
place among the properties of Irish Papists. The King had,
indeed, lately mentioned his intention of going over to finish
the war in person. But little was expected from that pledge.
And Mr. Walker wound up, by saying, that the late de-
feats of the English at sea, and particularly the failure of
Torrington in a descent upon Cork, where at the head of the
combined fleets of Holland and England, he had been dis-
comfited by the French admiral, who now infested the Chan-
nelthat these losses and disgraces, never encountered in
any other reign, and preceded, in the very former reign, by
brilliant success, powerfully assisted in making a great portion
of the national mind disgusted with its new master.
At this moment, Mr. Walker was interrupted by a stir
among a considerable body of Dutch horse-guards, who were
posted round a back entrance into the west court. Nearly
## p. 410 (#438) ############################################
410 THE BOYNE WATER.
at the same time a loud clatter of horses' feet was heard in
the court, accompanied by a flourish of trumpets.
"Aye," continued Mr. Walker, "there he goes, as usual,
to review his camp at Hounslow, or start a deer in Windsor
Forest. Leaving unnoticed the faithful and anxious subject,
and the important business that vainly craves his at-
tention."
Evelyn became attracted by another incident. Some of the
guards stationed, as has just been said, at the door which
communicated with the garden, surrounded, as if to press
back, an individual who seemed anxious to pass into the
court. At a second glance, Evelyn recognised the slight figure
and foreign dress of the person who so terribly interested him.
Instantly he darted from his friend's side towards the spot.
On his way, a turn in the path, round a clump of trees, in-
tercepted his view; and when he arrived near the guards the
stranger was gone. But Evelyn could hear them allude, in
the Dutch language, which he had partially acquired in
Schomberg's Irish camp, to the incident that so much alarmed
him. The soldiers seemed to make light of it; expressing
some satirical mirth at the ignorance and impudence of the
unknown stripling, who, out of curiosity, or a foolish notion
of the importance of his private affairs, could hope to press
himself on the King at such a moment: they added, that
from the despatch of his retreat, it was to be hoped the repulse
he had got would teach him some experience.
As Evelyn stood confused and agitated, his friends, accom-
panied by Mr. Walker, came up to say that, since the King
had left the palace for the day, it would be useless to remain
any longer in attendance. But that the Bishop of Salisbury
had just pledged himself to arrange, through the interest of
the Queen, a speedy audience for the Irish deputation, who
should make it their business to procure lodgings in the
village, and contentedly and respectfully await the proper
summons.
Evelyn continued almost unconscious of these intimations.
His friends noticed his unbusiness-like abstraction, and once
more he was left by them alone in the gardens. His ey
turned round, and his thoughts turned internally, still in search
of one sole object, one sole explanation. He watched and
lingered about the paths and secret haunts of the garden,
until all else had retired, and he found himself suspiciously
## p. 411 (#439) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 411
regarded by the Dutch troops, stationed as sentinels at
different points. At last, as evening fell, it became neces-
sary for him to seek his friends in the adjacent village.
Some of them met him by chance in the streets; conveyed
him to his lodgings; and, at his request, left him to his
reflections.
"This," thought Evelyn" this, then, is the fate to which
she has devoted herselfrevengeblind, unjust, and ruinous
revenge!" He shuddered with a degree of revulsion to con-
template a young and unprotected woman abandoning herself
to such a course. He feared to tell himself what shape he
suspected Eva's intentions to have taken. But most of
all did he fear to calculate the consequences of her
madness.
Could there be a doubt it was she? A rapid thought
struck him : the young person in the camp at Dundalkcould
it be he 1 He tried to call back his notions of the face of that
person. He had seen it but once, during the struggle with
Kirke; his mind was utterly confused at the moment; his
powers of observation clouded. His glance had only sug-
gested, in a vague manner, that he knew it before. Could
he now venture decidedly to say that it was not one and the
same with the face he beheld this morning? He would
not positively say so. If not, it remained probable that his
mute attendant, in Schomberg's camp, and the individual
encountered in the gardens, were one and the same. Thus,
then, Eva, differently disguised, had twice appeared to him.
Who else could leave the note where he had found it? Here
was additional probability. And yet, no; Evelyn, although
he durst not fully assure himself, irresistibly rejected these
arguments, as soon as he had built them up. He could not
keep to the belief that it was Eva who had snatched the
dagger from Kirke, and afterwards attended him in the hut.
In other words, that the person, whose appearance and actions
now alarmed him, was that individual, in a changed dress;
for, as he began to doubt all his powers of clear and certain
deduction, he at last put to himself a final questionought
he be so sure that he had really seen Eva in the gardens 1
As, in a former instance, the confusion of his mind seemed to
deny him a right to come to positive assurance.
Weary with uncertainty, Evelyn sank into repose. But
the next day brought renewed fears, and a recurrence to the
## p. 412 (#440) ############################################
412 THE BOYNE WATER.
conviction that it was, indeed, Eva whom he had met. Ex-
pectation or excitement could not have left him so open to
be deceived; could not have beguiled him into the mo-
mentary certainty that features so well known were before
him. A strangeness of character, a new expression and
meaning, there had, indeed, been attached to them. But
again he brought to mind that the same effect had been
seemingly wrought in Eva's face upon the night when, in a very
similar dress, she had met him outside the walls of Derry;
when he knew he gazed upon her, and almost thought her
another person. Wholly occupied by these reflections, and
anxiously hoping that he might once more be afforded a more
satisfactory interview, days and weeks dragged over Evelyn's
head. At last came a summons to attend his friends to the
palace, in the expectationfor it was only an expectation
of being admitted to an audience of the King. Evelyn pas-
sively joined them, almost unconscious of the business in
hand, and completely ignorant of the state topics, the
opinions and anecdotes that, since his arrival in England, had
been flying around him.
"I should wish," said Charles V., "to address my God in
Spanish, my mistress in Italian, my friend in French, my
birds in English, and my horses in Dutch." And as Evelyn,
along with his companions, followed the Bishops of Salisbury
and Derry through the guards that, without and within, beset
every avenue of Kensington Palace, he was well disposed, so
far as he attended to the matter, to admit the reasonableness
of the wish, in the last instance, at least. Much as he had for-
merly disliked the gurgling and splashing sound of the lan-
guage of the newcomers, it had never irritated his nerves so
effectually as at present it did, while breaking the lordly
silence of the spacious hall and staircase he ascended. Upon
each landing-place a group of Dutch officers were stationed,
questioning all wbo approached the King's apartments, and
afterwards discoursing with one another, while ever and anon
they sucked their massive pipes, and puffed out a contribution
to the grand cloud of smoke beneath which they were canopied.
An anteroom, gained from the second landing-place, was also
filled with them and their esteemed vapour. But here reigned
comparative silence, as the royal warders, not obliged to be
as watchful as their brethren outside and below stairs, could
stretch themselves out on forms or ottomans, and closely
## p. 413 (#441) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 413
attaching themselves to their puffing pastime, devote their
souls to taciturnity.
At an explanation given by the Bishop of Salisbury, our
party were permitted to pass through the anteroom into the
chamber of audience. The first figures which, even here,
struck the eye, were some of the highest in rank of the Dutch
officers, still smoking, and not unfrequently withdrawing
their pipes from their lips, to inflict upon the Turkey carpet
that indignity, for the committing of which Chesterfield has
since averred he always found in his heart to knock a man
down. Through volumes of smoke appeared, at the end of
the chamber next the anteroom, considerable groups of sage
and serious persons, cabinet ministers, parliamentary deputies,
law-officers, Church dignitaries, and some noble dames. All
waiting to render accounts of certain commissions, or to
present addresses, or to proffer humble suits to the ear of
royalty; and all evincing some disgust, the ladies especially,
of the Dutch atmosphere they were constrained to breathe
on English ground; with some impatience of the length of
time they were kept waiting. Every eye was fixed upon a
tapestried arras, which, with a division in the middle, fell
over a small closet-door at one side of the remote end wall of
the apartment. Disagreeable silence prevailed. The Dutch
general officers spoke not a word, even to each other; greet-
ings were exchanged in dumb show between the English
portion of the levee; at most, cautious whispers alone could
be heard. Thus nearly an hour had passed, since the admis-
sion of Evelyn and his friends, when the tedium was at length
relieved by the quick opening of the door which communi-
cated with the anteroom, and the as quick entrance of a re-
markable little man, on whom every glance immediately
fixed; for whom every one made way; and who, in Evelyn's
mind, if not the King, must be a personage of nearly equal
importance and interest.
Joined to a low, slight, but agile and graceful figure, he had
that kind of sallow, broad-boned, hollow-cheeked visage, with
cocked nose, sharp chin, and lively grey eyes, which English
children, grown ones too, assume to themselves as the
authentic abstract of Gallic faces in general.
"The prime favourite," whispered Mr. Walker to Evelyn, as
this individual smirkingly returned the many salutations he
met on his way through the courtly crowd. "Monsieur
## p. 414 (#442) ############################################
414 , THE BOYNE WATER.
Bentinck, now my Lord Portland, first commissioner on the
privy list, and groom of the stole and privy purse."
At another step, the envied and then sole confidant of
William III. stood by the Bishop of Salisbury, earnestly
grasping his hands, while they spoke very seriously and
secretly on some matter of apparent importance, perhaps
of alarm. Ere Bentinck parted from his right reverend friend,
a few sentences became audible.
"You will then break the news, to-day, my lord," asked
Burnet.
"Oui, Monsieur, il le faut absolument."
"But does not your lordship think, that, as the first
detector of this affair, I"
"Mais oui, Monseigneur, bien certainement, dat is, when
his Majeste shall knowvoyez-vous!" and away he glided
towards the far end of the apartment, leaving the dignitary
in a seeming quandary, and bowing at either side to the
Dutch officers, who, without moving their pipes or their
limbs, just eyed him, in his passage along, as a mastiff eyes
the kind of major-domo trotting-about-the-house of a little
pig-tailed pug, whom his master's will has taught him to
tolerate, without loving or respecting. The favourite dis-
appeared behind the arras of the closet-door. Thither every
eye was again directed, while profound silence re-assumed its
reign in the audience chamber. Nearly another hour elapsed.
At length the arras once more rustled. Bentinck issued
through it; gave a sign to those in attendance; and
took his place at the side of the little door, standing
erect and motionless, except that with one arm he held
the tapestry apart. Courtiers, dignitaries, suitors, all as-
sumed attitudes of attention. Even the Dutch officers
slowly withdrew their meerschaums from their lips, and their
arms clanging, got upright upon their legs, and seemed a
little interested.
Presently appeared "William and Mary. The Queen first
emerged from the closet, the arm of her royal partner drawn
through hers, as if, reversing the usage between the sexes, she
had led him, against his will, from the recesses of his sullen
privacy. She was fully as tall, and looked taller than the
King; her person^almost twice as big, and seemed more so on
account of the shapeless flow of her costume, every shred of
which seemed ready to fall off. Her features were fine, but
## p. 415 (#443) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 415
large, masculine, and haughty; the up-turned, high-piled
fashion of her dark hair confirmed them in this bold charac-
ter. William's slight, almost emaciated figure, clad in the
heavy horseman's boots, loose, broad-skirted coat, and long-
flapped vest, which he generally wore in readiness for the
hunting-field or the review-ground, appeared to little advan-
tage by the side of a lady so handsome, so haughty, and so
commanding. While has thin, dragged, copper features,
exhibiting a discontent that might be construed into sneer and
misanthropy, but that was, perhaps, as much the result of the
peevishness inseparable from continued bad health, were
nearly lost in the huge periwig that fashion then inflicted on
the heads of its votaries.
Having made one step into the audience-chamber, and cast
one keen glance around, the King, as if instinctively, drew
back again, evidently disinclined to encounter the multifarious
business that an assemblage so numerous seemed to portend.
Hismannerindicated amixed shyness and self-importance, such
as an idle and overgrown schoolboy might evince at being
called on to take his turn in exhibiting before a Christmas
company. Queen Mary whispered, however, a few earnest
words, that had the effect of controlling this movement. Then,
after some further short discourse with her royal partner, she
spoke aloud, in a full imposing voice.
"His Majesty is unusually indisposed, and disinclined to
much business, to-day, my lords and gentleman. Yet will he
endeavour a word, in turn, with my Lord Bishop of Salisbury,
my Lord Chief Justice, the Marquis of Caermarthen, my Lord
Shrewsbury, and one of the Irish deputation."
Burnet, the law lord, and the privy counsellors accordingly
detached themselves from the far groups. Walker, answering
to the last invitation, also advanced a step, when William, as
if his quick eye had caught the movement, half turned on his
heel, and addressed a word to the ear of his Queen, who
immediately added
"His Majesty will hear, in preference to the others of the
deputation from Ireland, brief speech from the officer who
comes especially accredited by letters from Duke Schomberg;
Captain Evelyn, belike."
Walker bit his Up, and stepped back. Evelyn bowed low,
and walked forward.
"So, Sir John Holt," he heard William say, abruptly, to
## p. 416 (#444) ############################################
416 THE BOYNE WATER.
the Chief Justice, as he came near the private group(Wil-
liam spoke English distinctly, it having been almost his
domestic language, and that by which his mother, Mary of
England, had conveyed to him the scanty education he could
boast.) "So, Sir John Holt; you have outlived, I believe,
all the great lawyers of your day."
"I had nearly outlived the law, but for your Majesty,"
replied Sir John, elegantly foiling the gratuitous rudeness.
"Humph!" turning aside with an air that all knew be-
tokened an end to further conference with the Chief Justice.
"So, Bishop of Salisbury."
"Touching your Majesty's mature consideration of"
Burnet began. The Queen interrupted him.
"The Bishop hopes your Majesty has come to a conclusion
on the good measure we last discoursed on, this morning."
"The conclusion and the answer have before been rendered,
Madame," said William, coldly; " I am no persecutor. In the
name of God, let the matter end. So," turning, just as
coldly to Evelyn, "you be the Irish Captain, Schomberg
mentions?" Evelyn bowed.
"Get you before the parliament, sir, you and your fellows.
It is time we were freed from their addresses, by your
evidence. What know we of the Irish failures 1 and yet they
press us, day after day, for an explanation. Why did he not
fight, sir 1 No matter,freserve an answer for the parliament, I
say. Now, my Lord Shrewsbury," again turning aside, "you
can tell, in a word, how they at length agree to settle our
revenue. For life, my lord?'
"I grieve to say but for a year, may it please your Majesty."
"And this their final resolve 1 Insolents! they will leave
us but the shadow of powera pageant title, and no more.
What of the indemnity bill, my lord?"
"Still warmly disputed, your highness."
"And the comprehension lost, too?"
"Nolumus leges Anglice mutari, is the decision of your
Majesty's commissioners, quoted from a well-known source;"
answered Shrewsbury.
"Fools! they were not asked to change the laws of Eng-
land. Bigots!" he added, inaudibly, as if about to re-enter
bis closet, leaving his Queen behind him.
"Will it please your Majesty," said the Marquis of Caer-
marthen, following him, "to consider the proposals of the
## p. 417 (#445) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 417
Tory noblemen and gentlemen, in all things to study your
highness's pleasure, provided"
"Provided I come to open rupture .with my insolent Whig
parliament, and give them a petty triumph over their petty
enemies," interrupted William; "goes it not so, my lord mar-
quis? I appeal to God to witness, that never was Prince so
beset by an ungrateful and fickle people. Whig and Tory
Tory and WhigNonjurors, and-Look ye, my lordsI can
trust your Tory no more than your WhigI love not either
I fear both. Both have insulted my crown, and embittered
my existence. Look ye again, my resolution, long discussed,
is at last taken, our convoy is ready. Bentinck, see that
saddles are also ready by the morning. I leave them all to
the turbulence they live by. I will seek my native court and"
my faithful and tranquil Hollanders," glancing at the row of
motionless officers, whose lethargic air seemed the very pride
of his eye. "I will have rest, and friends about me, peace and
allegiance. Let your own English Mary stay behind to rule
ye, she understands it. As God heareth me, I do not; and
on the same appeal do I declare"
"My gracious sire," interrupted Shrewsbury, dropping
on his knee, while his eyes glistened, "desert not the
people you have saved; the good work you have so well
begun."
"Save us from ourselves," said Caermarthen, also kneeling
and much affected, or seeming so; "from a renewal of the
peril in which you found us."
"From a return of Popery !" groaned Burnet.
"This is the time for one hint," whispered Bentinck to the
prostrate bishop; "it will rouse him."
"From present and absolute treason!" continued Burnet,
in a low voice, understanding the favorite; "from the effects
of a plot this moment carried on against your Majesty's
crown!" William started, reddened, his slight figure became
erect and stern, his eye kindled up, and he turned fully
round.
"What say you, my lords 1A plot so soon V
"ArrAtez-vms!" here cried Bentinck, from the side of the
door, as he frowningly fixed his glance on some person who
endeavoured to approach, unbidden, the remote and private
group, often interrupted by the crowd through which he
struggled. At the same moment the watchful favourite
2 E
## p. 418 (#446) ############################################
418 THE BOYNE WATER.
darted along the spacious apartment, and seized the arm
of a young man, in a foreign dress. Evelyn's heart jumped
to his throat; though the face remained hidden, it was the
individual he had seen in the gardens.
This incident attracted the keenest attention of all. The
noblemen and bishop arose; the king again stept back, and
followed with his eye the motions of Bentinck; the queen,
sailing to him like a ruffled swan, once more took his arm.
But no cause for alarm at first appeared. Bentinck was only
seen to take a paper from the stripling's hand, and then
heard to say : "Present it myself? ma foi! I shall know
my duties betterquelle folie!"
"Present it, at the instant, whatever it may import,"
cried the queen, in some misgiving; "shall he not, my
liege?"
William nodded, coldly. Bentinck gave a folded letter.
"It purports," said the king, after he had glanced over it,
"to be a credential, in the youth's favour, from a well-known
hand. But," after another pause, " seize the bearer! it is a
forgery."
The Dutch officers at last got into motion. The groups at
the remote end of the room appeared at first disturbed, and
then astonished. It was finally reported that the young
stranger had escaped from the room, and down stairs, through
all the guards, out of the palace.
"Pursue him !" cried the queen, in a voice of thunder.
"Belike you say true, my lords," resumed William, now
relapsed into his usual coldness, and in remark upon some
closely whispered information conveyed by Burnet and Ben-
tinck, " belike there is a plot, and that this very youth makes
part of it. To our closet, madam. Follow us, Bishop of
Salisbury."
Bentinck, unbidden, was included in the invitation.
"Sir James Montgomery, you say, one of the very com-
passers of the revolution V Mary asked, as soon as they had
entered the closet.
). "The same, your highness ; and by his brother did I, with
some prudence, discover it."
"But Monsieur Nevil Payne is de head of all," observed
Portland, "as I found out by bribing one to be my spy on
him."
"Mcntjrmery's brother hath assured me, and, craving
## p. 419 (#447) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 419
pardon of my Lord Portland, I believe I know most of this
matterhath assured me that a treaty with James has abso-
lutely been signed by the whole cabal, English and Scotch,
as they are.
"By my Lords Ross, Annandale, and Nottingham, as I can
proof," continued the zealous favourite.
"By my Lords Clarendon, Yarmouth, Newberry, Griffin,
Castlemain, and many other lords and gentlemen in England,"
continned the as zealous bishop.
"And Hume, Argyle, Breadalbane, and others, too, in
Scotland," interrupted Bentinck.
"Are the proofs yet plain ?' asked "William.
"We hope soon to have them so," answered the bishop and
favourite in a a breath.
"When they are," resumed William, "let us talk more
about it. For the present this matter alters our plan of going
immmediately to Holland. We might fly from fools, not
from foes; from disquietude, not danger. Now shall the Irish
war soon receive, indeed, our personal care. And I shall go
to Ireland, my lord bishop, with a lighter heart. For," re-
peating an expression he had often used, "I believe I better
know how to engage in a campaign than to govern Eng-
land."
CHAPTER XXXI
Evelyn remained in a state of the most torturing suspense.
He had heard the orders given to pursue the bearer of the
forged letter; he had heard the guards get into motion for
pursuit ; as he gained the streets of the village, all were in
confusion, speaking of the wretched fugitive; some making
inquiries, some giving hints of the way he had, or might have
taken. Evelyn walked about till a late hour in the evening,
to assure himself of the result; and at last retired to his
lodgings, partially relieved. The retreat, or even the course
of the suspected person, had not been discovered.
The next day, and the next, brought him the same assu-
rances. Active measures were taken in London as well as
## p. 420 (#448) ############################################
420 THE BOYNE WATER.
Kensington, still to no purpose. Pursuit gradually died
away. The circumstance as gradually ceased to be talked of.
Evelyn could no longer doubt that the fugitive, anticipating
his enemies, had hastily embarked for Ireland at some near
port.
But while the belief eased his mind in one respect, it was
only to propose a new cause of uneasiness. Evafor Evelyn
now scarce doubted her identity with this individualEva,
though free from immediate danger in England, was exposed,
in Ireland, to all the perils and disgrace of the unworthy
character, and the course of action her enraged spirit had
prompted her to adopt. It became his great duty, and now
the only solicitude of his life, to seek her out, to convince her
of the impropriety of her career, to win her from it, and if
past circumstances would not permit their ultimate reunion,
at least to restore her to a life more worthy of her and him.
Already had he determined on a plan by which he hoped to
hear of Eva, 'to approach her, and endeavour to effect his view.
But it was necessary that he should first be in Ireland. And
here arose his new cause for disquietude. To Ireland he could
not go, until he had answered the claims of the. public duty
which compelled him to come to England. Unless, indeed,
he broke through all the restraints of that duty, now confirmed
and made coercive by the commands of the King to attend a
summons from the Parliament.
Patience and hope once more became, then, his only support.
But the continued quarrelling of the King with his sub-
jects; the progress and details of the wide-spread conspiracy
just detected; the endless whispers of a court; nothing
interested him sufficiently to fill up the aching blank of a
separation from his own wretched concerns. At last he was
called, with his friends, before a committee of the Commons.
After a wearisome investigation, and attendance from day to
day, Schomberg became relieved from the imaginary odium
of a defeat he could not have provided against, and some
poor "victualler" was selected to bear, in his stead, the
weight of Parliamentary indignation and self-conceit. Still
came no relief to Evelyn. The Irish deputation, and
he, in particular, received peremptory notice to attend at
the beck of the legislators, lest, in the course of the session,
their local information might once more be required. And it
## p. 421 (#449) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 421
was not until William, provoked beyond endurance with
-continued retaliations upon his imperiousness and rudeness,
at last dissolved the very Parliament that had called him to
the thronehe and they separating in mutual disgust, and
with mutual charges of ingratitudethat Evelyn found him-
self at liberty to leave England.
Then he lost as little time as possible in posting to Liver-
pool. Mr. Walker and some of his brother deputies accom-
panied him. It was arranged to take a vessel to Belfast. For
more than a week none offered. And when at length they
engaged with one, the weather became furiously tempestuous;
the wind set in their teeth, and, for nearly double the time of
their former delay, remained so; the captain refusing to ven-
ture out of harbour. Evelyn, as many others in his situation
have done, before and since, lost all temper with the winds
and waves; and thought of leaving Liverpool for some other
port. But the daily hope of a favourable change in the
weather, added to the remonstrances of his friends, and the
usual good prophecies of the captain, kept him stationary. As
even the elements can be tired out, though they will not be
bullied, he finally embarked for Belfast, about six weeks after
the dissolution of Parliament.
But though it is a point to embark, when a man is in a
hurry, the chances against his speedy arrival at any given
port, are by no means removed by his getting out to sea.
Such, at least, was the case at the time of our story: people
were then happy to be assisted by the winds of heaven,
instead of entering into a contest with them. After some
day's patient tacking, in rather calm weather, during which
the captain was content to make what way he could,
the breeze again blew into their teeth, and, keeping firm
in this point, increased to a gale, and at last rose to a
hurricane. Yielding to its fury, the sole anxiety of the
captain now was to preserve as much sea-room as possible,
and avoid all contact with the inhospitable south-east coast
of Ireland, as well as with the sublime, but equally dangerous
coast of North and South Wales. So down the channel the
ship flew, running eleven knots an hour, and bearing Evelyn
farther and farther from his point, with thrice the celerity at
which it had at first borne him towards it. Milford was past;
Land's-end was past, and, what was worst, doubled. From
## p. 422 (#450) ############################################
422 THE BOYNE WATER.
St. George's Channel they were now blown into the British
Channel, with every prospect of being compelled to run for a
French port, and there, of course, become prisoners of war
if, indeed, some French ship of the line did not save them
that trouble, by meeting them about the Downs, or off Beachy-
head, and taking them under her protection.
This chance was not, however, in store for them. Soon
after entering the British Channel, the wind, without abating
its violence, changed so as to bear them fairly through the
Straits of Dover; and, at last growing moderate, suffered
Evelyn to land at Ramsgate; about four hundred miles, even
by land-travelling, further from Belfast than when he had
embarked at Liverpool. And nearly another fortnight was
thus spent to no purpose.
From Ramsgate he resolved to recommence his journey to
Belfast, by passing through England; proceeding, still by land,
to Scotland; and at last, taking a vessel from some opposite
port to the Irish northern town. Disgusted with the sea, and
only anxious to get home, this plan he thought the most pru-
dent, particularly as the weather continued stormy and un-
settled. But the reader must not suppose that Evelyn was able
to accomplish his long journey in less than treble the time that,
at the present day, it would cost him. In fact, he did not reach
the point of embarkation in Scotland until the month of April
had nearly been spent; more delay and demur still happened,
short as was the sea to be crossed, until he finally touched
Irish ground. Then Schomberg had transferred his head-
quarters from Belfast to Lisburne, some further distance
south; thither Evelyn was compelled to follow him, to render
up an account of his commission. It took many days, after
his meeting with the old general, to perform this duty, in a
satisfactory manner, Schomberg afterwards insisting on his
services in disciplining some considerable bodies of native re-
inforcements, just come up to the Enniskilleners. To his
utter impatience, anguish, and, we may say, despair, the
summer sun of June was bright and unclouded in the sky,
ere he could get a hearing for his continued requests to
absent himself on private business.
But at length obtaining a pass from his commanding officer,
Evelyn prepared to travel southward. Early upon the morn-
ing of his departure from Lisburne, Mr. Walker, once more
## p. 423 (#451) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 423
caparisoned as a true son of the church militant, entered his
quarters. Evelyn stared, but neither wished nor had time to
embarrass himself further with the matter. His old friend
saved him the trouble of inquiries. Seeing Ireland still
abandoned by the sovereign who ought to protect her, and
now totally despairing, along with all zealous and watchful
observers, of the personal interference of William, he could
not avoid, he said, again taking the sword into his hand, in
the hopes that his future efforts for his country and religion
might be crowned with a portion of the humble success that it
had before pleased God to accord them. Mr. Walker added, that
he had just succeeded in rallying some of the old and faithful
parishioners who, at the hour of need, honoured him with a
command at Donoughmore. That he had, yesterday, marched
them to join Schomberg, and was now prepared to head
them, at the call of patriotism, and of the Lord, on any good
service.
Evelyn, scarce heeding this information, hastily took
leave of the spurred, and belted, and helmeted dignitary, and
mounting a good steed, set forth, alone, on his southern
journey.
The morning was young, Evelyn's anxiety great, and his
horse good. Notwithstanding the badness of the road, on
which he had, the last autumn, witnessed such distress, his
progress gave hope that a considerable day's journey should
be performed ere the sun's decline. He met few individuals
coining against him on the lonely way, and those few were
expresses from near outposts to Schomberg's head-quarters.
Fewer still passed him from behind, But about two hours
after he had been on horseback, his attention was fixed by
observing that a solitary horseman, like himself, and wearing
the large blue cloak, that was a badge of the Enniskillen
dragoons, followed in his track, seeming exactly to time
his motions to those of Evelyn; spurring hard when he
spurred, pulling up when he slackened his speed; and once
or twice, as Evelyn came to a dead halt, for experiment sake,
halting also.
In his present mood, this irritated Evelyn. He did not
wish to be watched and dogged in such a fashion, He
wanted to think, and could not. He wanted to be alone;
and this strange kind of companionship, although the horse-
## p. 424 (#452) ############################################
424 THE BOYNE WATER.
man never ventured nearer than two or three hundred
yards, did not permit him to feel as if he were so. He tried
every civil means of making the person pass on; all were
useless. At last, he even turned his horse's head, intending
to ride back, and confront the object of his impatience:
here, too, his movements were imitated. His shadow re-
treated also, and having as good a horse, Evelyn found it as
difficult to get before him, as to have walked past his real
shadow, with the sun in his back. Finally, amused, as much
as annoyed, he resolved to hold on in his own course, and
put the mattter out of his head.
During an afternoon halt, which he made to refresh his
horse and himself, Evelyn saw nothing of his self-elected
warder, and hoped now to continue free of his attentions.
But he had not resumed his journey above a few minutes,
when the same person again appeared at the usual distance
behind him. As evening fell, after he had passed the last
of the English outposts, and come in view of the ruins of
Newry, this pertinacious dogging of his steps by an un-
known individual begot some suspicion, if not alarm. At
length, while approaching an outpost of the Irish army, he
resolutely drew up, and resolved to get his persecutor in
his front, before he would venture farther. But now the
stranger horseman did not seem any longer to shun an
encounter. Putting his steed to full gallop, he quickly
gained the place where Evelyn stood, it need not be added,
on the defensive, and, keeping the far side of the road,
rapidly passed him, saying, in his quick transit:
"Do you know what you're for doing, sir? Do you know
them that's afore you? Yon's the wild Irish folk."
"I know it," replied Evelyn; and it is my intention to
approach them in peace."
"Then a friend may do no harm aforehand," continued the
stranger. "Just pidl up a bit, Captain Evelyn; I mane you
good."
And forward the horseman rode. Evelyn could perceive
that in uttering the words we have noticed, the speaker made
a clumsy effort to alter the tones of the voice from the
southern Irish brogue, to the half-Scottish northern slang;
while he also endeavoured, by slouching his hat, and raising
his cloak, to conceal his face and figure. In the latter
^
## p. 425 (#453) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 425
effort, he was .assisted by the twilight. Yet Evelyn did not
doubt that he looked upon the slight boyish figure of his
former singular attendant in the camp of Loughbrickland.
He remained stationary, in consequence of the hint re-
ceived. The stranger speedily came up with a body of men
who occupied a few cabins and temporary huts, on a little
eminence. In a few moments, Evelyn saw some horse, even
worse mounted and equipped than the Enniskilleners, and
about a hundred pikemen, mostly barefooted, and with no
arms but the pike, advance towards him. When they came
close, a strong voice challenged him, whose tones, he thought,
were familiar to his ear, and presently he was by the side of
Friar O'Haggerty, who, with a drawn sword in his hand, a
steel cap on his head, and a sash tied round his cassock,
appeared in command of the party.
"Do you come as friend or foe 1" continued the reverend
captain.
"I approach your lines, of a free will, to request safe and
speedy conduct to General Sarsfield, with whom I am anxious
to hold discourse of some import," answered Evelyn.
"That is to say, you abandon the cause and service of the
usurper, to give King James such information and service as
,are in your power to give?"
"Pardon me; I have but a request to make. To General
Sarsfield I will answer any questions."
"That is to say, you will answer none of mine?"
"On all common and courteous topics, any of yours,
freely."
"That is to say, you choose to remain silent touching the
business of your present journey 1"
"Even so, with your leave."
"I command you to make a full disclosure," continued
O'Haggerty, closing on him, and speaking low: "I give no
leave for such contemptuous silence."
"Then, without your leave, sir," replied Evelyn.
"Beware," resumed the friar; "I can compel your con-
fidenceor, at the least, cross your journey."
"I doubt if you canor that you dare, sir."
"Guard him to the huts," cried the friar, addressing his
men, as he turned off.
"You will interrupt me at your peril," said Evelyn, "I take
all to witness my protest against this measure. I take all to
## p. 426 (#454) ############################################
426 THE BOYNE WATER.
witness that I am obstructed in my progress to hold im-
portant communication with General Sarsfield."
O'Haggerty remained silent. Evelyn was led to a hut;
and then, a sentinel having been placed at the door, left
to his reflections. The interruption irritated him beyond
bounds. If it continued, it must prove fatal to all his hopes
and projects. He sat for some time chafing with impatience.
The night fell fast; he reckoned on another interview with
O'Haggerty, but was disappointed. Neither that holy com-
mander, nor any other person approached his hut.
Hours flew on, and the only footstep that he could hear
was that of the solitary sentinel who paced before the door
of his temporary prison. He approached the door, and re-
quested the man to bear a message from him to his reverend
commander; but "Nein Sassenachgho mock a-sinn," (no
English, get out of that) as the rude soldier brought his pike
to a charge, was the only answer he could obtain.
At last he thought another footstep stealthily came up with
the sentinel. He listened; the man stopped; Evelyn heard
low whisperings; and in a few moments his follower of the
day entered, with caution, the small and frail apartment.
Evelyn was now assured that this was the same person, who,
almost in a similar situation, had before visited his nightly
solitude. Fearing nothing from former recollections, he ob-
served the motions of the stranger with strong interest.
The self-elected attendant stepped lightly across the rugged
floor, and, as had previously happened in the hut of Lough-
brickland, laid before him some food, and a flask of wine;
saying in a tone low enough not to waken Evelyn if he had
slept soundly:
"Ate, ate, barrin' the sleep isn't on you."
"I am awake," replied Evelyn, "and thank you for your
attentions. Have I not experienced them before, in Schom-
berg's camp 1"
The boy was silent.
"Answer, I entreat you, if it is not very disagreeable. Are
you not the youth who took the dagger from Kirke's hand?
who waited on me during the evening and night of that
day 1who slept at my feet, and who followed me, all this
day's journey 1"
"I am, then," replied the stranger, in a low voice, as he
stood, almost invisible, some paces off.
## p. 427 (#455) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 427
"And who are you, to whom I am so much indebted?
Who strove to confront me when I was alone in despair;
friendless, companionless, abandoned by all; and who now
again art by my side in affliction? Who are you?"
A deep sigh was the only answer.
"Tell me, at least, on what account it has been my good
fortune to meet so kind a friend 1 You are not a northern;
you cannot be attached to the cause you seem to follow.
Why have you entered into the ranks of the Enniskilleners V
"To be near you."
"But you soon left me, after you got to Dundalk. Yet,
no; now I remember the cause, poor lad; you became sick,
did you not?"
"An' is it only now you remember it?" in a tone of deep
reproach.
"Forgive me. You know, or may have known, that my
own griefs were overwhelming; nor had I forgotten you so
much, either. Tell me," continued Evelyn, a quick and
agitating, though wild association springing up, "have I ever
seen you since your illness, until this day?'
The stranger was again silent.
"Tell me, I entreat! have I not seen you in England: in
the gardens of the king's palace at Kensington!" he cried,
starting up, and approaching the figure, which receded to the
door; "who are you, I say, or rather are you not she whom
my soul leaps to meetare you not Evaand did I not see
you there?"
The stranger uttered an impassioned and impatient cry, and
then said, loudly and rapidly:
"No, Sassenach, no! I am not her; but you saw her
there."
"Her!whom ?whom did I see? Consider your answer."
"Her you think so much about, Eva M'Danniel, that's now
the ridin' Rapparee."
"Heavens!" cried Evelyn, his worst fears more than con-
firmed, "but have a care! How are you assured of this?
Tell me trulyand who are you, I again demand, on whose
word the lady I love and only live for, is thus for ever blasted?
Speak!"
"Thonomonduoul!" cried the person addressed, in an
altered tone, and now fully giving way to passion, " I'll spake
no word for such a biddin'I'll spake no word for the
## p. 428 (#456) ############################################
428 THE BOYNE WATER.
stampin' an' the threatenin' of him that when the body is
afore him that saved his life, more than onct, and ventured
life mille times for him, 'ud forget all, an' thrate me like a dog
just for sakes of a thrapsin' throllap that turns her back on
him to go wid the Rapparee captains. Bannodh-lath* an'
may God reward you."
"Hold," cried Evelyn, as the person was about to pass
through the door-way. "I was too hasty, and indeed too
harsh and ungrateful. Your kind attentions should not be
so soon forgotten; and they are not. Forgive me; and let
us speak further."
"Let us, then; and somethin' in raison," and the figure
stopt, inside the door.
"I am now more than ever anxious to know who you are,
and earnestly request you to inform me. Could I see your
features, I think I should at once meet proof of what I
now begin to suspect."
"Why, then, it 'ud be the first time you'd see 'em."
"I believe not; though I understand your wish to be un-
known to me. But 'tis no matter; I will not press my ques-
tion, since you dislike it. Only let me stand acquitted in
your opinion. Let me assure you how truly and deeply you
have at last aroused my gratitude; and let me take the hand
to which I owe so much." He extended his arm, and a small
hand was placed in his. "Come," Evelyn continued, gently
forcing his companion to the seat he had left, "let us sit
down, together, and partake of the good cheer you have
brought me; therethanks, thanks, dear, kind friend," he
whispered, as he passed his arm round the waist of his visitor,
whose head fell on his shoulder, and whose tears now came
fast. "Aye, now," he cried, as a round and panting
bosom was pressed to his, "now, at least, do I know who you
are 1you are a woman. There is but one woman alive could
have placed herself in such a situation; and now, Moya
Laherty, I am sure it is you! And now," starting up and
standing between her and the door, "let me tell you more
let me tell you I suspect you." The girl screamed loudly,
and strove to escape. "Let me tell you I suspect all the
stories you have been imposing on me ; and, by Heaven! you
stir not till you truly answer my questions."
* Good night.
## p. 429 (#457) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 429
Again there was a scream ; and the figure glided round the
wall, towards the door, Evelyn baffling its movements. At
the same time, the sentinel abroad gave the alarm, and the
sound of tramping footsteps was heard approching. Evelyn
became confused, and lost, in the darkness, all sight of the
figure. Still keeping his back turned to the door, he endea-
voured, however to prevent the egress of any person. As
the alarmed guard quickly came up, his eye caught, an in-
stant before their entrance, a renewed stir in the gloom ; he
sprang forward, grasped in his arms some person who
struggled violently. The rude guards broke in, bearing
lights ; the glare flashed on the face of the person in Evelyn's
custody ; he looked close into the featuresthey were Eva's.
excited, as he had seen them, in Kensington Gardens, and
still strangely influenced by the accompaniment of male
attire. Uttering a loud cry, he sprang back; instantly the
guards seized and surrounded him ; and when he again
glanced round, Evelyn could see no one but them in the
hovel.
CHAPTER XXXII.
Recovering, in a degree, from his consternation, Evelyn
wildly questioned the soldiers as to the identity of the person
with whom they had found him struggling. But they could
not, or would not, understand him ; and at last an officer
(so called, though in costume or manner he scarce eclipsed
his humbler brethren), coldly warning him to keep his
quarters in a quieter manner, withdrew his men, and once
more Evelyn was left alone.
The morning broke, and no one appeared either to eluci-
date the mystery of the night, or to relieve him from his
durance. He could observe, however, that two soldiers now
guarded him. Of them he made new inquiries and requests,
but got no answer. Evening approached, and the officer
waited on him with a message from O'Haggerty, to know
whether or not he would now give the information he had
before refused. When he steadfastly declined to answer any
further questions, the officer retired, observing, in turn, a
## p. 430 (#458) ############################################
430 THE BOYNE WATER.
negligent silence upon the continued demands of Evelyn for
an account of the person found with him, the previous night,
in the hut.
Darkness again wrapt the interior of his prison, and Evelyn
panted with the hope that the object of all his thoughts
and solicitude might a second time visit him. But he was
disappointed. The short summer night passed over in
quietude and monotony. Another day, and another night
elapseda third and fourthand still he was left torn with
suspense and incertitude. At length, after a week's confine-
ment, the officer returned to present him with a passport to
Sarsfield, conveying, at the same time, an angry censure on
his obstinancy, and an intimation that he was released only
in the hope that the nature of his business with the popular
Irish general might be of service to King James. Evelyn
concluded that O'Haggerty's curiosity and officiousness having
been tired out, he feared, on reflection, absolutely to ob-
struct the zeal of a converted enemy, seemingly indicated
under such peculiar circumstances. Restored to liberty, and
presented with his good horse, he lost no time in pushing on
for Dublin, where, as he had been informed, Sarsfield now
rested.
But, notwithstanding his intended speed, Evelyn was
doomed to encounter additional interruption and delay, as
he passed through the Irish lines and quarters. It was not
till the afternoon of the twentieth of the month, that he found
himself entering the metropolis of Ireland.
At the first military station, where he made inquiries
after the abode of Sarsfield, he was, despite his documents,
put under arrest, and marched as a prisoner to Sarsfield's
house.
Escorted into an empty apartment, his guard remained by
his side, while the subaltern went to announce him to the
general. He sent in his name and description at full, Cap-
tain Evelyn, an officer of the Enniskillen dragoons. In a
few moments the subaltern returned, led him to the door
of another apartment, flung it open, and Evelyn was in
the presence of Sarsfield, Hamilton, Sheldon, and many
other Irish officers of distinction, whom he found at a table,
with wine before them, as if sitting after dinner.
All rose politely, though formally, as he entered, and their
eyes fixed on him with evident curiosity and interest. He
## p. 431 (#459) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 431
bowed, particularly to Sarsfield and Hamilton, whom he
at once recognised, and proceeded to address the former.
"I come, General Sarsfield, most anxious to have the
honour of some discourse with you."
"You know me then, sir V
"I have seen you before, sir, under circumstances I
can never forget, although they may have escaped your
recollection."
"Well, Mr. Evelyn, sit." All resumed their seats as
Evelyn complied with the invitation, Sarsfield's eye resting
intently on the stranger. There was a pause, Evelyn not
wishing to go on at present.
"Friend or foe, Mr. Evelyn 1 Excuse a question the
times and your uniform render convenient," resumed Sarsfield.
"On no hostile intent do I come, surely," answered Evelyn.
"Welcome, then, or welcome in any character. Soldiers
are not churls, even when foes. I pledge you a welcome,'
sir;" he filled a glass of wine for Evelyn, and he and his
friends drank the stranger's health.
Another pause ensued. Sarsfield again spoke.
"May we compliment ourselves on the gaining for King
James a hitherto respectable opponent, sir?"
"No, sir, I am King William's officer."
"And as a partizan of the Prince of Orange, sir, you now
come before us V
"I have said, as King William's officer."
"Still attached to his cause?"
"And not to be separated from it."
Sarsfield's glance continued earnestly and studiously fixed
on his visitor. The other persons present looked at each
other. Sarsfield went on:
"Then, sir, we have, of course, the honour to recognise, in
you, an accredited agent from the rebel party, sent to us on
some especial matter 1"
"No, sir; I come on no official appointment."
"Indeed 1 it follows, then, that, from some unexplained
motive, you choose to surrender yourself as a prisoner of
war, For you cannot be ignorant, Mr. Evelyn, that such
must be the nature of your present unauthorizd situation."
"I hope it will not so turn out, sir."
"Aye 1 But, whatever may be your private motive, you
were aware of the chance."
## p. 432 (#460) ############################################
432 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Assuredly I was."
"And not loath to encounter it V
"No. I was assured General Sarsfield would, when he
knew the matter that urged me to this very unusual step, be,
himself, my security for it."
"Aye, forsooth V again queried Sarsfield, his regards still
deeply fixed on Evelyn; "and what gave you this conveni-
ent assurance V
"Your character," answered Evelyn. "such as it is known
by general report, and such as I have myself observed it to
be on the occasion I before glanced at, namely, when I saw
you interest yourself, joined, too, by another gentleman pre-
sent, for the life of a young man, then of your party, at
King James's camp, near Deny."
"Oh," said Sarsfield, as if suddenly recollecting the
matter, "and this explains some misgiving I felt, at your
first appearance, of having seen you before. Your own
life, I believe, was also at stake along with that young
man's?"
Evelyn assented. "And it is upon business in which he
and I are closely concerned, that I now crave your ear, at
your good leisure," he continued.
Sarsfield's friends rose to take their leave.
"I believe I, too, remember the affair," said Hamilton, as
he stood up; "and now perfectly call to mind the face of
Mr. Evelyn. Though, indeed, it was whiter and more dis-
turbed when I last saw it; Galmoy having caused it some
agitation. Have you since been on active service, sir V
"I saw you at Dromore and Hillsborough, General Hamil-
ton," answered Evelyn.
"Well, you might as well have seen me elsewhere. But,
as to the rest, was it more pleasing service V
"I must not find fault with the performance of duty, at
any time, sir."
"Certainly, no; yet Mr. Evelyn will allow us to express
our surprise, or if not, our regret, that so pretty a man should
not have preferred the right side, and, assuredly, the gallanter
one."
"It were idle for me, General Hamilton, to mention the
causes that first led me to think your's the wrong one.
Though I might easily state why, for more recent arguments,
I continue to believe it is."
## p. 433 (#461) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 435
"Why aye; you might tell us that James has given
assent to the mad bill for repealing the Act of Settlement."
"Whereby many honorable families are disinherited and
sought to be beggared," interrupted Evelyn.
"And that he has also assented to the motion for getting
tithes and benefices conferred on his Roman Catholic clergy."
"Against the promise, renewed even at his landing in
Ireland, that he would preserve the Established Church in
all its rights and privileges"
"And that some of the old cathedrals have been taken
back from you; that the college has a Popish head; and
that a brass penny goes for a silver shilling. Have I not
almost summed up your reasons?"
"Many of them you indeed have."
"Yet, will you not remember, that if by the repeal of the
Act of Settlement, many honorable persons are deprived of
property, as many, at least, were victims, in a similar way,
to its enactment f That its making was an unjustified act,
while its marring is but"
"Tush, tush, General Hamilton; now you speak too
lightly," interrupted Sarsfield. "You know you strive to
vindicate a measure that you dislike."
"I have called it a mad act," answered Hamilton, "and I
think it so. I think it one directly calculated to divide,
against the King, my master, the country which it ought to
be his policy to keep knit together in his interests. Yet
might I argue a little, on natural principle, to show a
fair foe that the breach of the old statute was not so
monstrous as its observance. As to James's share in the
matter, he should further be informed that his Majesty
wished it not; that he advised against it; but that when
Tyrconnel's packed parliament called on him to approve their
vote, he had no alternative but to refuse; and by that refusal
estrange from him the only men who were disposed to stand
by his side in a case of extremity."
"With even less zeal, Mr. Evelyn, do we defend the taking
Church revenues out of the hands of your clergyman," con-
tinued Sarsfield. "The question is not if it be equitable
but if it be politic, and, above all, consistent with the roya
proclamations issued. As to the churches, he has publicly
commanded them to be restored to you. Only that our
2 F
## p. 434 (#462) ############################################
/ THE BOYNE WATER.
, ^reverend guides, having once got their old roofs over then-
heads, stoutly refuse to yield possession of their own, even at
their King's commandGod bless them!"
"And now a brass sixpence for your remaining objection,
sir," resumed Hamilton. "What can King James do? If
you all stand up to keep gold and silver out of his hands, the
tinker and brazier must supply his mint: will you blame
him for being the poor man you have made him? But
farewell, Mr. Evelyn. You still look obstinate, I fear. Well,
sir, I bind myself to pray for your conversion. Gentlemen,
with youwe meet at the Castle, General Sarsfield V
"At the Castle, at nine," his host answered j and Sarsfield
and Evelyn were left together.
"Now, sir, what leads you hither V
"In the first place, General Sarsfield, I am here to throw
myself, as an open enemy of your cause, upon your private
and honorable protection."
"You have it, young man; as readily as it is boldly
sought. Nor in forgetfulness, either, that you are the be-
loved friend of the young M'Donnell, whose father and I
have known each other. And have you not said your busi-
ness concerned him as well as yourself V
Evelyn promptly acquainted Sarsfield with the double
alliance that had once been proposed between him and Edmund
M'Donnell; the death of Esther, and the consequent despair
of Edmund; the scene at the Strip of Burne; the disap-
pearance of M'Donnell and his sister; the supposed death
of the one, and wretched situation of the other; his suspicions
that, in a degrading disguise she had attached herself to some
part of King James's army, but, he especially feared, to the
lowest part of it, the Rapparees. Evelyn concluded by pas-
sionately requesting that Sarsfield would exert himself to
discover where and how poor Eva might be approached. For
the sake of his interest in Edmund M'Donnell, Evelyn ven-
tured, he said, to urge this prayer; for the sake of his memory,
and that of his fatherfor the sake of the young creature
devoted to ruinin the name of manliness, bravery, and
charity, he besought him to grant it.
Sarsfield heard him like a man who, although plunged into
the stern business of the world, had not forgotten the sym-
pathy of man's heart for man. When, towards the end of his
## p. 435 (#463) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 435
appeal, poor Evelyn, overpowered by a return of his wretched
feelings, grew warm and earnest; when his voice faltered and
his hands trembled; when he wept; the general, seemed
strongly touched with the young man's energy of sorrow.
"Truly did you argue," he said kindly, "that the confidence
you came to give would insure my interest in your sad case.
We are friends, Mr. Evelyn, however we may stand to-morrow
in the field. I will do my best to save and protect the
daughter of my old friend; the sister of my young protege,
the wife of Mr. Evelyn. Be you indeed so sure that her
present fate is such as you intimate 1 M'Donnell," he went
on, musing, and as if struck with a sudden thought" Miss
M'Donnell; let me see"
"Eva M'Donnell, sir."
"Aye," continued Sarsfield; "of a lady called M'Donnell
believe I have lately heardif, indeed, I have not seen her.
oji she not young 1 and pretty, withal V
"Young, and most beautiful," answered Evelyn.
"Oh ! I cry your mercy, sir," half smiling at the energy ot
description he had required as matter of fact. "I say
othing positive; nothing to give you a hope that may be
isappointed. I can know nothing of the maiden, and there-
ire should venture no guess. Yet, rest with me, here, a
jw hours, until it is time to attend the King's evening party,
at the Castle. Then, in all confidence and honour, come with
me: foe and stranger as you are, and strange as may be the
proceeding, we can, perhaps, find means to introduce you
where, if you use your eyes, the lady I mean will, in all pro-
bability, appear. Meantime, be my guest, and let us speak
of what in honour we may."
Evelyn readily complied. The soldier-foes pledged each
other's health, and spent the evening in free discourse, until
the hour of nine; when Sarsfield took Evelyn's arm, and
walked him to the Castle.
As they passed into the upper court, or yard, Evelyn could
perceive that the guards at the outside and inner gates, and
all the soldiers in the guard-rooms, were, to a man, French.
Sarsfield caught his eye noting this, and observed:
"Aye, thus it is, Mr. Evelyn; these haughty foreigners
push us aside on our own thresholds: what think you? In
mounting guard, here, on his Majesty's person, they have
## p. 436 (#464) ############################################
436 THE BOYNE WATER.
been heard to declare, that they will obey no commands but
those of their petit-maltre general, Lauzan; that, in fact,
they are not the soldiers of the King in whose service they
have embarked! Credit me, sir, whenever. you are able to
obtain an advantage over us, it will be on account of the
bickerings and divisions caused by these fellows. King
James began his Irish wars by refusing an army of twenty
thousand Frenchmen from Louis, saying, he would succeed by
his own subjects, or not at all. Would to heaven he had
been consistent enough to reject the paltry reinforcements
from France he has lately accepted; the five thousand, last
year, under Rosen, and now about the same number, under
Lauzan! Whatever we have done well, was done before they
came. Whatever we may do well, will be done without them."
Traversing other apartments of the Castle, Sarsfield led
Evelyn into the spacious and princely hall, since altered and
fitted up, in 1783, at the institution of the only national order
in Ireland, and thence called St. Patrick's Hall. Here was a
joyous blaze of light, and a numerous, brave, and brilliant
company. All the beauty of Ireland, the noble dames and
gentle damsels belonging to the Irish aristocracy, collected
round James from town and country, were grouped about
the extensive apartment, sitting or promenading, and listen-
ing, with a gracious air, to the novel and fascinating style of
adulation imported by their French gallants from the court
of Louis XIV. In the irresistible presence of the newcomers,
the poor native youth were forgotten and neglected by their
fair countrywomen, and might be seen standing or striding
about in that stiff awkwardness, meant to be dignity, but which
was really the result of a mixed feeling of inferiority and
of chagrin. Here and there, indeed, an Irish gallant, whose
strength of mind, or whose self-conceit, enabled him to keep
up his confidence, was successful in engaging the ear and
smiles of some maiden, above the influence of the general
infatuation; or of engrossing some rustic beauty, to whom
attention of any kind proved new and welcome, and whose
experience had not yet called up a squeamish taste, or a
power of nice distinction. Of the former class of successful
squires of dames, on his own ground, was Hamilton, whom
Evelyn at once detected sauntering where he liked, amid the
crowded competition of the brilliant halL with an air of which
## p. 437 (#465) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 437
the very ease and assurance were, perhaps, his best passport
to the success that almost in every quarter awaited him from
smiling eyes and coral lips, and cheeks that blushed so prettily,
forsooth, it were pity not to give them gentle cause for the
sweet suffusion.
Towards the far end of the hall, at either side of an open-
arched entrance into another gaily-lighted apartment, Sars-
field pointed out to Evelyn the Duke of Berwick, his brother,
the Grand Prior, the Duke of Powis, the Earls of Melford,
Dover, Seaforth, and Abercorn ; the two Lords Howard ; the
Marquis of Abbeville; the Bishops of Chester and Galway;
some dozen of other nobles, English and Irish; a crowd of
baronets, chiefly from England, mixed up with French and
Irish general-officers, and a sufficient portion of ecclesiastics,
in cassocks, shaven crowns, or scraps of black skull-caps.
Among the baronets was one remarkable gentleman, who at
first attracted, and then amused, Evelyn. He was middle-
sized, between sixty and seventy, but of good, full, round
muscle, and straight as a gate-post; wearing a dishevelled
tie-wig, pushed back, or else made not to come more forward
than the crown of his head. His coat was of the oldest
known cut, meeting, without a collar, the edge of his jaws,
and accommodating itself to their pendant indentures, with
profusely broad skirts, much gathered behind, pointing out
stiffly in front, and reaching nearly to the middle of his sturdy
legs, with ample sleeves, still more ample cuffs, and gaping
pocket-holes, placed far below the hips. The half-seen legs
boasted carnation stockings, clocked half-way up; the feet were
furnished with open-mouthed shoes, eclipsing the ankle,
propped by wooden heels, and having square toes of, at the least,
four inches across. Then, his face well suited this dress. When
seen in profile, it was a succession of concave lines, from the
forehead to the tip of the chin, looking not unlike the seg-
ment of a huge griddle-cake, out of the edge of which a
hungry boy has taken a succession of mouthfuls: first, a bite
for the line of the nose; then one for the indent between
nose and upper lip ; next a good and curious one for the ever-
open mouth, displaying toothless gums ; lastly, one for the
curve beneath the under lip. Not omitting to say that the
chin, with its lower lip, jutted out, in a straight line, a full
inch beyond the upper maxillary; while from its point fell a
## p. 438 (#466) ############################################
438 THE BOYNE WATER.
sweep of fat jaw, that at last was hid under the waving
mazes of his tie-wig.
Thus appointed, by nature and art, the ancient knight-
baronet strode about, his two hands thrust, at arms' length,
into his profound pocket-holes; a roundish, pot-crowned hat,
with a most picturesque ruggedness of outline round the
brim, squeezed under his right arm; his pig-tail tie curling
playfully over his left shoulder; a long sword, worn hori-
zontally, and sticking out full two feet behind. Thus he
strode here and there, smiling an eternal smile with his
gaping, gum-tinged mouth; his entire face simpering; a cer-
tain racy air of content, pride, and confidence displayed
in his whole appearance and action; and going up to
every one who would listen to himor, when repelled at
every side, pacing backward and forward before the open
alcove; and repeating, under every change of circumstance,
one or two phrases, that at once gave insight into the cause
of his happiness, and into his extreme simplicity of character,
such as
"Aye, sir; aye, my lord; aye, Sir Peter ; this be, indeed,
a king; your true Kiag of old England. Your true son of
a hundred kings. His father's child, my lord duke. That
loves us ; that is sweet and benign to us; that will fight for us;
that will lead us home again, to old England, and the good
county of Norfok. Aye, my lords; aye, sirs; aye, gentle
ladies. This be our own sweet liege ; our own prince of kings."
The eulogist was poor Sir Thomas Dereham, or Doreham,
of the county which he has himself mentioned, who fol-
lowed, over the world, the fortunes of James II., and who,
disappointed of the happy return home on which he so con-
fidently reckoned, afterwards died at Florence of a broken
heart. His liege reverence for his "legitimate" monarch
warmed into strong personal affection, which James repaid
with, at all times, a show of kindness, that merited Sir
Thomas's individual praises; but was rather in contrast to the
severe hauteur that more generally characterized the fallen
King towards the rest of his subjects. More time, it is freely
admitted, has been spent on this single sketch than is allow-
able, away from the progress of our story. But the old gen-
tleman happened to interest us as much as he did Evelyn;
and perhaps the reader will not feel tired, or displeased, thus
## p. 439 (#467) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 439
to get, incidentally, a glimpse of a character that may help to
afford some additional illustration of the time, persons, and
events, now under notice.
Evelyn was called back from his excursive study of Sir
Thomas, by having his attention directed by Sarsfield into
the inner apartment, and fixed on the persons of two old
men, the one wearing full ducal robes, the other clad in the
undress of a Roman Catholic priest, who, from time to time,
crossed the open arch, seemingly in grave and earnest con-
versation.
"My Lord Duke of Tyrconnel, our Irish Lord Lieutenant,
with his reverend chaplain," said Sarsfield; "a manperhaps
I might say, two menwho have done, by hot and bad coun-
sels, more injury to King James's cause in Ireland, than
prayers, or even blows, are certain to amend. They await,
in that inner chamber, the entrance, from his closet, of the
King, who is also attended there by a ghostly adviser, of
whom, mayhap, you may have heardFather Petre.
"And do you not get a glance, at the left side of the
chamber, of some gaily-attired ladies, half hidden by the
cross-wall of the arch 1 There sits my Lady Tyrconnel, sur-
rounded by her damsels of honour, also awaiting the King's
appearance, by whom, alone, her ladyship consents to be led
into the hall, to meet her fair guests of the evening. But,
hark ! she will not now have to tarry long."
As Sarsfield spoke, the ladies, who formed the subject
of his remark, got into a graceful bustle, and came a little
nearer to the open arch. Tyrconnel and the ecclesiastic
suddenly drew back, as they crossed the inner apartment
from the other side; guards closed the very remote wall.
In a few seconds James approached, from some unseen
side-door, followed by a little parchment-looking man,
the place where Lady Tyrconnel stood; offered his hand
with the old kingly air; and presently led through the
archway, his dimpling and smiling hostess, attended by a
number of young and beautiful maids of honour. Father
Petre followed close in James's steps; Tyrconnel and his re-
verend companion followed. As the King passed into the
hall, Sir Thomas Doreham, his hands still in his pockets,
bowed repeatedly, and mumbled many raptures; the nobles and
generals at each side made their salutations; and, as a burst
## p. 440 (#468) ############################################
440 THE BOYNE WATER.
of music came from a gallery near to where Evelyn stood, all
in the hallgallants, dames, and damselsall stood up, or
else became, as they promenaded about, fixed in attitudes of
attention.
James continued to walk by the side of the hall opposite
to Evelyn, still attending Lady Tyrconnel, and noticing,
with old-fashioned and imposing condescension, the different
groups that stood awaiting that honour, while the lady
gave the welcome of a great hostess to humbler guests.
Evelyn, whose whole observation, notwithstanding the state
of his feelings, became fixed on James, remarked that his
dress differed, on this occasion, as widely from that in which
he had first seen him at Johnstown, as it did from the
courtly and peaceful costume that would best have become
the scene and situation. The deposed monarch wore, in-
deed, a suit that he was fond, and, perhaps, vain of as-
suming, inasmuch as it served to call up the recollections
of all beholders to the bravery, spirit, and wisdom he had
evinced, when it was his official uniform as Lord High
Admiral of England. It consisted of a bright, plain breast-
piece, coming down to his hips, interrupted and edged
by a broad scarlet sash, folded, wrought, and fringed with
gold, and crossed obliquely by a piece of mazarine blue silk
(not riband) also foldedthe emblem, according to the fashion
of his day, of the Order of the Garter: the sleeves were of
stiff, orange-coloured silk, flowered in gold, reaching a little
below the elbows; white satin thence puffing out to the
wrists, which were clouded in point ruffles. From under his
breast-piece, broad skirts of blue cloth folded over, as far down
as his knees. White silk stockings and shoes, a periwig
flowing, at either side, to the breast, and the tail of a point
neckcloth, falling quite as low, completed the honorable and
memorable suit, of which, so far as it becomes a man, the
wearer could not, after all, be too proud.
Turning to the second side of the hall, James approached
Sarsfield, bent his head in return to his bow, and that of
Evelyn, and was passing on, when his eye turned on Evelyn,
and, checking himself, he said:
"An officer of your horse, General Sarsfield?"
"No, my liege; Captain EvelynMr. Evelyn, I would
say, an officer of the Enniskillen dragoons, who"
## p. 441 (#469) ############################################
THE BGYNE WATER. 441
"Aye ?say you so 1 Why have we not received intima-
tion that there was business for this evening. Your lady-
ship's pardonallons."
With a signal to Sarsfield, he walked on, completed his
round, returned, alone, to the general, and resumed:
"To our closet, both of you." Then, leading the way,
without further ceremony, Sarsfield and Evelyn, equally
taken by surprise, found themselves, in a few minutes, in
James's private closet, accompanied by Father Petre, the
French ambassador, Count D'Avoux, and a few other persons
whom the King had met on his way, and motioned to attend
him.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
"And now, sir," said James to Evelyn, the moment the
closet-door had closed, " your businessyour mission from our
rebel subjects."
"May it please your Majesty," answered Evelyn, in confu-
sion, " I am charged with no mission: I but"
"Your business, then, of whatever nature it may be, or
howsoever called, and briefly, sir."
"My business, here, does not at all concern your Majesty
is not of a public kindis not"
"How, General Sarsfield? What means this?" interrupted
James.
"Sir," replied Sarsfield, "the stripling speaks truth."
"How is it, then, I ask 1 What brings to our court a rebel
and a traitor, who hath no business here? What practices be
these?"
"Under your Majesty's favour, none that shrink from
inquiry, or merit your Majesty's displeasure. I had hoped I
was above suspicion of such."
"Sarsfield, you are. But inform us, quickly and briefly."
"Your Majesty beholds in Mr. Evelyn a person on whose
account, and that of a friend of his, I once received, at
the Johnstown camp, your Majesty's gracious instructions
touching."
## p. 442 (#470) ############################################
442 THE BOYNE WATER.
/
"I remember some slight matter of the kind; a question of
Galmoy's right to take the life of a mad stripling and his
friendwell, well."
"Since then, that loyal subject of your Majesty hath, by a
violent chance of war, been separated from this, his bosom
friend, and is, perchance, dead. His sister, a beautiful lady,
also disappears; is supposed, in a fit of distraction, to play
the part of heroine in your Majesty's service; and is now
anxiously sought after by her betrothed husband, Mr. Evelyn,
who, foe as he is, singly approaches your Majesty's court, and,
in entire reliance on your Majesty's respect and tenderness of
the private concerns of private affection, has had no fear to
claim my service in furtherance of his sad inquiry."
"And you, Sarsfield, are warrant for him and his story, his
proceedings and intentions V The general assented.
"Then let him have no cause to repent his confidence in
our humane feelings, whichthough in the clash of unnatural
politics we have seen them overlookedstill find place in our
bosom."
Sarsfield knew he had dexterously touched the string that
would vibrate in unison with his purpose, and was prepared
for the allusion of the outraged and deserted father.
"It only appearing to us marvellous, and unnatural,"
resumed James, turning his glance on Evelyn, "that a gallant,
who can so readily give us credit for humanity, and who
chooses his lady love from amongst the daughters of our loyal
subjects, should himself stand up a rebel against our crown
and privilege."
Evelyn did not venture a reply. Sarsfield spoke for him.
"Touching that very point, my liege, Mr. Evelyn and I
have held all honorable discourse. Credit me, while his pre-
judices seem but of a mild cast, whatever reasons he may
bring to recommend them, he upholds to be grounded on
strong conviction."
"Seldom has it chanced," continued James, "that we have
been afforded the opportunity of demanding from an enemy,
face to face, his reasons for hostility. Now would it please
us to hear your friend speak his. Alas! we are reduced to the
extremity of wishing to vindicate our blackened character to
the meanest subject whom slander may have misled to rebel
against us. Speak, sir; tell the reasons you suppose you have
## p. 443 (#471) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 443
to draw your sword against your Sovereign. Tell them, and
he will, himself, condescend to answer you."
Evelyn, through mixed confusion, and the fear of a fate
more serious than befell Gil Blas with the archbishop, conti-
nued silent.
"Speak out, man !" resumed James. "Saints and martyrs!
have you fear that after the plighting our royal word for your
safety, and after the commanding you, with our own lips, to
tell the blunt truth, peril may attend your boldest speech?"
Denying any such apprehension, and thus compelled to say
something, Evelyn at once resolved to answer, manfully and
honorably, the strange claim made upon him; and accordingly
said, that, while in the early stages of the late civil commo-
tions, he but wavered in his opinion of a ground for just
resistance, his Majesty's abdication had of itself seemed to
release him from allegiance.
At this James was taking fire, when he caught the fixed,
cold, and monitory eye of Father Petre. Checking himself,
he turned round, a moment, as if fully to master his temper;
and at length said:
"Abdication is giving up a right in possession, by one's
own free act and will. I was driven from my throne by
threat, positive violence, and the necessity of self-preserva-
tion. And when those who so drove me away, found me
absent, they called the consequences of their own well-planned
measures, my willing act and deed; their cruelty, my weak-
ness; my extremity, my choice. Thus, from the first, their
assertion of their right to my crown was a deliberate false-
hood, for the circumstantial framing of which they had con-
trived, beforehand, a painstaking plot.
"Had I abdicated, I must have expressed upon some occa
sion, or to. some person, my pleasure so to do. Whereas, I
left behind me, at the very moment I was first compelled to
leave London, my avowals of the necessitous circumstances that
forced me into an absence; my protests against them - and
my firm resolves to labour, under every change of fortune,
for the restoration of my crown, and the happiness and satis-
faction of my people. Witness my letter to the lords and
others of the privy council; my letter to the Earl of Fever-
sham, my general; and afterwards, various other letters,
messages, and declarations, to different public bodies.
## p. 444 (#472) ############################################
444 THE BOYNK WATER.
"Upon the sudden news of the landing of the Prince of
Orange, I was deserted by all upon whom I could have placed
reliance. The men who grew into greatness under my love
and confidencethe childrenbut, pass we that. My very
army I could not trust. Could I have done so, I would have
had one good blow for it.
"In such a situation, what was to have been my course 1
Durst I, with any respect for the first instinct of nature, have
awaited the approach of my bad son-in-law, with his bad ad-
visers 1 The sense of the indignities put forth in his procla-
mation, and the just apprehension of further attempts on
our person, by those who already endeavoured to murther our
reputation by infamous calumnies (as if" His graceful de-
livery, for which he was remarkable, here failed him; his
words faltered, and his lip quivered" as if we had been
capable of supposing a Prince of Wales)calumnies incom-
parably more injurious than the destroying our person itself;
together with a serious reflection on a saying of our royal
father, 'that there is little distance between the prisons and the
graves of princes'these were some of our reasons for deem-
ing it a duty to attend to the law of nature, and save life, at
least, from the hands of a near relation, and for the benefit of
our subjects.
"After my obstruction on the river," he went on, speaking
now as if to himself, "where our royal person was rudely
handled by some of the meanest of mankind, and after my
return to Whitehall, I might have expected better usage from
the Prince of Orange, in consequence of what I had writ to
him by my Lord Feversham. But instead of an answer such
as I might have hoped, what was I to expect, after the usage
I received, by his making the said Earl a prisoner, against the
practice and the law of nations? The sending his own foreign
guards, at eleven o'clock at night, to take possession of the
posts at Whitehall, without advertising me in the least man-
ner of it? The sending me, at one of the clock, after mid-
night, when I was in bed, an order to be gone out of my own
palace, before twelve that same morning? After all this,
what could I hope from him, at whose hands a sovereign
prince, and uncle, and a father, could meet with no better
entertainment? How could I hope to be safe from him who
had tried to paint me as black as hell to my own people and
## p. 445 (#473) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 445
the world, adopting in his declaration all the infamous
charges against me 1 My English guards taken away, and a
Dutch guard accompanying me to Rochester, whither I had
desired to remove? Thus was the royal martyr, our father,
encompassed about, until a proper time arrived for the
taking his life as well as crown. Thus I would not brook to
remain, when liberty offered. I was born free, and desired to
remain so. Therefore the world need not be surprised at my
withdrawing myself, a second time, from Rochester.
"And now, stripling, if you have truly stated your only or
chief cause for rebellion, to arise from the abdicating, by us,
the throne of our ancestors, return to those who helped you
to such a reason, and tell them, that from the sovereign prince
they have caused you to wrong, and disposed you to destroy,
you have heard his own apology. Tell them that to yourself,
an undistinguished subject, he has, in all the humility that
becomes his humbled situation, and in all the earnestness that
becomes an injured man and a Christian king, vouchsafed to
vindicate himself, and the infant son who suffers with him, from
their cruel slander. And so, farewell. And the happiest con-
science that heaven is willing to allow, attend you on the
day when you draw your young sword against us."
Motioning to Sarsfield, he turned away. The general led
Evelyn from the closet; our friend, much surprised at the
sudden command of temper with which James had made his
statement, after the imperious bursts of spirit that had marked
the opening of the interview.
They had scarcely passed the archway into the great hall,
when the deposed King, attended by all who had followed him
to his closet, trod in their footsteps, and advanced to where
Lady Tyrconnel sat, surrounded by her beautiful maidens of
honour; speaking, at each side, as he walked along:
"Look not so grave, lords and dames, gallants and gentle
damsels; here has been nothing to disturb the joy of our
meeting; nothing to turn the red rose white on fair maidens'
cheeks, or cloud the brows of our zealous and loving nobles.
The song, my lady of Tyrconnel! That quaint song which,
upon an evening before, one of your beauties sang us to the
wild music of your native harp. Flutters the gentle bird now
at your side V
After a befitting answer, there was some motion among the
## p. 446 (#474) ############################################
446 THE BOYNE WATEE.
crowd of beautiful attendants; and, in a few moments, the
preluding tinkle of a harp was heard. Evelyn, his heart agi-
tated even whilst James spoke the last words, now started at
the sound, and, grasping Sarsfield's arm, looked towards the
blooming group. But the performer was completely hidden
from his view by the clustering around her of her sister
maidens, and also by the closing in of all who were in that
quarter of the room, in order to evince their interest in the
pastime recommended by the praises of royalty.
But, as the song proceeded, as the clear and powerful,
though wild voice rose to the roof of the spacious hall, fully
conveying the words, and giving a soul to the enthusiasm of
the native music, Evelyn could no longer doubt who was the
songstress. It was one of Cardan's best airs, composed,
at Eva's request, by the shores of Red Bay, set to words
of Edmund's writing; and often had he heard it from Eva's
lips. At this certainty, his heart swelled, and shrank again,
his breath failed him, his eyes swam, his limbs shook; and
uttering a hasty exclamation, he stepped forward towards
the group, when Sarsfield checked him, saying:
"For God's sake, nonot nowcompose yourself! Why,
you are pale, and you tremble! Be a man!"
As amid a deep hush of its admiring hearers, the song con-
tinued to ring through the hall, one of its most thrilling notes
was as if caught up by a trumpet in the courtyard of the
Castle. Nearly at the same moment, a roll of kettledrums was
heard, and guns were fired, far and near, as if from different
points around the city. The voice of the songstress broke off;
screams escaped many of the ladies, thus taken by surprise,
during so profound a pause, and while their sensibilities were
excited to the utmost. Some nobles and officers started,
and laid their hands on their swords; and James walked
rapidly up the hall, followed by his courtiers and generals,
to meet, the next minute, the gentleman whose business it
was to approach him with the intelligence.
"Well, sir, the news V he asked, ere they had met.
"Captain Farlow, who hast just galloped in, waits to com-
municate it to your Majesty."
"Admit Captain Farlow, without ceremony." The mes-
senger rapidly retired.
As the King, accompanied by the lordly and martial crowd
## p. 447 (#475) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEP. 447
who clustered around him, had left Lady Tyrconnel and her
female group, Evelyn's eyes again flew in quest of Eva; new-
she was at last visible to his view. Her affrighted compa-
nions, dividing and shrinking at either side, had left alone, still
seated at the harp, the syren who had just formed the focus of
their blooming circle. There, one arm flung over the instru-
ment, another raised to catch the flowing hair on her neck, as,
with a countenance full of energetic, but not terrified inquiry,
she turned round to fix her glances on the far door of the hall
thre, indeed, was Evelyn's long-lost, long sought Eva. During
the momentary observation he was afforded, poor Evelyn felt
that never before had he seen her in a change of character so
novel, startling, and imposing. Her courtly dress, so much in
contrast with her former simple and romantic attire, might,
indeed, have assisted the impression. Her long hair was
twisted up from her forehead, disposed into a succession of
bows, and fell, in similar bunches, on her neck and shoulders;
her loose robe of stiff white silk, hung off her neck ; the
ample sleeves, open at the front, did not reach past the elbows,
and were fastened, at certain distances, by clasps of pearl.
Clouds of point lace fell round the bosom, the shoulders,
and the sleeves, while only an indication of waist was given,
amid the luxury of Grecian folds and splendid negligence that
marked the courtly costume of the day. Eva, thus seen,
for the first time, by her bewildered and admiring husband,
might, indeed, gain much from a dress like this ; yet was her
air, and the expression of her face and figure, as new and
commanding as her guise ; her features beamed with more
elevated thought and sentiment. Her very proportions
seemed to have acquired a line of fulness, of grace, and of
importance, other than he had been accustomed to attribute
to them. Altogether she seemed a lofty lady, born to move
in courts, and tend on queens, rather than the simple, though
enthusiastic Eva he had first seen in the valley of Glenarriff,
and woed and won by the moonlight windings of Bed
Bay.
All this, which, unfortunately for narrators, has taken
so long to describe, being seen and felt by Evelyn, at a
glance, his thoughts reverted in consternation to the other late
transformations of character he had attributed to Eva. He
was following up the reverie, during the short pause since the
## p. 448 (#476) ############################################
448 THE BOYNE WATER.
departure of the King's messenger from the hall, when her
eye, suddenly flashing round, lighted on his. He started,
and moved a step forward; she averted her regards, without
recognition. Again he stepped on, in motion, to address her.
Again Sarsfield held him back, with "On your life, no! Attend
to this announcement." An officer walked rapidly, though
with a jaded step, down the hall, his boots and skirts soiled
with travel, his periwig and uniform covered wth dust, and
intense anxiety exhibited in his pale, lank features.
"You have ridden hard of late, Captain Farlow V James
cried, as they met.
"From the Newry mountains, my liege, since late last
night; where" the rest was inaudible to the company.
"God's saints !" cried James, starting back, "say you so,
man, and our advices so positive against it 1 Speak out the
news, sir*; we wish no secret of it now. Hear, nobles and
noble officers;fair dames and damselshear, and get you to
your orisons for us ;-hear all, and let the evening's pastime
change into sterner bustle. Six days and nights have passed
since the Prince of Orange touched Irish ground; and Captain
Farlow, who brings the tidings, has been worsted, at the head
of a detachment of two thousand men, by a part of the
usurper's army. So, gentle ladies, good night! Lords, and
others of the privy council, attend us. Hamilton, Sars-
field, join us. Our other zealous generals, to your posts,
and prepare for the march by midnight ; some one warn
Luttrell to repair to the Castle for his militia orders. Holy
saints ! how have we been deceived by poor politicians, in this
matter 1 But, comecounsel first, courage after-and at last
one good blow for it!"
Followed by all whose duty it was to follow, James again
sought his closet.
"Now, Mr. Evelyn, to horse, to horse !" cried Sarsfield, as,
clasping his hand, he also turned to follow. "Take this pass
ride, rideand get you beyond our lines as speedily as may
be. Call at my quarters ; I shall give you a few of my Lucan
troopers, for the road. Farewell, sirtill we meet again?"
Touching the hilt of his sword, as, looking askance over his
shoulder, he smiled in high excitement, and strode away.
Evelyn stood a moment more than ever overwhelmed.
The next, his eye once more sought Eva. He caught a
## p. 449 (#477) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 449
glimpse of her face and figure, retiring through the open
archway, with Lady Tyrconnel, and her ruffled flock.
He darted after them. Some obstruction arose from the
bustling and broken groups of nobles, gentlemen, and
officers, he met in his way. And when, at last, Evelyn
reached into the inner chamber, it was empty,a door, just
in the action of being closed, showing him a skirt of female
drapery, and thus indicating, that through it the fair crowd
had withdrawn.
As he stood, baffled and confounded, some persons inquisi-
tively, and rather hostilely, addressed him. This brought
him to a sense of his strange, and, perhaps, perilous situation.
An instant after, and he was hurrying out. of the Castle, his
ears filled with the renewed trumpet blasts that breathed
hate and death to his cause and him; his steps every moment
crossed by armed foes, challenging and questioning him.
Sarsfield's passport brought him, however, to Sarsfield's
house; there he found the men he had been promised,
mounted to accompany him; and he sprang to his saddle,
and spurred northward, to carry to his friends intelligence
of the roar of preparation that already was loud in his
rear.
As he and his escort rode through Essex-gate, a horseman
passed them, at a furious rate. Evelyn was struck with the
general air of this person, and his soul sickened within him
at the thought of whom it might be. A glare from the
torches, carried by two of the troopers, just then caught the
stranger's profile, and his worst forebodings became con-
firmed. He pulled up, and drew back with an involuntary
shudder; the next instant he dashed spurs into his horse,
and galloped after. But no one could be seen on the
suburb road before him ; and the receding clatter of a horse's
hoofs down a cross-road to the right, seemed to intimate,
that in that direction the rider had disappeared. Affrighted,
almost terrified, and mad with impatience, Evelyn, after a
short pause, gloomily continued his journey.
"My lords and gentlemen," James meanwhile said to his
council, "you all know how unexpectedly this news has
come upon us. Every advice from England, every opinion
here, agreed in making us think that the Prince of Orange
was held so busy by contests with his parliament at home,
that he could not venture upon an Irish war in person. Yet,
2 G
## p. 450 (#478) ############################################
450 THE BOYNE WATER.
during six days has he been amongst us, while we knew
nothing of it. Your speedy counsel, now, as to what is
to be done. Whatever we resolve, must be resolved
promptly, and as promptly executed. Let us not acknow-
ledge that we have been taken off our guard. Above all,
let our actions show that we have not
"None are ignorant that the diseases of Schomberg's camp,
ta Dundalk, reached to our own camp, and that we suffered
almost as much as he; that"
He was here interrupted by the entrance of a person with
a packet. He eagerly opened and read it.
"From France, my lords and gentlemen; from the Queen!
Her Majesty writes on the very matter that now engages us;
informed, as it appears, long before ourselves, of the expedi-
tion of the Prince of Orange. Let all our zealous friends
peruse the paper; meantime we proceed in our council.
"It is well known, I say, that, together with disease and
sickness, the native army, which so honorably closed the
last campaign, has been much reduced by bad food, and some-
times the want of food of any kind, while no recruitings have
since taken place for our service. Further it is known how
earnestly and often I have meantime pressed the French
cabinet to afford us the troops, and other helps, which his
Most Christian Majesty ordered to be prepared for us. How
our loving Queen storve, on the spot, in the same view.
Yet, through the jealousy of the minister, offended because I
refused his naming of a general, in favour of the gallant
Lauzan, now by your sidehow much wc have been disap-
pointed in our expectations of aid! Only six thousand
Frenchmen at last sent to us ; and while our faithful Irish lack
arms and food clothes and shoes, little of the other assis-
tance that was, perchance, more necessary. So that, my
lords and gentlemen, between natives and allies, I doubt if
our present army, badly appointed as it is, destitute of field-
pieces and muskets, amounts to more than thirty thousand."
"To no more, my liege, including garrisons," said Sarsfield;
"while the utmost force disposable for the field, is about
twenty-five thousand."
"You have come possessed of the strength of the enemy,
Captain Farlow T resumed James.
"I have, sir. Thirty-six thousand, since William's meeting
with Schomberg; all veteran troops, completely supplied and
.-i
## p. 451 (#479) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 451
appointed; and mostly foreigners, inured to war, fatigue,
and victory."
"The odds are against us," said James, in a downcast and
undecided tone.
"Not while heaven be with us," observed Father Petre.
"And our cause that of our King and holy Church," echoed
Tyrconnel's reverend chaplain.
"Surely thus are we the host, and they a remnant," said
old Tyrconnel, encouraged by the confidence of the clergy-
men.
"Speak, Count de Lauzan," resumed James, half offended at
the intrusion of opinions, which he had not called for, even
though they agreed with his own.
The count answered, in French, that, under the circum-
stances, and particularly, after having perused the Queen's
letter, he would strongly recommend precaution in every
shape; adding, that he was not long enough in Ireland to offer
very particular opinions.
The French ambassador, D'Avoux, when called on, made
similar vague observations.
"Now, Sarsfield," continued James.
"May it please your Majesty," said the general, "the
visible odds, at the least," bowing to the ecclesiastics, "are,
as. your Majesty hath observed, against us. I incline, on the
whole, to be governed by Count de Lauzan's opinion."
"For the first time in your life, then," whispered Hamil-
ton, "A God's name, don't pay him this flattery."
""Hamilton," said James, smiling, "we observe your zeal
with Sarsfield's ear, and can read by your eye that you would
willingly spoil a scarlet cloak for one good horse-charge at
our son-in-law, on fair ground, and your troops about equal.
But let Sarsfield say his say. Nor do I fear you or other
noble Irish generals present are offended, that we have
called on him, though less in rank than you and them, to
render us a first answer. Sarsfield, speak on."
"The chances being so much against us, I turn to her
Majesty's gracious letter, my liege. Here is King Louis's
promise, that when the convoy which has brought William
to Ireland shall join the English fleet, he will send a sufficient
number of frigates and privateers to destroy his transports,
still at sea, and coasting after him; and then pin him up,
here, while the hitherto successful fleets of France shall once
## p. 452 (#480) ############################################
452 THE BOTXE 'WATER.
more engage the English admiral, and, if again triumphant,
make a landing in England. Therefore I think your Majesty
might do well to await the issue of things at sea; and adding
to the strength of your already formidable garrisons, retire
from Ulster, across the Shannon, where the army may not
only be kept up, but recruited, refreshed, and better dis-
ciplined. Should the views of his Most Christian Majesty but
in a degree succeed, William's army might, as the autumn
approaches, share the fate of Schomberg's, last year. Or else,
England may be lost to him before he can return thither.
Your Majesty might, meantime, continue in the south,
prepared to take speedy advantage of any such turns of
fortune."
The Duke of Berwick and Powis, the members of James's
privy council, with the exception of Tyrconnel and Father
Petre, the Lords Clare and Galway, and the majority of his
other Irish officers present, seconded this prudent advice.
James stooped down to whisper with the ancient ecclesiastic.
There was a deep pause. At last he manned himself, and
spoke.
"Much reason there is in the opinions offered. But should
I now abandon Dublin, is it not likely that my friends in it
will despair of my cause, capitulate without a blow, and make
terms for themselves, away from my interests? And may not
many other friends follow their example? For the sake of
God and of gallantry, let us not run such a risk. A much
more serious one than engaging in a good cause, with good
consciences, and brave hearts, a somewhat superior enemy.
Courage, gentlemen! And now, action and bustle, too! In
the name of heaven and our countries, we march northward,
to join our main army at Ardee, by the dawn. Should the
enemy advance on us, the pass of the Boyne shall, at the least,
be contested. Sir Patrick Trant," he continued, in a changed
and melancholy tone, "hie thee to Waterford; and, in case
of the worst, secure and prepare a vessel for our safe re-
embarkation to France. My daughter's husband must not,
even yet, make us a prisoner, at his mercy. Though I fear it
not, gallant lords and gentlemen." (He again looked spiritedly
around, through the tears that stood in his eyes.) "My cause
the best, and you to prop it, I think but of success and victory.
'Tis the first time, during the wrong and suffering of years,
that I have had promise of a fair battle for my crown. And
## p. 453 (#481) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 453
now, at last," repeating words he often used, "one good blow
for it!"
"The Lord prompts our King to speak!" observed Father
Petre.
"Long live King James!" cried Tyrconnel.
"He will play the hero too much," remarked Sarsfield, to
many assenting Irish officers, about him.
"We will charge them, at all events," said Hamilton.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Distracted in his thoughts, agitated and irritated in his
feelings, Evelyn held his northern course. Separating from
his escort at the last outpost of the Irish lines, he gained, on
the noon of the second day, William's camp at Loughbrick-
land. His leave of absence being that very day expired, he
hastened to present himself to Schomberg, whom he found
busy in assisting the other general officers to get the whole
army into marching order.
Near to Schomberg's hut, he met Walker, accompanied
by Dr. Dopping, Bishop of Meath, and a group of clergymen,
waiting, under Schomberg's auspices, to present an address of
congratulation to William, and somewhat chagrined that he
had waited a long time.
"He shuns us," grumbled the Bishop of Deny, "as if he
had no common cause with us, and only came to Ireland in
the view I before mentioned to you, namely, to conquer it for
his Dutch followers.
"Observe how his army is constituted. Distrusting Eng-
lish soldiers, he takes care that much more than half of it shall
be foreigners. It contains ten thousand Danes, nine thousand
Dutch, and four thousand French refugees. And the superiority
in officers in still more remarkable. Then, he brings with
him the Prince of Denmark, more from a fear of leaving him
behind, and to lessen the odium of fighting against his father-
in-law, by dividing that odium, than to do honour to the
husband of James's second daughter, whom he did not even
permit to travel in the coach with him. From a similar pre-
caution, he fetches over a number of English nobility and
## p. 454 (#482) ############################################
454 THE BOYJfE WATER.
men of fashion, nominally as volunteers, but really as hostages,
to insure the good conduct of their friends at home, touching
the wide-spread plot that has been discovered, and the great
French descent expected on the English coast."
While the bishop thus gave vent to his irritation, Evelyn
gazed at the whole army drawn out in marching array, ex-
tending, to the right and to the left, farther than his eye
could reach, and forming, in their perfect appointments and
excellent condition, a magnificent and imposing spectacle.
At a great distance, a stir presently became visible, and
Schomberg intimated that the King approached; galloping
along the line, to bestow on it a parting inspection.
"Now," resumed Walker, "will you see him in the only
character in which he is admirable. Since he has landed in
Ireland, his whole conduct shows, indeed, gallant and heroic,
and like a great captain. He accepts no better quarters
than his soldiers have; he rides among them by day, stirring
up their mettle; he sleeps with them on the field, by night.
And once, when it was proposed to get wine for his use,
'No,' he said (in their hearing however), 'I will drink
water with my soldiers.'"
While the dignitary spoke, William approached, at full
sweep, distancing his aids-de-camp and other attendants, and
appearing, indeed, so different a man from the William our
friend had seen at Kensington Palace, that it was difficult to
believe him the same person. He sat erect and motionless
in the saddle, as if he were, indeed, part of the noble
animal he bestrode. His usually languid eyes glared
and flashed; excitement lent a high colour to his wasted
cheeks; and every muscle of his body expressed energy,
as, with a drawn sword occasionally moved round his head,
he addressed, in his rapid transit along the line, brief, but
spirit-stirring words of approbation and encouragement, to
the officers and soldiers, who waved their hats and plumes
and shouted as he passed.
His eye lighting on Schomberg, he suddenly pulled up and
approached him.
"For Dundalk, so soon, my liege?" asked the old duke.
"Yes," answered William, "before the rains come on."
Schomberg, understanding the allusion, coloured, bowed,
and drew back.
"Does your Majesty hold to be useless, any further
## p. 455 (#483) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 455
tarrying for information of the enemy V inquired General
Douglas.
"I have not come to Ireland to let the grass grow under
my feet," was William's reply, as he motioned to turn off.
"May it please your excellent Majesty," said Walker,
stepping forward, "to hear the address of which your grace
has been advised, and which the Bishop of Meath, these
reverend gentlemen, and myself, have been deputed to
present."
"Aye," cried William, ungraciously, "if it be brief."
Upon wliich the Bishop of Derrybegan to read aloud a
long-winded and elaborate composition, that had cost much
care and study, thanking William for coming to Ireland, and
God for allowing him to come, and ending with a statement
of the former woes suffered by loyal Protestants from Irish
Papiststheir merits past and presentand humble hope
that his Majesty would
Here William, who had more than once winced under the
infliction of so long a piece of rhetoric, interrupted the right
reverend captain. Now that he was in his element and his
glory, in the saddle and the field; speaking much more
flowingly and energetically than was his wont, he said:
"I know the rest, Bishops of Derry and Meath! It
contains matter on which I have often been urged in Eng-
land. But as I have answered before, so I now answer.
My creed does not teach me persecution ; and I do not
come to Ireland, no more than I came to England, to per-
secute Papists, but to assist Protestants. Our parliaments,
here and there, may do as they like. I am not skilled in
the way of parliaments. But by me, or by my command,
Papists shall be treated as fair foes, and nought beyond.
So, farewell, my lords and gentlemen. Sound the march !
march!" he screamed along the line. "For Dundalk, Duke
Schomberg!" And dashing spurs into his willing charger, he
was out of sight in a few minutes.
Between three and four days brought the army to Dundalk,
now no longer formidable, in a fine season, and in the
absence of an enemy. The King halted but a short time
in the town, when, hearing that James had retired from
Ardee, he hastened thither. Here, gaining further informa-
tion that his father-in-law had re-crossed the Boyne at and
near Drogheda, he still moved after him. The morning of
## p. 456 (#484) ############################################
456 THE BOYNE WATEE.
the 30th of June, saw William and his whole army within
view of the Boyne Water, and of the Irish camp.
Turning to the left, off the road, attended by Schomberg,
Prince George of Denmark, Major-General Scavenmore, the
Bishop of Deny, Lords Sidney and Portland, Generals Kirke
and Douglas, and their respective aids-de-camp, amongst whom
was Evelyn, riding by Schomberg's side, the King ascended a
hill, called Tully-Escar, which commanded, at cannon-shot
distance, the town of Drogheda, and altogether afforded a
good observation of the country and the hostile lines.
Evelyn was pleased and animated with the whole view
from the top of this hill. To the left appeared the steeple
and castle of Drogheda, peering over the gentle ascent
of the middle distance. Running to the left, this eminence
at last fell in broken lines to the sea, whose waters gleamed
above it. A continuance of the same line ran to the right
also of the town, overtopped, in its whole course, by hills
more blue and remote. Owing to the high nature of the
sweeps of ground between him and the Boyne, few or no
glimpses of the river could be obtained. But on a memorable
little hillock, forming part of the mass of the middle distance,
clustered the Irish camp, obviously at the opposite side of the
hidden water, and running in scattered patches towards
Drogheda. Bodies of troops, horse and foot, looking insig-
nificant, either from their real paucity of number, or the
distance they were at, and the extent of ground over which
they were strewn, appeared in motion, about the camp, as
William ascended his point of observation. Some traces
of a continued line could be noted as far to the left as the
town.
William and his officers soon had their glasses out, and
some pause ensued. At length, Evelyn heard him say:
"If they have no other advantage, their position seems a
strong one. Their right rests on the town; their left on
those broken heights; and their centrewho can tell
us the nature of the ground between their centre and the
river?
"
The captain of the guides answered that it was mostly
swampy ground along the whole line, from the bases of the
heights to the edge of the Boyne.
"Better still for them; a river and a marsh between them
and us. Is there not a bridge, at hand, on our right V
## p. 457 (#485) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 457
"Only one," he -was answered; "at the village of Slane,
about seven miles up the river."
"Many fords?' he still questioned.
"But one known ford, about opposite the centre of the Irish
army."
"Yes," resumed William, after another pause, "it is a
strong and well-chosen position."
"But a poor appearance of an enemy, my liege," said
Major-General Scavenmore.
"I do not know," replied William. "However, we shall
soon become better acquainted with their numbers."
"Your Majesty can have no opinion, whatever may be
their numbers, of a foe so despicable," observed Walker.
"I do not know that, either, Bishop of Derry. Did you
find them, as you describe them, at Hillsborough and Long-
causeway V
"Your Majesty does not incline to force the river V in-
quired Schomberg.
"I have assuredly no wish to make this a Dundalk cam-
paign, if there be much choice left, Duke Schomberg. But
come," he continued, as some confusion arose in part of the
army who had ascended, and sat down upon an adjacent
height, in view of the Irish camp, and thus provoked a few
shots, while a ball struck the very hill occupied by William
and his officers; "we have looked at them long enough at a
distance, as they seem to think. Let us see them nearer; and
at the same time, get our over-curious simpletons out of their
range. Follow, gentlemen. Prince George, we have troubled
you little in this council, out of tenderness to your inexperience
in such matters; and doubtless you will thank us for any
trouble we can save you. So, choose your steps, and descend.
Tell the guide to lead over the cross road towards the water.
Portland, hither."
Having gained the point from which he had deviated and
ascended, and thus again sunk below all view of the Irish
camp, William accordingly followed the guide over a wretched
bridle-road, which, still at his late distance from the enemy,
first ran, behind considerable heights, parallel to the river,
and then took a diagonal sweep towards it. At one of its
angles, he halted; and ascertaining that his whole army
remained out of sight of the Irish, ordered them to halt,
also, and make a morning meal. Upon a large stone,
## p. 458 (#486) ############################################
458 THE BOYXE WATER.
flattened at the top, Portland, assisted by some persons in
waiting, arranged William's own breakfast. which consisted
only of the coarse bread, shared by his soldiers. and ample
draughts from a huge, black, Dutch-looking bottle, that
emitted a potent s**nt at a god distance. The King then
took his meerschaum, and in profound silence applied himself
to it. In a little time he called for water. ^None was to be
had, and he rose and asked it. himself, at a miserable hovel,
by the road-?ide, near to his primitive breakfast-table, which
still stand*, unmoved and immoveable, upon the spot where
he found it; its fame equal to his own. and promising to be
ns durable in the simple neigh'-.urliood.
Renewing his march, he continued, still out of view of
James's camp, to approach the Boyne; and at last turned
into a solitary little valley that led straight to it. The sides
of the gentle slopings, at either hand, were intersected by
natural trench works, within which, as well as over the bottom
of the valley, he encamped, and halted his whole army. The
place since retains the name of William's Glen.
About an hour after noon, attended bv Schomberg, with
Evelyn, Portland, Schomberg's son, General Douglas, and
other officers, the King emerged from one of the little hollows
described, and found himself on the brow of an eminence,
that, with another sweep between it and the Boyne Water,
suddenly gave him a full and near view of James's camp.
Here, referring to his map, and using his glass, he sat in his
saddle for some time. Then, ordering out a body of horse,
he obliquely descended the heights, and rode first to within
musket shot of the pass of Oldbridge, and next a good
distance, to his right, up the river. During all these move-
ments, William observed a profound silence, which none of
his generals interrupted.
Retracing his steps, he again won the top of the second
little eminence, whence he had made his first observations,
and, dismounting, sat upon the grass. In this situation, he
was about two miles from Drogheda, on which rested James's
right ; about a mile, in a diagonal direction, from Dunore-
hill, which was near to his centre, and only some hundred
yards from the ford of Oldbridge, which was marked by the
neighbourhood of a gigantic and isolated rock, since chosen
as the base of the Boyne monument. Between him and
Dunore-hill, lay, beyond the river, one or two introductory
## p. 459 (#487) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 459
swells of land, with, at their bases, and stretching to the
river's side, an extensive marsh, now no longer visible.
When William had descended to ride up the river, accom-
panied by his officers, and the body of horse, some stir
appeared through the camp on Dunore-hill. By the time he
came back, another body of Irish horse had been drawn out
in a ploughed field, immediately opposite to the place on
which he had coolly chosen to sit down. Schomberg ventured
to point out the enemy, and hint a change of position. Wil-
liam, with much coldness, if not contempt of manner, said
there was no more danger there than in any other place; such
was the belief of his dark fatalism.
"Besides," he added, "they have no cannon. And surely
a horseman's pop-gun cannot reach us."
But he miscalculated. At that very moment, James,
standing beside two field-pieces, was observing him, unseen,
from behind a wall of loose stones, and otherwise screened by
the horse. A celebrated gunner in his service, named Burke,
had levelled the cannon, and held a lighted match in his
hand.
"I have him covered as dead as Julius Csesar, your Majesty:
and now a shot for the three crowns!"
"Hold!" cried James, irresolute in the very act he had
planned, as he struck down the field-piece. "Knave! harm
not my daughter's husband."
Burke, as if the command had come too late, fired, at
random, the gun farthest from him, and almost instantly,
that which James had borne down. The shot from the first
killed one of William's aids-de-camp, and the horses of Count
Schomberg and Evelyn ; but the shot from the second, misdi-
rected from Burke's level, only sent one ball across the water,
which, striking against the edge of the lower bank, under
William, glanced up and touched him on the shoulder.
William fell, however, from the effect of the ball. Hia
officers crowded round him ; the hostile party, at the other
side of the river, thinking him dead, shouted loudly, galloped
off to Dunore-hill, joined their main body, communicated the
supposed event, and shouts of tenfold power rung through
hill and valley, spreading towards Drogheda, until they were
lost in the distance. While James, still inconsistant, glorying
in the imaginary result that he had first proposed, and after-
wards prevented, instantly sent despatches to Dublin and
## p. 460 (#488) ############################################
460 THE BOYNE WATER.
Paris, announcing William's death ; and illuminations, and
other rejoicings, subsequently took place in both cities, in
consequence of the news.
At the report of the shots, various bodies of William's army,
and many pieces of artillery, appeared on the heights about
him. Evelyn, though scarce recovered from the confusion of
his own fall, while his horse went down, was the first to step
towards the King, raise him, tear off his neckcloth, and bind
it round his shoulder. In answer to this, William only said,
repulsively, as he started to his feet
"Pshaw, sirnaught ; it should have come nearer. Every
bullet has its billet."
But, observing the alarm and confusion of the troops who
now appeared, he turned to them, with a surprising change of
spirit and energy, and refusing the sling in which he was re.
quested to rest his arm, took off with that very arm his hat
and plume, waved it thrice round his head, and, exactly ashe
had done at Maestricht, in 1696, when, also slightly wounded
his troops became dispirited, thrice cheered aloud, until their
cheers answered him, and sent the lie to the hostile shouts that
rang along the opposite bank of the river.
Until towards evening, William continued, after this, to
ride among his troops, showing himself to them, and in every
way keeping up their spirits. Meantime, none of his general;
knew anything of his intentions; whether or no he would
attack James; or if so, in what manner. Schomberg, retir
ing with Evelyn to his tent, expressed much dissatisfactin
at a reserve that, towards a man of his experience and rank-
the descendant of a noble family, in his own country; the
husband of a Dudley; Marshal of France, Grandee of Por
tugal, Generalissimo of Prussia, and Duke of Englandwas
at the least, uncourteous and humiliating. Evelyn could give
him no comfort; and the venerable old soldier of fortune had
recourse to his national consolation, and spent the evening
in his tent, puffing much, and saying little, though often there
- "broke
A sigh thro' suffocating smoke."
Not until the late hour of nine o'clock was he roused by a
message to attend the King at a council, and to bring with
him the Enniskillen officer who had been one of the deputies
## p. 461 (#489) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 461
to England, and who had offered his Majesty some service
that day. Accordingly, Evelyn attended him to a cabin
which, in lieu of fitter accommodation, served for the royal
quarters.
They found William surrounded by all his general officers,
steadfastly regarding a map. Profound silence reigned in the
council.
"Has the Irish officer yet arrived?" was the King's first
question.
Evelyn advanced and bowed.
"Hearken, sir," continued William. "Behind Dunore-hill,
at the distance of some miles, we have here marked a village
called Duleek, a pass between us and Dublin. Know you the
nature of the ground lying towards it from Slane-bridge, some
miles up the river V
Evelyn answered in the affirmative, and described the
ground to be, at first, marshy and uneven, but afterwards not
difficult. William again paused; but suddenly broke the re-
newed silence.
"To-morrow morning, my lords and gentlemen, we shall
cross this river."
Schomberg ventured to dissent, saying, that the enemy's
position was so formidable, more time and observation were
required to consider an attack.
"Perhaps," William observed, "that was the way at Dun-
dalk, and might do as well, here. Nevertheless, we shall try
them to-morrow morning."
The old general, curbing his chagrin, took the map, and
again recommended, since his Majesty was determined on
battle, to send a strong detachment, that night, up to Slane-
bridge, with the view of getting between James and Duleek,
and so taking some certain step towards a victory.
"Leaving the detachment to fare, as it may, before we
can cross in the morning t Silly, my lord duke!" said Wil-
liam. "Heaven send we do not sometimes outlive our talents
and ourselves."
Without trusting his tongue to an answer, Schomberg took
his hat, bowed, and left the hovel.
"Dotage," muttered William. "Attend, my lords and
gentlemen. The river shall be crossed early to-morrow
morning, in three places. Our right shall first move on Slane,
## p. 462 (#490) ############################################
462 THE BOYNE WATEK.
push over the bridge, take the enemy's left, in flank, and get
between them and Duleek. Soon after, our centre, and
main force, shall cross the ford opposite this village of Old-
bridge, and engage the enemy's main force, also. Our left,
composed of all the horse remaining after this disposition,
shall await the result of the two first attempts, and then,
crossing at a pass I have myself discovered, within a mile of
Drogheda, rout their right. And so, good night, and good
repose till day-break. The officers destined to command the
different divisions shall receive notice of their appointments
by bedtime; also, a notice of the particular troops who are
to form our right, left, and centre. To your tents, my lords
and gentlemen. A word, sir," to Evelyn, as he withdrew
with the rest; "we lost an aid-de-camp to-day; see that you
take his place to-morrow morning. We may require your
knowledge of the ground. Bear this paper to Duke Schom-
berg, this to his son and General Douglas, this to La
Caillemotte; but deliver none for an hour to come. Then
return to us. And harkas we have been told that the
enemy choose to distinguish themselves to-morrow by white
favours in their hats, convey our pleasure to our generals that
they, and every soldier of the army, do assume green for their
colour; a green bough, or the likeso, speed you. What a
trick, dear Bentinck," he continued, turning to his prime
favourite, after Evelyn had departed to execute this com-
mand, well-known to have really been issued by William
"what a farce is this fashion of choosing a colour to
cut each other's throats under! Yet, as it has been
used on the other side of the river, we must needs adopt
it. And, gramercy for their wisdom, I suppose whatever
way the battle may go, James will be recollected by his
white badge, and I by my green badge, to the third
and fourth generations of our gracious partizans, better
than by any particular knowledge of our real differ-
ences, our motives, or our principles. Oh, yes! In this
land of Ireland, especially, which, since my good Englishers
first possessed it, has been kept down only by allowing its
quarrelsome people to gore each other;here I warrant you,
long after the result of to-morrow's struggle, the childrens'
children of the Irish among our troops, will be more ready to
crack a Papist's crown, in honour of the colour their ancestors
## p. 463 (#491) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 463
'now happen to wear in their caps, than anxious to understand
the cause of our policy in fighting at their head. 'William
and the green for ever!' 'Huzzah for the loyal and Protestant
green!' will cause, from time to time, more petty warfare,
than, perhaps, the amount of this coming battle of the Boyne
Water.'
His Majesty, though a Prince of considerable foresight, has,
however, been strangely unprophetic in part of these remarks,
giving the two parties credit for much more recollection of
facts, than, cynical as he might be, they afterwards proved
themselves entitled to. Forexplain it who canJames's
defeated adherents bequeathed, as an honorable colour for
their children to fight for, the very green under which they
were prostrated, while his own sensible and grateful friends
afterwards attacked it as a vile colour, although it had led
them to victory. Attacked it wherever it appeared, except
when met in trees and fields; and mounted a sweeter colour
of their own, to entitle them to say to the heroes of the much
slandered green, "Take that for coming a-night to Jane
Smile!"
"I am sick of their conceits," continued William ; "of their
catching me up, here and everywhere, in England and in
Ireland, as their little demigod of a faction or of a sect; as
their Jack-the-giant-queller of Whig against Tory, Tory against
Whig, or Episcopalian against Papist. Fools ! let them look
at the effort of my lifeof my very boyhood, and at last
understand me. Let them see why, step after step, I won
back the poor birthright of which my father had been plun-
dered. Why I courted all the Kings of Europe into a
league against one. Why I wedded English Mary, in my
own good time, after refusing her proffered hand by that
English lord, Arlington, who took me for a child, to be
pleased with whipt-cream and fine speeches. Why I came to
England. Why I am in Ireland. Why I look to fight a
battle to-morrow. Fools! I cry again, they will not think
that about this very day, Louis may have defeated my best
ally, Prince Waldeck. Light me a meerschaum, dear Bentinck,
and open the cabinet."
The Duke of Portland, complying with these orders, duly
presented the meerschaum, and then unlocked a little portable
case, that would now be called a gurde-de-vin, out of which
## p. 464 (#492) ############################################
464 THE BOYXE WATER.
he took the self-same black, Dntch-buQt bottle we have
already seen in requisition, and filling from it some
bumper glasses, presented them, in rapid succession, to
William.
CHAPTEE XXXV.
Evelyn punctually obeyed the King's orders to wait an hour
before he delivered the sealed papers to the different officers
named by him. Remaining in General Douglas's tent, as he
deemed it his duty to know if any reply was to be conveyed
to William, he heard that officer intimate to young Count
Schomberg, who was present, that by virtue of the instruc-
tions received, they were appointed to move, with the ten
thousand Danes, on Slane-bridge, at six o'clock in the morning.
When Evelyn handed old Schomberg his despatch
"Aye," grumbled he, "'tis as I had expectationsone
written orders to tell me my own business. Very well; it is
the first I am ever sent."
Admiring the self-dependence and energy of William, who,
at the very time he summoned a council of war, had already
determined on every step to be taken, Evelyn repaired to the
royal hut to give an account of his mission. He was as coldly
received and listened to, as if he and his business were objects
of the utmost indifference, nay, disgust. He was about to
retire in equal disgust, when William commanded his at-
tendance. The King smoked many pipes in profound silence,
while Evelyn continued to stand. At last he rose up,
about midnight, ordered out a troop of horse, and, accompanied
by them and Portland, rode through his whole encampment,
seeing that everything was as it should be, in readiness for
the dawn. Then he dismissed Evelyn, coldly warning him to
be stirring early.
Had his young aid-de-camp felt peace at heart, he would,
doubtless, have sought, during this release, the refreshing sleep
necessary to fit him for a vigorous observance of the King's
last intimation. But, in the midst even of the great scene
## p. 465 (#493) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 465
around him, private sorrows seized upon his heart. Scarce
conscious of his own movements, he walked out from the
valley of the camp, gained the river's side, and sauntered with
its current.
One or two circumstances served a little to rouse and
divert him. Approaching, unseen, a picquet formed of his
own native troop, he heard them in loud and furious conver-
sation, across the narrow river, with a patrol of the enemy,
composed of Irish and French soldiers. The Frenchmen had
begun the colloquy by wishing their foes a blithe good night;
the Irish had chimed in by inquring if they found themselves
as comfortable as on the banks of the Finn, and amid the bogs
of Dundalk; adding, that if such was not the case, they, the
Irish, would do their best, early in the morning, to make them
so. Both spoke in their different kinds of broken English,
which, though only half intelligible to the Northerns, was
sufficiently comprehended to irritate their recollections.
They answered the premature gasconade by vituperation and
threat, that showed a nature and a mood incapable of trifling,
and sullenly averse to any communion with their hated foes,
otherwise than what the sword might permit. The French
and Irish laughed loudly at their wrath, and separately
wishing them " bon soir," and " bannacth lath," moved up the
heights.
Passing the Enniskilleners, Evelyn walked further down the
river, and arrived at a point where, from the opposite banks,
two vedettes of the different armies almost confronted each
other. These men, an English and an Irish soldier, both
good specimens of their country, were also in conversation.
"Good night, goodman Teague," began the Englishman,
heartily.
"Musha, good night to hur, kindly, a-vich," answered the
other, jeeringly.
"What dost un, there," continued Johnny.
"The likes hur does, there, I'm thinkin'," replied Paddy.
"Why, I be watching thee, belike."
"Well, aroon; one good turn desarves another."
"Be'st un not of the woild Irish folk?"
"Avochaye, God look down on us!"
"Hast un supped, to-night?"
"A thrifte, accordin' to manners."
"Hast un drank enough V
>>
>
## p. 466 (#494) ############################################
466 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Lashings an' lavins." ,
"Well, I only thought to offer thee some'at, if thee hadst
been athirst, mon."
"Oh, for the matther o' that, I could be dhry any time."
"Look out, then;" and he flung a leather bottle across the
river.
"Musha, sweet war hur fist, an' good look to hur," answered
Pat, from the opposite bank, as he stopped to pick it up. "An'
waitthry a taste o' this," hurling across his own ample horn.
"Health, goodman Teague; it be proper brandy," resumed
John, duly availing himself of the invitation.
"An' here's tow'ds hur good health, too," cried the other.
And Evelyn walked on, pleased with the manly com-
munion of the soldier foes, which, he perceived, could happen
between fair enemies of the two countries, while between the
mongrel factions of one, mean though deadly rancour forbid
its occurrence.
These incidents, together with the balm of the summer
night-breeze, and the growing interest of the scene around,
soothed, as much as was possible, the agonized thoughts of
Evelyn. He turned from the river, and ascending the little
eminence to his left, walked back towards the ford of Old-
bridge, until he found himself about the spot where, during
the day, William had been slightly wounded. And now, the
observation of eye and of mind, which his situation compelled
him to take, almost wholly abstracted him, for a time, from
his individual griefs and interests.
It was nearly an hour past midnight. The moon had set,
the sky was overcast by an unbroken mass of low, black,
sultry clouds, and the darkest night that the turn of the
summer solstice can bring, brooded under them. A glance
downward, at his right, showed him William's encamp-
ment. He had but to turn his eye, and look across the
river, to get a view of almost the whole present disposition of
the enemy.
The bosom of the little valley, so close to him, and the
ravines in its sides, were numerously strewn with tents, and,
here and there, with a light and temporary hut, or rather
summer bower, made of boughs, leaves, rushes, and sods.
But, owing to the closeness of the midsummer night, few of
the troops, either officers or men, remained under cover of
any kind; choosing rather to stretch themselves in clusters, on
## p. 467 (#495) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 467
the soft sward, while their piles of brilliant arms were scat-
tered through them, flashing in the flicker of the numerous
watch-fires, of which the united blaze almost vividly illumi-
nated the valley. Some, who could not or would not sleep,
stood over their supine brethren in solitary groups, or sat
upon the most mossy knolls of the valley, whispering, if,
indeed, they spoke at all, their hopes, fears, or sensations.
While hundreds of the horses, left free to graze, or lie
down, shared their watchfulness and inaction, and, with a
touching instinct of companionship, either gathered round, as
if they could listen to the midnight comments of their masters,
or with drooping heads and necks, bent over those who were
sleeping.
The open picture on the opposite bank of the Boyne, was a
relief to this close scene. To the right and to the left, as far
as Evelyn could see, appeared the enemy's fires, still more
numerous than those of his friends, occupying height after
height, from the river, until partial illuminations in the
murky sky alone told that they continued, out of view, over
the country beyond the encampment. Around them, now in
unshaped blackness, now touched with red flame, moved the
few waking soldiers of James's army; dark masses that pre-
dominated over the sombre green of the hills, indicating dif-
ferent portions of his main force, sunk in sleep, or else closely
keeping a position. The tents round Dunore-hill confusedly
gleamed, like white stones, or flocks of sheep, in darkness
and distance. The windows of a little village, half way, in a
diagonal direction, between Evelyn and the camp, glimmered,
while partially seen, with interior lights. Old houses, imme-
diately opposite to him, and very near the water's edge, also
gave out a strong light. From a church, on the pinnacle of
Dunore-hill, came the most vivid glow of all; seeming to in-
timate that within its walls James had taken up his quarters.
But whatever might be their different appearances, both
hosts were wrapped in the same awful silence and inaction.
No sound came on Evelyn's ear, save the footsteps of a sen-
tinel near at hand, the distant tramp of a horse patrol,
or the murmurs of the gentle river, as it rippled over the
shallows of Oldbridge ford, and wound on its course, black
under the clouds of midnight. The contrast between the
simple and sylvan scenery at either hand, and the armed bands
who now occupied it, strongly occurred to Evelynthe
## p. 468 (#496) ############################################
4G8 THE BOYXE WATER.
quiet, inviting peace; the others come to fill it with war and
horror. Between their own present repose, and the purposes
that filled their bosoms, and the fierce action into which they
would start by morning, a still stronger contrast arose. And
then, Evelyn could not avoid feeling deepest awe as he found
himself waking and watching amid the sleep of so many hostile
thousands, over whom, as in contempt of their petty diffe-
rences, nature asserted the common dominion that proclaimed
them her common children.
Nor, ere he bade farewell to the scene, could Evelyn refrain
from considering the importance of the circumstances that
had brought it before him, and of the results that, one way
or another, must flow from its change into the morning
battle. He looked upon the armies of two rival kings,
headed by the rivals in person, and about to strike a blow
for the crown of three kingdoms. The political position of
millions hung upon that blow; the extinction or perpetuation of
a line of kings; above all, the great question of the legitimacy,
and the divine right of kings. Nay, differently connected as
William and James were with the hostile politics of the Con-
tinent, the termination of to-morrow's sanguinary struggle
must have a strong influence on the whole state of affairs
throughout Europethroughout the world. The misery or
happiness of the greater portion of mankind was connected
with the "coming event," and thus the calculations upon it
swelled into tremendous interest. Overpowered by them,
Evelyn descended the eminence, and retired to his hut.
He thought it was impossible he could sleep, under the
pressure of the mixed interests, private and public, that bore
upon him. Yet he was beguiled into a slumber, from which
the sound of a drum aroused him; and starting up, he has-
tened to William's quarters. As he moved through the camp,
all was stern hum and bustle. While the echoes of the op-
posite bank repeated the brisk summons of the English drum,
other drums rolled their answering signals through James's
lines. It was broad daylight.
Fearful of having overslept himself, Evelyn stood before
the King in some misgiving. A severe, though careless,
rebuke he did encounter; but William was too busy to pay
him much attention. All his officers of division stood around
him, armed and bracedsome pale with intense expectation.
But he sat in the midst, as unmoved almost as a statue. His
## p. 469 (#497) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 469
last orders to Douglas and young Schomberg seemed to have
been just completed, for they bowed, as Evelyn entered, and
soon withdrew from the cabin.
"With them, Bentinck and Auverkirke," he said, after
a short pause; and the two persons named also quickly
departed.
"Stand to your arms where you are, Duke Schomberg,"
he continued, "until we know how they speed up the river;
then let Caillemotte, first, cross at Oldbridge; and do you
follow, when 'tis necessary. The Dutch and EnniskiUen
horse, with a reserve of the Danes, and the few English,
shall move, under ourself, down towards Drogheda. Farewell,
and speed ye."
He was left alone with Evelyn and two other aids-de-camp.
He took a turn, slowly, through the cabin; then moved to
the door, snatched the reins of his charger from the soldier
who waited with it, bounded into the saddle, and in a few
seconds stood, with his aids-de-camp, on the brow of the
second eminence, which gave a full view of the enemy's
ground.
A soul-stirring scene presented itself to Evelyn. To his
right, along the banks of the river, the ten thousand Danes,
under young Schomberg and Douglas, already appeared
moving on Slane. They were excellent troops, handsomely
appointed; and their long and bristling line of bayonets,
winding along the Boyne, and flashing in the fresh sunshine
of the now unclouded morning, advanced in fine order.
Upon the opposite bank, large bodies of Irish infantry were
rapidly taking possession of breastworks, thrown up at the
ford of Oldbridge; of ruined houses, some distance behind,
and of ditches still behind the houses; their motley uniform,
their rusty half-pikes, supported with but few firelocks, their
naked legs, and altogether their wild appearance, forming a
strange contrast to the soldier-like lines of their enemies.
James had wished to post his only regular troops, the French
infantry, at this important point; but the Irish, offended, and
devoted, though uncalculating, furiously opposed the order;
claimed, as their right, the post of danger; and ran to take
possession of it, threatening to fire on whomsoever should
oppose them. During their hasty movements, much bustle
could be noticed at the camp of Dunore. Presently, several
squadrons of horse, and a line of French foot, successive!;
y, several
jcessively
## p. 470 (#498) ############################################
470 THE BOYNE WATER.
parted from it, and keeping almost at the top of the con-
tinued swells, up the river, passed Oldbridge, obviously de-
tached to oppose Douglas and young Schomberg. At the
same time, another considerable body of horse descended,
obliquely, one or two eminences that swept from Dunore
towards the river, and, as if to support the Irish infantry
posted in the breastworks, houses, and ditches, hovered,
some time, about the heights, and at last settled, like a storm-
swayed cloud, immediately over them.
As soon as Douglas and Schomberg saw the counteracting
motions of the lines sent against them, their trumpets sounded,
their drums beat, their raven standards fluttered quicker in
the breeze; and Evelyn could observe, though the vast line
was now at a good distance, that all the horse stationed behind
passed the infantry with great speed, joined their brethren in
"front, and pushed on with them, in a separate body, leaving
the foot-soldiers to follow as they could. At the same
moment, their observant enemies, on the other side, made a
similar manoeuvre ; their horse straining along the high
ground at a gallop, in order to pull up the advantage, in
distance, possessed by the Danes ; while the light French
infantry tracked them, in double quick time, both horses and
men occasionally falling and scrambling over the difficult
ground, and every nerve strained to recover from such disas-
ters, and answer the chiding and imperious calls of their drums
and trumpets, in advance. Thus, before a blow was struck,
the preluding contest between those two divisions of the
hostile armies, had powerful interest in the mind of Evelyn.
He panted with anxiety as, changing his glance from one side
of the river to the other, he saw how, step by step, the different
parties gained or lost an advantage; until, owing to an abrupt
elbow formed by the river, both at last disappeared, to meet
about five miles higher up, and there bring to a clash their
fierce rivalry.
As soon as they had retired out of view, some field-pieces,
from Dunore-hill, and the midheights above Oldbridge, began
to play on such small detachments, or reconnoitring parties of
the English force, as were to be seen. William, who, all along,
had watched the progress of the Danes with obvious satisfac-
tion, now sent an aid-de-camp to get into motion the left
wing, of about five thousand horse, which awaited his com-
mand to move down the river, between the two camps and
## p. 471 (#499) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 471
Drogheda. In a few minutes they were ready. Forming
them out of shot and sight of the enemy, behind the emi-
nences on which he had hitherto stood, and placing himself
at their head, he immediately led them towards their position,
still endeavouring, by every possible change of ground, to gain
it without observation from Dunore-hill.
Advancing very slowly and cautiously, he was able, after
the lapse of about an hour, to accomplish his object. Under
cover of the last descent between him and the Boyne, and
immediately opposite to the ford which, at the proper moment,
he intended to pass, William at last halted his five thousand
horse. In this situation, Dunore-hill, previously to his left,
was at his right; Drogheda down the river; his centre, about
two English miles up from him; and Slane, as has been said,
about five from it; so that his entire line now extended over
a distance of about seven English miles.
In profound silence did he halt his people; without word
or motion did he sit in his saddle, at their head. Not a
whisper was breathed amongst them, as they stood motionless
as himself. Even his dragged features underwent no change.
But, in this, few of his soldiers were able to imitate him.
Their colour waned and came from time to time, as expecta-
tion, suspense, or anxiety, chequered their thoughts. And
while the fitful cannonading which they had left behind, about
the centre of the line, visited them in their distant and lonely
place, eye turned to eye for a solution of the cause or result
of its continuance. Evelyn most acutely felt the inactive and
painful pause. His solicitude to learn something of the
attempt on Slane was excessive. He listened, to catch, if
possible, the remote noise of small arms, which, as the light
breeze blew fair down the river, he hoped might be conveyed
along the gentle water, and so proclaim, at the least, that the
hostile divisions had met.
Near another hour elapsed ere he heard something like the
sounds he so earnestly expected. At the same moment,
William slightly moved in his saddle; his eyebrows were
elevated, and a faint flush came to his cheek. The distant
reports of musketry continued, but he grew perfectly calm
again; only drawing out his massive watch, as if to mark the
time at which he might expect intelligence of a certain event.
Within the second hour after his arrival on the slope,
William once more showed signs of animation, quickly turning
## p. 472 (#500) ############################################
472 THE BOYNE WATER.
his head to the right. Evelyn heard the gallop of a single
horseman, coming nearer every moment. Cannon and mus-
ketry shots echoed, simultaneously, from the contiguous bank
of the river, opposite to William, seeming to intimate that
the rider was their mark. In a few minutes the express, pale
and agitated, swept into the dell; spurred towards William,
who now anxiously turned to hear his news ; took off his hat;
extended his arm, and moved his lips, as if making a convul-
sive effort to speak. At the next bound of his horse, he
dropped lifeless from the saddle.
"Fool!" said William, bitterly rather than impatiently,
"could he not have shunned their shot? Ride, sir, ride," to
one of his aids-de-camp, a fine young man" ride to the
centre, and bring me their tidings; and now, as time is precious,
take the shortest way by the bank of the river."
With first a pale, and then a high-coloured cheek, the gal-
lant youth spurred off. Again some near shots were heard
from the opposite bank, followed by the shout of a few voices.
William frowned, vexatiously, and
"Follow him, sir," he said to Evelyn, who, in another in-
stant, was sweeping along the river's edge, completely exposed
to the fire of some concealed foes, at the other side. He had
sped but a short distance, when his horse swerved at the sight
of the young aid-de-camp, lying motionless on the sward.
"Can I aid you, sir?' asked Evelyn. No answer came;
and, as he spoke, his own steed fell dead under him.
"Let me bear you aside," he continued, extricating himself,
unhurt, from the animal. But at another glance he saw that
the youth was completely lifeless. A shot had reached him
in the very heart; and the blood now burst through his
mouth.
Seizing his horse, which stood near its dead master, Evelyn
sprang into the saddle; pursued his course at fiery speed;
gained the glen of the camp; spoke briefly with Schomberg;
and returned with his tidings to the King ; choosing, however,
a less dangerous route than that by which he had left him.
"The pass at Slane has been, at first, easily carried, my
liege; the enemy's horse pursued by Count Schomberg, round
a great bog, towards Duleek; and their infantry, by Douglas,
through the bog itself, they not having been up in time to
show any force, or form in a body. But strong reinforcements
have since reached them from Dunore. They have rallied, and
## p. 473 (#501) ############################################
THE BOTNE WATER. 473
gained their lost ground. Douglas has sent to the centre for
reinforcements, also; and Duke Schomberg waits the result."
"And has he not himself yet moved on Oldbridge V
"Not yet, my liege; considering that."
"Back, sir," interrupted William. "Let him now try them
there, however it may go at Slane. The different regiments, in
turn, as I have notified. Await you the trial, and again come
back to report it."
A brief space brought Evelyn, a second time, to the side of
his old commander. Schomberg heard with displeasure the
orders to cross the ford of Oldbridge. It was not time, he
said. But, conformably to previous arrangement, he noticed
his early and long-tried friend, the brave Caillemotte, to lead
over the advance of the centre; himself still remaining near
the gorge of the glen, surrounded by a strong reserve, all in-
fantry.
Old Caillemotte readily put himself at the head of the Dutch
Guards, and his own French Protestants, and led them, shout-
ing from the glen, whence a few moments brought them, by
a turn to the left, straight upon the ford. The Brandenber-
gians, emulative of glory, could not be restrained from follow-
ing them; and about ten thousand foot plunged at once into
the river. Evelyn, his intense interest stronger than his per-
sonal fears, galloped to the bank, and there stood to witness
the event.
So sudden an obstruction to the stream of the river caused
it to swell, and many of the soldiers waded across, hip high,
under a scanty and ill-directed fire from the Irish, who pos-
sessed the breastworks and old houses. Rapidly forming, as
they gained the hostile bank, the brave foreigners instantly
attacked their foes. Before the whole advance had crossed,
the Irish abandoned, first, the breastworks, and then the
houses, leaving the enemy in easy possession of the ground
they had been too anxious to occupy. But, at this moment,
Evelyn saw a movement among the dense body of horSe, over
them. In a few seconds, down swept the formidable reserve,
as if impelled by ungovernable fury and indignation at the
retreat of their brethren. They came upon the Dutch and
French regiments like a tornado; charged them, with frantic
shouts, and broke through them in all directions. Their com-
mander singled out Caillemotte, upon the verge of the bank;
Evelyn recognised young Hamilton. After a few
""
## p. 474 (#502) ############################################
474 THE BOYNE WATER.
Caillemotte fell; and treble confusion now seized the French
and Dutch troops, who were cut down at every side, and forced
back across the ford. The Brandenbergians, the last who had
attempted it, turned and fled precipitately through the water,
by the place where Evelyn stood; the French followed them.
Some of the Irish horse pursued the Dutch at the opposite
side; and Hamilton, heading the rest, galloped through the
river after the fugitives.
Ere he gained the English bank, Evelyn flew to Schomberg.
At the news of Caillemotte's fall, the aged general flushed red
with anger; not waiting to put on his corslet or helmet, gave
the word to his reserve to follow, and rushed towards the ford.
Hamilton did not appear, being, unknown to Schomberg,
lower down on the bank. Evelyn instinctively asserted his
place at the old marshal's side. They met in their way the
Brandenbergians, and the broken French regiments; rallied
them; and Schomberg, placing himself at .the head of the
latter, led them a second time across. In the middle of the
water he was stopped by two or three soldiers, bearing the
dying Caillemotte.
"My old and faithful friend !" cried Schomberg, clasping
his hand.
"To glory, my lads, to glory!" shouted Caillemotte, and
died.
"Gentlemen, behold your persecutors!" Schomberg in-
stantly exclaimed, turning to the French soldiers, and splashing
onward.
The reserve he had ordered to follow him advanced but
slowly. Only about a thousand of its number had as yet
entered the river, and this was a foot regiment of Enniskil-
leners, headed by George Walker. As Schomberg, with the
French, Brandenbergians, and the native allies, again showed
a formidable front on the Irish bank, the galloping of horse
sounded behind, and Hamilton, accompanied by his troop,
dashed' back across the ford, passed the Enniskilleners, a
second time broke through the French, regained his own side,
surrounded and hurried Schomberg and Evelyn along, and,
at some distance from the river, turned upon the old general,
and called on him to surrender.
The answer was a thrust of Schomberg's sword, which, with
some difficulty, he parried, and they engaged furiously, while
Evelyn was held prisoner by two soldiers. Aftersome enraged
## p. 475 (#503) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 475
efforts on Schomberg's part, impetuosity and the weakness
of old age exhausted him. Hamilton observed this, and
reining back his horse, said
"Surrender, brave old man. Let some younger colleague
let your son, whom to-day I long to meet, fight out this
matter with me."
"Boy!" cried the insulted, not soothed old soldier, "con-
tent you with what his father can do!" And he spurred to his
antagonist, again strong in vengeance. The approaching
tramp of infantry was heard; immediately their fire flew
among the Irish troop; and a shot from one of his own sol-
diers brought Schomberg to the ground, quite dead.
"Wretches !" roared Hamilton, fiercely facing them, while
his troop fell back, leaving Evelyn free. "What slave among
you fired that shot 1"
"'Twas I!" answered the foremost soldier of the Ennis-
killeners, yet ignorant of its real effect, as he covered Hamilton
with his musket.
"Then be it your last!" And ere the man could pull a
trigger, his skull was cleft to his eyes.
"Charge !" he continued, as almost his entire body of horse
gathered round him, and, at the same time, some regiments
of French infantry, rising from the near heights, where none
had expected to see them, threatened the right of the English
centre, who were still crossing the ford, while the Irish foot
also rallied, returned to some of their posts, and showed a
determined face. By this time, too, the news of Schomberg's
death spread, like a blight, among his soldiers; the whole
centre of the English force shook under the announcement;
and at Hamilton's renewed charge, the Irish side of the river
became wholly cleared of its foes. The French Protestants,
the Brandenbergians, the surviving Dutch, the English regi-
ments, and, notwithstanding the superhuman bravery of
George Walker, the Enniskilleners all fell back in confusion to
their own bank.
Evelyn found himself irresistibly involved in the retreat,
mixed up with the Enniskilleners, and very near the Bishop
of Deny. One small body of horse, the wildest-looking of
the wild force, furiously and rashly pressed them through the
water, and even pushed on, unsupported, after the whole
English centre. Evelyn recognised in the mad leader of these
madmen his old acquaintance, Friar O'Haggerty. Nor was
## p. 476 (#504) ############################################
476 THE BOYNE WATER.
Walker slow in discovering him. As soon as the friar had
reached the hostile bank, the bishop adroitly, wheeled round
him, and cut him off from retreat, with a few of his troop.
'" Well met at last, brother," he said, confronting him.
"Time settles all accounts. 'Tis some long years since you
promised to meet me here, and make a certain story good."
"It is," answered the friar; "but, with the Lord's help,
now I hold my promise, if you like the ground."
"There needs not better," resumed Walker, " with God to
judge between us. Keep your stand."
He drew a pistol from his belt, and fired at O'Haggerty,
who instantly returned the shot. Their swords flew out, and
clashed around their heads. They closed, seized each other's
weapons, and dragged each other from their saddles. The
fall loosed the hold of both; they started to their feet, and
renewed the contest in a silence only broken by the toilsome
breathing for life or death ; their teeth clenched; their features
set and stiffened, as if the muscles had been changed to iron;
and their eyes shooting forth, with basilisk intensity, the
deadly hate that filled them. The strife was short;
O'Haggerty reeled and fell beneath a dreadful blow, and, as
he went down, the bishop's point twice pierced his throat.
Walker stood over him an instant, his stern regards changing
to a grim smile as he contemplated his victory. The friar
stirred, and he drew and cocked a pistol, to make all certain.
While his glances were, for a second, thus diverted, the dying
man slowly opened his eyes, fixed them on Walker, stealthily
placed his hand on a long skein under his cloak, again closed
his eyes, and, as the blood gurgled in his throat, seemed re-
signed to the last agony.
"Friar," in his usual slow and steady tone, began the
bishop, when, with a sudden and unexpected effort, the pros-
trate man sprang up, seized his conqueror by the breast,
whose pistol was instantly discharged, with the muzzle to his
head, but not before he had buried his hideous weapon, to
the hilt, in Walker's abdomen. Then, falling lifeless, he
dragged upon his own body, with the gripe of a bull-dog, his
mortally wounded foe.
This scene, occurring in much shorter time than it has
taken to describe, obviously excited the horror of the very
soldiers whose trade was carnage. But of none of the spec-
tators so much as Evelyn, who, acquainted with the long
## p. 477 (#505) ############################################
TUE BOYNE WATER. 477
nurtured hatred between the two ecclesiastics, and recollecting
that to them was mankind partly indebted for the civil war
that now desolated his country, witnessed such a consum-
mation of their mutual bigotry, on the very field they had
fomented, with a sickening of heart against the whole cause,
and a feeling that degraded the chivalry of a well-fought day
into a cruel and sanguinary conflict between petty passions
and sordid interests, and a blasphemous outrage upon the
name and the charities of God.
Disgusted and dispirited, he put his horse in motion to
return to William; leaving the whole centre of the army content
to form, as well as they could, at their own side of the Boyne.
Hamilton was content to stand opposite to them, now sup-
ported by the French and Irish infantry, as if awaiting the
answer of some expresses he had sent to Dunore, probably
for reinforcements; his force being still much inferior to his
antagonists, particularly since they had all rallied and got
firmly together.
"S'death, sir!" cried William, the moment Evelyn ap-
proached him in his lonely defile, where, like a kite in a cage,
he had for some time been impatiently snuffing his quarry
afar off, until at last his appetite grew wild with provocation.
"S'death, sir, what a loitering knave art thou! Here has
been one of my people to the river's brink, half an hour since,
and returned with news that it ran from Oldbridge foul with
mud, and some redder stains, perchance. How fares the
centre?"
"Repulsed, my liege."
"Slaves!" dashing spurs into his chargerbut suddenly
reigning him up" and the right 1
"
"No news from them, since, sir, and"
"Forward!" roared William, again furiously urging his
horse, as he turned to his men, and down to the river's edge
he instantly dashed, they and Evelyn following. The bank
where he gained it was high; but in he plunged without a
second's pause, and in a few moments gained, with his left
wing, the opposite side.
-' Forward !" still he cried, here pausing an instant, as, dis-
engaging his wounded arm from the sling he had been pre-
vailed upon, over-night, to rest it in, he drew his sword, and
waved it round his head. "Forward, gentlemen, to win,
alone, this blundering day, and teach yon saucy kerne their
## p. 478 (#506) ############################################
478 THE BOYXB WATER.
distance '. On their flank '. their flank ! wherever they appear!
Courage, my friends. and victory '. Huzza!"
They cheered loud, and galloped after him. Small bodies
of Irish horse were instantly seen flying from their recon-
noitring points, along the river, and making for Dunore-hill,
or passing it, as if to approach the Irish centre at Oldbridge.
Evelyn spurred amain to keep by William's side.
"Caillemotte is down. my liege,"' he exclaimed, during the
furious ride.
"Then I have lost a brave officer," said the King.
"And old Schomberg. too, sir."
'.Is he? He should have died sooner." Spurring hard.
"And Bishop Walker," continued Evelvn.
"The fool: what did he there f* asked* William.
They soon passed Dunore-hill, under a dropping fire of
field-pieces and small-anus, that did little execution, and
came in sight of a considerable body of French and Irish
horse and foot. that, seemingly detached, in part from Old-
bridge, and in part from Dunore, were hastily forming on the
slope of a spacious ascent. the second between Oldbridge and
the other point mentioned. A little village, called Sheep-
house, approached by a winding laneof which almost all
vestiges are now gonewas behind them. As soon as
William's falcon eye caught sight of the foe, he pointed them
out to his people, again waved his sword, cheered, and led
the way, still in a furious gallop, against the swelling ground.
At the distance of about fifty yards, he was saluted by a
destructive volley of musketry. Numbers of his soldiers
dropped, and horses and men went rolling down the slope.
Another volley had equal effect. Still William pressed on.
Now the smoke of their own firing completely hid his enemies.
Evelyn, as in terrible excitement, and some confusion, he kept
at the King's side, could see nothing but a grey and dense
cloud, out of which issued the quick and faint flashes that sent
death among his comrades. But suddenly, at the command
of a rising breeze, it partedrolled offand he beheld, within
a few plunges of his steed, the close ranks of French and
Irish foot, brindling, in front, with bayonets and rude pikes,
and wildly contrasted in uniform and equipment. At their
left, a strong body of horse were just prancing into a charge.
Dalrymple, p. 40, b. 2, voL .
## p. 479 (#507) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 479
The charge, a mutual one, was given; breast to breast the
hostile steeds met. In the tremendous shock, their rival
masters broke through each other's ranks, and all was con-
fused strife, clash, groan, cheer, and execration. Evelyn's
horse fell twice. Scarce sensible of his movement, he at last
found himself hurried down the slope, along with the whole
of the left wing. Some Irish pikemen had taken them in
flank, and produced utter disorder.
The enemy, horse and foot, retired to their position. Wil-
liam, with soul-stirring words, rallied his men; reformed
them; and prepared to make a second charge. At this
moment additional squadrons of horse joined the Irish, from
the direction of Oldbridge. Portions of Dutch, French, and
English infantry also appeared advancing, at some distance,
along the river's side to the King. While the loud report of
musketry and shouting, behind them, intimated that, at the
important ford, the contest between the centres of the two
armies had been renewed. That part, at least, of the English
force had recrossed, now seemed evident in the approach of
the foot to William.
Inspired by their sight, although not waiting for them,
William a second time led his horse up the eminence. The
enemy retired through the lane into the village, and dissap-
peared. Now, confident of success, he galloped through it,
after them. But the manoeuvre proved only a feint to seduce
him into more peril. Their horse charged furiously upon
him; their foot appeared, at favourable points, over its
hedges, and from some cabins at either side. Again William
was repulsed. Leaving the Enniskilleners, whom he had at
first headed, to meet the shock, he wheeled round to bring up
the Dutch. But the Enniskilleners wheeled after him.
While, for the time, he vainly cried, "What, my friends!
what, Irish, is not your King at your head, and will you do
nothing for him?" All again became confusion.
While the main force fell back, Evelyn was assailed by
half-a-dozen Irish horse, and cut off from his comrades. Not
cool enough to calculate his situation, he struck madly, at
every side, prodigal of life.
"No quarter, if he strike another blow!" cried a shrill voice,
advancing. But this only made him furious ; and he continued
to defend himself well, until the same voice resumed
"To the traitor's heart, then 1" and as one of the wild-looking
## p. 480 (#508) ############################################
480 THE BOYNE WATER.
men half-stunned him with a baffled cut, the features of
Eva M'Donnell swam before his eyes, and, in the foreign cos-
tume he knew so well, Evelyn deemed that her sword was
raised to shed his blood.
His brain reeled, and he fell from his horse. There was the
gallop of other horsemen towards him, and another face, of
power to call up even more wondrous and confounding asso-
ciations, seemed to flit, as in a dream, past him. Ere many
seconds had elapsed, an Irish officer dashed up, flung himself
from his horse, ran to Evelyn, and struck aside the blade that
was now descending
"Quarter, quarter!" cried the well-known tones of Sara-
field. "This is my prisoner. Ha ! Mr. Evelyn tthen we have
met again."
Evelyn could not answer him.
"To horse, sir," Sarsfield continued; "and come out of fur-
ther danger with me."
Assisting him to mount as he spoke, he took Evelyn's bridle,
and led him, through the village, and the thick of the Irish
troops posted in it, to the last eminence between them and
Dunore-hill. Here Sarsfield paused, and turning his face to
the battle, said
"Let us note the end of the affair, in this point, ere I return
with the bad tidings, to collect which I have alone been per-
mitted to place my foot on the field, this day."
Evelyn, now restored fully to his senses, found himself in
a situation that afforded almost an entire view of the battle
from Oldbridge to the village of Sheephouse. Bodies of foot
still pressed over the ford, and were still charged by the Irish
pikemen and horse left at that point. William had been
joined by the detachment of foot, and stood nearly under
Evelyn, prepared for a renewed attack on the enemy that had
twice foiled him. Other scattered portions of infantry escaped,
as they landed, towards their King; often interrupted by fly-
ing troops of Irish horse. The whole Irish force at Oldbridge
attacked the last and main body of their enemies. At the
same moment, William charged up to Sheephouse, so that, over
a great expanse of ground, all was now struggle, uproar, and
dreadful interest.
"That's Hamilton still at their head, yonder," said Sarsfield,
looking towards the ford. "Great as is the distance, I know
him in his saddle among thousands. They meet!" he exclaimed,
## p. 481 (#509) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 481
grasping his sword, "and we are again successful. But see,
Hamilton has ventured too far; he is cut off, and taken
prisoner."
Even while he spoke, William once more charged up the
ascent, to Sheephouse, and once more was driven through the
lane, down towards the river. Sarsfield cheered.
"Sheldon, well done! well done !" he cried.
But, at this very moment, the tide of battle turned. The
Irish horse, rushing precipitously onward, lost sight of, and
left behind them, two English regiments of dragoons, com-
manded by Sir Albert Cunningham and Captain Levison,
who, taking advantage of their absence, flung themselves from
their saddles, jumped behind the now unoccupied hedges of
the lane, there waited the return of the hitherto triumphant
enemy; fired on them, with deadly effect, as they galloped
up to the village, and threw them into disorder. Then,
cheering on a near troop, headed by the afterwards celebrated
Ginkle, the Irish were taken in rear, pressed up the lane,
and so kept employed until the whole of William's right
wing, including its late reinforcements from Oldbridge, had
time to rally, and a fourth time charge them at a disad-
vantage.
"By Heaven and St. Patrick!" exclaimed Sarsfield, as he
witnessed these accidents, " we are beaten at every point if
William wins the village before our last little reserve at
Dunore gets down to SheldonAnd does it yet move V turn-
ing his eyes to the hill, over him. "No! not a yard! Bide
with me, Mr. Evelyn! Oh, there is no time, now, to send
him help! But holdour weakened centre, at the ford,
appears retiring on Sheephouse in a bodythat may do!
they may be up, in season, to take William in flank! Ride,
sir, ride!"
They wheeled up Dunore-hill, and found James standing
in a churchyard, on its summit, surrounded by some officers,
and a considerable body of horse. His distended eyes were
rolling over the plains and slopes belowhe gapedhe
gaspedand perspiration teemed from his forehead, as, with
arms crossed over his breast, he desperately griped, in both
hands, a naked but idle sword. Let justice still be done to
one of the most unfortunate of mankind. Let not a shade
of cowardice be attributed to him whose gallantry, until this
day, friends and foes, and the brave and distinguished of
2 I
## p. 482 (#510) ############################################
482 THE BOYNE WATER
different nations, concurred in asserting, and whose 'unpa-
ralleled afflictions, whose outraged and torn heart, may well
supply an apology for the mingled extravagance and weakness
that, since the usurpation of a daughter, characterized his
conduct, and that now, on Dunore-hfll, made him shudder at
the unnatural chance of falling into the hands of that daugh-
ter's husband. The betrayed friend and deserted father had
broken down ; but James could not have been a coward.
"My liege, my liege !" cried Sarsfield, the moment he came
up, " now, at the least, send down my Lucan men and their
comrades, or all is lost!"
"Howwherewhither!" asked James, his presence of
mind quite gone. "What news from Lauzan, and the left
wing at Slane? That was your mission, General Sarsfield
speed it!"
"Lauzan has withdrawn the whole left towards Duleek,
fearing young Schomberg's movement to cut him off. But
these horse, my liegethese horse! Shall I lead them down
to Sheldon?"
"Has the enemy much force at Oldbridge? I deemed their
main body had marched on Slane"
"You did, my liege, but it was in error. At Old-
bridge their strength remained; and while their left now tugs
with our handful at Sheephouse, at Oldbridge they have
crossed"
"Reinforce our centre from our right!" cried James, wildly.
"Your Majesty should recollect that there is no right.
That after weakening the centre by detachments to the left,
when your Majesty deemed William's main force had moved
on Slane, Tyrconnel brought up his right to Oldbridge. But
it matters notone good charge, again successful, at Sheep-
house, where, as your Majesty may see, our whole present
strength has concentrated. One good charge, I saylet
Sheldon be well seconded, and"
"Lauzan! Lauzan! where is Lauzan?" interrupted James,
heedless of what was said, and showing, in every look and
word, the utter abandonment of an effort he had never man-
fully depended on, although obstinately and boyishly he had
stood alone as its prompter. "Where is our dear Lauzan, I
ask, whose advice, alone, can now help us to a conclusion 1
You had our orders, sir, to send him a summons hither"
## p. 483 (#511) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 483
"And obeyed the orders, my liege," said Sarsfield, in cool
indignation. "He is here as a witness."
Lauzan galloped, indeed, at the instant, into the church-
yard. James rushed towards himwould almost have
embraced him.
"Let your Majesty guard your sacred person!" exclaimed
the French commander-in-chief. "Let your Majesty ride with
me to join our left on the Duleek road. For Dublin, sire! For
France!"
"Stir not, my liege !" cried Sarsfield, " the day still wavers
look! William is still kept in check at Sheephouse; the
remnant of our centre has just joined Sheldon, thereorder
me to head my Lucan horse and join him, tooorder Count
Lauzan to march back his left"
"Haste, sire, haste !" interrupted Lauzan, " or the enemy
cuts you off from Dublin. Your best friends are down or
scatteredSir Neale O'Neal at Slane; my Lords of Dungan
and Carlingford, the Marquis of Hoquincourt, Arundel,
Ashford, Fitzgerald, most of the exempts, and many other
ofiicers, in the centre. Of Parker's two squadrons of horse,
but thirty men have come off. Haste, sirefor safetyfor
life!"
"Is all then lost V asked James, faintly. "Sarsfield"he
clasped his hand, and met his eyes" good friend, farewell;"
and he was turning off with Lauzan.
"God's mercy, sire ! do you leave us, without a cause?
Will your Majesty, whose courage the world has seen and
praised, show your back to the battle while it yet roars
beneath your feet 1 All is not lost, my liegebelieve not the
interested report of a dainty Frenchman. Look round you
over the fieldon this hilland see your sacred person still
protected. Command me down, I say! Or, mount, my
gracious prince, mount your own good horse, and let me but
spur at your side. Head us, sirehead your own devoted
people on a last chargestrike with your own sword one blow
for your triple crown, my liegefor your exiled Queen
for your infant soncry courage! for God, for St. George, and
St. Patrick !and that will be the blow to end it!"
"There is not a moment to be lost," whispered Lauzan.
James, his nerves completely shattered, moved like an auto-
maton from the churchyard.
"Gone!" resumed Sarsfield, standing overwhelmed with
## p. 484 (#512) ############################################
484 THE BOYNE WATER.
shame and rage. "Accursed be the tongue that prompts him!
Accursed the rashness that brought us to this, and now too
soon abandons us! Accursed be this day for us and for Ire-
land! And see, already comes the teeming of the curse
Sheldon, unsupported, at last gives way, and wheels towards
usour shattered centre also retreat, round the rise, towards
the Duleek passthe cheers of our enemies shake the hills
and skies. The battle is lost!" he continued, grinding, rather
than stamping, his iron heel into the ground. "Come, Mr.
Evelyn, I have now but one duty to perform; my horse must
follow to guard this poor King"large bodies of Irish troops
here passed towards the Duleek road in good order" Tyr-
connel, Sheldon, and the rest, will manage a retreat for the
centre."
An officer of dragoons, covered with soil and blood, dashed
by the churchyard.
"Where is the King V he asked of Sarsfield.
"Gone, Sheldon, gone!" answered his brother officer.
"Cead milk curses !" cried the brave man, fiercely spurring
off.
Crowds of soldiers, horse and foot, stopped to look over
the enclosure in front, obviously astonished, and muttering
their remarks to each other. One, amid a group of very
wild-looking fellows, said, in the simpering tones of the
Whisperer:
"Mostha, aye; Shamus-a ," using a vulgar, cruel, and
unmerited Irish expletive, recollected to this day, but rather
unsuited to our pages. "Shamus-a- is gone, sure enough."
"Come, Mr. Evelyn," resumed Sarsfield; "my prisoner,
although you have witnessed our shame."
"Your shame I have not witnessed, General Sarsfield,"
said Evelyn, wishing to soothe the agonies of a brave man's
spirit. "It was a well-fought day."
"Sir," cried Sarsfield, grasping his hands, and echoing a
sentiment expressed by some of his brother officers, "change
generals with us, and we'll fight it over again."
## p. 485 (#513) ############################################
THE 130YNE WATER. 485
CHAPTER XXXVI.
With a stumbling step, amid graves and headstones, James
turned with Lauzan from the churchyard of Dunore. Gain-
ing his horse, he rode in speed and profound silence towards
the left wing of his army, already, as has been said, in ad-
vance on Dublin, while the voice of the undecided battle yet
sent its mingled roar after him. His road was a wild one,
lying through a waste and flat country. The evening began,
prematurely, to fall, for gathering clouds and tempest ob-
scured the summer light. Thus, after about an hour's jour-
neying, everything, on his way, around him and above him,
looked bleak and desolate as his fortunes.
At what was then called the Pass of Duleek, Sarsfield, ac-
companied by his prisoner, joined the fallen King. It be-
came there arranged that Lauzan should stay behind to assist
the other general officers in arranging the retreat of the whole
army, while James proceeded southward to Dublin, escorted
by Sarsfield's horse alone.
The melancholy journey continued in unbroken silence.
At about eight o'clock, James entered, for the last time, his
Irish metropolis. As he and his escort passed some outposts
of militia, and, afterwards, the whispering groups of citizens
in the streets, no question was asked of the couriers from the
battle. Men only looked on his brow, and then turned to
each other to discuss the tidings they read but too plainly
there.
Passing into the castle-yard, some hundreds of Scottish
noblemen and gentlemen, the last unsubdued remnant of
those gallant soldiers, who, under the gallant Dundee, had
just escaped from the failure of James's cause in the High-
lands, appeared drawn up, awaiting his arrival, to make a
tender of their services, as a guard for his person, willing to
follow his fortunes over the world.
"Alas ! brave men," answered James, " I can now give you
no appointments suited to your rank. I am poor, as well as
powerless."
The officers said, that not wishing to be a burden on their
## p. 486 (#514) ############################################
48G THE BOYNE WATER.
royal master, and only anxious to share whatever fortune was
his, they begged permission to form themselves into a regi-
ment of private soldiers for his service. He bowed, in agitated
silence, and entered the Castle.
"Let the council be sent for," he muttered to Sarsfield, as
they ascended the stairs. The general obeyed his orders.
"If it be proper or possible," whispered Evelyn to his
companion, " I should request leave to follow you : you know
my motive."
Sarsfield hesitated; but James, himself, just then stopped
on the stairs, and desired that the Enniskillen officer might
attend him. Accordingly, Sarsfield and Evelyn followed in his
steps.
"Wilson!" cried James, the moment he gained the great hall,
speaking to a gentleman who bowed to him" from France V
"With letters from the Queen, my liege."
Trembling in every joint, the deposed monarch tore open
the packet.
"My God!" he cried, after reading it, "how doth fortune
sport with me! Here be tidings that a death-blow is struck in
our favour on the Continent, Sarsfield; that Waldeck has
been totally routed by Louis at Fleurus! Would to Heaven,
Sarsfield, I had listened tobut that is past. Welcome, lords
and gentlemen," addressing his two Chancellors, Secretary
Neagle, the Duke of Powis, the Marquis of Abbeville, the
Chief Baron, and others of his council, who then entered.
"We have commands for your earand welcome, too, my
lady of Tyrconnel," who also appeared through the archway
at the remote end of the hall, accompanied by her maidens of
honour. "Your lord is well, fair lady, and will greet you to-
morrow."
"For that, and for your Majesty's safety, grace to God,"
replied his hostess. "Choose you to sup, my liege V
"Madam," answered James, "did you know the breakfast
I have had, you would not deem I held much stomach for
supper."
The lady and her attendants drew back. Evelyn's eye
became fixed on them.
"We have lost the day, my lords and gentlemen," he
continued, " and I prepare to take my leave of you. God has
gone over from us to the Prince of Orange. We stand before
you a deposed and defeated King; whose worst crimeas the
## p. 487 (#515) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEK 487
God who abandons him shall judge him !whose worst crime
was an effort to grant civil and religious freedom to all sects
of his subjects. On that point I wish first to address you.
Note it well. Note the awful declaration in which it is
made. And let one of our enemies, now present, note both,
and remember them.
"With a desire and a plan to overturn the established
religion of these realms, we have been charged. It is false.
I here make no farther assertion, but the rather show ye
proof. Look at these papers. One is our testament; the
other an advice to our son, penned in the spirit of a similar
advice of our martyred father, to our brother Charles; and
both prepared to meet the chance of the battle that has this
day gone against us. As the solemn and true words of a
man going to meet his last account, it must be regarded by
you and by posterity. For, die when I may, it shall pass to
my son unaltered from its present shape and tenor." (As
James now read it, the document stands, indeed, at the
present day, well-authenticated under the gracious auspices
of the reigning sovereign.) "Our leading injunction to the
Prince of Wales is, as you shall hear," resumed James,
reading
"' Endeavour to settle liberty of conscience by a law.' 'Be
not persuaded to depart from that. Our blessed Saviour
whipped people out of the temple ; but I never heard He com-
manded any should be forced into it.' '"lis by gentleness
and instruction, and good example, people are to be gained,
and not by terror.'
"So much," continued James, speaking, "for our true
sentiments on religious toleration. Now hearken to some
particular proofs of our wishso contrary to the foul charge
pretended against usto maintain, in place and ascendancy,
even while we allowed equal privileges to Catholics, the
established faith of our realms. In recommending our son to
have five commissioners of the treasury, we desire him to
choose three Church of England men, one Catholic, and one
Dissenter. In recommending two secretaries of state, we
mention one Protestant, one Catholic. We advise him to
have his war secretary Catholic, and the secretary of his navy
the great, though now shamed bulwark of BritainPro-
testant.
"My lords and gentlemen, enough. When the fury of those
## p. 488 (#516) ############################################
488 THE BOYNE WATER.
whose hands are against me shall have passed away, men will
rescue me, even hy this evidence, from the charge of having
plotted to overturn the Protestant religion. When I am
ashes, my cruel enemies will be confounded.
"That, only in the view of granting to all my subjects free-
dom of conscience, my kingly privilege was asserted, I deny
notI wish not to deny. And what advice mainly prompted
me to do so? It is said I have been misguided by bad ad-
visers. Some, perchance, there be, who attempted unsafe
counsel with me: but who, I ask, was, in this matter, my
counsellor? The royal martyr, our murdered father. From
his written advice to our brother Charles, I became thus
instructed.
"' Your prerogative is best showed and exercised in remit-
ting, rather than exacting, the rigour of the laws, there being
nothing worse than legal tyranny.'
"But, my lords and gentlemen, while I believed this maxim
to be true, and lawfully strove to act upon it, I have been
taught the truth of another, also contained in that advice of
our royal father:
"' I have observed,' says the martyr of bigotry, 'that
the Devil of Rebellion doth commonly turn himself into the
Angel of Reformation; and the old serpent can pretend new
lights. When some men's consciences accuse them for sedi-
tion and faction, they must stop its mouth with the name
and noise of religion; when piety pleads for peace, they cry
out zeal.'
"And so, my lords and gentlemen, turn we to present
matters," James continued. "The pass of the Boyne is forced
by the Prince of Orange, and Dublin must immediately be
evacuated. I am for France. Do not fire the city, nor in
any way injure it. Hold it for the conqueror, and try to get
his mercy for yourselves. Perchance he will prove kinder to
you than ever he did to his wife's father. Farewell, my faith-
ful servants. Faithful ye have been, yet now I part ye with-
out the power of offering any recompense save my words
and tears," the wretched King added, as he turned aside, and
those near him could, amid his groans and sobs, hear him
name his daughters.
"What is to be done? I know not yet," he went on, com-
posedly, after a pause, "whether we can still have a blow for
it, or yield at once"
## p. 489 (#517) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 489
"Aye, a score hard blows for it, my liege," interrupted
Sarsfield.
"I hope little from my subjects in Ireland, if you mean
that, Sarsfield. Often was I warned against them. And
though they have not, like my English subjects, wholly for-
saken me, yet am I assured by Lauzan that but for the cowar-
dice of our Irish foot at Oldbridge, we need not this day. have
fled from the field."
"Believe not Lauzan, my liege; he lies in his throat," cried
Sarsfield, warmly. James turned with.
"How, sir! this bold language to our face 1 " when he
encountered a sharper rebuke from another quarter.
A hasty motion took place among the group of maidens
"who surrounded Lady Tyrconnel at the far archway. While
Evelyn started as if it had been her spectre, Eva M'Donnell
quickly walked from amongst them towards where the King
stood, saying passionately, as she came up
"If flying from the field be the question, my liege, who
gave the lesson?"
"God's saints !" cried James, "and by whom are we asked
this insulting question V
"By one, sire," continued Eva, "who is a victimand a
willing oneto your cause and you. Who staked all upon it
and lost all. Whose affections have been blighted; whose
father and brother have been sacrificed; and who stands
alone and friendless, to-night, only because she and they
loved their King too well. By an Irishwoman, my liege!
who has in her veins the kindred blood already lavished to do
you servicethe blood that still throbs to flow, maiden as she
is, in your righteous cause. But that, while it is loyal to you,
is loyal to her country, also; and now rises, honestly and
indignantly, to denounce the ingratitude, even of a King,
which dares prompt him to slander the very bravery he feared
to see out in his own cause. Do your pleasure with me, sire,
for my boldness." She turned to a near seat, and averting
her face, covered it with her hands.
"Now, indeed, farewell, my lords and gentlemen," said
James; "the example of rude insult which General Sarsfield
has set, seems to be too soon followed, and this roof no longer
protects us. Farewell! some more dutiful escort awaits us
abroad, perchance. My daughters 1" he exclaimed, clasping
## p. 490 (#518) ############################################
490 THE BOYNE WATER.
his hands, as he rushed through the door, "this, too, ye have
doomed me to hear."
"Gracious Prince!" cried Sarsfield, starting across, drop-
ping on his knee, and touching his skirt, while Eva also
knelt at the general's side.
"My King and master, pardon! and part not in anger
from your devoted and loving servant."
"Pardon, pardon, sire," echoed Eva; "I am 'wild with
many griefs, and knew not what I said."
"Sarsfield," answered James, extending one hand to him,
and the other to poor Eva, "you are forgiven from my heart.
Nay, nay," as the general kissed his hand, " this is too much
why, man, I feel your tears on my hand. What! a soldier,
and weep?" wretchedly smiling through his own bitter tears
"rise. Farewell, and bless you. And you, poor young
maiden." He raised her and kissed her upturned forehead.
"Pardon us, rather, the sorrow we have brought on you and
yours, and fare you well toofarewell to all. Ah ! my Lady
Tyrconnel," as a loud lament arose down the hall, "will you
not advance to make us an adieu? So, fare you wellcom-
mend me to your lord. And now, once more, Sarsfield"
"My gracious liege, I go with you to Waterford."
"No, Sarsfield, no. Other officers can be better spared;
remain with the army. Agree with Lauzan as you can, and
do the best, between you. On your life, no stirring hence!"
he continued, as they both passed through the door.
In the yard, James found, added to the escort in waiting
on him, a newly-come regiment. He inquired who they were,
and was told he saw, now hastily clad in the uniform of private
soldiers, the Scottish noblemen and gentlemen he had met on
his arrival. He started, and seemed overwhelmed. He
walked up to them, and, one by one, asked their names, and
wrote them in his tablets. He thanked them, one by one, in
a suppressed voice, for the honour they had done him. Then,
removing to their front, he bowed, with his hat off; walked
towards his horse; stopped, returned, bowed again, and burst
into tears. The body knelt, bent their heads and eyes stead-
fastly on the ground; arose, and gave him the usual honours.
James mounted his horse. His escort, headed by many of
his chief officers, got into motion. Sarsfield a second time bent
his knee, and took his master's hand. All present remained
uncovered, in the big drops of rain that announced a coming
## p. 491 (#519) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 491
storm. "My daughters, Sarsfield !" whispered this real Lear,
as he pressed his general's hand, and spurred upon his night
journey towards Waterford. And, well, indeed, might he have
applied to himself the well-known lines
"Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters!
I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness
I never gave you kingdom, called you children
You owe me subscription ; why then, let fall
Your horrible pleasure!"
As James retired from the hall, Eva stood near Evelyn.
She could not but have recognised him, yet she showed no
token that she had done so. Amid the confusion and distress
that reigned around, he easily approached her.
"Eva! adored Eva! do you live Iare you safe ?do you
stand hy my side?and will you not turn to me to give hap-
piness and accept protection V he said, passionately.
She walked away, with a strange mixture of coldness, lofti-
ness, and deepest sorrow in her face and manner; but spoke
not a word.
"Unjust, ungenerous Eva!" he continued, following her
step" fickle, cruel, and inexplicable Eva! why am I treated
thus 1 Oh, my heart bursts with questions, and aches and
breaks for your confidence! Have I done aught to warrant
its withdrawing from me? only answer that!"
She bent on him an eye of dignified and deep reproach, and
walked hastily towards her companions. Still he followed.
But ere he could again come up with her, they, advancing as
she moved, gathered round her; and all were about to leave
the hall.
"I entreatI demand the explanation!" Evelyn continued,
speaking vehemently, and still walking on, when an officer of
the household stopped him. At the same moment, Sarsfield
re-entered, his step heavy, and his face clouded with sorrow,
took his arm, and led him back towards the public entrance to
the hall.
"Pardon, me, sir," cried Evelyn" pardon the introduction
of my private concerns at such a moment; but here have I
met again my affiancedmy wedded ladyshe who addressed
the King. I appeal to you to procure me freedom and oppor-
tunity to approach and discourse with her."
## p. 492 (#520) ############################################
492 THE BOYNE WATER.
"It cannot now be," answered Sarsfield. "The departure
of Lady Tyrconnel for the south most first be thought of, and
admits not the interruption of a moment. But as your lady
will accompany her, ye shall meet, some other day, and soon.
I charge myself with remembering it. For the present, Mr.
Evelyn, bustle, bustle. We all leave Dublin to-night. And
though James be gone, and William over the Boyne, there is
yet one good blow left us on the banks of the Shannon."
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Evelyn, accompanying the scarcely diminished Irish army
that fought at the Boyne, arrived in Limerick. William did
not pursue them, nor interrupt their motions. The news of
the battle of Fleurus reached him on the field, and tamed his
former ardour into prudence. Soon after, worse tidings came
to hand; namely, another victory of the French admiral off
Beachy-head, over the combined fleets of Holland and Eng-
land; on which occasion, according to a Dutch writer,
"France had all the glory, Holland all the loss, and England
all the shame." And after this there was not left a ship to
protect the whole coast of old England ; while the triumphant
enemy chased Torrington into the very mouth of the Thames,
and set fire to an English village.
William well knew that his nominal and hardly-earned
victory of the Boyne was much more than counterbalanced
by these great failures elsewhereby the last, in particular,
unparalleled in the history of Great Britain. That James,
and the partizans of James, were, notwithstanding their re-
treat southward, now placed on higher ground than they had
ever before occupied. And while advice also arrived of the
consternation of his friends, and the plottings of his enemies,
in England, he prudently declined an immediate renewal of
the contest with his Irish foes, against whom, after the effort
they had made, and in their present rallied spirits, he could
not be very certain of renewed success. At the same time
that one advantage gained by them over him, would most
probably cost him the crown of his three kingdoms.
Contenting himself, therefore, with almost full dominion
## p. 493 (#521) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 493
in Ulster, and as much as he could, without fighting, secure
of Leinster and Munster, he took Dublin, Carlow, Kilkenny,
and Waterford, with their dependencies; advancing very
slowly and cautiously, and shunning all contact with the Irish
army.
"The only trial he has ventured with us," said John
Grace, a representative of one of the oldest English settlers
in Ireland, and aid-de-camp to Sarsfield, as, in Evelyn's pre-
sence, he and his commanding-ofiicer discussed these matters,
"was to detach Douglas, after the Boyne affair, to Athlone,
garrisoned by our friends lately posted in the north, and
having my old grand-dad Dick for a governor."
"And, there, he got no unkind welcome, John," said Sars-
field.
"It so appeareth," replied the gallant and gay-hearted
aid-de-camp. "That is my answer," quoth grand-dad Dick,
blazing a pistol at the summoner. "And you may tell your
master I will hold out, until I eat my old boots."
"And well did he keep his word. Douglas, at the head of
his reduced ten thousand, has been gallantly repulsed, and
forced to raise the siege," resumed Sarsfield; "so there is little
comfort, still, for the bad tidings from France and England.
"Heavens !" he continued, bitterly, though enthusiastically,
"had James but considered the counsel we offered himdid
he now stand by our side on the banks of the Shannon, with-
out having, at mad odds, risked a battlewithout the
recollection of a repulse to thwart him or console William
what a blow, in the very thick of some of the opportunities
we foretold, might be made for our country!"
He took Evelyn aside.
"Mr. Evelyn, I come, this morning, at last to bring you
an answer, but such a one as I grieve to impart. After
much mystery and reserve among the noble maidens attend-
ing here upon her Grace of Tyrconnel, I am credibly informed
your lady left Dublin, for some part wide of Limerick, at the
very moment we evacuated the former city."
No further explanation could Evelyn obtain. He assured
himself that so much was correct, but none knew Eva's desti-
nation. That he remained thrice wretched must be believed.
But it would be impossible, as well as tedious, to attempt a
continued portraiture of his feelings. Let us rather proceed
with events that gradually brought them to a certainty.
## p. 494 (#522) ############################################
494 THE BOYSE WATER
The Irish remained in Limerick, governed by Monsieur
Boisselean, and principally officered by the prudent English
Duke of Berwick, and the mad Irish Duke of TyrconneL
.Sarsfield had little influence, being equally disagreeable to
his French and to bis native commander, for his notice of the
hauteur of the one, and rash and weak conduct of the other.
Lauzan had withdrawn himself and his French allies to
Galway, ostensibly with a view of garrisoning that town, but
really in disgust of a cause that, since his landing, he regarded
as hopeless, and sought to embarrass into a speedy termina-
tion. From his present position, he sent over to Louis the
most dispiriting statements, joined to earnest requests for
transports, and a convoy to re-embark his army. Thus, then,
Limerick was held by Irish soldiers alone; and, in the confi-
dence of native, though undisciplined, strength, awaited the
approach of William at the head of his veteran foreigners of
different countries.
About six weeks after the battle of the Boyne, William at
last deemed he might lay siege to Limerick : though it should
not be forgotten that, ere he came to the resolution, he had
re-advanced near to Dublin on his way to England, content
to leave unsubdued, in the heart of their own country, the
foe he had arrived to exterminate. In the beginning of
August he appeared before the town, approaching it in an
easterly direction. His besieging army was twenty thousand
strong. Turning round the walls, he occupied, with his
encampment, some high ground called Singlands. After the
Irish, still engaged on their unfinished outworks, had retired
under shelter of their own guns, he planted his first cannon
on an eminence, in advance of the camp, and within shot of
the city; a position previously held during the siege by
Cromwell's army. Having sent in a summons, and received,
signed by the French Governor, a very polite, technical,
but point-blank refusal, he commenced his first cannonading
against the citadel, a square building, at the extremity of the
Irish town, nearest to his camp, defended, in front, by two
well-mounted bastions, and in flank, along the contiguous
wall, by four massive towers. The citadel is yet standing,
converted, with some alterations and additions, into a purpose
very different from that for which it was first erected; it is
at present an hospital. Its bastions are in tolerable preserva-
tion, and the towers along the adjacent wall, one of which is
## p. 495 (#523) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 495
the ruin of the Black Battery, show, even in their crumbled
fragmentsthe joint effects of devastating war, and equally
devastating time-^a formidable appearance. The curious
observer will not fail to note, upon and about the citadel,
the marks of William's balls, during this first cannonade.
They are easily distinguishable from the slow and noiseless
breaches made by the lapse of almost two centuries; the
abruptly-splintered coigne, or the nearly circular concavity, still
showing how the hard stone was shattered or reduced to
powder by each sharp concussion with the baffled shot.
Thus Evelyn once more saw himself exposed to the chances
of a siege. Yet he was surprised also to observe, that though
the cannonading gave partial annoyance, it was by no means
of the formidable kind calculated to make a breach, or
seriously to awe an obstinate city. But his surprise was soon
to meet a solution.
limerick was then composed of the English town and the
Irish town, the former situated in an island, formed by two
embracing arms of the Shannon; divided from the Irish town
by the lesser arm, and by the greater from the county of
Clare, formerly Thomond.
Against the remote side of the Irish town William had
sat down. Thomond-bridge, the only communication between
the English town and the county of Clare, was well guarded
and fortified. At its Limerick end was a gate, with portcullis.
At the opposite end, the footing over two arches drew up,
and warders, occupying turrets at either side, constantly had
care of it. Beyond, entered from the very steep approach at
the country side, stood King John's Castle; two massive and
imposing round towers, connected by a front only the breadth
of a wide archway. Which castle, with the perfectly level
and well-built old bridge of Thomond, was the sole benefit
King John or his insolent visit ever conferred on Ireland. At
this time, double-gated, walled-in, and fortified by bastions,
the castle chiefly served to increase the security of the bridge.
In it also were the quarters of some distinguished officers;
and of Sarsfield in particular.
Upon an evening, the second or third after the commence-
ment of the siege, he, his favourite aid-de-camp, and Evelyn,
stood upon one of its bastions, that afforded a view of the
abrupt descent falling down to the drawbridge. All were
silent. Occupied by their own thoughts, they seemed to
## p. 496 (#524) ############################################
496 THE BOYXE WATER.
watch the effect of the long, slanting beams of the sun,
streaming over the top of the rugged steep from the open
country. Suddenly, those beams flashed fiercely from the
helm and breastpiece of a single horseman, who, at a rapid,
yet methodical gallop, gained the edge of the acclivity.
Sarsfield started; marvelling, doubtless, at the rider's ap-
pearance from a quarter whence no friend was expected,
and whence it was impossible a foe could thus singly ap-
proach. Evelyn also became interested, from a certain
misgiving. He kept his glance fixed. As the horseman, evi-
dently careless of the peril of his rough and steep road, swept
towards the drawbridge, and he and his dull-black steed
swelling to giant-size, Evelyn could not doubt his man
Galloping Hogan.
Advanced to within a civil distance of the guard at the
county of Clare end of the drawbridge, the Kapparee drew
up, and, as they challenged him, saluted them in a courteous,
soldier-like manner. They parleyed together. Then a man
walked from the group towards an entrance to King John's
Castle; demanded to speak with General Sarsfield; and
was answered, from the bastion, by Sarsfield himself. The
general asked from whom Hogan came. The soldier did not
know. "Let him advance to where you stand;" and Hogan
accordingly gave the rein to his willing steed, who, in a
few stretches of his colossal limbs, brought his master to
the spot required. Here the Rapparee gave another
salute up to the bastion, and composed himself to answer
questions.
"If you seek General Sarsfield, he is before yousay your
errand, sir."
"With all duty and courtesy, gineral, to your private ear,"
answered Hogan.
"From whom come you?"
"An' I'll tell that, too, if you let mein my own way,
gineral."
"From friends or foes V
"Friends, afther a manner."
"I should suppose," said Sarsfield to Grace, "only for the
unusual likeness to a soldier, in the fellow's furniture and
manner, as, also, indeed, the utter stupidity of his vacant,
staring features, that he was a Rapparee."
"Doubt him not for those reasons," observed Evelyn.
## p. 497 (#525) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 497
"The man is truly what you suspect; I know him sufficiently
well."
"Then I will speak with him, at the safe side of the wall
though. For while they usually affect to be our friends,
these rascals have ever their own interests in whatever they
do. You, sirfall back on the guard."
Hogan, again saluting, obeyed. Sarsfield descended to the
gate. In a few minutes Evelyn saw him joined by the Rap-
paree, now on foot, and they walked up and down, engaged
in earnest conversation; Sarsfield, though a good-sized man,
looking like a boy, beside his gigantic companion.
The information Hogan conveyed seemed much to interest
the general. He stopped; frowned earnestly at the Rap-
paree, as if at once to doubt and probe his story; then spoke
quickly, as if cross-examining him; paused again; waved
Hogan, after a few additional words, towards the guard-
house; and returned, much excited, into the fortification.
The moment he joined his friends on the bastion, he
drew John Grace aside, and gave him some instructions,
which roused into an energy equal to his own the features
of that young officer. As they parted, Evelyn heard these
words:
"Closeness and prudence, John. Five hundred of my own
horse, at the least, to meet me here by half an hour past nine.
The harvest night will then have fully fallen. Ask no more
to be of our party. I trust none other with my purpose, and
therefore no other can I leave behind to tend the signal-fire
from Mary's steeple. So to business, John. And remember
the signal. If they make no stir at William's camp, let it
burn evenly, till midnight. If they doand see that our spies
look close, and bring you tidings good and quickthen three
times let it blaze high, and three times go out. And so, till
the morning, farewell."
His aid-de-camp retired, and he turned to Evelyn.
"Mr. Evelyn, you are concerned in this. I have often
heard you wish to get free discourse, under a safeguard, from
the Rapparee captain called Yamen-ac-knuck. Come with me
when the night sets in, and, as I can hear, we shall see him
before morning."
"Thanks, sir. I will willingly ride with you, always assured
that I am not exposed to join in any attempt against King
William's arms.,"
2K
## p. 498 (#526) ############################################
498 THE BOYXE WAITS.
"Content you, sir. I speak bnt for toot private advan-
tage." Evelyn had no more to say.
Harsfield remained near himsometimes standing motion-
lew-, hi* face turned to the right up the river; sometimes
striding impatiently along the contiguous wall; and some-
times turning his flashed brow to the tardy west, as if
impatient of the dull red glow that was so long fading into
the blank of night. The short, quick sighs that will flit at
intervals from a breast filled with a great purpose, served
more particularly to denote his mood.
At last the moonless night fell down. The hour was come.
Five hundred Lucan horse awaited his pleasure at the gate;
and in a few seconds he and they, Evelyn by his side, dashed
up the steep ascent leading to the country. They met Hojan,
ready-mounted, on the summit of the elevation; and, with-
out a moment's pause, the Rapparee, placed at Sarsfield's
left hand, and well-looked after by dragoons, before and
behind, led the way, soon turning to the right, along the
road to Killaloe, a considerable village about ten miles up
the river.
During the commencement of the hard ride, Evelyn could
perceive that the route gave occasional glimpses, to his right,
of the broad and curving Shannon, drearily visible under the
shadows of night. To his left, and before him, ran, almost
at a parallel with the road, the remote county Clare bills,
relieved, in their intense blackness, against the dim sky, at
the nearest commencement of their range, but mingling and
massing with the general gloom as they receded in the
distance.
Some little time after leaving the city, and getting into
this linewhere, obliquely and from a good distance, a gun
detached from the hostile battery might possibly be brought
to bear on them from William's sideHogan pulled up.
"Fair an' asy here," he said. "The night an' the wather
together are the divil entirely for sharpenin' people's ears.
An' though it's a crooked shot they'd have to make, betther
let the horses' hoofs go as quiet over this rocky road as a body
can. I believe you are of my mind, General Sarsfield?"
"I am. Though we should little regard their shot, yet
their observation we do not want."
"That's the thruth, general. Though, upon my honour, a
shot or two might not be amiss now, at laste. Howsomever,
## p. 499 (#527) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 499
it was thrown away on a single man and horse, like myself,
this evening."
"What! They saw you coming, then 1
"
"Troth an' they did, an' had the impidence to bring a flying
gun to bear on me too. But that's what I call wilful waste,
general. For, supposin' they done their work never so well,
no single man an' horsethe best-sized on the face of the
earthever pays the waste of shot and powther, barrin' from
a firelock, carbine, or petronel."
"You say true," answered Sarsfield, smiling at the matter-
of-fact, and certainly disinterested, calculations of his guide,
"and you must have seen service, I reckon?"
"That," replied Hogan, "is visible, I believe, to any
soldier who notes my appearance, which I studiously attend
to even among the poor cratures it is now my lot to call com-
rades. I was with ould Schomberg ^at Maestricht, when
he prevailed on little Willy to raise the siege, before they
grew cronies, in the long run."
"Why did you leave regular service V
"A thrick I had of not likin' to stay long in the same
place, or doin' the same thing. I began the world with a
light heart an' nothing in my pocket, an', faith, maybe
no pocket to put it in if I had. My father had eleven of
us, all as big as himself; all able to ate and drink as much
God bless the mark!-and very little to give us, for that same
purpose, afther the estate grew into a thriflle o' debt, an'
the husbands o' seven o' my sisters come down on it for
marriage portions. So we had to cut out our own loaf with
our own hands. One went east, another west; one south,
an' another north; one this way, an' another that; an' my
ownself went over to their high mightinesses. I liked them
well enough for a time. Their atin', an' drikin', an' smokin',
an' fightin'-work, an' all. But there was a bother about
somethin' or other they thought to lay to my charge; a little
misunderstanding on the head of a weighty valise belonging
to an officer of our own corps; to say nothin' of the hole
in his crown, that they supposed he never got from the
enemy. So, this, an' more o' their glum an' gosther about
the measure of Hollands I allowed myselfas if a man of
my inches could live on what sarved, well enough, a bit of a
stumpy Dutchmanwhy, upon the whole, I say, I got tired,
and left them."
## p. 500 (#528) ############################################
500 THE BOTNE WATER.
"And then came home, I warrant V
"Just so, general," answered Hogan; "in the saison."
"To command an independent army of your own V con-
tinued Sarsfield.
"That same, for some time, till I met a betther man than
myself, and afther a fair thrial between us, allowed him the
upper hand. All in honour, you see," general. Natural
talents and gifts ever gain their own, the world over. And
a man, howsomever great, is bound to sarve a greater as
loyally as ever he took care of himself, when onct they
come together, and the struggle for who shall is past."
"I respect your reasoning," said Sarsfield, half serious,
indeed, in his admiration of the honour amongst rogues thus
illustrated. "How soon was this after your capture of Mr.
Evelyn's house, in the north? " For Evelyn had told Sarsfield
the story.
"Long afther, general. I see the fame of that clever little
affair has reached you. Long afther our retreat from Deny,
even, where I was commander-in-chief of the independent
Irish brigade, until it increased to such numbers as to re-
quire to be fairly halved between myself and another. Then
I marched for the south, about here, with my own half; my
colleague, that, at the time, I never saw, stopping in the
north; and, under the convenient thravelling name of
Yamen-ac-knuck, doing such wondhers as made nothing of
my fame in my own district. So that I got jealous of him
I mane in the way that brave men get jealous of ach other
and longed to meet him face to face, and, as I said, have
a thrial for it. And there's the end o' my story. Yamen-ac-
knuck, and no other, is the man that got me undher."
"What!" cried Evelyn, "a person so young, and so insig-
nificant in bodily prowess? I take it for granted the trial
was a personal rencounter. And, as I know, or some years
since did know, the lad you speak of, his victory over such a
man as you, General Hogan, much surprises me."
"Captain Hogan, if you plase, masther. The title of
gineral does not fairly belong to me, since that same day
we're spakin' of. And don't be so much surprised, masther
(I have not the honour of recollecting your name, though
the voice is somewhat familiar to me); the few years you
mention may have done a good dale towards adding to the
size of General Yaman's four bones, and putting good muscle
## p. 501 (#529) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 501
on 'em. And I promise you, masther, that when I met him,
only a few months ago, he was what you'd call a tall fellow;
that is, if he stood alone, and out of view of a man of
rare stature. And, perchance, making up, in activity, and,
most of all, in a knowledge of his limbs and weapons, what
he wanted in weight and inches."
"It may be," answered Evelyn ; " but where, and in what
manner, did ye meet?"
"On a northern road, and in the manner following. Not
able to hould myself quiet, with the noise of his great doings,
I took it into my head to gallop a bit, alone, to the north, and
have one look at this Yamen-ac-knuck. Well, masther; as
I was one day galloping along a bye-road, I met a man, alone,
like myself, coming hot against me. Says I to him, 'Do you
know anything of one Yamen-ac-knuck V 'A little,' says he.
'Maybe you're looking for him V 'I am,' says I;' and I come
many a mile to see him.' 'Any special business V says he.
'Why, yes,' says I; 'I'd like just to get him afore me, and,
after all his mighty great doings, have one bout to thry which
shall.' 'Would you f says he; 'then you needn't thravel
much farther. I'm Yamen-ac-knuck.' 'You !' says I, looking
at him. 'Aye, my own self,' says he. 'Very well, again,'
says I. 'And do you know who I am f 'No,' says he ; 'maybe
you'd tell.' 'Maybe I would,' says I;' I'm Galloping Hogan.'
'Are you?' says he, reining back his horse, to take a good view
o' me, while I done the same by him; and so, we shook hands,
and, after chatting a bit, went to our work, like two brothers.
"The first thrial was at the wrastling. We sthripped to
the buffs, and took hoult of ach other. He threw me,
two falls out o' three. Aye, well may ye cry out; but it's
the blessed thruth I'm telling. 'You're the man, so far,' says
I; 'will you thry a long shot with the carbine, now?
'Never say it again,' says he. With that, we stepped thirty
steps from one another, and fired, at a word. His first ball
took me in the flish of the back; his second, in the flish of
the cheek; his thirdbut before he fired that' now, just
to touch your hip,' says he; and before the saying was out, I
felt it in the hip, sure enough. 'I know you're not hurt,' he
then called out, 'with any o' the three shots, as I made the
proper allowances. But they all grazed you; and as none
o' yours came nearer than an inch, or so, I suppose this will
do, too.'
## p. 502 (#530) ############################################
502 THE BOYNE WATER.
"I agreed in the same; and we stepped up, face to face,
again. 'Put on your pott, and your back-and-breast,' Yamen-
ac-knuck went on, 'and draw your soord.' 'Never say it
again,' says I, cock-sure of the matther, now, at laste. So,
we helped ach other to our defences and weapons; picked out
a handy bit o' ground; crossed our soords; and began our last
work with two hearts as light as any feather.
"As I expected, this came to my hand nater than the
wrastling or the shooting; and, afther a good half hour, he
wasn't able to scratch me. 'Let us rest,' says he, 'and go to
the brook for a sup o' water; the day is hot.' 'Let us,' says
I; and we went; sat down, a bit, afther dhrinking; come
back to our ground, and tackled to for the second bout. In
a little time I drew a taste o' blood from his showlder; and
when he felt it and saw it, Yamen-ac-knuck lost all Christhen
temper, and his face grew so angry, and so grand, along with
it, that it was frightful. I never saw, afore, a mortial man
able to stir me with a look, or able to make me feel he was
my masther; not among all the great men, generals, and
kings, that came under my eyes, did I ever see his likes, in
regard o' that. 'Your swordyour sword, fellow!' he cried
out, closing me. My heart gave it up before my hand; and it
was no cowardice, but the masthery he had over me by
coorse of nature, I think. He got it, and bid me beg my
life. 'No,' says I; 'but if you give it, I'll sarve you loyally,
while my life lasts.' 'Well,' says he, getting mighty quiet
in a moment, 'that will do as well; betther, maybe; you're
a tall, stout chap; and I believe I may depend on you.' With
that, General Sarsfield, we sthruck a bargain. I marched up
my men from the south, to put 'em, undher him, at the
Boyne, where we worked together, our two brigades helping
ach other. And from that day to this, I'm Yamen's captain;
and, by the same token, his courier to you, this holy and
blessed night."
The Rapparee's story brought them past the ppint at which
they could have continued exposed to any observation. Of
this he gave notice, himself; and urging the propriety of their
renewing their. " bit of a gallop," all set off, under his
guidance, at full speed.
The road over which the party journeyed, was not the
same now usually taken from Limerick to Killaloe. Our
predecessors seem to have been possessed with a stubborn
## p. 503 (#531) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 503
idea of going forward in the straightest line possible, and
were not to be deterred from this resolve by any except in-
surmountable obstructions. Accordingly, their route from
Limerick to Killaloe, at the time of our story, ran boldly
forward over hills so steep as to give the panting horse an
appearance as if he went on his hinder legs, and then, of
course, down precipitate declivities, that, vice versa, seemed
to throw his heels into the air. When rocky barriers or high
banks opposed, no effort had been made to remove them; so that
the way often became narrowed almost to the breadth indis-
pensable for a single horseman. Huge stones sometimes
choked up even such passes, leaving the Lucan troopers to
struggle on as they might. For the greater part of the route,
a thick wood of old oak spread at either hand, nearly exclu-
ding the feeble starlight. More than once they had to dis-
mount, to bring their eyes in close acquaintance with the
difficulties to be surmounted.
A road, very nearly in the same line, may, at this day, be
travelled. But our present taste, or our more effeminate at-
tention to convenience, has suggested the propriety of wheel-
ing round the bases of the hills, instead of clambering over
them. Rocks that would have defied Old Time till doomsday,
have disappeared before the ephemeral cunning of those whom
Time has outlived. Altogether, the way has been freed of the
impediments Sarsfield's men had to contend with; so that,
with all our veneration for antiquity, we are reduced to
admit, that if we have lost much of the Herculean prowess
of our ancestors, in surmounting toilsome difficulties, we
have providentially acquired a better method of avoiding
them.
From the summits of the different heights, as he went
along, Sarsfield turned in his saddle to fix his eye on the
beacon-light that flared on Mary's steeple. Ever it met his
glance burning brightly and steadily, without a variation,
save that caused by gradually increasing distance. But
another sudden flame, bursting out upon an eminence, over
the road, now startled him, and caused him to question
Hogan.
"That's a token that friends are near at hand, general, to
greet you, and pass you on. The signal appears from the
ould Castle of Aherina, built by the red-haired Danes, I hear
say, in the times gone by. To tell God's thruth, the thief's
## p. 504 (#532) ############################################
504 THE BOYNE WATER.
were no great hand at the architecture. It's on the highest
knock,* about here, though many more knocks surround us,
not to be seen by raison of the darkness. The lads wait your
challenge."
"Then will I follow you. Stand, men, and expect me
here; a few only with us. Are you curious to mount to this
Rapparee fastness, Master Evelyn?"
Evelyn accompanied him, Hogan, and a few dragoons up
the little hill. They were challenged by some persons who
stood inside a rude trench that, at a short distance, sur-
rounded the old building, and whose half-naked figures and
wild features were in part lit up by the glaring light from
the top of one of the rudest of those square castles, formerly
abounding in Ireland, and of which the ruins of many, and
of this among the number, are yet to be seen. Hogan an-
swered their challenge. They returned a shout of recogni-
tion; and while some hastened to remove a barrier of sods,
bushes, and large stones, that filled a gap in the enclosure,
others entered the building by a rude Gothic archway, so low
as to require them to bend almost double. They shortly re-
turned, attending a person who, from his steel cap and breast-
piece, in which the flame bickered brightly, seemed to be their
commander. As he rushed out to greet Sarsfield, in a manner
at once ardent and wild, Evelyn recognised Con M'Donnell.
And the recognition was mutual. Suddenly checking him-
self in his hurried advance to Sarsfield, the dumb man's eye
fixed on Evelyn. Emitting a fearful scream, he snatched a
piece of flaming wood from one of the menran with it to-
wards our astonished friendheld it up to his facescreamed
againdrew backlooked very angry and agitateddrew
his swordand made signs to the surrounding Rapparees to
take into custody the object of his wrath.
There was a movement to obey his commands ; but Sars-
field first, and Hogan next interferedthe latter conversing
with Con M'Donnell in his own language, often pointing to
the road, as if to warn him of the proximity of five hundred
of the celebrated Lucan horse. At last it seemed that the
expostulation proved successful. The dumb man paused a
moment, glared his fiery eyes on the ground, took a sudden
thought, seized a horse near him, led the way down the
* Hill.
## p. 505 (#533) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 505
eminence; and in a few moments the whole Limerick party were
in renewed motion, after him, at a furious rate. Hogan, as if
from a proper care of the character that had gained him his
surname, resolved not to be outgalloped by any man, keeping
close by Con M'Donnell's side.
The night seemed trebly darker than before, on account of
their sudden removal from the strong, flaring lights at Aherina
Castle. Straining against a steep hill, they continued a
route, that, at almost every step, presented a difficulty. The
night-wind moaned over a black moor below them, and agi-
tated with a hollow noise the myriad branches of the great
wood that stretched across to the mountains. Then they
descended, and got a view of the twinkling lights of the little
village of Bridgetown under themitself partly on a height,
though thus commanded by a greater one. Fast went the
dragoons down the steep, scaring the few inhabitants of the
lonely group of cabins, and doing their best to keep in sight
Hogan and his dumb companion. Splash they went over a
rough stream, that crossed the road at the bottom. Up they
strained, passing the little village like a whirlwind, against an
ascent, at its other side. Round they wheeled to the left,
now approaching the forms of vast hills that had hitherto only
vaguely overshadowed the blank waste to their left and before
them, but that now cowered round in some shape and mean-
ing. Onward, still onward, until they were shut up amid
amphitheatrical curvings of hills on every side. Round, round
again; and down and up, and down again, until the horses'
hoofs rang hollow over the little bridge of Ballycorney, that
with one rude arch crossed a considerable. mountain-torrent,
rushing from the hills to their left, through a deep-wooded
dell at either side. Here Sarsfield gave the word to halt,
while he inquired who would undertake to guide him and his
men across the Shannon, three miles up at Killaloe.
The only person present acquainted with the ford was Cap-
tain Hogan. But with much propriety he stated, that having
only crossed it once or twice, and on both occasions in the
daytime, he could not take upon himself the responsibility of
guiding over it, in the darkness of night, so large a body of
men. He added, however, that on his way to Limerick he
had made it his business to inquire, in the neighbourhood,
who was most likely to afford, at a pinch, such a good service.
"And yonder, general," continued Hogan, pointing to a
## p. 506 (#534) ############################################
506 THE BOYNE WATER.
respectable looking house on the steep road-side"yonder lives
the man, Masther Cecil, I hear, son of the owner of the house."
In a few minutes half a dozen carbines thundered at the door;
and in a short time the young man was, without a choice be-
tween refusal and assent, mounted behind a trooper, Sarsfield's
cocked pistol at one ear, Galloping Hogan's at the other, and
both, he was given to understand, ready to be used in case of
treachery, or even want of zeal, with indifferent good effect.
So that, although a staunch Williamite, Master Cecil found
himself compelled to guide the Lucan horse towards Killaloe
ford, on James's service.
Up from Ballycorney-bridge, the five hundred Lucan horse
again clattered, just as a waning moon began to rise, and
faintly show a somewhat more open and expansive view than
had hitherto been afforded. It showed the river curving
through valleys and plains; the near mountains coming out,
as they half caught the weak light, into greater varieties of
form; crossing and intersecting each other; above all, the
bold summit of the Crag-hill. While to the right, over the
river, Sarsfield and Evelyn, directed by Hogan, beheld the
gloomy range of mountains, situated in the county of Tip-
perary, towards which they were in motion, and which, at
earlier periods of their forced march, could have been seen,
were it daylight, or, as was now beginning to be the case,
even moonlight.
"And there they are," said Hogan, " Llieve Iellum, that is,
the mountains of Iellum, an ancient Prince of the district.
Improperly, and as my worthy instructor often told me when
I was a boy at my book, ungrammatically called Slieve Bloom,
Slieve being the singular. Also fitly termed, Dho knock-dhee-og,
or the twelve hills, their being that number remarkable above
the rest, by reason of natural size and importance."
Scarcely attending to the Rapparee's half-heard topography,
Sarsfield watchfully followed in the steps of his new guide,
often urging him to increase his speed. Again, the wild and
wayward road, after precipitously descending to Ballyheige
brook, made many turns and sweeps, each alternately
showing, like the sudden changes of a panorama, close and
stupendously-open scenes. Until, at last, Killaloe appeared
in sight, partly on an eminence before them. Not more than
a hundred yards farther on to the left, was a broad spread of
the Shannon, called Lough Diergart, shining in the more
## p. 507 (#535) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 507
matured moonlight, and encompassed by numerous curving
hills, of which some of the bases dipped into the placid
water, particularly that of the bold and barren Crag. While
a dark clump of trees, just at the shore, marked the spot
where, it is said, Brian Bourhoidhe had his patrimonial
castle.
Swiftly came the formidable party into the little town of
Killaloe, frightening to their doors or windows, and then
back again to their beds or hiding-places, the startled and
marvelling inhabitants. Evelyn scarce had time to cast his
eye over the venerable, though by no means splendid cathedral,
which he had heard was built, in 1165, by Donald O'Brien,
King of Lumneach (Limerick), or to notice, near to it, a
curious old structure, with a slanting stone roof, of which he
had also heard, and which an English-Irish antiquary has since
pronounced to be a specimen of the earliest Christian temples
constructed in Ireland. Sarsfield, not allowing a moment's
pause, obliged young Master Cecil to lead the way over the
Shannon, at a ford, some yards above the present bridge of
Killaloe, and then commanded by a fort and battery. Half
an hour before midnight, all his people had safely crossed
into the county of Tipperary. And still, without breathing,
the wild sortie was continued, over hill and hollow, dwarfishly
wooded, or boggy and barren, the Llieve Iellum hills now
very near, with their black and massive despot, the Keeper,
frowning prominently amid all.
About two miles might have been passed, after crossing the
Shannon, when the party had to dash over an angry mountain-
brook, that ran through a deep-wooded hollow, receding,
blackly and mysteriously, to their right and left. Ere Hogan
and Con M'Donnell led the way, they hastily pulled up at
the stream's edge; and while the dumb man gesticulated
violently, the Rapparee Captain gave a shrill whistle.
Sarsfield could scarce demand the cause of a signal that some-
what startled him, when it was caught up and repeated
again and again, all through the recesses of the hollow; and
more than a hundred men were seen breaking through the
wood, on every side, or running up and down the chafing
brook, in motion towards Hogan. Aware of the occasional
treachery of the Rapparees to friends, as well as foes, Sarsfield
looked close, half suspecting an ambush of the regular enemy.
But a moment's observation told him he was approached by
## p. 508 (#536) ############################################
508 THE BOYNE WATER.
the same kind of half-naked, though fully-armed people, who
had garrisoned Aherina Castle. And when they had all
gathered round, he was further relieved by noticing their
inferiority in number to his own troop.
"It's only an outpost, general," remarked Hogan, perhaps
in reply to Sarsfield's looks. "For howsomever safe we may
be among these hills, betther sure than sorry is our word.
Is all right at the camp V to the young fellow who seemed to
command the wild party.
"All's right," answered the lad; "we expected you. Tak' a
score of my men to lead ye onthey ken the road best."
Hogan assented. With "bannacth-lath," and " gude night
till ye," the two Kapparee officers parted.
"Stop!" cried Evelyn; "surely I know that voice. Here
is the good fellow, General Sarsfield, I have come to see"
"No stoppin', if you plase, masther," answered Hogan,
increasing his gallop, to cross the defile which, since their
days, goes by the name of Labba-dhy-ah, or bed of thieves.
"Perhaps you are not aware, sir," continued Evelyn, " that
you have just seen the conqueror of the doughty Galloping
HoganYamen-ac-knuck."
"Indeed! that slight boy f asked Sarsfield, increduously.
"Take care you know what you're saying, masther," ob-
served Hogan, in reply to Evelyn.
"Why, you spoke of Yamen-ac-knuck. And that lad I
know to be he."
"Onct upon a time, maybe so, masther. But it's a name
that sarves many's the one, now-a days."
"What!" cried Evelyn, quickly associating some former
incidents, and passing suspicions, "is Yamen-ac-knuck another
person then V
"Wait, a-bit," answered Hogan. "I thank my God I have
something dacenter to show for the story I tould, than sich
a scratch-cat as that."
"But tell me," resumed Evelyn, much excited, "what is
the real name of your general V
"It's hard to tell what a body doesn't know, masther."
"Well, only another word, did he fight at the Boyne V
"I tould you so, afore, masther."
"Supporting Sheldon's horse V
"Thrue for you, I'm thinking."
"Then I have, indeed, seen him!" thought Evelyn; "and,
## p. 509 (#537) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 509
every way that lying girl has deceived me! Thank God!"
Not clearly knowing why he felt such joy, at all events in
reference to his connexion with Eva, Evelyn rode on in high
spirits, and in earnest and agitating expectations.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
"From Limerick, that day, bould Sarsfield dashed away,
Until lie came to OulleD, where their artillery lay;
The Lord cleared up the firmament, the moon and stars shone
bright,
And for the Battle of the Boyne he had revenge that night."
Irish Ballad.
Still (as since they crossed the Shannon they had done) pres-
sing over small hills, diving into hollows, and splashing through
brooks, the road now seeming to wind off from a forward
course, now coming upon it again, the party, after midnight,
saw a partial illumination in the atmosphere, and presently
arrived at the place of their temporary destination.
From a considerable eminence, they descended into a
fiat of black, boggy ground, encircled by a chain of low
hills, thickly wooded, and overtopped by the sombre and
shadowy forms of distant mountains. A round, stagnant
lough, spreading over about three acres, was in the middle
of the bottom thus hemmed in and embowered: again''
the lough inclosed a little round island, of about a quarter
of an acre. By the verge of the water, Evelyn indis-
tinctly saw groups of rude huts. Similar edifices seemed
huddled together on the island, one of superior size rising
over the rest. Other dark masses, stationary, or in slow and
wavering motion, gave indication of the human occupants of
this solitary and dreary scene. Indeed, at his first glance,
everything was but vaguely distinguished by Evelyn. Lurid
gleams from the huts, or, here and there, an expiring fire,
alone relieved the surrounding objects, animate or inanimate,
for the rising moon was almost wholly excluded. From the
middle of the island, solely, spread the somewhat superior blaze
that, faintly reflected in the atmosphere, had, at a little dis-
tance, intimated his approach to the grand head-quarters of the
Rapparees. The changes wrought by time have since dried
up the little lough; but its site is well known among the hills.
## p. 510 (#538) ############################################
510 THE BOYNE WATER.
Any traveller as adventurous as Sarsfield, or ourselves, may
still find the place we describe pointed out to him as, in
former days, the freebooter's haunt.
From the swampy nature of the ground, horses could not
approach the lough. All, accordingly, dismounted; and while
Hogan engaged that the greater number of the dragoons
should, under his eye, be well looked after, Sarsfield and
Evelyn, led by Con M'Donnell, and accompanied but by a
few of their own men, stealthily paced onward. The living
masses now began to thicken around: cautious whisperings
and low talking came from persons they could not see. But
when, at the edge of the water, Con M'Donnell uttered a
wild cry, as if giving a signal to the island, they were
instantly surrounded by hordes of shock-headed Rapparees,
now more discernible in the chief light that shone across the
lough. Some of them wore portions of the uniform of almost
every regiment, on both sides, in Ireland; some, the rags of
the common coat, vest, and breeches, generally adopted by
the peasantry of the south; and some, nothing but a profu-
sion of coarse grey cloth, ludicrously emulative of the cut of a
topcoat, but which hung in easy folds around their naked
limbs, its arms never used, dangling before or behind, as
we see to be the case with some of the costume at present
in esteem amongst a portion of His Majesty's horse-soldiers.
Of those whose appearance was most en militaire, a steel cap,
with a projection about the ears and back of the wearer,
something like a London dustman's hat of our day, was worn
by a fellow who, except his flowing great coat, appeared
otherwise naked. The breastpiece of a dragoon adorned
another, upon whose head was no covering of any kind. A
high conical grenadier's cap was sported by a third, joined
to a horseman's buff jacket, or else a fine fringed* and
embroidered French vest. Or, haply, a fragile hat and
plume, that once graced the brows of gentle maiden or
matron, now unfitly, and with some hideous intimation of
the way in which it had been obtained, flapped and waved
over the harsh and grimacing features of a fourth. The
legs and feet of all had, indeed, one common uniform
Adam's, when he was innocent. The wild people grinning
graciously and ducking low to Sarsfield, shaking hands with
his few attending dragoons, or capering and prancing round
them, broke towards our party from the dark groups hitherto
## p. 511 (#539) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 511
seen around; or sprang up, in knots, from the ground;
or galloped out of their low huts, hastily and inartifi-
cially constructed with stakes of bogwood, branches of
trees, turf, and rushes. Their attentions grew disagreeable,
if not startling, until the signal being answered by hoisting
something like a flag over the principal edifice on the island,
the strangers were approached by a rude raft, made first of a
kind of wickerwork, on a large scale, and then covered with
sods and leaves. At a glance, Evelyn knew Rory-na-chopple
to be the pilot of this singular machine. Nor was Rory slow
in discerning him, and in manifesting his recognition, at the
same time that he did his devoirs to Sarsfield. Con M'Donnell
stood, until the raft touched the mainland, regarding this
civility with manifest displeasure and impatience; when Rory.
was within reach of his signs, he seemed to reprehend,
severely and authoritatively, all show of welcome to Evelyn.
A few seconds brought them with their dragoons over the
lough. Here, the dumb man took Sarsfield's arm, as politely
as he knew how, but very abruptly; hurried him towards the
middle of the island, motioning Rory to take Evelyn in
charge. Onward both pressed, followed by the dragoons,
towards the larger hut, crowds of Rapparees still dividing
to let them pass, or following them with clamorous greetings.
Evelyn at last found himself in a spacious kind of bower,
constructed more carefully and daintily than the other huts,
but occupied only by some of the higher class of Rapparees,
whose faces he had before seen in his own house, and affording
him no view of the person his heart had been panting to look
upon.
One part of the sylvan walls which surrounded him was
covered, to the height of a man, with a rude tapestry of otter
and fox skins, attached together, and as, at its sides, some
vivid and steady light came through, Evelyn supposed it led
into another apartment. Nor was he mistaken. When Con
M'Donnell had graciously forced Sarsfield to a seat, and bent
upon Evelyn another dangerous scowl, he rapidly strode across
the floor, flung aside the arras of skins, which, catching upon
the woven wall, remained apart, after his rough motion, thus
allowing a view of the interior. Then he approached a man,
who, seated sideways at a small rough table, Evelyn at once
recognised.
At once, although a new and extraordinary change had
## p. 512 (#540) ############################################
412 THE BOYNE WATER.
come over face and bearing. Of the round-cheeked, fresh-
coloured, ingenuous boy he had appeared when Evelyn first
saw him in his father's thatched house, in Glenarriff, not a
trace, alas! remained : that character, however, Evelyn could
not expect to see. But the manly and soldierly dash of
Edmund during their after-rencounter, in Little Deer-park, had
also vanished. Yet this, too, the friend recollected, seemed
long ago to have as fully yielded to the almost savage stern-
ness that followed the death of Esther, and the degradation
of poor M'Donnell from his place in Lord Antrim's regiment.
And at length Evelyn only wondered to behold the very
latest change he had witnessed now occupied by another, as
novel as it was deeply interesting and imposing. Edmund
M'Donnell, before his attention was roused by the near
approach of his uncle, had sat calm and quiescent at the little
table, every limb and feature composed. His cheek, no longer
red and full in boyhood, nor yet pale and worn with sorrow
and despair, had a brown, healthy colour; no wrinkles of
passion or grief furrowed his fair and ample forehead. His
eye, which Evelyn first knew a quick and flashing eye, and
afterwards a deep and glaring one, was at rest; his mouth,
that used to breathe with quick thought, or curl out, open and
haughtily, was gently shut, its lips forming, in profile, the
graceful curves that statuaries love to copy. In a word, all
was quietness about him; he looked a calm, unruffled, reflec-
tive man. And, unless such calmness itself give a kind of
sternness, Edmund M'Donnell, though with the alias of a
formidable freebooter to his name, was no longer stern.
When he perceived his uncle's near approach, he extended
his hands, and the dumb man fell on his nephew's neck. In
a few minutes, they made signs to each other, and Edmund
seemed first interested, and then slightly agitated. He
pointed to the rude arras, looking towards some person
hitherto unseen within. A light foot approached the open-
ing; a small hand grasped the arras. Evelyn's heart swelled
to his throathe was satisfied. The features that rapidly
peered into the outer room could not be mistaken; one only
glance he had; the arras fell, and he was left in torture.
A considerable pause ensued. At last, Con M'Donnell re-
appeared through the opening, not now leaving it apart,
however, and beckoned Sarsfield, while, in an ill-humour of a
different kind from that he had before manifested, he once
## p. 513 (#541) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEF. 513
more frowned on Evelyn. The general arose at his bidding;
both disappeared into the interior of the hut; and Evelyn
was left to the attentions, anecdotes, and characteristic
humour of Rory-na-choppel and his fellows. Two well-
armed body-guards taking up their posts^ at either side of the
opening.
After another long pause, Sarsfield came out to Evelyn,
and took him aside.
"Here is a singular discovery;" he said "this doughty
freebooter proves to be an old friend, in whom we are both
interested."
"I know it, sir," replied Evelyn, with a groan. "I have
seen him."
"Something seems to have happened between ye that
causes him to wish you should not come in his way. His
dumb relative even urged worse measures towards you, and is
angry at their being declined. I seek not to learn your pri-
vate affairs; but if you dislike to rest in this hut for the
remainder of the night, I shall get you sent across the lough
to the care of my dragoonswhat say you 1
"
"I fear it not, sir; I will rest where I am; but I thank
you. As to M'Donnell's whim"
"Hush !" interrupted Sarsfield" all mention of a name,
which he seems anxious to have forgotten, is, in your present
situation, dangerous."
"I care not, sir. I was about to say, that whatever
may be the supposed ground of his hostility to me, I am
ignorant of it, and also assured of its cruelty and injus-
tice."
"Well, well; to-morrow may give you more explanation.
Good night. I rest, by invitation, in the interior of this
wild housegood night."
In a few moments after Sarsfield had finally withdrawn, a
number of women, old and young, entered the hut, bearing
in their arms bundles of heath and rushes, and proceeded to
arrange couches round the sides of the outer apartment.
Two of them, muffled in the deep-hooded, old Irish mantle,
officiated as Evelyn's chambermaids. For some time he saw
nothing of the features of either; but towards the conclusion
of their hasty work, the hood of one fell back, and shewed
him a visage he had cause to know wellthat of Moya
Laherty. He started, and almost cried out. Moya quickly
2 L
## p. 514 (#542) ############################################
514 THE BOYNE WATER.
pulled up her hood, and flew out of the hut. The other
woman cautiously glancing round, came close and he knew
Onagh. With more meaning and quietness of manner than
he had ever seen her evince, she pressed her finger on her
lip and whispering" Be prudent, and you have a friend,"
followed her companion.
It was now day-dawn. The Rapparees and the dragoons
around him settled themselves to take a few hours' sleep.
Evelyn also lay on his fresh heather, but not for repose. Of
the present fate of Eva he at last felt certain. Even
supposing Moya Laherty's story of her having been carried off
by Kirke from Glenarriff, as wholly untrue(and after the
proofs he had got of the girl's wilful falsehoods in other
respects, little credit could be attached to her in this)still
was Eva so degraded by her former and present associations,
and acts, that she could no longer be thought of with
any feeling but one of pity and sorrowful regret. The
mystery of her sudden departure, alone and unprotected,
from Dublin, on the night of its evacuation by the Irish, was
now explained. Her rapid and alarming change of character,
upon the first occasion he had seen her in Dublin Castle, from
the fascinating maiden of honour, into the disguised rider
who had passed him at Essex-gate, also seemed fully accounted
for. Upon the news of the landing of William, she had
hastened to join her Rapparee brother at the Boyne; and
Evelyn could not doubt that her attendance upon the Lady
Lieutenant was artfully contrived by Edmund and herself in
furtherance of some private views. Then, the warmth with
which she had chidden James for deserting the field of battle,
seemed naturally to spring from a person who had been an
actual spectator of the struggle, and who had arrived from the
ground, perhaps at the same moment with himself, agitated
by fresh and glowing recollections, and by all the indignant
sentiments they would call up in such a bosom as Eva's. In
a word, it was now made certain to Evelyn, that, from the
moment their house had been burnt, and their father
murdered, M'Donnell and his impetuous sister had aban-
doned themselves to a desperate course of arbitrary re-
venge.
As to the hostility manifested by Edmund towards him,
he regarded it as nothing more than affectation, adopted
for the purpose of keeping up, between them and huii)
## p. 515 (#543) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 515
an eternal separation, -which. they had at first wantonly
caused, and for which their hearts told them there was
now an insuperable necessity.
Bodily fatigue beguiled him from distressing reflections
into a sound sleep, from which he did not awake until
roused by Sarsfield, at rather an advanced hour in the
morning. Starting up, he saw the hut deserted by the
Rapparees, while a loud noise of bustle reached him from
abroad.
"If you are willing to try your chance for a further
satisfaction of your own affairs, by following me in my route,
arise, break your fast, and prepare to start into the moun-
tains," said the general.
Evelyn thanked him; not presuming to ask a word
concerning Sarsfield's expedition, although, so far as he
was able to consider anything apart from his private
concerns, it deeply interested him. They partook of some
coarse food together; and, accompanied by Hogan and
Kory-na-choppel, crossed the lough to join the main body
of dragoons.
Arrived amongst them, they found a great uproar. The
men stated that their horses had been allowed to stray
away overnight, and were now not at hand.
"Is that all V asked Hogan; "here's one to remedy the
evil. To work, Rory."
"Musha, yes, then, wid the little ganious God ga' me;"
and off he rapidly shuffled, disappearing over some near
eminences.
In a few moments the Whisperer was seen coming back,
leading by their bridles or halters, a crowd of the dragoons'
horses, while more followed in the rere, without any com-
pulsion.
"An' ye can thry wid them for a start, till we go a bit
farther aff," he said, giving up his prisoners, and again dis-
appearing, only again to return with more. Until, after
repeated sallies, every dragoon again possessed his steed, and,
with Sarsfield at their head, and still guided by Hogan, all
were ready to move forward.
"Your general certainly follows with his force1}" asked
Sarsfield of Hogan, as they got into motion.
"As sure as Keeper-hill, that you now see before you,
## p. 516 (#544) ############################################
516 THE BOYNE WATER.
General, so remarkable in size and consideration, over
the surrounding hills. Somewhat like a man of great
natural stature at the head of a crowd of less favoured
comrades."
After about a mile's journeying, the objects Hogan had,
with some self-complacency, in his illustration, been describ-
ing, more fully confronted Evelyn. The party had ascended
and descended over many successive eminences, and deviating
from their last available strip of road, now really approached
the mountains. To their left rose, indeed, the great Keeper-
hill, aptly called, whether through chance or design, the
giant of his range; black, barren, and desolate. A vast
mass, showing rather bold roundness, than picturesque
grandeur of form; with no white or grey rocks, or patches
of green, breaking the sombre monotony of his- heathery
mantle; and altogether filling and oppressing the mind with an
idea of terrible loneliness. Opposite to him was his sole near
rivala rival in contrasted shape onlyGlancoolla moun-
tain, with steep, craggy sides, its outline sharp and varied,
while that of Keeper was round and full. But although a
more beautiful object, and, withal, a stupendous one,
yielding in imposing effect to its uncouth and frowning
opponent.
Behind Keeper rose the black heads of other hills of the
receding range; hill after hill, at different distances.
Between him and Glancoolla, sweeping to the left of the
party, was the desolate valley through which they were to
pursue their course.
Although somewhat acquainted with mountain scenery,
perhaps on a larger scale than even what now lay before him,
Evelyn's first impression on glancing along those bleak and
inhospitable hill sides, and on seeing peak after peak rise up
in the only direction he had to go, was one of instinctive
shrinking, if not of terror. And the faces of the dragoons
around seemed to sympathize with him. But he was allowed
little time to combat such vain feelings. The galloping Rap-
paree plunged boldly from the last road-track to be found in
this uninhabited district, upon the soft and pathless sward,
that henceforth was to be their only footing. Onward the
numerous party moved, slowly, and in silence as deep as
that of the desert they explored.
## p. 517 (#545) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 517
Immediate despatch did not seem the ohject of Sarsfield.
On the contrary, from what Evelyn could casually collect,
the general rather appeared to linger on the way, so as not
to reach a certain point until evening. Tardily, therefore,
notwithstanding the expostulations of Hogan, was the wild
way pursued, until, after getting imperceptibly at the other
side of Keeper-hill, Hogan, turning in his saddle, pointed out
to Sarsfield the Rapparees, headed by Edmund M'Donnell,
following at a distance in their track. Evelyn, also turning,
saw, upon the side of a mighty hill, a small, dark mass,
scarcely in observable motion, and looking rather like a
flock of birds, than a body of men. Yet, on Hogan's assu-
rances, he beheld a body not inferior in number to Sarsfield's
dragoons.
On he winded, with his companions, through valleys,
black, barren, and silent, into one of which, particularized by
Hogan, it was asserted that the stars or moon scarce ever
sent a ray to break the utter blackness of night in its pent-up
recesses. On, over mountain-stream and river, sometimes
crossing, twice or thrice, different wild windings of the same
foamy water. On, over rugged defiles, and torn gullies; now
along the bottom of a glen, where not a breath of air was felt,
and now by the ridge of a hill where the wind was high and
gusty. Some hours after noon they halted, and sat down in
the shadow of their solitude, to eat food with which the Rap-
parees had supplied them, and to slake their thirst at the
mountain stream. To horse, again. And again through a
continuation, little varied, of the same kind of scenery. Until,
towards evening, when beginning to descend to their left, in
order to ford a considerable stream, they at last got, through
a vista in the mountains, a cheery, though distant glimpse
of the open country, bathed in the rich evening sun-light
that could scarce steal one blessed ray into the wilds they
had been travelling, and which still partially encompassed
them.
"We are near upon a halt, General," said Hogan, at this
point. "Under us winds the Belbow river; which we have
twice crossed to-day. And on the top of the ascent, at its
other side, is the gap that will lead you down into the flat
country, and so on to Ballyneedy. More betoken, you can
get a good observation across to that point, from the gap, if,
## p. 518 (#546) ############################################
518 THE BOYNE WATER.
as I take to be the case, you have come provided with your
glass."
The river was soon crossed. At the bottom of the acclivity
which Hogan described as rising from it to the gap, Sarsfield
ordered his people to halt.
"Let every man dismount," he said, "and ease the bit and
the saddle of his horse, and get him such provender as the
hill-side affords, with all other possible refreshment, for some
hours. After the night-fall there will be work in hand. But
now, Captain Rapparee," taking him aside, "where is the
messenger you promised from the Cashel road?'
"He ought to have met us here, General; and had we sent
one of our own reglars, doubtless there could not be a disap-
pointment, even for a moment. But, as I informed you, the
enemy has of late grown so wary of us, and so possessed
of our feints and subtle practices, that we feared to de-
spatch any but a poor wandering blind man, whose simplicity
none might suspect, but who is still a real friend of our
gineral."
"A blind man to look out, sir!" said Sarsfield.
"Marvel not, sir," replied Hogan, "he has a leader that
will help himan own son of Quarter-Master Rory-na-chop-
pel. And, though rather behind-hand, here they come, toge-
ther."
Evelyn, quickly turning his eyes up to the top of the
ascent, saw, just issuing over its line, his old friend, Carolan,
led by the imp whom we have first beheld trotting after the
heels of the Whisperer, upon the memorable morning, when
Edmund M'Donnell purchased his own colt from one of the
agents of that respectable dealer.
"Let us meet him on the rise," continued Sarsfield. Then
turning to his people: "No man shall mount this hill, after
us, nor in any way expose himself to observation from the
open country. Come, Captain Hogan. Choose you to enjoy
a pleasing prospect, Mr. Evelyn?"
Very anxious to have speech of the harper, Evelyn readily
assented. Sarsfield, Hogan, and he, met Carolan a little
under the the top of the gap.
"God save ye," cried the blind man, as they came up.
"God save you, kindly," answered Hogan.
. "That will do," resumed Carolan, "I know you."
## p. 519 (#547) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 519
"Well, any tidings from the road V
"Yes; approaching them for food and alms, I spoke
with them, last night, on their way to Cullen. They will
halt, as we suspected, over against you, at Ballyneedy, this
night."
"How many of 'em V
"A good number of horse. But, have a care. Though
they have no wind of your intentions, I will not say as much
for some in the camp at Limerick. If the great Sarsfield is
here, tell him so."
"Say you so V asked the person alluded to.
"I do, sir; and my humble duty to you, noble general,"
answered the harper, his face glowing.
Sarsfield paused a moment, then resumed:
"Well; think you they will soon come up, good Carolan 1
'lis now past six of the clock, and, on such a service, they
should be near their halt for the night."
"They cannot be far off, sir."
"Let us look out for them, then. Come, Mr. Evelyn."
As they left him, Carolan sat down on the shelving hill;
his guide creeping down to the dragoons.
"We should be cautious here, gentlemen," continued Sars-
field, ere they had quite gained the opening into the distant
country. "I pray you do as I do; the slanting sun shines
brightly, and his beams flashing from steel-cap or breast-
piece, may be caught and interpreted, by experienced eyes,
at a fair distance." He doffed the warlike articles of which
he had made mention; hid them in the heather, and, ad-
vancing up the ascent in a bent posture, lay on his breast, as
soon as his eyes came on a level with the line of the gap;
Evelyn and flogan, as they had been commanded, imitating
his actions.
They had scarce cast their eyes abroad, when Sarsfield mut-
tered, "The harper is right; I see them."
It was the last brilliant half-hour of a rich August evening.
They looked westward, over a gradually falling country,
bounded by the distant Galteigh mountains, at whose back
the sun was about to set, amid a glorious confusion of gold
and scarlet clouds, so that every picturesque peak and curve
of the imposing group, cut sharply against so vivid a back-
ground. Almost immediately opposite to the Galteighs, and
## p. 520 (#548) ############################################
520 THE BOYNE WATER.
rather to the left of our friends, ran the nearer Llieve Iellum
hills, rising and receding, one above another, the Keeper still
prominent at the western extremity of his line, and a hill
next to him in magnitude, and called Maugher-na-Llayd, or
the "Mother of the Mountains," rising about the middle of
the range. Thence, towards the west, the land gradually fell,
broken by little inequalities, and relieved by some near hills.
Directly facing the gap (which has been called from Sarsfield's
coming exploit, Lacken-wirchoppel, or " the hill of the horses,'')
stood, upon an abrupt eminence, at about the distance of five
miles in a straight line, the ruined castle of Ballyneedy,
backed by the Galteighs. Towards this castle, regardless of
every other feature of the scene, the general's anxious glances
were directed.
"I see them," he repeated, "even with the naked eye.
Mark how plainly their caps and swords gleam in the sun-
shine (proving our precaution here a good one), as they wind
over yonder ascent, towards the castle."
"That ascent is called the Hill of Cullen," observed Hogan,
"lying between Cullen village and Ballyneedy. Now for a
closer observation," taking out, as Sarsfield also used his glass,
a telescope that Evelyn recognised as having once been his
own property. "Aye, there they are; some troops of
Villier's horse, sure enough, their gun-carriages, ammunition
waggons, and provision carts, covering the whole height, and
going off behind it. They halt now. To encamp. No. It's
only the rear has halted to post a sentinel, I think. Yes, now
the man is left alone, and they move down the hill to
Ballyneedy."
"There will be another sentinel at the ford of Ballyv-
senouge, outside Cullen," continued Hogan, after a pause,
"and another, if not a regular picquet, in the village
itself."
A considerable silence ensued, Sarsfield not uttering a
word; buthis brows knitted into an earnest frownkeep-
ing the distant foe covered with his glass, measuring and
dwelling on them, as the wild beast might glare, unseen, upon
the prey he devotes to destruction.
At length, without removing his glass, "Aye," he said,
abruptly, as if only speaking to himself, "Yonder are the
guns with which William reckons to batter down the old
## p. 521 (#549) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 521
walls of Limerick about our ears. But stone of Limerick
wall they shall never splinter."
Another long pause, which Hogan broke, "they now wind
along the side of Ballyneedy-hill, I believe, General," he said,
"yes, and now they collect tbeir heavy train, some little
distance under the castle, and, like a prudent escort, settle
themselves round it. While a fewtheir officers, I reckon
walk up to rest, for the night, in the ould ruin."
"Aye, for tbe night and the day, too, good Captain
Rapparee," coolly muttered Sarsfield, still only thinking out,
although he seemed to address himself to Hogan. "But my
glass serves no longer. The sun is down behind Galteigh-
More; and it darkens rather much for an observation of five
miles across. And yet not dark enough to be doing. Hark!
this bustle below announces, I suppose, the coming up of your
commander.
Hogan assented, and went down the steep to greet his
general. Sarsfield sat up, where he had hitherto lain
prostrate, and still kept his eyes fixed on Ballyneedy.
Evelyn could see him sometimes frown with impatience,
sometimes smile sternly, as, doubtless, the picture of antici-
pated triumph rose vividly to his imagination.
"How tediously the night comes on," he said, "we wanted
not so dainty an evening. Tempest-clouds that would, before
his hour, have blotted out the gaudy sun, were better for our
purpose."
Just then, the little encampment on Ballyneedy began to
light their watch-fires. And as, one by one, the red beams
twinkled over the bosom of the distant ascent, and at the
base of the old castlefixing, by contrast, the character of
night around themSarsfield seemed more content.
Soon, and he started to his feet. Hogan re-approached him.
He called to the Rapparee for his cap and breast-piece. He
donned them rapidly. Evelyn could see him pale with the
anxiety and depth of his purpose.
"Lead up my dragoons," he cried. They surrounded him
in a few minutes; ready mounted. He vaulted into his own
saddle.
"I rely on your general to move down, and cover my
retreat, at the proper signal," he continued.
"He faithfully promises," answered Hogan.
"Well, you guide us, still."
## p. 522 (#550) ############################################
522 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Himself, an' another, that's handy, accordin' to the little
ganious the Lord gave him," answered the Whisperer,
advancing, most awkwardly seated on a tall garron, to
Hogan's side.
"Lead on then;" the two Rapparees rode out of the
gap-
"Lucan men, forward! Forward, to an action. of some
pith. Prove me your mettle, now, and Ireland shall speak of
us! RideFor our king and our country !but, hushno
shouting yetfollow me, in silence."
He led them through the gap towards the open country,
and Evelyn was left alone on the top of the ascent. After
some time, a man approached him, slowly and cautiously. In
the almost matured shadows of night, Evelyn could only
distinguish a human figure. It laboured up the ascent, paus-
ing at every step. Arrived at the gap, it stood erect and
still; and then a well-known voice spoke.
"Aye, they are gone to their work. How lonesome the
silence is; ah," sighing deeply, " eyes would be the greatest of
God's blessings, now, to see the terrible ending of it. Is there
any one here, with me V
"Carolandear Carolan!" cried Evelyn, approaching.
"Sir! Sir !"exclaimed the blind man, in mingled surprise
and coldness" I did not think to hear you answer; and now,
the sooner we part, the better."
"Why?"asked Evelyn"how have I lost your friend-
ship?
"Shame upon the question, sirask your heart."
"Heavens !what can be the import of all this 1 You, at
least, Carolan, are not whimsical, and, without a reason,
cruelanswer me, then! In what way do you suppose I
have been unworthy V
"Oh, Mr. Evelyn, can I believe my ears to hear you speak
these words, that only make you guilty, over and over, of a
double treachery!"
"Man !"cried Evelyn, "have a care what you sayyet
noyou must be sincere in whatever you say. Forgive my
warmethand only answer, in pity and mercy, the question I
have put. Tell me, in a word, how have I fallen in your good
opinion V
"Oh, sir, how, but by leaving to sorrow and ruin the friends
of my heartby bringing down the last desolation on her
## p. 523 (#551) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 523
-who" he elapsed his hands, and his eyes turned upward
"who is the best angel out of Heaven's house, this night."
"Monstrous!"retorted Evelyn" explain this, Carolan
here is some mistake inconceivable to mewhat! I injure-
I distress her!Carolan, hearken to me. It is they have
wronged me, and plunged themselves into ruin. It is they
have made me the most sorrowful and desolate man that walks
the earth. Dear Carolan, I am belied and abused together!"
"Master Evelyn, do not say itfor you cannot impose it
on meI have heard the proof"
"Of what?what proof?speak out!"
"And mean you, indeed, to deny, sir," continued Carolan,
someting affected by Evelyn's impetuosity." mean you to
deny"
"Peace, Carolan," interrupted Edmund M'Donnell, who,
for some time, had listened, unseen, to the conversation. The
tones of his voice were deep but tranquil, mild though com-
manding" I learned you were near Master EvelynI feared'
you might meet him, and that your soft nature would con-
descend to an explanation, one word, one breath of which,
were wrong and insult to me. Therefore I am here to request
your further silence. Nay, your company down the hill
take my arm.'
"M'Donnell!"Evelyn cried, as they moved ; Edmund
slightly started; but, recovering himself, continued to walk
away. A second time his old friend pronounced the name
he had been warned not to sound; still no notice was taken;
a third time" M'Donnell, M'Donnell!" he repeated loudly.
At last Edmund stopped; parted from Carolan; again faced
towards the gap; and advancing on Evelyn with a heavy
step
"Sir," he began, in a low, measured voice that half hissed
through his teeth" I come back, not in answer to the name
you call me by, but the rather to warn you what I will believe
you do not know. That its utterence, among these hillsthe
utterance of a name now losttaken from me byno matter
by whatisdeath, sir !" and he again turned his back on
Evelyn.
"I fear not your threatI fear the threat of noneI fear
nothing," resumed his friend. "And I still call upon you to
explain your ungenerousyour cruel, unjust conductI call
on you"
## p. 524 (#552) ############################################
524 THE BOYNE WATER.
"Master Evelyn," interrupted M'Donnell, a second time
checking his steps, "let us part in peace. Offer no further
insult to me. I cannot resent it now, or in future, no more
than I could your former outrage. There is a cause; you
know there is a cause ;" and his voice half faltered.
"By my hopes of heaven, Edmundby the soul and
memory of her, to whom your allusion points"
"Peace, sir; we have witnessed this before."
"You shall hear me, Edmund; and, if you are a man,
answer. Let me try to shape properly the questions that
must lead to the whole clearing up of this black mystery
one moment, I entreat your pauseonly one moment. How
did you escape from Kirke, at Glenarriff?"
M'Donnell sneeringly laughed, "and do you begin by
asking that, Master Evelyn V he demanded.
"Why should I not? Was there a reinforcement of your
friends, after Kirke's came up, and"
"Pshaw, sir, for what a fool do you take me? know you
not, as well as I, there was? Tush, tush, to what a man am
I talking?
"
"Then Eva fell not, indeed, into his"
"His hands!" interrupted Edmund, surprised, in a degree,
out of his calm sternness, "the tainted villian! Not while
a brother, at the least, stood by to hinder it His hands! I
tore her from the blasted wretch upon the threshold; for,
when in a few minutes I was enabled to return with a good
force, he had not left my father's roof. My point pressed
him beyond the threshold; he fled from me down the glen,
after his scattered plunderers. I had no horse at hand, but
I followed him on foot and alone, to the turn on the shore,
and thrice was my highland blade within a thrust of his heart,
until I slipped, andBut shame upon me, I say, to forget the
very caution I would have taught yon poor blind manshame
upon my truant tongue and my fickle spiritI am again
dishonoured."
Evelyn deeming it better to pursue his purpose than turn
aside from it to challenge words like these, resumed, in an
agitated and impressive manner, "then Edmund, I have for
your present humour, but one further question. However
you wrongfully regard me, whatever may be the cause of your
error, tell me, in the name of old times, and old recollections,
what you propose for Eva V
## p. 525 (#553) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 525
M'Donnell again started; again checked himself; and a
third time turned away.
"Tell me, I conjure you," continued Evelyn, "how soon
and in what manner"
"And dare you," still interrupted M'Donnell, speaking
slowly, "dare you now make one inquiry concerning her
one allusion 1 Do you not, especially in your present situa-
tion, dread to do so? Has she not long ceased to be aught to
you, man V
"Alas! why will you force me to admit it? She has,
Edmundand yet, is it not my place and duty to urge
my former question 1 When, oh! when, M'Donnell, will
you separate her from the present coursessnatch her from
the fate that ought, indeed, to afflictshame us all V
"Tempt me not too far, Master Evelyn. Still I try to
recollect that my hand should not be against you; but press
me not so hard. Traitor and false knave, you have been
enough"
"False knave! beware, M'Donnell, how, in my despair
and affliction, you cause me to forgetthe words you give
me are falser than I"
"That is too presumptuousthe echoing of that name,
and all" replied Edmund, still rather in determination than
impatience, "begone, knave and liar !offor I must strike
you to my feet!"
He drew his sword. Evelyn, following his example, in-
stantly closed on him. As their weapons clashed, a figure
that, for some minutes, had been watching them, came for-
ward and separated the unhappy youths. Carolan, also, drew
near.
"What! by you, wretched creature V cried M'Donnell.
"By me," replied Onagh, still evincing, to Evelyn, the
same composed manner she had shown in the island hut;
"by me, who have brought sorrow enough on you both,
to make me now try to keep off more, that ye would madly
bring on yourselves. For mad ye are. As mad as I have
been ; tho' now that curse is taken away, and I am free and
able to befriend those it was my doom to cross with early
affliction. Hearken to me !" she cried, as Edmund hastened to
interrupt her.
"You have not seen me since we met in the black north;
but I have long followed you, with your wild women, to
## p. 526 (#554) ############################################
526 THE BOYNE WATER.
make amends for that day. I knew you were imposed
on by a false friend; not by him that stands before
you, and who never deserved the name, but by one who
brought you the stories that made you think he did.
Aye, look at mebut 'tis truth. Knowing this, I came
in her way, made her think well of me, tell me, with
her own lips, her plottings, and her lies to you both"
"Both! her /" cried Evelyn !" it was a woman, then ? and
that womanMoya Laherty V
"It was," answered Onagh.
"Pshaw!" said M'Donnell, "I want not to hear this. But
you, woman, hither; and speak with me."
"And I am on the right ground to tell you the story you
want to know," answered Onagh, getting agitated. "For
this country, Edmund M'Donnell, is my own country; these
hills, my hills; and it was here that, in early maidenhood, I
met your brother, Donald."
M'Donnell drew back and stared upon her.
"Look on," 'she resumed. "And it was here you lost him.
Look on, I say, and look closer; and then you may know me
better."
"Woman," cried Edmund, disturbed. "I know you not,
but for the mad wretch I ever knew you."
"You saw me, then, once, and more than once, when you
used to come, a growing boy, to shoot the hill-birds, here, with
him that's gone. Did you never hear him tell of Grace"
"Grace Nowlan!" interrupted M'Donnell, slowly advancing
on her" stand woman !Master Evelyn, forget our quarrel
but a moment, and help me to secure this unhappy creature
the murderess of my elder brother!"
"Grace Nowlan, but no murderess!" she exclaimed, rush-
ing, in spite of their efforts, through the gap, and again re-
lapsing into her real or affected insanity of manner" but
we can settle that another timeit and your own affairs
togetherI will see ye again;" plunging from the gap.
"Now, ye have other things to mind!" clapping her hands.
"See that! hear that!"
A sudden glare of fiercest light that seemed to set the
firmament in a blaze, burst all over the distant country; and,
in a few seconds, was followed by an explosion so tremendous,
that Evelyn thought the mountain upon which he stood,
quivered to.its shock.
## p. 527 (#555) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 527
"She speaks true, by Heaven!" exclaimed M'Donnell,
"the good deed is done, and I must to my duty." He blew
his horn; his wild troop, long in expectation of a summons,
and previously roused by the shock, were in a few minutes
around him.
"Bear the harper down, and keep him from all speech
with the stranger !" he only waited to say, to some few who
were to remain, when he headed the Rapparees through the
gap. Onward they rushed after him, like a whirlwind, to
the plain; leaving Evelyn once more alone, struck to the
soul, from various causes, with utter consternation.
The incidents that produced some portion of his feeling,
are to be accounted for.
Continuing for some time, rather parallel with the range of
the Llieve Iellum mountains, at his left, when he first swept
through Lacken-na-choppel, Sarsfield then wheeled to his
right, turning his back on them, and his face to the Galteighs.
Held on, for some miles, over partly high and partly low
ground; again wheeled to his right, to approach the village
of Cullen; gained a view of the little ford of Ballyvse-
nougue; there observed the sentinel Hogan had foretold ; and
paused to consider how he should prudently overcome this
obstacle.
"Let Rory go ax him for the wordthat's the way to
manage it," observed Hogan. Rory smiled hideously.
'' Will you venture, good fellow V inquired Sarsfield.
"Musha, yes, wid the Lord's help, Gineral, honey."
"Away, then."
"Avoch, aye, afther a fashion of our own, an' accordin'
to the little ganious God gives us."
He dismounted; drew a nail from his pocket; deliberately
drove it, with a large stone, into his garron's hoof-Sarsfield
turning away his facewalked him, a step or two, to see if
he was lame enough; patted him, and said that would do;
pricked his own arm, and stained himself with the blood;
and then limped on, with his horse, towards the ford, adding.
"There, now. Sure wer'e jest a poor loyal man an' horse,
sarved this way by the Rapparees, bad end to' em."
He disappeared. There was a pause. All listened for a
dying groannone reached them; but Rory quickly came
running back, rubbing his hands, and simpering exceedingly.
He whispered Sarsfield.
## p. 528 (#556) ############################################
528 THE BOYNE WATER.
"My own name V asked the general" they need not
have chosen one more ominousforward!"
All passed the ford. The sentinel lay lifeless at its edge.
Rory-na-chopple seemed to have whispered the poor fellow to
death, so silent had been his horrid process, whatever it was.
They cleared the village of Cullen, without suspicion, giving
the word of the night, thus gained, and reporting themselves
a detachment from the camp at Limerick. They swept up an
ascent from it; found, on the top (called Longstone, because
the road there ran over a rock), another sentinelthe same
Sarsfield had seen posted from the gap. Him, too, they
passed without hindrance. Soon they came in sight of the
little square castle of Ballyneedy, perched on a barren level
of a few yards, upon the height that gave it its name, while
all over the road that ran half-way along the side of the hill,
lay the train of guns, waggons, and carriages of various
kinds, surrounded by their numerous escort, now for it was
near midnightsleeping away the fatigues of a long march:
their watch-fires flickering out, and few to attend to their re-
plenishing.
When his prey appeared so near, Sarsfield rode his last
half-mile, with some caution, and a mustering of breath and
purpose. Scarce any but the sentinel, at hand, heard his
approach. As he came up, the first of his party, the soldier
challenged him in alarm " The word V
"Sarsfield is the Word, and Sarsfield is the Man!"
he was answered. And upon the unprepared escort, Sarsfield
and his Lucan horse instantly plunged, with defeaning shouts.
In a few moments, they had not an enemy to contend with;
those who attempted resistance, or who would not yield
themselves prisoners, were cut to pieces. So much done,
Sarsfield, not pausing an instant, caused to be filled with
powder to the brim, the whole of the battering cannon ; then
stuck them in the earth, muzzle downward; surrounded them
with the remainder of two or three hundred barrels of
powder; heaped over and around them their carriages, the
baggage, and provision carts, and, without knowing it, several
chests of treasure; laid a train, to a convenient distance; re-
tired, with his people and prisoners; fired the train; and
blew the whole, in fragments, into the air.
This was the explosion, that, five miles off, in a direct line,
reached Evelyn, and seemed to shake the solid mass beneath
## p. 529 (#557) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 529
his feet. The Llieve Iellum hills glared in the reflected flash,
and reverberated the roar through their deepest recesses.
Even their Foil-dhuiv (black glen) was, for once, illuminated,
at midnight. The Galteighs, remotely opposite, seemed to
start at the blaze. The wild-deer, in the glen of Aharla, at
their feet, bounded from their dewy heather-beds, deeming
nought less than that the noon-day sun had burst through
the noon at night. The old castle of Ballyneedy toppled
from its foundation-stone, and rolled in fragments down the
slope. And what is, perhaps, of more importance, Sir John
Lanier, on his way, at the head of five hundred horse, to join
the escort (after tidings of Sarsfield's sortie had, too late,
reached William), was still far distant when he felt the
ground quiver to the explosion, and saw the red glare in the
sky. Nay, it is asserted, that William himself, seated in his
Limerick camp, some thirteen miles off, heard and understood
the earthquake shot.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
For more than an hour, Evelyn stood, confounded and alone,
on the gap of Lacken-na-chopple. After the terrific, and,
to him, unexplained commotion and glare, he heard, for
some time, the receding gallop of M'Donnell's wild troop
into the low country. Then, all was silence. He looked
towards Ballyneedy: the blank of deepest night alone met
his view. The explosion had scattered and put out every
glimmer of the watch-fires around it. Scarce master of his
thoughts and feelings, Evelyn was not aware of the consider-
able time he thus spent in solitude, when the distant rushing
of horsemen again caught his ear from the plain below.
The sound increased; it approached him. Finally, Sarsfield
galloped up, followed by his people, and calling out, "Master
Evelyn!"
Evelyn answered. "We have done it, sir!" continued
Sarsfield; "you saw itdid you not 1 But now, to horse,
and with us! Home, sir, by the road we cameno other
lies open. We are set upon, or will be; but once again in
the heart of the black hills, and a fair good night to them!"
2 M
## p. 530 (#558) ############################################
530 THE BOYNE WATER.
Evelyn, gaining his horse, accompanied him about a mile,
into the first recesses of the mountains. The whole party,
together with their Rapparee guides, here bivouacked in a
narrow glen, unapproachable at such an hour, by any, save
those well acquainted with its dangerous passes. After
some sleep, they proceeded, in the morning light, to the
island camp; and refreshments and a longer rest were now
afforded to men and horses. Again, all got into motion.
As Evelyn was about to mount, a man laid his hand on his
shoulder ; it was Carolan.
"Step aside, sir," he whispered; "I believe, after all, you
are wronged. Your words to me, and to your old friend,
and the sayings of that poor woman, force me to think
so. But hold a good heart. Believing this, it becomes
my dutythe greatest duty of my lifeto see you rightedto
see you happyto make you so. And why? Because"
his voice trembled" because, Mr. Evelyn, the happiness of
her, whose humblest servant I am, is to be promoted along
with yours. Say nothing now," as Evelyn offered to speak;
"we have no time; but, depend on me, I will seek out poor
Onagh, and the other woman she told of; I will get the truth
from both, and"
"Carolan!" interrupted an imperious and shrill voice.
Evelyn turned, and saw, approaching with Sarsfield, from
the edge of the little lough, the apparition that, for months,
had scared away his peace, wherever he moved. But,
as the harper stepped back, pressing his hand, and as this
individual hastily drew nearer, what were his sensations
to believe, for the first time, in the now full view he was
afforded, that he did not look upon Eva M'Donnell 1 Astonish-
ment, confusion, but, most of all, joy attended the dis-
covery.
"Great God! who are you?" he cried, as the young
person confronted him, still looking very like Eva, yet still
showing, at a close observation, minute details of feature
that proclaimed not only a distinct identity, but a different
sex.
"That you should know, sir, and that you shall know,"
answered the youth, angrily. "My brother, Edmund, may
imagine causes for his forbearance, but"
"Your brother!" interrupted Evelyn, calling to mind
the younger brother, of whom Eva had often spoken, as
## p. 531 (#559) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 531
residing in Spain, but, during their last allusions to him,
at the Grey Man's Path, whom she had reported dead.
"He," continued James M'Donnell, "may, if he like,
spare you the questioning he owes you, but you shall stand it
from me. It is but lately I was allowed the information that
gives me a right to address myself to you thus, Master Evelyn
it is but since last night I know even your person. Now,
however"
As he advanced very close, Carolan broke in with some
words that exhorted him to be cautious. While many scowl-
ing Rapparees, left along with the stripling, to occupy the
island, gathered around, Sarsfield also spoke, effectually put-
ting an end to the matter.
"Mount, Mr. Evelyn, and ride with me! Men !" to his
own troop, "guard your prisoner! Excuse us, Master James
M'Donnell; but the King's service allows no such delay as
your private business would proposeforward!"
The Lucan horse surrounded Evelyn, and, with Sarsfield,
all moved for the banks of the Shannon.
"We speak again, sir!" shouted the youth, in a rage, as
Evelyn was thus ravished from him.
"When you wish," replied Evelyn: "would that we could
now speak it out! You will find me in Limerickfarewell!"
Had James M'Donnell held at his disposal the force with
which his brother was absent, covering Sarsfield's retreat,
King James's soldiers would scarce have baffled him. But,
as it was, he durst offer no resistance. Unobstructed, there-
fore, and now not requiring a Rapparee guide, Sarsfield soon
repassed the Shannon. Precisely by the same road he had
come, he regained, in a few hours, the walls of Limerick,
where joyous shouts, well understood in the hostile camp,
greeted the tidings of his brilliant adventure.
But William was not to be turned from his purpose even
by a loss and a disappointment so considerable as that which
Sarsfield's adventure entailed upon him. To the surprise and
alarm of the famishing garrison, he still kept his encampment
on Singlands; received, in a short time, a second battering
train from Waterford; and planted it on a. height called
Penny-well. While the soldiers and citizens of Limerick
sparingly shared their raw beansthe only food they had
it seemed that a formidable breach would soon be made in the
.bulwarks of Ireland's strongest citadel.
## p. 532 (#560) ############################################
532 THE BOYNE WATER.
Whilst, day after day, the battering at this one point con-
tinued, the garrison made a desperate midnight sortie upon
the besiegers. Taken by surprise; thrown them into such
confusion as to be unable to discern friend from foe, they
attacked each other; and (the Irish having retreated un-
perceived) so continued, until the morning light showed
them their mistake, and the shocking havoc that resulted
from it.
At last, from the Penny-well battery, a breach about
twenty feet wide was indeed made. Evelyn, standing along
with Sarsfield upon the walls, almost over it, saw all the
grenadiers in William's army form in a dense and threatening
mass on the side of the descent from Cromwell's fort, evi-
dently preparing to storm the city. The whole Danish force,
and some English, moved to support them, at the left: an
equal number of Dutch, Brandenbergians, and other English
regiments, slowly, and with the soldier's regular movement,
took their right, or appeared as a reserve. The bellowing of
the cannon at Penny-well ceased :there was a moment's
pause. As Evelyn stood, Penny-well faced him, at about the
distance of half a mile, and William's camp, with Cromwell's
fort in front, lay to his right.
There was a moment's pause, during which Evelyn glanced
along the walls, and behind him, into the city, to note the
preparations made for the welcoming of this formidable array.
To his astonishment, no soldiers manned the breach;
although at either side of it, ranks of horse and foot pressed
close, in silence and in action. Immediately facing the yawn
in the wall, some guns had been mounted, on a hastily-
constructed battery of stones, woolsacks, earth, and timber.
Beyond this battery, in the street that turned towards Ball's-
bridge, was a crowd of citizens, men and women, some
rudely armed, some defenceless; but all determined, and,
like the soldiers, all silent. Sarsfield, alone, seemed the
waking genius of the scene. Evelyn saw him pacing, from
point to point, earnestly impressing his commands. He would
stop, and sometimes rest his sword across his arm, sometimes
move it round his head, as if. triumph had already resulted
from his measures. Ever and anon, he sprang to the wall,
took a view of the approaching enemy, and then hastened
down to complete his arrangements. Such were the only
visible dispositions to receive the assault, within the city.
## p. 533 (#561) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATEE. 533
Without, bodies of men filled the trenches between the
counterscarp and the breach, mostly invisible to the
enemy.
As Evelyn's eye recurred to the scene abroad, he saw that
the grenadiers had advanced to the last angle of their own
trenches, supported on the right and on the left, and by a
reserve, as before described. Three field-pieces were dis-
charged at Cromwell's fort: this was the signal they awaited.
They leaped their trenches, and ran on cheering gallantly to
the counterscarp; their right, left, and reserve, keeping up
with them. Ere they reached the counterscarp, a tremendous
fire of great and small shot was poured upon them, from the
curtain of wall, at either side of Evelyn, and hundreds fell:
the cannon making lanes through the dense bodies of grena-
diers. But all this range of battery, being in a direct line
with Cromwell's fort, was instantly enfiladed from it: such
showers of balls swept along the top of the wall, as soon
promised to clear it of its garrison. For some time, however,
the Irish returned on the enemy under them, the salutes
received from their right. And while the united roar of the
hostile cannons rent the sunny autumn sky, the walls were
encumbered, and the approach to the breach strewed with the
dead and the dying.
The mighty interest of the contest had, till this moment,
kept Evelyn insensible to the peril of his situation. With his
eye fixed on the approaching grenadiers, as, each moment,
the cloud from which death was belched, wafted aside and
left them visible; with his ears dinned, and his senses con-
fused by the near bellowing of the guns; with his young and
ardent spirit mixing, too, in the conflict; he had not time to
reflect that, standing where he did, he was only a spectator.
But a group of those who worked the battery, close by him,
were now tumbled from the walls into the ditch below, and
he awoke to a sense of his danger. At the same moment, the
voice of Sarsfield sounded through the uproar:
"Give them the walls, comrades, give them the walls!
Descend, and follow me where we can fairly meet them!"
Doubly warned, Evelyn hastened down, along with the
men thus exhorted, whom Sarsfield instantly added to the
crouching force already stationed at either side of the breach.
All grew silent on the walls. William simultaneously sus-
pended his enfilading from Cromwell's fort. Even abroad,
## p. 534 (#562) ############################################
534 THE BOYNE WATER.
before the breach, and among the trenches, there ensued, a
silence which seemed to argue that the assailants had paused
to muster breath for a second effort, now unmolested by shot
from the city. The dead and voiceless inaction grew horrible.
The clouds of smoke that the double cannonading had con-
gregated over the town, rolled from it towards a hill some
miles off. An unblotted and scorching sky once more ex-
panded above the scene of havoc.
"Mostha musha, thaun galore" (full time) "for honest bodies
to have a guard o' themsefs. One o' them balls has no more
regard for a poor simple boy, sich as me, nor for a roarin' mad
sodger," said a voice close by Evelyn. He turned, and
knew the Whisperer; the words were, indeed, addressed to
him with the familiarity of an old acquaintance. Rory con-
tinued: "though I'm no great things to brag of, makin' a
noise wid your guns, or shkiverin' wid your soords, aften's the
time we can do a sarvice, afther a manner of our own, an'
accordin' to the little ganius God gave us. Keep an eye
upon poor Rory, a-vich; an' if he doesn't show you some
spuddoch*" simpering with his usual graciousness, till a score
of cunning wrinkles diverged from the corners of his eyes down-
ward, and met as many branching upwards, from the corners
of his spacious mouth; "if he doesn't show you a flock of
Sassenachs nearer to Heavin's gate nor they think we wish
to send 'em, you may jest call me muddhaun moref, 'till the
tongue swells in your cheek." And he shuffled off, among the
crowd behind the masked battery, rubbing his hands, in
ecstacy, over his embryo project, and hanging his head more
than usual towards the side to which it curved.
Renewed cheers broke from the assaulters; the explosions
of their hand-grenades were heard; and then the dropping
fire from the Irish who lay in the trenches, answered by
volleys from William's right. Field-pieces, at some distance
to the left of the town, also joined the roar; and Evelyn
heard Sarsfield say to Grace, as they stood close by the breach,
mustering, along with their men, full effort for a planned pur-
pose: "Our little battery, from King's Island, plays merrily
on their right, John."
Shouts, groans, trampling, the discharge of musketry, and
the explosion of hand-grenades, all formed a confused din
* Sport. t Big fool.
## p. 535 (#563) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 535
without, but Evelyn could see nothing of what passed until
the Irish foot, posted in the trenches, jumped, covered with
blood, in confusion upon the breach
"Where now, cowards?" asked Sarsfield, in a vehement
whisper.
"The counterscarp ,is carried," answered one, who
seemed an officer; "half our men killed in the trenches,
and"
"In then, in !" continued Sarsfield. The defeated trench-
men jumped into the street of the town, and looked round,
in panic, to continue their retreat. The pikes and bayonets at
either side of the breach opposed them; while opposite, the
groans and revilings of men and women kept them stationary.
Under Sarsfield's command, they rallied, and joined their
seemingly inactive brethren. While in the very act of doing
so, the shouts of the brave English grenadiers burst just out-
side. In came a shower of their hand-grenades; and, almost
simultaneously they themselves sprang into the breach. A
murderous volley of grape instantly saluted them from the
masked battery, inside the walls. Another; and those who
did not fall dead or wounded, jumped back. Still Sarsfield
and his reserve remained quiet.
Evelyn stood to the right of the breach, in the rear of the
portion of the reserve there posted, a crowd of citizens around
him. More than once, while the contest raged without, the
Whisperer passed and re-passed him, adroitly piercing through
the throng; looking the very fi^nd of the strife; chuckling
over his intended mischief; and ever saying, in a low bland
tone, as he came near his old friend:
"You'll soon see the spuddoch, a-chorra machree ; you'll
soon see the spuddoch." In his latest transits he was followed
by a female in a flowing mantle, who seemed a confidant in
his plans, whatever they might be. Evelyn once heard him
whisper her, as he clapped her on the shoulder: "Have a care
upon you, a-lanna. Don't let sich a fine spurt as God is
sendin' us, be for little good. Let 'em be perched as thick as
swarmin' bees, afore you beckon." Immediately upon the
repulse of the grenadiers, he again passed to some distance,
with a lighted match, and seemed to make certain prepara-
tion, of which Evelyn could not discern the meaning, or even
the process. Once more, as he sidled through the crowd, in
increasing glee" The spuddoch 'ill soon be now, a-vich," he
## p. 536 (#564) ############################################
530 THE BOYNE WATEE.
said; "mind the peehauns* that 'ill come getherin' in the
shky, afther a while."
There was another short pause in the conflict. Then,
another reinforced assault from the grenadiers; another dis-
charge from the battery into their faces; and though many
again fell, none flinched. Down from the breach they scram-
bled and jumped, in hundreds, into the town. Ran on,
seized, and silenced the masked batterycheered in the re-
serve. But, now, theirfate,andthe fate of Limerick, drew near.
"Charge! for Limerick! for Ireland f roared Sarsfield.
The ambushed soldiers, at either side, instantly filled the
breach. They met the reserve, with the shock of torrent
against torrent. Madly shouting, half their force repelled
them beyond the trenches, abroad, half turned upon the foe
cut off in the streets of the town. Extermination of these
gallant fellows followed. To a man, they refused to give or
take quarterto a man, they were slain. Assailed by the
soldiers in front, and by the people in rear, their destruction
was the work of but a few minutes. Even the women of
Limerick mixed in the deadly struggle. Many a beautiful
girl and staid matron rolled among the dead ; others seized
the arms of the slaughtered grenadiers, or, supplied with
sharp stones from the breach, or with whatever missile chance
afforded, set an example of desperate courage to their
brothers, lovers, or husbands. And while a furious sortie,
headed by Sarsfield, and supported by a gallant Scotsman,
Wauhup, was made after the assailants, the crowd of women
scrambled to the breach, their attire rent and blood-stained,
their hair flowing, and there brandishing their chance wea-
pons, sent a frantic scream of triumph and defiance after
their discomfited foe.
In the midst of this scene of uproar, slaughter, and horror,
Evelyn's eye was attracted by a woman in the window of a
house next to him. His regards fixed on her face; for he
thought he recognised Onagh of Red Bay. She held in her
hand a stick, to which was attached a torn fragment of a red
handkerchief; her look was fastened on a certain part of the
walls. Evelyn glanced in the same direction. He saw a
regiment, which he knew, by the uniform, to be Brandenber-
gians, gallantly scaling the Black battery, one of the defences
* Crows.
## p. 537 (#565) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 537
near the breach. At this instant, Sarsfield, his face and
person stained with blood and dust, sprang back into the
town, crying out
"Limerick is safe! they fly at every point! To the walls,
Irishmen, and give them a farewell greeting. But, hah!
there be some saucy fellows before us," his eyes catching the
Brandenbergians.
"Lave them to me, gineral honey," said the Whisperer,
from the rather remote station where he had previously been
making some arrangements. "An' stop a bit, just where
you are, for your own darlin' sake. Gossip," elevating his
voice to Onagh, who still held her place in the window, " is
it time to fly my flock, yet, I wondher?
"
There was a cry from Onaghshe dropped her flagthe
whole regiment had now ascended the Black battery. Rory
touched the ground near him, with a lighted match. A train
fizzed towards the wall, under and along it, till it reached
the tower of the battery, which was full of gunpowder, and,
with a horrid explosion, up went the tower in fragments, and
with it the fragments of hundreds of men. And this Evelyn
now comprehended to be the "spuddoch" which Master Rory-
ua-chopple had promised him.
Amid deafening shouts, the walls were again manned.
With the roar of triumph, volleys of grape, still destructive,
reached the flying army. Dalrymple authorizes the state-
ment that William lost, this day, two thousand of the flower
of his soldiers. It may be added that, under all the circum-
stances, unequal in numbers, undisciplined, unsupported by
regular allies, starving, and against the terror of the name of
a great generalLimerick made a struggle, and accomplished
a triumph, not unlike or inferior to the struggle and triumph
which has since immortalized the walls of Saragossa.
"And now, sirs," said King William, who, like James at
the Boyne, and a greater man than either, at Waterloo, had
watched the chances of the day from the height of Cromwell's
fort, and who, immediately after the defeat, collected around
him his drooping generals and followers. "Now, sirs, I am
for England; perhaps for the Low Countries. Affairs go on
as ill there as here. I leave you, Solmes, in full command of
my Irish army; Ginkle to succeed you, whenever it may be
needful; with my commands to both to finish this Irish war
on any terms."
## p. 538 (#566) ############################################
538 THE BOYNE WATER.
"My liege !" cried many voices, amongst which were those
of Colonel Lloyd, of the Enniskilleners, and Dr. Dopping,
Bishop of Meath. "Your gracious Majesty cannot ask us to
consider a foe so contemptible and pernicious," added Colonel
Lloyd.
"I came into Ireland, too much depending on such views,
sir," answered William, sullenly and bitterly, "for the which
I was indebted to you, and those of your mind. But it were
well we all brought ourselves to regard, more calmly and
truly, the enemy we seek to understand, as well as subdue.
Listen, then. Upon the first attempt for my crown, in Ire-
land, this contemptible foe beat youyou, the Protestant
strength of Irelandin a few weeks, out of eight northern
counties. Beat you, in four battles, one at Dromore, one at
Hillsborough, one on the banks of the Bann, and one at Clady
Ford. Reduced you to a confused remnant, and shut you up
between the four walls of Derry. There you starved, truly;
more because you dreaded the consequences, than dared the
principle of a surrender. Until at last, upon the very thres-
hold of a treaty with Hamilton, you were savednot by
yourself, or aught you could dobut by a few English regi-
ments. Against this contemptible foe I then sent twenty
thousand English and foreigners, headed by a great general;
you gave them and him your help. I will say little of his
gratitude for your alliance, or his testimony of your character.
Enough, that between you all, you were out-manoeuvred,
cowed, and consigned to destruction by this contemptible
foe; and that your campaign terminated without a battle,
yet with the loss of half my army. Mark, stillI came
among you, in person, to retrieve the disgraces of my cause
and my arms. The first battle with this insignificant foe was
twice nearly lost. Once, Colonel Enniskillener, by your corps
deserting me, in the second charge at Sheephouse, and run-
ning, merrily, though with your King at your head, from
the face of this insignificant foe. Immediately after, a hand-
ful of them repulsed, with some loss, ten thousand of my
troops at Athlone. This day, they have repulsed my whole
army, headed by myself, and greatly seconded by the native
zeal of the Enniskilleners. Sirs," he continued, more than
usually roused, " you witness the first real defeat, except one
in my youth, at Maestricht, which I have ever suffered. As
I am a soldier and a king, Limerick has been bravely
## p. 539 (#567) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 539
defended. And yet you hear it said, that men who can so
demean themselves, merit not the consideration due to a fair
enemy. Hearken to my parting orders. Finish, I repeat,
this Irish war upon any terms. Should the future give you
a promising advantage, propose then, as well as now, full
protection in property, and civil privileges with religious
freedom. If the Irish enemy at last fall, offer, to all who
will willingly comply, place and rank in my British armies.
I should care for such soldiers as they would make. I have
done. Farewell!"
"My gracious liege," said the Bishop of Meath, as William
turned away, "remember the creed of the rebels you would
thus propose to patronize. Deign, sire, tenderly to remember
our loyalty, our sufferings, and our lawful expectations of
redress. Deign"
"Bishop of Meath, attend. While holding up my right
hand, in the face of heaven and of men, to repeat and swear
my coronation oath, a clause was proposed to me that I
should 'root out heretics.' At these words, I stopped my
Lord of Argyle, who administered the oath, and declared I
did not mean to oblige myself to become a persecutor. The
commissioner explained that such, surely, was not the mean-
ing of the oath; and then I 'bid him note that in such a sense
only I took it. The same, Bishop of Meath, do I now desire
you to note. And so, an end. Let the siege be raised, and
the army retire on Clonmel. Solmes and Ginkle, remember
my orders, and give them all effect."
"We promise to do so," they answered, equally indifferent,
with William, to the petty Irish divisions, upon which alone
Irishmen could contemplate a great struggle.
"Be it so," whispered Dr. Dopping to Colonel Lloyd, who
smiled at the allusion that followed; "we may yet have our
own audience, and our own day for it." ,
## p. 540 (#568) ############################################
540 THE BOYNE WATER.
CHAPTER XL.
Evelyn remained in Limerick, after the retreat of William's
army, most anxious for the interview with James M'Donnell,
which their last recounter led him every moment to expect.
But weeks and months passed on without any appearance of
this young man. Becoming impatient, Evelyn applied to
Sarsfield for permission to go seek him or Carolan, pledging
his parole for a punctual return to the city. He was informed
by the General that such a step would, in all probability, now
prove useless. Inasmuch as Edmund M'Donnell, or Yarnen-
ac-knuck, was known to have changed his ground of opera-
tions, from Munster and Connaught, into Leinster, in conse-
quence of the deadly hostility directed against him by the
whole of the invading army, of which the greater portion
were now formed into imitative bands of freebooters, hunting
down their prototypes, or plundering, in common with them,
the unprotected and miserable population.
Edmund's brother must necessarily have followed the wan-
derings of his senior and commander, into whatever unknown
district was, at present, the scene of their exertions or con-
cealment. Sarsfield added that, apart from the difficulty of
discovering their retreat, extreme peril would be incurred
even in the attempt; because, of all Irish Rapparees then
abroad, none had given so much cause as Yamen-ac-knuck
for the determined warfare directed against him. Influenced
by the whole of this reasoning, Evelyn gave up his intention
of leaving Limerick.
Time wore away. Another campaign was opened against
the Irish army; Ginkle being now head general of the force
of their enemies. Before the affair of Limerick, Lauzan had
accomplished his plan of re-embarking for France, himself
and his men. Tyrconnel, previously assuming, in his stead,
the chief command of James's Irish soldiers, sailed with him,
in order to negotiate, at St. Germains, a supply of arms,
clothes, provisions, and, if possible, money. While he was
yet in France, a deputation from the Irish army, composed of
some gallant officers, reached James, conveyed the first intel-
## p. 541 (#569) ############################################
THE BOYNE "WATER. 541
ligence of the siege of Limerick, and of Sarsfield's previous
exploit; remonstrating against being commanded by a man
so old and undistinguished as Tyrconnel; praying the appoint-
ment of a native Irish general of character and experience in
the field; and strongly, though indirectly, manifesting their
"willingness that Sarsfield should be that general. James
wavered; and was about to concede to their wishes, when
Tyrconnel, now aware of the object of the deputation, wrote
to him from the coast, whither he had advanced on his way
home, a letter that, in pique and dotage, inveighed against
the Irish officers, sneered at Sarsfield, and altogether urged
his master to pay no attention to the remonstrance. The
exiled King, unable to resist the appeal of his oldest servant,
but worst enemy, became, as was usual with him in cases of
difficulty, fretted and undecided; and at last took a middle
course, that he thought would calm, if it did not satisfy, all
parties of his Irish friends ; but that proved, in fact, the ruin
of his last hope of empire. Untaught by the disastrous
effects he had himself seen flow from the natural jealousy of
brave and devoted men to be commanded in their native
land by a foreigner, and regardless of their present lively
wish, as expressed in their remonstrance, he named St. Ruth
to be their general, leaving Sarsfield and Tyrconnel, about
equal in rank and authority, under him. To the former Irish
officer he forwarded, through the hands of the latter, a patent
of nobility, creating him Earl of Lucan, which he deemed
would go a good way in soothing the disappointment of Sars-
field's friends, and Sarsfield's self, at his rejection of their
prayer, and the again subjecting them to the arrogance of a
French commander. But, though the patent was accepted,
it failed in its expected good effects. The national jealousy,
kept up with, it would seem, a studious care, deprived King
James of the energies and services of his Irish army, and now
his only one; deprived him of his throne ; and deprived them
of a country.
Under the baneful influence of this jealousy, the battle of
Aughrim was fought between Ginkle and the Irish army,
who had advanced from Limerick to meet him. St. Ruth
and Sarsfield quarrelled on the field, the very night before
the struggle; the overweening hauteur of the one justly
provoking the sturdy manliness of the other. Although now
acting as confidential colleagues, the rash and insolent, yet
## p. 542 (#570) ############################################
542 THE BOYNE WATER.
brave and experienced Frenchman, carried to such a criminal
pitch his petty dudgeon, as to withhold from Sarsfield all
advice of his plans for the engagement, his disposition of the
forces, or, in case of his own fall, what was to be done, con-
sistently with previous movements and final calculations, to
insure a victory.
To the battle he went in sullen mystery. Yet he took up
his ground well, and like a good general; and, directed by
his skill, his Irish soldiers well seconded him. All historians
acknowledge this. Again and again they repulsed with great
loss the brave veterans who attacked them, remaining
unshaken in their own positions. Evening drew on, and
Ginkle was about to retire. Yet would he try a last effort;
and he was again beaten back; his whole army shook. St.
Ruth, well able to watch his time, was about to head the
charge that must have decided, for the present, the fate of
three kingdoms.
"Now," he cried, "will I drive them to the walls of
Dublin." But even as he spoke, a cannon shot struck him
dead; his troops paused, first in consternation, then in un-
certainty; Sarsfield was called on to take his place, and carry
into effect the movements he had intended. But here burst
the thunderbolt of divided councils. The Irish general, un-
aware, as has been shown, of the plans of St. Ruth, required
some minutes to cast his eye abroad, and arrange, according
to his unexpected situation, a plan of his own. While he
paused, his soldiers, checked in the ardour of a charge, and
affected by the sudden loss of their first general, cooled,
doubted, wavered. Ginkle took instant advantage of their
confusion: the field of Aughrim was lostlost, in the very
moment it had been won. The fall of a brave man, no matter
what may be his faults, must ever be a subject of regret. But
those most interested in the event we glance at, may be
excused for having felt, at the moment, how slightly did the
fate of St. Ruth expiate the vast misfortune into which his
silly self-conceit thus plunged thousands of men as brave as he.
It was not necessary for Evelyn to ask any question of the
fortune of the battle, when, soon after its close, Sarsfield, dis-
spirited and dejected, re-entered Limerick, at the head of his
still formidable army. But, in a few hours, the general cheered
up; resumed his self-possession and energies; and gave orders
to prepare for a second siege. He was cheerfully seconded.
## p. 543 (#571) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 543
No heart but the impetuous and unenduring one of Tyrconnel,
refused to respond to his yet lively hopes. And that heart
broke in puerile despair; the victim of its own re-acting im-
patience, and of the uncalculating violence of temperament
that always grasped at much, but could never take one sedate
step to accomplish even a little.
Sarsfield felt himself entitled to just grounds of hope for
ultimate success. His army was still formidable, and, at last
under his command, more effective than ever. They prepared
to meet in Limerick the same foe they had before driven from
its walls. William's affairs went on but indifferently on the
Continent. He had gone over to direct them, in person, but
returned to England without fresh laurels. His domestic
enemies, in England, were still watchful and inveterate. He
could not spare another regiment to Ireland. French fleets
rode triumphantly in the British seas. Lastly, Louis, rejecting
the statements of Lauzan, and judging for himself, by the late
instances of native Irish character, had promised to send a
considerable number of ships, bearing money, provisions, arms,
and men, to the very walls of Limerick. With these views
and prospects to stand upon, Sarsfield did not fear the ap-
proach of Ginkle. Nor, perhaps, from similar calculations,
did that general seem very sanguine of success. At all events,
acting upon the last instructions of his master, he now offered
to the Irish garrison the most honorable and advantageous
terms of surrender. They were refused. He sat down before
Limerick, and carried on, without effect, a vigorous siege.
The city was, in all directions, fired by his shells, or battered
by his cannon. The people fled from their ruined houses, into
a part of King's Island, on which no buildings stood. He made
a breach near Ball's-bridge: still without good results. His
batteries grew silent. He turned away from the breach he
had effected; removed his train and army; invested the town
from another point, at the county Clare side; crossed the
Shannon; surprised an Irish outpost, who retired in confusion
over Thomond-bridge, their French major shutting hundreds of
them out to the mercyof the pursuers, from whom they got none.
But, even yet, Limerick and its garrison were safe, and, as much
as ever, beyond his reach. Feeling this, Ginkle again proposed
the same favourable terms he had before more than once sent
in. He dreaded the approach of the promised French fleet.
But while he dreaded, his enemies despaired of his ap-
## p. 544 (#572) ############################################
544 THE BOYNE WATER.
proach. Months had passed away since the time they had
been led to expect it; but it came not. James's Irish sub-
jects despaired of his zeal, sympathy, and exertions in their
behalf. They argued that he had at last wholly deserted
his own cause and them. They were in much want of all
that the fleet was to have brought them. They began to turn
an eye to Ginkle's proposals. They said, since we are thus
left to ourselves, we will make terms for ourselves; and here,
apart from the claim of James, here are terms fully as favour-
able as those we could have expected even from him. Sarsfield
heard them with impatience, and urged perseverance to the
last. They were still willing to listen to him; still willing to
persevere. But now comes in a rather important fact, for which
James himself, and his reverend amanuensis, are authority.
The clergy (as their predecessors before had done in earlier
periods of Irish history, when Fitzstephens was before Wex-
ford, and Henry II. before Dublin, for instance) interfered,
recommending a treaty with Ginkle. This advice could not
be resisted. Even Sarsfield gave up opposition to the general
impression it at once made; and, after some preliminaries,
went out to Ginkle's camp, accompanied by an eminent Irish
lawyer, Sir Tobias Butler, Viscount Galmoy, and three
colonels, to dine with their new friend, and, at the leisure of
all, discuss and sign a treaty.
After their departure from the city, Evelyn stood on a part
of the walls that faced the country uninvested by Ginkle's
army. His thoughts and his heart were as dreary as the
October day, through whose drizzling mist he looked vacantly
over the desert landscape. Three figures, on horseback, caught
his eye, advancing rapidly to John's-gate. At a first glance,
he perceived that one was a female, riding between two men.
They drew nearer; the lady appeared to be youthful; her
companions, a young man, sitting very erect and stiff in
his saddle, and an old man, bent almost double to his horse's
neck. The steeds of all seemed jaded and soiled, as if after
a long and painful journey. Evelyn's bosom beat quick;
imagination already identified the three travellers ; although
they were yet too distant, and the misty medium too thick,
to warrant him in making any certain conclusions.
While he still gazed on them, a hasty step approached the
place where he stood; and, turning round, Evelyn saw James
M'Donnell by his side. At the same moment, two women,
## p. 545 (#573) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 545
wrapped close in the common Irish mantle, emerged, at some
distance, from the steps that led to the top of the wall, and
there stopped, as if stealthily observing him and Evelyn.
"You are found at last, sir?" said the young man, angrily.
"Say, rather, you are come at last," replied Evelyn; "I
awaited you, here, since our meeting in the hills."
"Well; perchance that, at least, is true. But you will
excuse my absence, sir; the chances of the service in which I
am engaged, deprived me of all opportunity, with due regard
to the safety of a beloved brother, to enter Limerick sooner
than this morning. Now we are met, however; and"
"Pardon me in turn. Before we speak further, how is
that brother r
"Oh, sir," with a scoffing tone, "well; and, for the first
time during this campaign, near us, in Clare, yonder. Near
those, too, who, as we speak, perhaps, have again felt the
hand they often felt before."
"Does he know of your business in Limerick?"
"No, sir. And your own knowledge of the cause of his
personal forbearance towards you, might have spared that
question; might have informed you that I would not, by
making my elder brother aware of my business, run the risk
of his commands against it."
"Well, sir, I have done questioning. Proceed, and briefly,
forI am called hence," resumed Evelyn, looking off the walls,
and assuring himself, just as a turn in the road hid them
from his view, that the three travellers were Eva, Carolan,
and Priest M'Donnell.
"You have basely wronged my sister," cried the youth.
"Never; in act, word, or thought."
"Have a care, Master Evelyn; add not renewed falsity to
great wrong."
"The warning is as vain as it is idle. But, no; there
cannotshall not be a quarrel between us. Tell me why
you charge me thus, and listen to my disproof. That must
be the only course at present."
"First, then"scarce able to curb his impatience" when
she was assailed by the blackest villain alive, amid the ruins
of her father's house, in Glenarriff, you abandoned her, like a
coward and a recreant, leaving an insolent message to be
delivered to her by your minion of the hour."
Evelyn smiled bitterly, and asked: "Who told you this V
2n
## p. 546 (#574) ############################################
546 THE BOYNE WATER.
The two women, who had been slowly advancing, were
Onagh and Moya; they now stood close to the disputants.
Onagh, holding Moya's hand in one of her's, and pointing at
her with the other, anticipated James M'Donneh"s answer,
by saying:
"This colleen told him."
The youth started, turned round, and exclaimed:
"Yes, by Heaven! that is our informant. Come hither, I
care not how, at a needful moment. Speak, woman! was
not such your story V
"Such was her lying story," interposed Onagh, "which
she is now here to gainsay."
"What!" cried James M'Donnell; "have we been prac-
tised on, indeed, by a creature like you? Were they false
tales you told us V
"Answer, Moya Laherty," resumed Onagh, while the
Rapparee girl hung her head, in silence, the hood of her
cloak half-hiding her features, but not 'disguising the mortified
or repentant tears that wetted her altered cheek, " answer, I
say," Onagh went on" speak up, as you spoke to me,
and for the reasons that made you promise to tell the truth
to others. Remember your hopes of him are past; re-
member the woe and heartbreak your stories have brought
on all; remember your sorrow for the sin; and, above all,
remember the punishment and the troubles I have shown
you I could bring down on your young head, if you go back
from the truth, and rebel against me. Say it out boldly,
Moya Laherty. Did you tell lies of this Sassenach gentleman 1"
"I did," at last replied Moya, chiefly wrought upon, per-
haps, by the threat of supernatural horrors, with which Onagh
had principally won her to her present humour.
"He did not fly, then, from the Strip of Burne, nor bid
you tell Eva M'Donnell that he was weary of the love between
them 1
"
"Nien. But while the house wos clear, an' the last o' the
Rapparees huntin' the red-coats down the glin, an', one way
or another, no one left on the flure but mysef an' the wounded
Sassenach, I pulled him out o' sight, over the thatch an' stones,
into the corner. An' when Yamen M'Daniel come back, I
tould him what ye know."
"And when I recovered from my wound you also gave me
false accounts of them 1 " asked Evelyn.
## p. 547 (#575) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 547
"Ochown, Sassenach! I did, I did," said Moya, sobbing
and weeping plentifully.
"Wretched creature !" exclaimed James M'Donnell. "The
second message you brought to my brother and sister from
Schomberg's camp, was that false too }"
Moya yielded an afflicted assent.
"But how came you by the ring and other tokens, which
you said Master Evelyn had sent back by you?"
"I think I can answer that," said Evelyn. "She came
dishonestly by them, while attending me in the disguise of an
Enniskillenerin the same way that enabled her to pin the
letter from Eva in the cover of my travelling valise."
"Och, yes, yes !" sobbed Moya. "But you never knew me,
Sassenach, a-chorra 1" i
"No, nor scarce suspected you until the last night we met
in O'Haggerty's camp. Then, however, your voice, undisguised
in passion, fully discovered you, and also showed me your
motive, Moya, for the part you were playing. But, another
question. Was the appearance of Master James M'Donnell
in the hut, after the men brought in lights, a matter arranged
between you and him 1
"
While the youth seemed impatient to answer, Moya hastily
said" I never thought, till the present moment I hear you
say it, that you saw him there. I only knew that, while I slipped
out, an' your back to the door, some one stepped in against me."
"Of her or you, Master Evelyn, I then had heard nothing,"
added James M'Donnell. "I was, by chance, a sojourner for
the night in the little encampment, on my way from England,
to seek the surviving members of my family. I heard this
woman's screams in your hut, and stepped in to ascertain the
cause. That is all."
"You visited Kensington Palace during your travel through
England from Spain, sir," observed Evelyn.
The young man started, stared, and frowned.
"Fear me not," drawing him aside, "although I saw you
sitting in the lonely seat, when you took out and kissed your
dagger; and twice afteronce, when you would have pushed
through the Dutch guards into the court, where William was
mounting for the hunt; and again, in the audience chamber,
where"
"Hush, sir! Enough. Did youor rather, how did you
know me 1"
## p. 548 (#576) ############################################
548 THE BOYNE WATER.
"I knew you not, though, in agony and despair, I thought
I did. Your great likeness to your sisterassisted by accounts
of her conduct, which yon girl told me, but which, along
with all her other stories, I am, thank Heaven, now able to
disbelieveled me into a horrible mistake of your person then
and afterwards. At Essex-gate, when the tidings of William's
landing reached Dublin; in the battle of the Boyne; and
lastly, m your island bower in Tipperary."
Scarcely attending to Evelyn's last words, the young man
bent his eyes a moment on the ground; then hastily resumed,
with a flashing glance
"You guessed my business, too 1
"
"Perchance I did," answered Evelyn.
- "If not, learn it now, sir," the youth continued fiercely.
"Chance tidings of the ruin of my family reached me abroad,
where I was supposed to have died, but where I only awaited
the end of a bad illness to return to my native country. My
blood could not choose but boil with rage and revenge. I
looked round for a victim. My eye fixed on him who was
the head and cause of all. I sailed for England, devised
plans to reach him, sought him out, had him almost within
arm's length, andcurses !missed him. Make your own
account of the story."
"You surely cannot suppose me inclined to turn it to any
account injurious to you," said Evelyn, "especially after the
explanation that has here fallen out between us 1 Are we not
friends? Are you not assured I never harboured a thought
of wronging your sister t Nay, let me add, that Eva could not
have suffered as I did ; that the deepest misery was mine. And
that no earthly prospect is so bright with happiness to me as
the hope, after one other question, of again placing on her
finger this little bond of our love and eternal union."
He drew from his bosom the marriage ring that Eva had
returned, and that, ever since, he had worn suspended round
his neck.
"Another question !" echoed James M'Donnell. "What is
it 1 Does it shape a doubt of my sister?"
"No ; but its answerif possible from her own lipswould
make me the happiest of living men."
"Your method of solution proposes an impossibility," said
the youth. "My sister has been in France since the retreat
of James from Dublinshe sailed with him."
## p. 549 (#577) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 549
"But she is not in France, now," said Onagh.
"Where then? " asked James M'Donnell.
"On the road to meet us all, in this place," replied
Onagh. "So came the word this morning to me; the word
that made me come to Limerick with Moya Laherty by the
hand."
"Who sent it?"
"The friend of her and youCarolan."
"But I know she is not on the road," cried Evelyn,
"because she is this moment within the walls we stand on
I heard the gate open to let her in."
"He speaks true," said Onagh; "look there."
Eva, supported by Carolan and old Father M'Donnell, ap-
peared coming up the steps of the wall. With a cry of joy,
James M'Donnell sprang to his sister. Evelyn was following,
when Onagh caught him back, saying, "Not yet." The
distant group conversed rapidly and energetically together j
Eva holding her eyes down, as she attentively listened to
Carolan and her brother. At last she lifted them up. They
fixed, floating in tears, on Evelyn; she stretched out her
arms; and, in a moment, was clasped to his heart.
"I hear your murmurings of joy," said Carolan, standing
erect and proud, while tears ran down his own cheeks, "and
'tis joy to me, because I have made it. I told you it was my
duty to see you righted, Mr. Evelyn; I gave you a promise
that I would. I gathered, as I said I would, the true story
from Onagh, and the wicked Moya, herself. I bore it over
the wide sea; I walked with it, alone, over the face of a wide
and strange country, God and an honest heart giving me help
and guidance on the road. I found out her whose happiness
it concerned. I told it to her; and she is here, at home,
happy again."
"Noble Carolan !" said Eva. "All is, indeed, as you hear,
dear Evelyn; many hundreds of miles, through France, did
the poor harper walk to see me. He who guides the peace-
heralding dove on her airy course, who feeds the raven in the
desert, and smoothes the path for the pilgrim, can alone say
how. Never appeared vision of sleep more doubtful to
my waking senses, than the vision of his face at my convent
grate. And well may he stand erect there witnessing
the happiness he has conferred; for there be reasons, which
you do not guess, that make his act a virtue truly."
## p. 550 (#578) ############################################
550 THE BOYNK WATER.
"Eva, Eva," said Carolan, "I am proud, indeed; but you
will praise me too much. I have done what I have done, to
make myself blessed, as well as you."
"Much sooner should my reverend guardian and myself
have obeyed his summons home, Evelyn, but that we waited
safe convoy across the seas, which at length we foundbut
more of that anon. Now, let me ask one necessary question"
advancing to Onagh and Moya" let me demand what
could have been the cause of the wicked and cruel practices
which have so long brought misery on us all. Tell me, poor
maiden, what could have set you on?'
"Tell me what has brought you, over say an' land, to
get one fond glance from his eye, one kiss from his
mouth!" answered Moya, fiercely, her impetuous nature
aroused into madness, notwithstanding her late penitence, at
sight of the true love she had so often tried to cross. "He
was my heart's wishI doated on the villain Sassenach.
Sowl an' body, here, an' to come, I'd have laid downas,
more than onct I ventured lifeto make him love poor
Moya."
"For life, indeed, I have twice been Moya's debtor," said
Evelyn to Eva, "and never shall forget it, however selfish
might have been"
"Yes, grand colleen," broke in Moya" for him I done
moredared morethan you ever didthan you can ever
do. For him I gave up kith an' kincause an' counthry
kind words for the voices o' sthrangersmy woman's mantle
for a man's battle-coat. I watched himfollowed himI
laid my head on the could earth, at his feetlook here !"
tearing open her bosom, upon which was the mark of the scar
she had received at the Strip of Burne" the pike that en-
tered here was aimed at his heart. An' nowan' now he
laves me alone for ever. Cead mille curses!" clasping her
hands, and looking up"may allBut no"suddenly
changed by one of the gusts of better feeling that alternated
with her uncurbed passions and unprincipled habits"no,
grand colleen, Moya will never pray a curse on his headnor
on yourssince he loves and likes you; she has no right.
'Twas all a wild dhrame she was in, an' maybe, as ye say, a
wicked one. You desarve the Sassenach-dhass, an' she does
not; she, the poor Bapparee's child, that hasn't a home or a
counthry even in the counthry they call their own. An' so
## p. 551 (#579) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 551
love him, an' keep by his side. Only love him as well as
Moya Lahertybe as willin' to do as much for himto give
up allto see the heart's blood run loose for himto die
contented for himlove him, that way, an' Moya will thry
to pray good, instead of bad, for you, the last black day she
livesGod be wid ye."
She turned down the steps.
"Truly," said Eva, recovering from much astonishment,
"my poor rival but tells me my duty, Evelyn. Her faults,
and the pain she has given us, must be forgotten now, and
her future comforts attended to. I have but one other ex-
planation to seek. Onagh, look upon me. I am not ignorant
of the late good services you have done me and mine; but I
cannot forget your former unprovoked hostility. Nay, its
recollection only makes as unaccountable as itself that late
kindness. You owe me a faithful account of the reasons that
urged you to cross the happiness of my brother. Give it,
faithfully and plainly; for I am told you can now speak more
plainly than you used to do."
"I can, Eva M'Donnell. But you ask me for reasons
and reasons I cannot give. As well may you ask the sea why
it crushes the ribs of the strong ship against the rock ; or the
wind why it tears up the stately tree; or the fire why it
burns; or the water why it drowns. My mind was then
without a reason for anything, most of all for that; it
dashed like the sea; roared like the wind; burned like the
fire; all with that upon it. Why I have brought sorrow to
you, I don't know. Or if I told you how I thought I had a
right to do it, you would not know my meaning. I do not
know it myself, now, in the calm hours that are restored to
me. Yet, listen to all I can tell.
"You had a brother Donald, comely as the day, light of
heart as the breeze; but as false, too. He came to this
southern country in his youth, to take care of some grounds
belonging to your family. He was formed to make women
love him; and to make all that loved him rue it sorely.
From the highest to the lowest, among those equal to him and
below him, he smiled, and had smiles in return. With the
rest, he courted young Grace Nowlanyou heard of her?
"
"I did," answered Eva. "I heard she was the handsomest
maiden in her country, of his own rank in life; and Donald's
father was glad when it was thought he would wed her."
## p. 552 (#580) ############################################
552 THE BOTNE WATER.
"Well. Grace Nowlan loved him better than her own
lifebetter than her own honour. The hour of her shame
drew on; she came weeping to Donald M'Donnell, to ask
him to do her justice: he only laughed, kissed, and left her.
Grace had brothers. They suspected her state; they gathered
round her, and asked her, with terrible threats, to tell them
the truth. She was obliged to confess all. They went away,
whispering together. In a little time, she was a mother.
Soon after she received a message from Donald, inviting her to
give him another sinful meeting. Her brothers came and
told her they knew of the message, and commanded her to
comply with it so far as to make the signal at Donald's
window, and meet him as he came out. She feared in her
heart to do as they bid her; but they frightened her into it.
So she went; alone, as she thought.
"That night, light-hearted Donald M'Donnell had a
brave company of youngsters, like himself, drinking and
singing in his house. In the middle of the night, Grace's
signal was heard by him and them, at the window. It
was the throwing of three pebbles at the glass. He said he
should leave them for a space. They laughed and bantered
him; bidding him go, and that they would stay to drink him
success.
"He went down stairs. They heard him open and shut
the door. They drank bumpers to his success, as they said
they would. They waited an hour or so, patiently, for his
return. Then another, not so patiently. Then another and
another, until the dawn of the winter's morning. But no
Donald M'Donnell came back to them."
"Nor has ever since been heard of," said Eva: "from that
hour, my poor brother was lost to us."
"From that hour!" echoed Onagh. "Did you never hear
of any little things, afterwards, that might give you a guess
as to his fate ?" -
"Never," answered Eva; "although every possible inquiry
and search were made in the country.
"But I did," continued Onagh. "In a little time, some
people began to whisper that a great clamp of turf had been
seen blazing, the same night, in a black bog near his house.
And when the curious neighbours went to scrape among the
ashes of the turf, they found two buttons of a man's coat,
half melted away. That was all."
## p. 553 (#581) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 5J
"Woman !" cried Eva, "what horrid thing would you insi-
nuate 1 Who are you?"
"Woman, yourself!" retorted Onagh, bursting, in returning
insanity, from her calm, " what right have you to speak thus
to me? But IIdidn't I see it all? When he met me at
the window, and walked me, a field or two, awaywhen my
dark brothers came up to us, one carrying the child in his
arms, and asked him to do it and their sister justicewhen
I went on my knees, begging the same thing, for now I feared
the worstwhat think you he answered ? in cruelty and
hardness of heart, what think you? That he would rather
die than wedthese were Donald M'Donnell's wordsthan
wed his own strumpetthe mother of his base bastard!
When all this was done and spoken, didn't I first see them
trample him down, till the sense left himand then tie him,
and his and my child togetherand when the clamp was
roaring, pitch them like a faggot into.it? Didn't they tie me,
too, to the stake, near it, and leave me alone by the great
blaze, while, over all its roaring, I heard the little cries of my
child, the hissing of flesh, and the crackling of bones, until
my hoarse shrieks died away in madness. Hellreal and
eternal hell was round me, and I thought it was my doom and
punishment to see, and hear, and suffer, without a tear or
groan t What know I of the rest 1 Of all that followed,
until the madness sent me, alone and by stealth, to the north,
and made believe I was bid to cross, to my life's ending, the
first love of any brother of his blood, whose hardheartedness
"had withered up my heart, like the blasted meadow of ripe
corn, when the reapers come down to cut the standing crop,
but find it already low. Reasons I give you none; I have
none to give. But often, when, in terrible shapes came
the biddings of unnatural revengewhen I started from my
lone beda knife in my handto seek my dark brothers
often, I thought a good and great voice plainly whispered
me to a better and less sinful onewhispered me to save,
from the blight that came over me through the M'Donnell's
false blood, whatever maiden any brother of their house might
try to undoto save her, even by her life's death, from her
honour's death. And along with such whispers was a pro-
mise of gifts, above mere human gifts and power, to guide me
in my course, and lead me to my end; the gift to foresee, and
foretell, and prevent. And had I not the gift and the power,
## p. 554 (#582) ############################################
554 THE BOYNE WATER.
proud Eva M'Donnell? Did I not foresee and foretell? Did
I notbut hush, hushlet me not go on in this boasting now?
There is a good God, who will give me rest and quiet, and a
clearer view of the past. Forgive me, Eva; forgive me, and
pray for my peace, and the soul of your eldest brother."
With such words, Onagh left them.
After a sorrowful pause
"Dearest Eva," said Evelyn, "what misery you prepared
for me upon the day, when, sitting over the Grey Man's Path,
you committed the unhappy mistake of reporting, as dead,
this youth, your younger brother, James."
"He has told me of some of the strange results, to your
mind, of that story," said Eva. "But how could words, or
even appearances, no matter how convincing, make you be-
lieve me capable of any act unworthy of you, Evelyn? Need
I account for my situation, from the moment we were parted
at Glenarriff? If so, here is my grey-headed guardian to tell
you, that then, separating from poor Edmund, also, I became
immediately attached to my Lady Tyrconnel's court, up to the
hour of King James's retiring to France"
"When my child, Eva, and I, left Ireland with him," added
the old priest.
"No, dear Eva, this explanation was not necessary; at
least not for my present assurance, however it might have
been afterwards sought. Alas !" he continued, "it was upon
the day already spoken of you also mentioned to me, for the
first time, the name of the elder brother, whose sad fate we
have just heard accounted for."
"It was," said Eva. "And upon that very day, too, and
while we held the discourse you so well remember, our poor
Edmund first was invited to join the wild and desperate people
his subsequent mortifications and despair drove him to asso-
ciate with. You remember the appearance of the man, in the
mist, down the path, and Edmund's leaving us to follow him?"
"I do. When we afterwards got on board the smuggling
galliot, I suspected whom he might have been."
"Doubtless. A scattered band of Rapparees at that mo-
ment were in the vessel; discontented, I believe, with their
nominal leader, Hogan. They had heard of Edmund's diffi-
culties, as brought on by the persecution of our noble cousin,
and were on the look out for him, round the coast, at the
very moment he thus met, by chance, one of their emissaries.
## p. 555 (#583) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 555
Edmund has since informed me, by letter, of these facts. And
he has written me more pleasing advice, dear Evelyn. For a
long time, his calmed and reflective spirit has spurned the
courses and habits upon which his despair and impetuosity
served to throw him, and our brother but looks for an oppor-
tunity to re-assume the rank and bearing more worthy of his
nature and nameof him and us. These times tempt a man
to much error and madness, but at last teach him much expe-
rience. James can vouch all this to you."
"I can," replied the youth, anxiously looking from the
walls; "but here is something important to us or hima
rider who has just got under shelter of the walls, and whom
I know well, makes impatient and troubled signs to me.
Hark! he enters at the gate."
In a few seconds, the Rapparee ran up the steps of the wall,
and whispered the young man.
"Say you so, by Heaven! Get our men, who are in the
town, ready, then. Haste, and let us have a trial for it.
Sister, farewell! I go to free our brother. He is in the hands
of this Ginkle, who, a hundred times, has sworn his ruin
farewell, farewell!"
He disappeared; Eva, shrieking in terror, and Evelyn, fore-
seeing the uselessness, or worse, of violence, in such a case,
vainly urging him to remain.
"No, let him goand let us follow !" cried Eva. "Have
we no friends near, to intercede with this merciless man?
Where is Sarsfield?
"
"In the camp, with Ginkle," answered Evelyn.
"In the camp? what camp 1 What .does he there V
"He has gone out to sign a treaty for the surrender of
Limerick."
"Surrender !" screamed Eva, starting up; "misery upon
misery! private and public ruin together! Come, Evelyn,
protect me to this camp; now there is a double cause why we
should be thereto save a brother, and a country! Come, I
have arguments to try for both. Surrender? Why V
"The disappointment of the fleet from France"
"Disappointment of the fleet? Come away. Disappoint-
ment! I have news to match thatyour arm, Evelyn. Oh,
dearest Evelyn! God grant there arise here no new and
eternal cause for our separation, indeed. But should injury
come on Edmundinjury in life or prospectswhat can a
## p. 556 (#584) ############################################
556 THE BOYNE WATER.
wretched sister do but for ever mourn over it, or dedicate
herself for ever to sooth it! Be a friend to us, heaven !" she
cried, as, with Evelyn, she hastened down the wall, waving
her hand to old Priest M'Donnell to stay by Carolan's side,
whose troubled features told the torture with which he heard
the announcement of the new misfortune.
"While the conversation we have detailed occurred on the
walls of Limerick, Sarsfield and his colleagues sat down,
in Ginkle's tent, to a dinner as dainty as the situation
and all circumstances would allow. He found, in the Dutch
general, a pleasing specimen of his country; blunt, and matter-
of-fact, indeed, but more courteous and animated than any of
the same nation he had before seen. A portly, full-breasted,
middle-aged man, holding himself very erect and bluff, and
his broad face, and wide, though not disagreeable features,
wearing a constant smile, that almost approached to a smirk.
At his side were other Dutch, English, and French officers,
and William's justices ; together with Dr. Dopping and
Colonel Lloyd.
The repast proceeded in good humour, and mutual and a
sincere show of that respect and good-will which fair foes
always entertain for each other. It was done; bumpers
were filled, healths toasted, and hands clasped in fellow-
ship, whose duty it had a moment before been to point
the sword at one another's hearts. Then, General Ginkle
proceeded to business. He led the whole party from his
tent to a spot, at the county Clare side of Thomond-
bridge, almost, it might be said, in sight of both armies.
There, pausing near a huge stone, he drew out a fair copy
of the treaty of surrender, which had before been dis-
cussed and agreed to. Having conned it over, he handed it
to the justices, and when they had done reading it, to Sars-
field, saying, that he believed Lord Lucan would find it suffi-
cient for honorable men at any time to accept, and especially
calculated to give security in property, immunity for the
past, freedom in religion, eligibility to political place and
rank. In a word, quiet and liberty to the Catholics of
Ireland.
Sarsfield, having attentively perused the document, said
that its provisions appeared to him so calculated; and he
passed it to his legal adviser, Sir Toby Butler. The barrister
gave it a renewed approval, and handed it round.
## p. 557 (#585) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 55T
"We cannot be certain," added Sir Toby, "that with such
unusual despatch, and amid so much warm discussion, we-
shall be able to frame to the very letter, an instrument in
which some ingenious knave may not pick a hole. But we
understand that the spirit of this treaty shall be kept with us."
"And so should all understand," replied Ginkle. "The
paper but keeps the promises I before held out, and for
which I have often received the commands of my royal
master."
"And you, General Ginkle, engage for King William^
that he will speedily ratify it," resumed the lawyer.
"His Majesty empowers me to do so," answered Ginkle.
"Come, then," cried Sarsfield, checking a stifled sigh; " let
us sign, in the name of God and of our countryin the name
of honesty and good faith."
"I sign, in that pledge," said Ginkle, laying the paper on
the adjacent stone, and, as he knelt, the better to speed his
task, attaching his signature thereto. As he motioned his
other generals to draw near for the same purpose, a great
uproar was heard towards the camp. They severally took
the pen, however; and Sarsfield at last rose, while the tumult
increased, also approached the stone, and knelt; remarking it
was, by accident, a good position for the act. He was
beginning to write, when Eva M'Donnell, haggard and
agitated, ran up, crying, "Hold your hand, my Lord of Lucan,
and hark a word from me."
"A mad woman," said Dr. Dopping; "let her be put
aside;" though, while he spoke, he looked, in significant
alarm, at Colonel Lloyd. Sarsfield had glanced up; but
resumed his writing, and hastily finished his signature.
"Not so mad, either, as he who will not forbear, at my
request," cried Eva.
"What now? what now?" asked Sarsfield, advancing to-
her, as the other Irish officers subscribed their names.
"Perhaps you do not know me, my lord; yet might you
have seen Eva M'Donnell in the Castle of Dublin."
"Miss M'Donnell! I do indeed remember. Can I do you
a service?"
"My lord, you can; but firstalthough a brother's life
nearly hangs on itserve your country, my Lord of Lucan f
Suffer not the full signatures to be put to this treaty, for,"
she added, in a close and hissing whisper, "Chateau Renault
## p. 558 (#586) ############################################
558 THE BOTXE WATEB.
this moment sails with a brave fleet from Dingle Bay to Lime-
rick. I crossed to Ireland with him, and my private need
not brooking delay when he touched on the coast, rode hither
since yesterday."
"Let no other man sign V cried Sarsfield, turning round
to the officers.
"Praises to the Lord!" said Dr. Dopping, clapping his
hand on the document, "the last name is written, hereon."
"Mighty God!" exclaimed Sarsfield, stamping, as he in-
stinctively grasped his sword, "is all lost, then, and the game
in our very hand? Hither, gentlemen! hither V
The Irish officers gathered round him; and, in vehement
whispers, he told the news.
"Let us back to the town," said John Grace.
"Yes," said another, "the gates are still shut, and we can
hold them so, as we have done."
Ginkle and his officers also drew aside, and whispered with
each other.
"You would break this treaty, even in the same hour you
sign it, my Lord Lucan," said Col. Lloyd.
"As perfidious Papists ever did," added the Bishop of
Meath.
The Irish officers returned angry and ominous scowls for
these home chargesall but Sarsfield. He stood aloof from
them, his eyes buried in the earth. He looked around, as if
to take an inspiring view of that country, the question of
whose subjection or independence tugged at the foundations
of his sense of private honour. He panted; he sighed,
quickly and laboriously; his forehead grew moist; his cheek
alternately red and pale; while, with the point of his scab-
bard, he unconsciously dug at the sod on which he stood.
The remarks of Ginkle's party growing louder, he started,
suddenly; listened a moment; held himself more erect;
smiled bitterly; and turning on his heel to them, said
"Nay, gentlemen, be not so quick, nor so hard with us.
You, Colonel Lloyd, be merciful, in particular; for though
your city of Deny sent a shot in King James's face, when it
was expected to keep a treaty with him, yet shall this treaty
stand. Though an ally's fleet, bearing us help enough to hold
all Ireland in our hands, be now entering the mouth of the
Shannon, yet shall it stand. Though our country be lost to
usthough we bid farewell to her for everthough she
## p. 559 (#587) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 559
xist for us, but in our recollections and our sorrows;"a
manly tear glazed his eye" yet shall it stand. And so, fare
you well, gentlemen. We cannot save even our country at
the price of our honourof that honour, which, along with
our love and efforts for her, alone makes us worthy of being
called her children. Farewell, I say. Keep ye your part of
this covenant as well as we keep ours, and there needs no
ill-blood between us. Come, brother-soldiersyet, forgive
me, if I stumble on a doubt. They who suspect much of
others, can scarce ever promise much for themselves. Come,
Miss M'DonnellGeneral Ginkle, I mean not you, whose
fair-dealing is evident through all this matterbut Ireland is
governed at home, sir, when her masters turn their backs.
Adieu, sirfollow gentlemenMiss M'Donnell, with you
God of nations! God of freedom !" he added, as they turned
away, "what a sore chance is this !" and he wept convulsively.
"General Sarsfield," cried Eva, as the tumult, before
heard, and afterwards gone off, was renewed" since you
can no longer raise an arm for your country, aid me, oh,
aid me, to save my brother! my brothers!" Sarsfield started
in much interest. Eva rapidly explained that Edmund,
having fallen into the hands of Ginkle's soldiers, had been
ordered to be shot; that James M'Donnell, rashly and madly
trying to rescue him, had of course but shared his fate; that
Evelyn, passing with her from Limerick, had flown on to the
outpost, to gain, if possible, a moment's delay, while she, re-
cognising Sarsfield, remained to crave his intercession with
Ginkle. Sarsfield, having heard her story, darted back to
GinkleEva onward.
She gained, wild with terror, yet not bereft of hope, the
spot on which her brothers stood. Edmund and James
M'Donnell, the former supported by Evelyn, were in motion
towards a clear space of ground; a rank of soldiers standing
behind them. Evelyn, as he passed his hand round Edmund's
waist, smote his forehead with the other, and often looked
back. Eva, unchecked by the officer, ran in through the
soldiers, and clasped her arms round her brothers: "Hope,
hope !" she cried" you mustyou shall be saved! this can
never be! One moment, officer! only one moment, till my
Lord of Lucan"
While she spoke, Ginkle and Sarsfield rode up. The
general had pleaded, as if for the lives of two sons. They
## p. 560 (#588) ############################################
560 THE BOYNE WATER.
were instantly pardoned. The ensuing scene must be
imagined.
One condition accompanied, however, the grace to the
brothers, namely, that they should transport themselves out
of Ireland. When Eva heard this, from the lips of Evelyn, her
brow fell towards himshe was silent. Then she brightened
up, and vowed, as she had before intimated, to join herself
to her brother's wanderings, and own no other care or
duty. Evelyn heard her in despair.
Sarsfield soothed Edmund, promising to take the same
vessel with him, and give him a command when his Lucan
regiment should be re-incorporated on the Continent. All
was now nearly over. Limerick opened its gates to King
William; and the next day the French fleet entered the
riverthe fleet only doomed to transport the defenders of
Ireland to a foreign shore, though it had come to restore
them to their country. The whole Irish army was reviewed
by William's generals and justices, and solicited to pass into
his service, the officers retaining their rank. About a thou-
sand did so; many thousands more marched to embark for
France at Cork: the rest sailed from Limerick. It was
a sad scene, that strange embarkation. No adieus were
exchanged with remaining friends, by the emigrantswith
brothers, sisters, or wives. Friends, of every sex and age,
exiled themselves together. They had only to stand on
the decks of their vessels, and look a long adieu to their
country.
Our friends experienced the sole struggle that day seen.
Sarsfield, and some brother-officers, Edmund and James
M'Donnell, Eva, Evelyn, and Carolan, all walked together to.
the river's edge. One after the other they stepped into the
boat, until it came to Eva's turn.
"And do you, indeed, leave me, with but this mocking
symbol of an eternal fate, once solemnly sworn at the altar V
asked Evelyn, catching her arm, as, blinded in tears, she
also put her foot on the boat, and he showed her marriage
ring.
"Have you considered well, Eva?" asked Edmund. "God
knows, your presence would be the only joy of our exile.
But, if you love your husband, stay by his side; I should
not be a brother or a Christian to say you otherwise. Ex-
amine your heartcall upon your God; and if a great duty
## p. 561 (#589) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 561
promptswhy, then, Eva, ask Him to bless usand so,
fare you well, Evasisterorphan sisterfare you well!"
For the day before, Eva had evidently been shaken in her
stern resolve, as well by the pleadings of Evelyn as by her
own reflections. Now she hesitated, her foot still on the boat.
The rowers spoke of putting off. Her husband grasped her
hand, and replaced, unseen by any, the ring on her finger.
Her brothers, not displeased, nor, on her account, sorry, saw
which way God and woman's nature at last swayed her.
They embraced their sister; she clung, sobbing, and almost
shrieking, to them. The boat was about to move; her hus-
band caught her in his arms. The boat put off; and now she
clung to him.
"Farewell, Evafarewell, Evelynfarewell, Carolan
farewell, Ireland!" cried the brothers, as the rowers pulled
hard. Carolan was on the bank; all hands had before been
clasped with his. Now he struck his little harp. It was an
extemporaneous and touching air he played.
"Farewell, the ashes of my first and only love !" Edmund
M'Donnell was heard to add; and they were his last words
parting from his country.
"Farewell, Mr. Evelyn," said Sarsfield, grasping his hand.
"To you, and such as you, we look for the observance of this
treaty of Limerick, which, if observed, will give her exiles the
consolation of knowing that Ireland, though not a free, is a
peaceful country, and may grow to be a happy one."
"It will be observed, my Lord Lucan," answered Evelyn.
It was not.
Years wore away without any direct communication from
the exiles to their friends in Ireland, the political distraction
between England and the Continent not favouring such. At
last came epistles from Edmund to his sister and her husband.
Of the latter the following is an extract:
"Evelyn, I am shaken with a sudden and terrible grief;
but of that anon. What do I hear, Evelyn? Is it true what
I hear? That treaty, on the faith of which brave and deter-
mined menoften victorious, and, at its signing, well sup-
portedcast down their arms, content to spare their country's
blood in giving her peace; that treaty, upon the faith of
which a whole army became aliens from their country, when
they might have been conquerors on her bosom. If, indeed,
the rumour that has reached ua speak truly, answer me,
2 o
## p. 562 (#590) ############################################
562 THE BOYNE WATER.
Evelyn. On what pretence has it not been kept? Give me
every information. Who are they that have failed to keep it?
Has William refused 1 Did he not engage, through Ginkle, to
ratify it 1 Let me know who are the false knaves, that their
names may be accursed in the mouths of the gallant men, by
whose side I have been sent to gather, in a strange land, the"
laurels denied to me in my own. Let us know them, that,
though far from Ireland, and from all hope of serving her, wi
may soothe our tears of wrath and shame by the burning hatred
we will swear to keep for Ireland's betrayers.
"And not only the treaty has not been kept, as still I hear.
not only Irishmen are not continued in the political rights and
the security as to religion and lands, which it promised, but
additional persecution has been levelled against thempains,
and penalties, and proscriptions, that the blood boils but to
think of. Answer me, Evelyn. I will not believe these thing*
till you authorise me so to do.
"But, even though you gainsay my fears, what matters it
now to me 1 Oh, I am torn with a sorrow that makes me
indifferent to your tidings while I ask for them, or only pre-
pares me to meet them with raving execration. Ireland's
noblest son, Sarsfield, is dead. I was by his side when he fell,
victorious, with his Irish brigade, in the midst of a defeated
army. 'Ireland, this is not for you,' he said, and died. And
the ball that pierced his heart shattered a heart already bro-
ken. The rumours about which I now write to you, had
previously struck him down with rage, shame, remorse, and
despair. He called himself the destroyer of his countryher
destroyer for having, with the sword in his hand, trusted
her peace and happiness to that treaty. I have heard him
pray that, now she was degraded and wretched, and he unable
to assist her, he might no longer live. The night before the
battle in which he fell, he asked, with tears and groans, to he
dead upon its field. Answer me, Evelyn.
"Ed. M'D."
Part of Evelyn's answer ran thus:
"No, dear Edmund, it has not been kept. . It is equally
true, that additional wrong has been added to its violation.
William was not the faithbreaker. He ratified the treaty,
as his general had promised for him, a few months after your
departure; and more he could not do against a Parliament
## p. 563 (#591) ############################################
THE BOYNE WATER. 565
that has ever been -wrangling with him,* and against the
violence of those persons who, here in Ireland, urged that
Parliament to disallow the solemn act of their Sovereign.
In shame and regret that, as an Irish Protestant, I must
naturally feel, it is my duty to answer you more particularly.
You had scarce sailed, when the most of your Protestant
countrymen cried out against the treaty, as too honorable
and favourable to your party. Declaring that you merited to
lose your properties, instead of having them secured to you,
and that they, meantime, merited to possess them. De-
nouncing the toleration of your religion. Slandering your
bravery. Denying your successes. Even condescending to
censure the arrangement that, at the capitulation, allowed you
to march out of Limerick with the honours of war. And I
blush particularly to recount, that the spiritual guides amongst
us, whose voices, if ever raised on such subjects, ought to be
raised for peace, good-will, and good-faith, have been the
loudest and most effective in promoting the sectarian rancour,
dishonourable views, and bad policy, that furnishes you with
just ground of complaint. It was my painful, andI will
adddegraded lot, to hear, the other day, a sermon in Christ's
Church, Dublin, preached by Dr. Dopping, Bishop of Meath,
against your treaty, and the fulfilment of your treaty. To
hear the doctrine plainly laid down, under the assumed and
blasphemed authority of God, that faith was not to'be kept
towards you. Such is the spirit, that operating upon Parlia-
ment, has produced a result tfnjust and perfidious to you,
Edmund, and inglorious and afflicting to me.
"But let us not despair. Other times will naturally create
another spirit; when, if only to redeem the memory of their
fathers, the children of my erring friends will repair this
fault. From the present hour, Ireland must become a united
country, fairly and nobly rivalling England in all that makes
England truly great, or remain, for ages, a province of Eng-
land, poor, shattered, narrow-minded, contemptible, and,
party with party as she stands, contemned by the world, and
by England, too. A little time will teach this lesson. When
it is taught, the union indispensable to avoid the evil will be
* A Parliament, whose opposition to every measure recommended
by William, is said, even by Smollett, to have "savoured more of
clownish obstinacy than of patriotism."Note by A. O'H.
## p. 564 (#592) ############################################
664 THE BOYNE WATER.
endeavoured by a recantation of old slanders, and a conces-
sion of old rights. Man cannot always be unjust to man.
Even for his own relative character and happiness, he will
love and do all befitting and merited honour to his brother.
At least I believe and hope the principle is in his nature.
"In the great country of England, there must also arise a
feeling to right the present wrong to which it has just lent
itself. For, without her affirmation, the wrong could not
have been committed. The descendants of the men who have
sanctioned, and by that means caused the deliberate breach of
their own treaty, made in the field, will awake to vindicate, as
far as in them lies, the name of their ancestors. A son,
jealous of his father's honour, pays his father's debts, even to
a common creditor. Englishmen will yet pay their fathers'
debt of faith to Ireland. The treaty of Limerick will yet be
kept.
"Farewell, dear Edmund. Eva writes for herself. I try
to make her happy; but she thinksshall I say too often 1
of you and James, and of the degradation of her country, and
I do not always succeed. The death of that brave man has
given her a terrible shock; but she will tell you her own
feelings. Farewell. A little Edmund Evelyn can already
hear us talk about you, his namesake. There is also, dear
Edmund, a little Esther, who, poor Eva thinks, is like her
you loved so truly. And a little James, whobut I have
done, for I have a conscience. God bless you.
"Robert Evelyn."
## p. 565 (#593) ############################################
NOTES TO THE BOYNE WATER.
NoteTo Close the Boyne Water.
This tale of the "Boyne Water" being from my brother's pen, and
the action being placed, for the most part, on ground with which I am
personally unacquainted, the notes are therefore limited ; and a few ex-
tracts from letters of the writer of the tale, written while it progressed
under his hands, may not be uninteresting. They will serve to illus-
trate the manner in which he and I co-operated on this, as well as on
other occasions. The letters from which I quote, refer as well to domestic
concerns as to the tale. The portions alluding to the tale I transcribe.
"London, 24th August, 1825.
"My Dear Michael, To-morrow morning I leave for
Prance, to convey Ellen home to England. I will jog her to Paris to
make her laugh and rub her eyes, and, indeed, to get a little recreation
for myself, as I have been absolutely fagged since I saw you.
"I, as well as you, have broken the ice with my new venture; and
if you make boast of your three chapters, I hereby intimate a volume of
360 pages entirely written, other two volumes planned outthe tackle
in the loom ready for the shuttle. So, doing this along with other
things, I trust you will not call me an idler.
"Do you know I think I shall write one of your volumes after all.
A thing connected with R. Emmet's insurrection. A story, and capital
characters and situations for it, have come into my noddle. Will you
let me? When do you hope to be done with two vols.? Answer me that
question as distinctly as you can. When you get this you will have
returned from Limerick, and a letter from you will, I expect, meet me
when I come back from France. I am sure you have done all I could
wish as well if not better than myself. "John Banim."
"London, November, 6, 1835.
"My Dear Michael,When you read the letter that Nicholas
Buckley takes you, separate from this, you will see I am not really the
defaulter you must have long ago supposed me to be. Upon the day
of its date he had that letter from me, solemnly assuring me (even
Nicholas's jokes are solemn) he was to leave London the next morning.
Of course I comforted myself with the idea that you had heard from
me some time since, when, yesterday, to my utter astonishment, I saw
the gentlemanwhere, and how employed think you ?sitting on the
steps of St. Paul's Church, surrounded by the din and deafening clamour
of perhaps the most clamorous spot in all London, unconscious, appa-
rently, of the noise and turmoil around him, intent on the perusal of a
newspaper of no recent date.
"Youarenot, I suppose, ignorant thatourtownsman, Nicholas, came to
London ostensibly to realize whatever he might be entitled to out of his
late brother's property. Up to this, I believe, his receipts have been very
little ; whatever they have been, I think they have been spent, not on
the dissipations or amusements of London, but in carrying out a plan
most originally conceived, andexecuted industriously and determinately.
He resolved to become intimately acquainted with every inch of this
vast city. Not only with the most prominent and most attractive
features, but with every court, and lane, and alley, the most out of
## p. 566 (#594) ############################################
566 NOTES TO THE BOYNE WATER.
public view, and with every phase of life, going as high as he could
reach, and as low as he could descend. The more effectually to prose-
cute this his purpose, he proceeded thus: he tenanted a cheap lodging
in one locality, employed a week or more prowling everywhere in the
neighbourhood, within a day's leisurely-walking distance of his head-
quarters; and when his circuit of examination had been thoroughly
examined, he shifted his residence to another neighbourhood, and went
on as before, not dwelling more than a week in one place.
'' His small funds have been at length so exhausted, that he assures me
he has been subsisting for the last fortnight on some faranaceous pre-
paration he calls 'breakfast powder' and dry bread, his average daily
expenditure for food being threepence! I verily believe he knows more
about London than many born Londoners residing all their lives within
the bills of mortality.
"It appears that after he had left me, with the conviction on my
mind that he was to depart for home the next day, he recollected that
his knowledge of some particular locality was not to his satisfaction, so
he took lodgings in a central point, and subsisting ascetically on his
'breakfast powder and bread,' prosecuted his researches; my letter,
which I supposed to be in your hands, in his pocket all the while. He
now pledges his conscience that he is to be off direct for Kilkenny
to-morrow, and I again trust him.
"I have altered my mind about sending you the novel in its entire
state. Herewith you have one volume. I am obliged to be thus incon-
sistent with the resolution expressed in the accompanying letter,
because I must go to press a month from this day. So read it imme-
diately, my dear Michael, and promptly return it. Moreover, do me
the favour to make notes on separate slips of paper, paged in reference
to the MS. page, and placed loose in the leaves. Whenever you see,
or rather feel, an opening, write over a sentence or phrase in your own
idiom, or add a touch of your humour, or substitute yours for mine.
"In your criticisms be very blunt and plain, but shorta hint is
enough on any point, because we understand each other so perfectly.
"Write me back with the volume a letter, in your own character,
anticipatory of the objections likely to be made by partymen on either
side, saying anything that strikes you ; and when this comes to hand, I
shall work an introduction out of it. All this, my dear Michael, is to be
effected within a fortnight after the volume reaches you. You will not
fail to tell me candidly your general opinion of this volume. It is only
right that I should know myself; and do not you, at least, through a
false delicacy, allow me to lead myself astray.
"And observe, Mr. Abel O'Hara, the letter in answer to this is penned
by you two days after you got the MS., and have given it the first
reading. I shall be most anxious for your letter; and do not disappoint
me. "JohnBanim.
"London, January 11, 1826.
",Still go on with your criticisms in the tone hitherto
adopted. Do not fall to work to give me praise through a brotherly
feeling; do not spare me : the more severe, the more friendly will you
be. You cannot disguise your sentiments so as to escape detection:
and the moment I perceive a want of sincerity, there is an end of our
confidence. No, no, I say again; do even as you have done; for my
sake, for my dearest interest sake, ever do so with me; otherwise, I
## p. 567 (#595) ############################################
NOTES TO THE BOYNE WATER. 567
cannot again have the advantage of your advice and help, and should
go on, not seeing or knowing myself. Proceed now in the name of
God, and like a brother and a man act your part.
"Thank God you were so happy at Christmas, the father so fatherly,
and the poor mother able to sit up and be with you. We, too, drank
your healths at home on that day. "John Banim."
"London. March 13, 1826.
",I hope your favourable thoughts of tne Third Volume are
not kindly meant as a salvo to make up for your previous hard knocks.
However this may be, I am convinced you are wrong in one particular,
namely, as to your conception of Sarsfield. Your own words condemn
you. You say: 'Without veritable grounds for my conception of
him, I had imagined him almost a hero of romance, and expected
his acts and words to fit that character.'
"This could not be, my dear Michael; he was a plain, matter-of-fact
man, devoted, soul and body, and unflinchingly, to his cause, brave,
enterprising, vigorous ; nothing beyond this. Have you ever seen his
portrait. Very unlike in feature and in bearing to a 'hero of romance.'
You told me on a former occasion you liked my description of him
at Johnstown. In that description I wished to give such a person as
I afterwards strove to delineate more in detail. I was desirous to give
Sarsfield without fictitious or imaginative decoration.
"Will you, like a good fellow, work somewhat quicker? The press is
at a standstill, and we must not, unnecessarily, lose a moment.
"You mistake about the Third Volume being hastily written. I gave
it thrice as much time as any of the others. "John Banim."
NoteIntroductory Letter, Page x.
My brother here alludes to cases of close resemblance, known to both
of us. There were, in Kilkenny, when we were lads, two remarkable
instances of this, as it may be called separate identity.
Paris and Louis Ann, twin brothers, were so alike, that during
their infancy their own father was unable to distinguish between them;
constantly mistaking the one for the other, and, as their elder brother
assured me, occasionally punishing Louis for the misdeeds of Paris, and
trouncing Paris for the backslidings of Louis. At night, when the two
boys were abed, Roger Ann frequently required his wife's attendance,
directing her to point out the child called Paris, and then the child called
Louis. After stooping anxiously over them, and comparing them and
studying them, while they quietly slept, he invariably went away, his
doubts still strong on him, pronouncing his wife a witch, and declaring
his inability, after the closest scrutiny, to say "which was which."
The dissatisfied, testy man making no allowance for the maternal in-
stinct that bestowed a supernatural clearsightedness on the matter.
Paris and Louis grew up, even to their manhood, fac-similes of each
other, so much so, that if an intimate of theirs met Paris and accosted
him, and at some paces farther encountered Louis, he would have been as
puzzled as was their father. During their period of wooing, it was said
that they took a pleasure in perplexing their respective mistresses, and
people went so far as to aver, that even after marriage it was some
time before the wives were actually certain as to ownership.
Contemporaneous with Paris and Louis Ann, were Ned and Billy
## p. 568 (#596) ############################################
568 NOTES TO THE BOYNE WATER.
Glad well. These were twin brothers too. Paris and Louis Ann were
tall, shapely, remarkably handsome fellows, and one might suppose
that nature, pleased with her handiwork in the one case, had cast the
Becond in the same mould as the first. But no such inducement could
be imagined for forming Ned and Billy Gladwell in duplicate. Ned
Gladwell did not much exceed five feet in height; and were Billy Glad-
well placed back to back with his brother Ned, half the breadth of a
hair's difference in stature could not be detected. They were both of
them bullet-headed, with almost circular faces and little pug noses,
anxious looking, but manifestly stupid little creatures they were, with
the same muddy, leaden look from the eyes of both, and the same droop
in the under lip.
If Ned and Billy Gladwell were dwarfish, they were rotund of shape;
and were a measuring tape to circumscribe them at any or every point,
at the chest, round their little paunches, or at the hips, the girth of
Ned and Billy would be found to agree accurately. The one moved with
a peculiar waddling gait, as if infirm of limb; so did the other. Both
squeaked out their words as they spoke, intoned to the same piping
pitch, whether in colloquy, or merriment, or vexation. Each of the
brothers Gladwell may have been conscious of his own identity, but
beyond yea or nay the certainty was confined to themselves, all the rest
of the world dubious.
Ned and Billy Gladwell were both of them waiters at the same time, and
at the same innthe Sheaf Inn it was called, then the principal place of
entertainment in our city; and they owed the permanency of their em-
ployment to their singular and remarkable identity. I could learn that
the guests at the "Sheaf " were often at fault, from the impossibility of
distinguishing Ned from Billy, or Billy from Ned; the orders given to
Ned ignored by Billy, and the gratuity placed in the palm of Billy
ignored by Ned. Billy and Ned were a source of never-ending amuse-
ment, in fact. As such they were an attraction ; they drew customers
to "The Sheaf Inn ;" and people came out of their way to look at them,
and be puzzled by them ; and so they were retained as waiters there as
long as the establishment existed.
One of the Gladwells, whether Billy or Ned I will not undertake to
certifyhe might take whichever of the names he pleased without fear
of .detectiou as a personatorone of the Gladwells was alive a few
years since. At his death he was the inmate of a charitable asylum,
where servants past their labour end their days in peace.
NoteChapter V., Page 63.
As a fact bearing on a disputed question, which has to some extent
occupied the literary world, I think I am called on to state here, that
the Ossianic remnant embodied in the tale is the literal translation of a
poem recited in the Irish tongue for my brother, while he travelled
through the county Antrim. And the transcriber assured me, that
numerous relics of the same character could be obtained in the same
locality.
THE END.