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 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 a sofad. 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT S. CARTER, ESQ 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 THOMAS CAUTLEY NE¥BY, PUBLISHER, 
 
 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 
 1855.
 
 S^3 
 
 V.l 
 
 TALBOT HALL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 .. Towards the close of a hot September day in 
 
 ^1846, the mail steamer from Calais came run- 
 
 ^ ning into Dover harbour at top speed, as if eager 
 
 ^ to get rid of a crowd of passengers, whose incessant 
 
 ~: pacing to and fro on her oaken breast seemed to 
 
 ^'' be the cause of her oppressed and thick breathing. 
 
 There still remained on board, after the 
 
 ^ greater portion had landed, a young man whose 
 
 J mien and carriage were particularly graceful,* 
 
 a smile appeared to play beneath the features of 
 
 - his thoughtful face, seldom coming to its hand- 
 
 « VOL. I. B 
 
 -4 
 
 v>
 
 2 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 some sm^face. His hair, which approached to 
 brown, curled short from beneath a travelling 
 cap, and was parted at the back of the head 
 with an easy care that bespoke nothing of fop- 
 pishness. He stood close to a travelling carriage, 
 and by his side was a tutor, whose style of dress 
 told he w^as a clergyman. The equipage was 
 scarce landed before posters were put to, and the 
 travellers, without any further delay, proceeded 
 to the railway station, on their way to London. 
 
 With Mr. Butterworth and Hervey was a 
 French valet and a young page, the expression 
 of whose countenance was sweet, sly, and soft; 
 the features very prepossessing and ever varying, 
 now laughing, and now again almost sad. 
 
 A few minutes before the train was ready for 
 starting, the clergyman, after looking hard at an 
 elderly gentleman with silvery white hair, ex- 
 claimed, " Mr. Harding ! have you forgotten 
 your curate?" 
 
 '' My curate," repeated the old man, staring 
 at him. 
 
 "Butterworth — am I so changed?"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 3 
 
 " Biitterworth !" ejaculated the elder, grasp- 
 ing his hand warmly, "I never should liave known 
 you, why, you have the rotundity of a bishop," 
 then, becoming serious, " I had almost forgotten 
 that you had been on the Continent for seven- 
 teen years." 
 
 *' Speak low," said the tutor, almost whispering. 
 
 " I trust, Butterworth, that you have acted 
 the just steward, and that you are prepared to 
 give a true and faithful account of your charge. 
 Did you ever get any further clue to his — " 
 glancing towards Hervey. 
 
 ^' Hush," whispered the tutor; for the young 
 man stood close by their side. 
 
 '* And where are you travelling to now?" 
 resumed the vicar, changing the subject. 
 
 ** We are to winter in Ireland, on a visit to a 
 family of the name of Talbot; I have made up 
 my mind not to pry into the mystery," then, 
 scarce above his breath, " I fear that my hand- 
 some young friend is — " the remainder was 
 rendered inaudible, but to the listener, by the 
 engine yelling an impatient call. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 With a sigh they shook hands, parting sor- 
 rowfully. 
 
 Snatches of railway sleep the tutor and his 
 pupil stole as the train rushed from Dover to 
 London at wild speed, ever and again uttering 
 an unearthly shriek, as if to scare death away 
 in the dead stillness of night. 
 
 It was after being startled by one of these 
 piercing cries that Mr. Butterworth asked of his 
 pupil, if he had any recollections of the great 
 city they were approaching. 
 
 A cloud came over Hervey's face; he drew 
 back to conceal the flusb that stole to his forhead. 
 In silence they travelled on. 
 
 When they reached London, their first visit 
 was to a solicitor, through whom the younger 
 man received his remittances. From him, there- 
 fore, he hoped to hear something that would 
 clear the mystery by which he had been sur- 
 rounded from his early boyhood. 
 
 When they reached Mr. Tune's office, the 
 houses in the narrow thoroughfare threw back 
 on their opposite neighbours, a shade deep and
 
 TALBOT HALL. 5 
 
 sombre; within each burnt a gas light, which, 
 in broad day, gave to tlie clerks a sickly hue. 
 An old grey-headed man handed them a couple 
 of stools, polished by many a restless client, and 
 asked the gentlemen to be seated whilst he an- 
 nounced them to his employer. 
 
 The solicitor requested they would walk into 
 his private room. Hervey alone entered and 
 remained closeted with him some time, during 
 which Mr. Tune politely avoided giving any 
 direct reply, merely stating that he acted as the 
 legal agent of the Gordon family, and that he had 
 been strictly enjoined, in remitting any sums Mr. 
 Hervey chose to draw, to give no explanation; 
 he, therefore, trusted his visitor would kindly 
 refrain from putting any questions. 
 
 Hervey, colouring, replied that he would en- 
 croach no further on Mr. Tune's time, and, 
 bowing rather haughtily, left the room. 
 
 Meantime, a red-headed apprentice, a sharp-look- 
 ing lad of about eighteen, addressed Mr. Butter- 
 worth, who had preferred waiting for his friend 
 in the office. "From Italy, sir, — I think the
 
 b TALBOT HALL. 
 
 other o'entleman said, lately arrived from the 
 Continent." 
 
 When Mr. Butterworth had replied in the 
 affirmative, the lad thonght for a moment, then 
 put a leading question. 
 
 " You are probably concerned in the affair 
 
 of who shall I say ?" 
 
 The tutor in the simplest manner replied, 
 *^ The Gordon family." 
 
 The apprentice eyed him cunningly, then said 
 in a low voice, " I am pretty sharp, but there is 
 something in their papers out of the common, 
 for I can't come at the ins and outs — and more, 
 our governor never but once put me to copy 
 them, he always does it himself, since he saw me 
 reading them over carefully — there is a screw 
 loose." 
 
 At this part of the conversation Mr. Tune 
 and Hervey returned. 
 
 *' Did you speak, sir?" asked the apprentice, 
 pretending to turn suddenly towards Mr. Butter- 
 worth, to whom he winked. 
 
 Astounded at such coolness, Mr. Butterworth
 
 TALBOT HALL. 7 
 
 reddened, as if the solicitor had caught him in 
 some unfair prying, *' I speak ? — you were 
 asking — " 
 
 '' Yes, sir,'' interrupted the lad, unabashed, 
 '* I took the liberty of asking what kind of a 
 passage you had, as my cousin was crossing," 
 frowning a hint. Hervey, who could see the 
 lad's face, which , was concealed from his em- 
 ployer, hurried his tutor away. Scarce had 
 they got into the street, when the apprentice 
 touching him on the arm, said, '' beg pardon, 
 you are as sharp as a needle, sir, but that gent," 
 in a whisper, " he is a muff, he nearly sold me. 
 Did you find out what you wanted about the 
 Gordon family ? " 
 
 Hervey scanned the lad steadily, and then 
 said, writing on a card, ** here is my address, I 
 will pay you for information." 
 
 *' He is an impostor," muttered Mr. Butter- 
 worth, as the lad bolting back said, '* Its all in 
 our trade to ferret out — no play, no pay." 
 
 When they reached their hotel, Hervey men- 
 tioned to his tutor that he had come to the
 
 8 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 determination of testing the clerk's power of 
 serving him. 
 
 Approaching the window, Mr. Butterworth 
 continued for some time to drum his fingers on 
 a pane of glass, without replying. 
 
 *' My heart yearns to look on the square once 
 more," said Hervey, afresh, " I think the sight 
 of the house would recall the days of ray child- 
 hood." 
 
 The drumming was becoming more hurried 
 and irregular. The warm-hearted tutor looked 
 up to the skies and drew a long breath. 
 
 "What was the name of the square?" asked 
 Hervey, anxiously. 
 
 The beating on the plate glass ceased. With 
 a sigh from the bottom of his heart Mr. Butter- 
 worth replied, " B Square." 
 
 " Will you accomj^any me?" 
 
 The tutor's only reply was a fit of artificial 
 coughing. 
 
 Without repeating the question, Hervey slowly 
 left the room. On reaching the street, he 
 paused, uncertain as to his best mode of pro-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 9 
 
 ceeding. Whilst considering, he caught an eye 
 on himself; recollecting the apprentice, he beckoned 
 the lad. 
 
 *' I am glad you noticed me, sir," began the 
 clerk, smiling knowingly ; "for great folk can't 
 always recall plebeian features, when there's no 
 gilding on 'em. I'm not quite the thing for the 
 west end," colouring slightly and raising his 
 elbow, out of which peeped either the lining or 
 shirt sleeve. 
 
 " Can you point out the way to B 
 
 Square?" asked Hervey. 
 
 " Yes, I go there sometimes about deeds, and 
 know the footman, one James Peckman ; he 
 and I are great cronies. There is a beautiful 
 young lady living there with an old aunt," then 
 interrupting himself abruptly, " Do you know 
 Sir Henry Gale, he is very attentive to her, — 
 but I can spoil his plot." 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Hervey, surprised by 
 the lad's earnestness. 
 
 " He is a deep file ! one of your high-born 
 fashionables, who fancies that rank is a curtain 
 
 B 5
 
 10 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 to hide titled wickedness behind-— I am up to 
 his dodges. I overheard something between 
 him and our governor one day that makes 
 me smell a rat. You had better follow me 
 at a little distance, and not pretend to be 
 chums." With the last sentence he winked, and 
 walked a-head. 
 
 For a moment Hervey felt uncertain ; he w^as 
 doubtful of the clerk. 
 
 " Browne," said a small gentleman-like per- 
 son, addressing the apprentice, '* where now ? 
 just take out your kerchief and dust my boots.*' 
 
 The clerk did as he was bid, remarking, "that's 
 something like varnished leather." 
 
 *' I must pay your employer a visit ; I hear 
 that he expects some arrivals — anything new?" 
 
 All this was said in a tone of nonchalance. 
 
 " Only, sir, that two gents called at our office 
 this morning, and that the governor looks par- 
 ticularly knowing about 'em." 
 
 " None of your waggery with me," interrupted 
 the baronet, drawing him aside into a gateway, 
 out of the passers' hearing. Sir Henry Gale,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 11 
 
 though short, was remarkably well proportioned ; 
 if not handsome, he was good-looking, and dressed 
 with the best taste. Down each cheek curled a 
 fair whisker, just as it had been left by the tongs. 
 His ' age was thirty-four, but he looked much 
 younger; time had dealt leniently with him. 
 
 *'Did you hear their names?" asked Sir 
 Henry. 
 
 '*Did I hear their names?" repeated the lad, 
 slowly. 
 
 "Give up your foolery — what was the nature 
 of their business ? " 
 
 *' How should I know ? you say I am a fool — 
 but mind you, I have found out things that if I 
 was to repeat, would make you look foolish ; it's 
 as true as Gospel." 
 
 The baronet bit his lip; with all his sang 
 froid he was ill at ease. " What did you over- 
 hear? speak out!" 
 
 " I overheard you talking to Mr. Tune about 
 a young lady you deceived, and since then I 
 hate you. It would be a blessing if half you 
 London men of fashion could be called to a short
 
 12 ' TALBOT HALL. 
 
 reckoning. Koues, indeed ! if a poor devil like 
 me did the same, you would call me a villain !" 
 
 '* Browne, you are in an unusually vindictive 
 humor this morning ; here, take this sovereign — 
 you want a new hat." 
 
 "If I do take it, what next will you ask me 
 to do? no, I won't lay myself under fresh obliga- 
 tions;" then, almost romantically, "go and atone 
 to that lady lor the wrongs you have done her. 
 Tell me this before I take the gold," its glitter 
 had a charm, " is she alive? " 
 
 The baronet collared the clerk, and called him 
 " a prying rascal." 
 
 '' Let me go ; I can reveal a strange tale — I 
 can ! and I will ! if you don't tell me what has 
 become of Violetta. I heard you say that she 
 was out of your way — I know your plot, you 
 expect to get the beautiful dark-haired heiress in 
 B Square — what a fool I am ? " 
 
 Sir Henry coloured with rage ; he felt he was 
 in the boy's power, and replied, " I have not seen 
 her for the last twelve years; she is alive." 
 
 " And the two children?"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 13 
 
 ** Confound your insolence !'* 
 
 '' Strike me if you dare ! and you'll see how 
 soon ril have you face to face with a big wigged 
 gentleman. Well ! to be sure, how you fashion- 
 able gents would crush us democrats. Vm not 
 going to be choked for your amusement. Here, 
 give me the sovereign, and let me go, and I will 
 tell you something about them. I have been 
 dodging about the hotel; there is a French 
 vally and such a spruce little page — have you 
 seen him? because if you have not he's worth 
 your while looking at — let me go, here comes a 
 policeman." 
 
 The baronet, pale with rage, ground his teeth, 
 whispering, *' I will inform your master of your 
 insolence." 
 
 '' Do you see yonder gent waiting on your 
 pleasure to release me ? " 
 
 '' Yes," replied Sir Henry, forgetting himself, 
 '' was he one of the visitors ? " 
 
 " What a simpleton I am !" exclaimed the 
 clerk, springing away and rejoining Hervey, who 
 had gone on, asking his way. 
 
 "• That was Sir Henry Gale, may be I didn't
 
 14 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 put him in a wax ; the cool way he desired me 
 to dust his boots ! I tried a pathetic speech on 
 him for practice, and then I cut at him profes- 
 sionally ; I have hopes of doing at the bar yet, 
 sir; look here, that's not a bad fee for five 
 minutes' consultation, is it? There's the house, 
 the fourth door from us ; I'll just give a quiet 
 knock." 
 
 '* Who lives in it now ?" asked Hervey, 
 nervously. 
 
 The clerk replied that an old relation of Lord 
 Gordon's resided in it, with a young lady, add- 
 ing, that some years back another lady, who had 
 lived with Lady Gordon, had, it was supposed, 
 eloped with Sir Henry Gale, and that she had 
 not since been heard of. He wound up by say- 
 ing that the report ran, that the baronet was en- 
 gaged to the young heiress who seldom went out. 
 
 After he had knocked, he turned to Hervey, 
 whispering, *' The footman is a rum chap, you 
 musn't laugh." 
 
 '* How do you do Mr. Peckman?" asked the 
 clerk, in an oily tone of the elderly attendant.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 15 
 
 " Very poorly, Mr. Browne/' throwing his eyes 
 up, languidly. 
 
 "• You look charming well, you do, indeed !" 
 
 "My looks are deceitful,'* replied James, 
 settling his stiff cravat. 
 
 " Perhaps," resumed the clerk, leading his eye 
 to Hervey, " you — you would be kind enough to 
 — you are always so polite, your French manners." 
 
 Immediately the footman asked the gentleman 
 to walk in. Hervey stood with a beating heart, 
 silently looking around on each article in the 
 apartment. The family paintings he eyed at- 
 tentively, whilst the clerk, who winked to him, 
 went on with his usual tact, engrossing Peck- 
 man's whole attention. 
 
 '^ I hear you got your wife by proposing in 
 French.'* 
 
 ** Don't mention it, a sad language ! I will 
 tell you how it was : — One day, says I to Polly, 
 yainie vous,' and when we came to translate it 
 into the dead language, she made out by my 
 eyes that it was a proposal, so we were married ; 
 the eye must be a terrible language!"
 
 16 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '* You have the most speaking eyes, and as for 
 insinuating manners !" 
 
 Peckman, who had not until now seen Hervey's 
 face, suddenly exclaimed, " Mun duo ! what a 
 start I got — only I don't believe in — " 
 
 The ring of a bell interrupted James, who 
 backed out of the room as if he liad seen an 
 apparition. 
 
 The clerk whispered to Hervey, " Vf e had bet- 
 ter take our departure, as you have had your 
 wish of seeing the house. At the hall steps 
 they spoke low and earnestly, Browne, at last say- 
 ing, " It is very hard to find out anything con- 
 cerning the dragoon officer, although he comes 
 to our office, and our governor does all his 
 business. I can't get to kno^v who he is, except 
 that his name is Leslie, and I think he is going 
 to sell out. He is a real gentleman, none of 
 your travelling gents, sticking themselves up by 
 getting into first class trains, — do you see that 
 cab ? " The last question was put so abruptly, 
 that Hervey enquired what there was about 
 its appearance to have caused the clerk's sudden 
 surprise.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 17 
 
 *'Sir Henry Gale is iii't, I saw his natty curly 
 whiskers, I'd know them in a thousand. He's up 
 to something, mind my words. Don't pretend 
 to have noticed the trap. Look up to the skies, 
 and point, as if we were talking of the weather. 
 Don't trust him, good bye, sir." 
 
 Wherever Hervey went, the cab follow^:!. 
 Finding himself so closely watched, he determined 
 on leaving the square, where he had lingered, in 
 the hopes of returning to the house to question 
 the footman. 
 
 When Mr. Butterworth,who had been anxiously 
 awaiting his companion's return, saw Hervey 
 alight from a cab, he hurried from the window 
 and dropped on his knees, in front of a valise 
 which he had emptied, as an excuse to be pack- 
 ing when his pupil should enter the room. It 
 was strange to see him folding and unfolding, 
 and pretending to be so engrossed as not to 
 notice his arrival. He had made up his mind 
 not to be the first speaker. Hervey, too, felt the 
 awkwardness of breaking the silence, which was 
 only interrupted by the impromptu air Mr.
 
 18 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Butterworth hummed, and which was dwindling 
 into an unfeigned low cadence. At this crisis a 
 waiter entered, and, presenting a card to Mr. 
 Butterworth, said that the gentleman was in 
 the coffee-room. 
 
 '' Sir Henry Gale, — Sir Henry Gale ! repeated 
 the tutor, apostrophising himself, " never heard 
 the name before ; some mistake, perchance one of 
 your Paris acquaintances, request him to walk 
 iip.^' 
 
 Hervey paced to and fro uneasily ; suddenly 
 pausing as he left the room, he said, '' See him, 
 my presence is unnecessary." 
 
 With the utmost ease the baronet presented him- 
 self to Mr. Butterworth, enquired for the gentleman 
 who accompanied him, asked if his name were 
 Gordon, adding with extended hand, " Probably 
 you do not recollect me ; do you remember the day 
 you left Lord Gordon's, with a child who was in- 
 trusted to your care? is your friend the same?" 
 
 The clergyman opened his eyes wide, and 
 seemed to be studying the propriety of an- 
 swering the enquiry ; but as he did not reply,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 19 
 
 Gale proceeded, " You met a youth on that day, 
 as you proceeded to the hackney coach ; I was 
 only seventeen then, I accosted you/' 
 
 " Of a truth some one did, I perfectly remem- 
 ber the day, but can scarce recall your counte- 
 nance; great changes take place in our mortal 
 frames in so many years." 
 
 "• Yes," replied the baronet, thoughtfully, '' I 
 was then a happy youth, — seventeen years 
 ago!" 
 
 Mr. Butterworth, after gazing in silence on 
 him, asked, in a nervous tone, if he were related 
 to Lord Gordon's family, to which Sir Henry re- 
 plied, evasively, " I am intimate with the branch 
 
 that yet resides in B square.'' 
 
 " Know you aught of the sweet boy who was 
 confided to my care ? " 
 
 "Poor child," replied Gale, mysteriously, *M 
 fancy I saw him to day, from the strong resem- 
 blance he bears to — - ah, perhaps you do not 
 know." 
 
 ''Is there any blot on his birth?" asked Mr. 
 Butterworth, raising himself on both elbows and
 
 20 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 leaning forward in the arm chair, in his intense 
 anxiety. 
 
 " A sad tale/' said Sir Henry, shaking his head 
 meaningly, "Let us turn the subject; the day 
 is oppressively warm, may I take the liberty of 
 lielping myself to a glass of sherry, will you fa- 
 vour me by joining?" he filled, and bowed, with 
 the utmost composure. 
 
 Mr. Butterworth, though puzzled and put out, 
 acknowledged the bow, but did not stir from his 
 chair. 
 
 Sir Henry next asked whither they were 
 travelling. The tutor, after a little reflection, 
 mentioned their destination, in his turn enquiring 
 what caused the baronet's interest in Mr. Hervey 
 and himself, to which Gale answered, *' The inter- 
 est of one who has had the pleasure of knowing 
 a little of yourself, and a good deal concerning 
 your pupil." 
 
 " A few words from your lips might make 
 him and me truly happy," suggested Mr. Butter- 
 worth, trying to put on a cheerful countenance. 
 
 " Or very miserable," was the laconic reply.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 21 
 
 " If aught of good is in store for him, pray con- 
 fide it to me, but if of evil," his voice sank, 
 "leave me, even as you found me — in ignorance." 
 
 ** Is there not a youthful page with Mr. Her- 
 vey ? " asked the baronet, after a long pause. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Sir Henry, in an apparently careless manner, 
 enquired how the boy went on. 
 
 ** The youth is of a gentle disposition, but 
 prone to mischief; he has been neglected in early 
 life." 
 
 Gale glanced, uneasily, at the speaker, who re- 
 sumed, " He came to Mr. Hervey in Paris, bear- 
 ing an anonymous note, written in a lady^shand, 
 requesting him to take the boy as a page." 
 
 " A female's handwriting ! did you ever try 
 to make any discovery respecting the little fel- 
 low?" 
 
 *' Over and over." 
 
 " Without much success, I presume? " 
 
 " With the same ill fortune as in the case of 
 my friend, except that I was informed the lad 
 was an orphan."
 
 22 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' Of course the boy goes with you to Le- 
 hind?" 
 
 *' It is so purposed, with the Lord's blessing." 
 
 " When do you leave? " 
 
 " To night/' — Mr. Butterworth sank his voice, 
 and placing his hand gently on the baronet's 
 arm, asked, " Can you tell me ere we part who 
 my pupil is? I can conceal from him whatever 
 you may divulge, this suspense is intolerable ! '' 
 
 Sir Henry, after some hesitation, said, " It 
 were better not, — we may meet in Ireland — plea- 
 sant passage — my compliments to Mr. Hervey." 
 
 Mr. Butterworth had been pondering over the 
 cause of the baronet's mysterious visit, when 
 Hervey again entered the room. The latter felt 
 at once that his friend's averted and thoughtful 
 face foreboded no good news ; he therefore moved 
 over to the window, determined not to refer to 
 their visitor. 
 
 '* You are packing your portmanteau very 
 nicely," began Hervey, stealing a side glance at 
 the card on the table. 
 Mr. Butterworth had suddenly become deaf.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 23 
 
 and went on folding a coat, that had been three 
 times unfolded. 
 
 " What if we prolong our stay in town a few 
 days?'' asked Hervey, afresh. 
 
 *' To what purpose, my dear friend? " 
 
 Hervey mentioned what had taken place with 
 the apprentice, and that he hoped to get some 
 information through his means, adding, that 
 Browne had dropped some strange hints. Mr. 
 Butterworth in his turn stated that Sir Henry 
 Gale had insinuated that there was some mystery 
 attached to the little page, but immediately check- 
 ing himself, as if regretting having introduced the 
 baronet's name, he resumed the pulling about of 
 his things. 
 
 " Perhaps," remarked Hervey, after a reflec- 
 tive pause, " it were better not to delay our 
 journey." 
 
 Mr. Butterworth agreed with him, and went 
 over to the window, where, side by side, they 
 remained, each silently indulging in his own 
 conjectures.. 
 
 *' Of a certainty,'' at last exclaimed the tutor.
 
 24 * TALBOT HALL. 
 
 *' my eyesight fails me, or I see Charles in 
 earnest conversation with Sir Henry Gale. The 
 boy is rather forward; perchance he first ad- 
 dressed the gentleman; I fear me that you are 
 spoiling him by over indulgence.*' 
 
 "With all his boyish frolic, a sweeter disposi- 
 tion never existed," replied Hervey, warmly 
 espousing his protege's part. 
 
 The baronet led the page a little aside, not 
 to be overheard, asked how long he had been 
 with Hervey, where he was before, then, in 
 a low voice, who were his parents. Whilst 
 Sir Henry spoke he stooped to dust boots that 
 were spotless. Eeceiving no answer, he put the 
 question a second time. The little fellow's 
 fingers ran from button to button, plucking 
 uneasily at each in succession. He remained 
 silent. The baronet then enquired his name. 
 
 " Charles," replied the boy. 
 
 " Your surname, my lad?" Gale gazed at him, 
 anxiously. 
 
 '' They never call me by any other." 
 
 " Are you happy?"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 25 
 
 " Sometimes — at others — just now," he shook 
 his curly head of hair, and without looking up 
 added, sorrowfully, "I am an orphan — no 
 brothers or sisters to love." 
 
 Sir Henry, feelingly asked if his questions 
 were making him sorrowful; and even seemed 
 moved. 
 
 *' When any one is kind to me, as you are at 
 this moment, I get thinking and the more I 
 think the unhappier it makes me. — I am foolish, 
 sir, to give way to such weakness, they ought to 
 have made a girl of me or put a stouter here," he 
 placed his hand on Iris breast and tried to smile. 
 
 An hour later Sir Henry Gale stood within 
 the dragoon officer's barrack room. Captain 
 Leslie was a very military-looking man. A 
 settled melancholy appeared to have nestled in 
 his heart, casting its mournful shade over his 
 fine countenance. You could not look on his 
 noble features without feeling interest and ad- 
 miration, they courted sympathy, roused, but 
 never gratified curiosity. 
 
 " I have seen him," said the baronet, looking 
 
 C
 
 26 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 steadily in his face, to note the impression made 
 bj this intelligence; "were you any other man 
 1 could put you in the way of a splendid fortune, 
 rank, title — psha! why should I take such in- 
 terest in you? there! it is only wasting my 
 breath in idle advice, you are determined not 
 to follow it — well, hatch fresh troubles for your- 
 self—eight years foreign service has not changed 
 your opinions." 
 
 ** I'm wretched enougli with the curse that 
 hangs on me, without adding fresh misery to my 
 lot by listening to the renewal of proposals you 
 have so often pressed on me. I tell you, Gale, 
 that you mistake my nature. I will never harm 
 hira — nor can I ever stoop to a dishonourable 
 action. You understand me. He is not to 
 blame for the misconduct of others." 
 
 " Did you not tell me that you would revenge 
 her death? her murder!'' 
 
 " Hush," said Leslie, in a stern voice, " but 
 since — " 
 
 " But since,"' interrupted the baronet, sarcas- 
 tically, '* religious scruples have overcome your-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 27 
 
 firmer resolves and dictated the propriety of 
 turning the other side of your cheek to be 
 smitten also; some men can calmly submit to 
 any degradation." 
 
 '' Gale felt the flash of the dragoon's dark eye 
 running over him as if it had been a ray of 
 fire, but he would not see the look; almost im- 
 mediately it passed away, nnd the melancholy 
 returned, as Leslie said, " Do not taunt me. I 
 repeat, no power on earth shall induce me to 
 commit forgery, even though I were certain it 
 could never be discovered in this world." 
 
 '' Forgery !" exclaimed Sir Henry, angrily, '^ I 
 had flattered myself that I mixed only among 
 gentlemen who could express their thoughts in 
 milder language." 
 
 '* You first undeceived me by the manner in 
 which you alluded to her death. Murder is a 
 strong word." 
 
 " What folly to cavil about words. A truce 
 to it. I am not in the habit of proposing any- 
 thing a man ought to blush at, even so tender 
 conscienced one as yourself." 
 
 c 5
 
 28 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 ** When man or woman ceases to blush," was 
 the quiet reply, " it shows that the heart has 
 become hardened and that its blood, thickened 
 by impurity of thought, has stagnated. There 
 may be stains in my veins, but I had no control 
 over them." 
 
 *' The transaction I propose would remove 
 those stains. Do you consider any step that 
 can remove such a curse unfair? A few hun- 
 dreds could do it all. Your rights would then 
 be acknowledged, and the second marriage could 
 be proved illegal." 
 
 '' Seek not to tempt me by softening your ex- 
 pressions. Is the word rights introduced to 
 throw me off my guard ? I have none ! " 
 
 "Fsha, man! don't allow such an opportunity 
 to escape," placing his arm within the dragoon's, 
 " come my dear fellow, let your good sense speak 
 out, it has been smothered long enough. You 
 shall see the certificates. I do not ask you to 
 decide in a moment, think it over for a day, a 
 week, a month." 
 
 A ray of hope lit up Leslie's dark eye; he
 
 TALBOT HALL. 29 
 
 paced the room hurriedly, then, suddenly halting, 
 he said, ** To consider longer, would be the first. 
 step towards committing an evil act. I have 
 decided. We are on a point on which we differ 
 so widely that I must insist on its being dropped 
 ere your tempting persuasion make me even 
 waver." 
 
 ** Then have your own way, but remember 
 that the dark waters are gathering around you 
 which will eventually smother you in shame." 
 
 " The less they are stirred, the more likely 
 are they to subside. The surface can never be 
 clear though the mud may sink." 
 
 *'Sink! a word may stir it up at any moment." 
 
 '* You are liard on my misfortune," said Leslie, 
 in a reproving tone. 
 
 Sir Henry Gale, without a comment, left the 
 room. Perchance the calm sorrowfulness of the 
 dragoon had softened him, for he pressed his 
 hand in silence, inwardly admiring the virtuous 
 resolution he sought so hard to shake. 
 
 Mr. Butter worth, Hervey, and Charley, stood 
 together on the railway terminus. The two
 
 30 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 former were going that night- to Liverpool, on 
 their way to Ireland. The bo'" was remaining 
 for a few days in town on a visit to the per- 
 son who had brought him up from a child. 
 
 *' News or no news," said Hervey, speaking 
 to himself, thoughtfully, '* he promised faithfully 
 to meet me before the evening train left, and 
 now it only wants ten minutes to the time. I 
 would give a ten pound note to see him at this 
 moment;" looking impatiently at the time-piece, 
 *' Can he be making a fool of me? — money has a 
 charm for him — I promised to pay well for any 
 information, then why absent now?" 
 
 Hardly had he put the last question, when a 
 tall stripling came stifly, and rather unsteadly, 
 promenading towards himself. He had on a green 
 <5ut-away with shining brass buttons, a white 
 neckerchief, evidently the first he had ever tied ; 
 an open worked front to a shirt, with stained glass 
 studs, fawn-coloured trowsers, a narrow-brim- 
 med hat, high-crowned and cocked on one side ; 
 strutting with his arms partly on a level with 
 the back, in the manner of a bird preparing to
 
 TALBOT HALL. 31 
 
 take flight, Browne feigned to be quite at his 
 ease, indeed he was gratified by finding him?eU 
 an object of general remark : some tittered, 
 others laughed outright. 
 
 " Hallo, sir! where are you going to?" asked 
 one of the station officers, looking at him enquir- 
 ingly from head to foot. 
 
 ** First class!" was the dignified reply. 
 
 ** What a beau he has turned out," said 
 Charley, addressing the French valet. 
 
 *' He take some speerits," remarked the 
 foreigner, significantly. 
 
 "Of a certainty," said Mr. Butterworth, to 
 himself, ** it is the clerk, and aiming at gentility 
 — What a A^ain world we live in." 
 
 '' Happy to see you, Mr. Hervey," began the 
 woidd-be fashionable, tapping him familiarly on 
 the shoulder, extending his hand and speaking 
 loud **Pr'apsyou forget me,'' then, in a confiden- 
 tial whisper, ** don't always cut it so fat, I'm 
 creating rather a sensation, don't the coat set 
 Timmy ? the trowsers, eh ! yours are a little 
 wider, only for this little crease, they wouldn't
 
 32 TALBOT HALT. 
 
 be amiss, eh ! I'll just take up my braces, no one 
 'ell see me — you didn't expect to find me turned 
 out spic span from head to foot, eh? — Your 
 money wasn't thrown away on me, was it? — You 
 expected to meet a chap with an air hole in the 
 sleeve of his coat, instead of a well dressed gent, 
 didn't you, eh*?" drawing himself up, to Hervey's 
 mortification, he squinted through an eye glass 
 at some ladies, who looked on, not a little sur- 
 ])rised. 
 
 Hervey crimsonevl, he felt inclined to knock 
 the fellow down, and chastise his impudent as- 
 surance, but after a second's consideration he 
 whispered, "What about Lady Gordon? does 
 she live?" 
 
 *'Dead! dead! as a door nail!" was the 
 solemn answer. 
 
 ** He is in liquor," thought Hervey, watching 
 his rolling eyes. 
 
 The clerk resumed, "She left England directly 
 after the tragedy, taking all the ready money 
 and jewellery with her, and has never been heard
 
 TALBOT HALL. 33 
 
 of since. She is a dead letter in our office, so 
 she must be defunct according to law !" 
 
 " Tragedy, tragedy — what tragedy?'* 
 
 *^ They say, mind, 1 don't say it — Tm not on 
 oath — that she was very jealous, and that she 
 followed Lord Gordon into the house, — you'll be 
 pleased not to expect me to criminate myself, 
 the law is so precious ticklish — there was a bottle 
 
 labelled, ' cough mixture for Mrs. ,' we'll 
 
 not mention names, if you have no objection — 
 when the old woman came down the cork had 
 been removed — mind I am only quoting — well, 
 report whispered something about poison and 
 . I don't insinuate anything." 
 
 Hervey looked steadily at him, and then said, 
 " Have you made any discovery about the two 
 children?" 
 
 " About yourself I have," replied the clerk, 
 seeking to link his arm within Hervey's at this 
 crisis, " I will tell you what I have ferreted out 
 amongst our governor's papers and deeds; but 
 you must swear never to give up my name ; now 
 let us take a turn up and down the pavey, it's a 
 
 C 5
 
 34 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 thing I would not presume to propose if I was 
 not dressed like a gi^ntleman, — surelj you aint 
 ashamed of my company? you look precious red 
 and queer. You would never gness it was a 
 secondhand coat, would you, eh? It looks as 
 fresh as your own. The boots aint quite the 
 thing, they turn up at the toes, but that's part- 
 ly because I was obliged to kick a fellow, for call- 
 ing out 'Mr. Tune's clerk coming it strong!' — 
 right foot first, let's keep step." 
 
 Ilervey ground his teeth with shame and vex- 
 ation. What could he do? to give way to his in- 
 dignation Avould be to make a deadly enemy of 
 one who could serve him, and who he saw had 
 been drinking. Shaking off the clerk's arm 
 unceremoniously, he begged him to step into an 
 empty train, where tliey might converse unseen. 
 
 *'Dim me! if I ever was in a second class,'' 
 said the clerk, turnin"^ up his nose, '' Can't we 
 get into a first class? that one with the ladies, 
 she's, — I mean the youngest, is looking precious 
 hard at me — see ! she's laughing and whispering ! 
 Jimminey 1 how you are blu.shing! I wouldn't
 
 TALBOT HALL. 35 
 
 colour up if a hundred girls laughed ! " Hervey's 
 cane was nearly raised, when the apprentice 
 took up his eye-glass, and looked over it, for he 
 could not see through, ^' She's getting her peck 
 up, they are frowning like winkin fura ! — it's no 
 go ! — they aint up for a lark ! '* 
 
 " Confound your impudence ! " exclaimed 
 Hervey, angrily, " I insist on your behaving 
 decently! — get in!" When within, he said, 
 '^Now to the point!" 
 
 " Will you have a cigar?" asked the clerk, 
 lighting a lucifer ; " I drank your health with 
 some friends, to whom I gave a bit of a dinner, 
 and may be we didn't come out — I proposed to 
 — I mean I proposed the Queen's most gracious 
 health." 
 
 " Silence, sir, can you give me any informa- 
 tion — yes or no? " 
 
 "Yes or no isn't according to law, that would 
 be coming straight to the point, and the law 
 likes to lead by crooked round-about ways ; and 
 then, as for silence! if I obeyed your angry 
 order, you wouldn't hear much ; we must act by
 
 36 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 law, there must be pros and cons — clients and 
 defendents— what a cussed bad ciga— falsehood 
 and oaths! oh, jemniiny ! what a lot I have told 
 and taken, but not to-day." 
 
 The bed rang, and Hervej/, losing all patience, 
 collared the lad; but recollecting himself, jumped 
 out muttering bitter imprecations. Ashamed, 
 mortified, and downright angry, he hurried away 
 to join Mr. Butterworth Scarce was he seated, 
 when the clerk, but little abaslied, followed to 
 the first-class carriage, putting his head and 
 cigar through the window, he winked knowingly, 
 and said, addressing Hervey, " I hope the ladies 
 don't object to the smell of my ciga?" 
 
 " Come out of that," exchiimed a railway 
 officer, shaking his arm roughly, '' don't you see 
 the train is moving, come down, sir, at once." 
 
 " Who are you, that addresses a gentleman in 
 this way?'* 
 
 *' A gentleman," repeated the man in authority. 
 
 "What else, eh?" asked the clerk, puffing in 
 his face, looking foolish and alarmed, whilst he 
 called out " here, stand clear, let me leap,'^ then,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 87 
 
 turning hurriedly towards Hervey, whilst the 
 man pulled and dragged, and he began to feel 
 giddy, Browne said, "" listen, quick — I must cut 
 — we are going along like winkey; Sir Henry 
 Gale will be in Ireland, Captain Leslie and you 
 are — dim it ! they have torn me away !"
 
 38 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 To Talbot-liall, the residence of Squire Talbot, 
 master of the county W — hounds, are the travellers 
 bound, and as they near their destination, through 
 a beautiful hilly country, they catch glimpses of 
 a river foaming among the dark rocks that rise 
 as if to impeed its course. They meet bare- 
 footed peasants, each of whom had a word to 
 throw at the postillions, who, in their turn, had 
 a joke to crack. They fell in with rugged 
 reapers wandering, sickle in hand, for labour, 
 but neither sickness nor want could conceal the 
 humor that lurked in the faces of these specimens 
 of Irish peasantry. 
 
 As they approached their journey's end, they 
 passed an estate on which stood, here, an un- 
 finished building going to ruin; there, mud
 
 TALBOT HALL. 39 
 
 cabins, of which the landlord being ashamed, 
 were partly concealed from the road by a planta- 
 tion of Scotch firs, whose bare trunks told how 
 often the branches had been stript for fire wood. 
 The smoke from the huts oozed through the 
 rotten tliatch which formed a hot-bed fur foulest 
 weeds ; and as often did a pig appear to be the 
 tenant as a human being, both going and coming 
 with ev'jual freedom. Patches of blighted pota- 
 toes loaded the air at this spot with an unwhole- 
 some taint, and all told that the estate had been 
 suffering under the heavy mortgaging system. 
 
 But as the carriage moved on, Hervey and his 
 tutor found tlie country not only increasing in 
 beauty, but giving signs of more wealthy land- 
 lords, and when they at last reached Talbot Hall, 
 neatly white-washed cottages, with nice little 
 holdings sprung up, and happy-faced children 
 came smiling to the doors, dropping curtsies to 
 the travellers. As they drove up the approach, 
 the gentlemen caught refreshing sights of the 
 cool sea, and through the vistas, among the lofty 
 timber on either side, they saw sloping lawns
 
 40 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 dotted with clumps of evergreens, surrounded 
 by light iron rails, to prevent cattle and sheep 
 from injuring them. Now a fresh opening would 
 shew tracts of waving corn falling before the 
 death levelling scythe of five sturdy mowers. 
 In an adjoining field a host of merry reapers 
 were telling fairy tales as they grasped handfulls 
 of corn, which they severed from the roots and 
 laid for the prattling women, who, following in 
 their wake, gathered, bound, and stacked the 
 sheaves till the ground resembled a camp of 
 golden tents. 
 
 Lucy Talbot, concealed by a grove of laurels, 
 was running down the lawn to meet her cousin 
 Darcy, who led his tired hunter across country. 
 Lucy was a sweet girl, a bud which the sun of 
 sixteen summers was opening into a flower of 
 loveliness. The charms of a Hebe-like face, 
 partly concealed by fair ringlets, gave her fea- 
 tures a peculiarly sweet expression; a pool of 
 mirth played within the dimpled reservoirs on 
 either side of the lip and seemed to feed the 
 mouth with liquid smiles; whilst the laughing
 
 TALBOT HALL. 41 
 
 eyes, bright as waters sparkling in the sunshine, 
 lightened the whole countenance with radiance 
 as she bade her companion await her return. 
 
 "I will wait for you under the sycamore ti-ee," 
 re})lied Miss Dawson. 
 
 Emma Dawson, an only daughter and iu\ 
 heiress, was an elegant girl, with darkh^izel eyes 
 that could melt in softness or glance in scorn, 
 according to each varying mood of the flirt, lis 
 her tones and manner there was a sportive 
 witchery, which threw a charm over every ]')ok 
 and movement that few could resist. A ciiip 
 bonnet, coquetishly put on, set off her nut-bro vn 
 hair and beautiful features to advantage ; a 
 large shawl thrown over her tall figure was w^^vu 
 with that graceful ease, which Emma Dawson 
 knew well became her. 
 
 Sounds of liierriiiient rang through the groves, 
 within a i'ew yards of Hervey, accompained by 
 the crack of a hunting whip. He could not 
 lielp overhearing, the following dialogue. 
 
 " Ob, cousin Darcy T' exclaimed Lucy, looking 
 up in his face, while her cheeks glowed with the
 
 42 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 exercise, "I cannot run another step, only wait 
 until I get breath and I will try to jump it." 
 
 ^' Over with you,' called out Darcy. 
 
 ^' Fie, 'fie, give me a moment's rest," she tlinnv 
 back the long golden hair that had fallen in 
 gracetul disorder over her neck; then, in fits of 
 laughter, bounded over the ditch, and, liying 
 ])ast Emma Dawson, gained the hall steps, dash- 
 ing the door to on her tormentor. It was at 
 this crisis that the travellers ibund themselves 
 in front of Talbot Hall. Darcy, or wild Tom, 
 as he was most frequently called, laughed 
 heartily, and, holding out liis hand, said that 
 his uncle had been expecting them for the last 
 three days, and had given them up as lost. 
 ^' I am afraid," he added, ** that our Irish man- 
 ners, and what you have witnessed, will shock 
 you, but you must not judge all our ladies by my 
 romping little cousin, nor the gentlemen by me." 
 
 '' We could hardly wish for a more favourable 
 specimen of both sexes." 
 
 Scarcely had Hervey made this reply, when 
 Darcy, suddeidy seizing Mr. Butterworth by the
 
 TALBOT HALL, 43 
 
 arm, drew him hastily to one side, exclaiming — 
 '' Don't stand so close under the ^vindovvs, per- 
 haps she will be sending out a tumbler of water, 
 not knowing you are here." 
 
 The words were not out of his mouth ere a 
 ball of worsted struck him in the face. When 
 the panting girl, looking out to see if Tom was 
 hit, beheld a travelling carriage, and the hand- 
 some young stranger, whose look was fixed en 
 herself; she crimsoned deeply. 
 
 *' You have done it this time, tom-boy ! " ex- 
 claimed Darcy. 
 
 ** Playful, happy girl," murmured Mr. Butter- 
 worth, feeling his eye. 
 
 Lucy, trembling with fear at the thought of 
 blinding a clergym in, and being seen jumping 
 ditches, fled to her room, murmuring, '* Shame, 
 cousin Darcy, to call me tom-boy before stran- 
 gers, cold, formal English gentlemen, too, — 
 am so sorry, — they must have seen me, and 
 heard my screams." Slowly did a tear gather, 
 and as she looked into tlie glass it trickled down 
 her flushed cheek, — "' and my hair all tossed and
 
 44 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 tumbled! oh, Tom, to expose me so — I am dead 
 out with you. It will be the last time I shall 
 ever be caught romping— oh dear me!" 
 
 Neither the romping nor disoi'dered ringlets 
 had shocked the travellers, who stood watching 
 the window from whence Lucy had vanished. 
 Fleeting as was the passing scene, it left an im- 
 pression on Hervey which made him long to 
 behold the fair girl again. Her gay laughter 
 rang in his ears sweet as music. Her scream of 
 mock fear, as she closed the hall door, had made 
 his heart throb. How he envied that wild Irish- 
 man before whom the merry supplicant had 
 knelt for mercy. 
 
 " A quality knock !" exclaimed Greig Demp- 
 sey, the old butler, looking out of the window, 
 " That I may never die if it is not an elegant 
 carriage, and the English gentleman ; quick, 
 Mrs. Quigley! just give my coat a rub of the 
 brush!" 
 
 Miss Dawson, joining the party, held out her 
 hand to Darcy, who said, " Instead of wishing 
 you good-bye allow me to introduce you to our
 
 TALBOT HALL. 45 
 
 '' Tired gentlemen are always glad to escape 
 ladies' society, I do not expeet any exception in 
 my favour. I am only going in to say a few 
 words to Lncy. Have I not entered into your 
 feelings?" she asked of Ilervey. 
 
 *' As clouds," he replied, ''are dispersed by 
 sunshine, so does the traveller's weariness vanish 
 before woman's smile." 
 
 " You deserve the thanks of our sex for such 
 a compliment." 
 
 " It is but fair," said Darcy, " to put you on 
 your guard against Miss Dawson, she ought to 
 be labelled 'dangerous.'" 
 
 " Do you speak of me from experience, Mr. 
 Darcy !" she asked, proudly. 
 
 " Most decidedly," he replied, laughing. 
 
 The flirt laughed, too; then, addressing Mr. 
 Butterworth, with one of her most captivating 
 smiles, "Your profession, of course, is a safeguard 
 against such dangers." 
 
 " Madam, man is a frail being, ever in danger 
 — even now." 
 
 " From a clergyman ! upon my word !" ex-
 
 46 TALIOT HALL. 
 
 claimed the flirt, laughing ; " I must, indevid, 
 seek Miss Tulbot to aid me against such gal- 
 lantry." 
 
 '• Lucy," said Emma, entering the room in 
 which she was, " what ails you?" 
 
 " I am vexed and ashamed at being caught 
 romping. I shall never dare be introduced — 
 what must he," colouring, " think of me." 
 
 " Folly, brush your hair and go down at once, 
 you little coward." 
 
 ''Are they very formal? I heard you laughing." 
 
 "Mr. llervey, n>t at all. Mr. Butterworth, 
 I fancy, is one of the old school, and thinks 
 women angels, etcetra, etcetra." 
 
 " Is Mr. Hervey a nice person ? what kind of 
 manner has he? " 
 
 " Manners, seemingly, as refined as his person 
 is elegant." 
 
 " Is he very handsome?" 
 
 " Very." 
 
 " He must be when you are so struck by him." 
 
 " I struck, Lucy ! what nonsense ; he is polite ; 
 handsome is that handsome does; I was taken 
 by his address."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 47 
 
 " Stay and dine with us, Emma," said Lucy, 
 brushing away the trace of tears, " please do, 
 your presence will give me courage." 
 
 " I promised your mamma to come in the 
 evening; I cannot sit down to dinner in a morn- 
 ing gown. Good bye, don't flirt — I must fly." 
 
 The exterior of Talbot Hall presented a 
 struggling front, to which had been dove-tailed 
 at diflerent periods, more modern wings, whose 
 architecture give some idea of the times in 
 which they had been added. A low massive 
 wall, surmounted by two stone lions, guarded tlie 
 flight of wide steps that led into the hall where 
 the travellers stood, dusting and uncloaking 
 themselves. 
 
 From the balustrade leant a girl of about 
 twelve years old, the sweetness of her expression, 
 as she peeped to watch the strangers, rendered, 
 her features so like Lucy's, that there could be 
 no mistaking little Mary for her sister. In the 
 hall hung reynards' tails, and in a corner, with 
 a litter of puppies, a hound, so admirably stuffed 
 that they appeared alive.
 
 48 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 "Welcome, welcome!" exclaimed Mr. Talbot, 
 taking both their hands in one oF esich of his 
 own, '-what happened you? I expected you 
 days ago, and sucli a hunt as you lost this 
 moi'ning, right a\vay over Ballishog, and clean 
 throuiLili the bogs without a check, such splashing, 
 and digging out of horses, it is scarce ten 
 minutes since I returned, oh ! yes, and across the 
 river, oh ! it was a run in earnest, hut welcome 
 to the old phice, cead mile failthe; Mrs. Talbot 
 will be deliglited to see you, Mr. Hervey ; ah ! 
 here she comes. 
 
 A tall hidy-like woman, about i'orty^ whose 
 black hair was slightly tinged with grey, en- 
 tered the room. Slie hehl out her hand and 
 welcomed Hervey in the purest English, but so 
 confused was her manner tiiat even he was struck 
 by it. Mr. Butterworth looked on her in un- 
 controllable surprise. After a few words, she 
 fell into a reflective mood, and while the cheerful 
 squire engrossed tlie conversation, asking no end 
 of questions, her glance wandered restlessly, al- 
 most unconsciously, to their young guest.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 49 
 
 " How like," she said, thoughtfully, and soli- 
 loquizing to herself; "the same high foiehead, 
 how very like." 
 
 " Madam," said Mr. Butterworth, on whom 
 her eyes were at this moment accidentally fixed, 
 "likenesses have frequently been trace:! in my 
 humble features." The lady coloured slightly, 
 it was evident that her remarks had not been in- 
 tended for his hearing, and although Mrs. Talbot 
 exerted herself to keep up a conversation with 
 the tutor, the constant pauses, and her anxious 
 glances towards Hervey, told that her thoughts 
 were with him. 
 
 The master of hounds led his guest into the 
 adjoining room, leaving Iiis wife and Mr. Butter- 
 worth together. 
 
 " I have had the pleasure of meeting you 
 before, madam." 
 
 '• Hardly — where?" 
 
 '• In England — some seventeen years ago, in 
 B Square." 
 
 " I was in Ireland at tha^ period," replied 
 Mrs. Talbot, uneasily. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 ^' It strikes me," resumed Mr. Butterwoitli, 
 fixing his eyes on her, in the hopes of reading 
 in her face the thoughts of the mind, " that 
 when Lord Gordon was called to his long home 
 that— that— " 
 
 Mrs. Talbot, interrupting him, raised her dsirk 
 eyes in supplication, saying, " You are touching 
 on a subject of pain to me. As a favour I must 
 entreat that you do not refer to it again, there 
 are circumstances connected with his lordship's 
 death — at times the past seems all a dream. In 
 less than a year your young friend will be of age, 
 and then I trust the mystery by which he is at 
 present surrounded will be explained away. Until 
 that time, promise not again to allude to this 
 conversation, nor in any way try to forestal the 
 coming event. Do you promise? " 
 
 ''• Madam," he replied, bowing very low, " one 
 who has been kept in the dark so long as I have 
 been, must even submit to continue in this pain- 
 ful suspense. This mystery had never been in 
 my keeping, had I known the nature of the task
 
 TALBOT HALL. 51 
 
 imposed on me. Alas! must this secret remain 
 for another year a thorn in mj heart? " 
 
 In vain did Mrs. Talbot endeavour to draw 
 his attention to other subjects; his reflections 
 ran not with the new strain of conversation. In 
 spite of his efforts to rouse himself, Mr. Butter- 
 worth could not shake off strange fancies of the 
 past. He felt sure that he had seen Mrs. Talbot 
 before, and that the lady who had entrusted 
 Hervey as a child to his care, was no other than 
 the person with whom he now conversed. Unable 
 to control his curiosity on discovering the like- 
 ness between Mrs. Talbot and Hervey^ he asked, 
 abruptly, " Madam, in the sight of Heaven, is 
 there a blot on his birth ? " 
 
 After a pause, during which she seemed to be 
 considering how to reply, she at List said, "I am 
 bound by a solemn promise, and once more 
 entreat you not to touch on this subject — one, 
 to me, of extreme pain." 
 
 At this crisis, Mr. Talbot and his guest re- 
 entered the room. Hervey, seeing Mr. Butter- 
 worth and the lady in such (' ep conference, felt
 
 52 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 very uneasy, and the more so wlien the master of 
 hounds led his tutor away^ leaving him, in his 
 turn, with his wife. 
 
 " Poor Lucy," said Mrs. Talbot, *'is so shocked 
 at being caught romping, that I fear we shall 
 hardly prevail on her to come down to dinner." 
 
 "•'• If our entreaties were united to your wish, 
 might we not hope to shake Miss Talbot's reso- 
 lution. Perhaps if you added that her joyous 
 happiness left a most favourable impression, it 
 might induce your daughter to favour us with 
 her society." 
 
 " She is a true Irish girl, and as you nuiy have 
 already seen, playful as a fawn, a most affec- 
 tionate child." 
 
 '• Child," repeated Hervey, slightly colouring 
 at his own exclamation. 
 
 '^ I shall deliver your message and let her 
 please herself," rising and smiling. " In the 
 mean time I must leave you under my nephew's 
 care." 
 
 We must return to Charley, who we left in 
 London. So young, he must not be lost sight of
 
 TALBOT HALL. 53 
 
 long. So small, he might go astray. He is now 
 on the sea. A wilder night never roared as he 
 enquired of a lady- like girl, who, with her father 
 (a captain on half-pay), travelled in the same 
 steamer, " Can I be of any service to you ? It is 
 a fearful storm." 
 
 Miss Rodney, who suffered severely from head- 
 ache, thanked the boy, and asked him to take 
 a scent bottle from her reticule. He did as 
 he was requested, and sprinkling her kerchief, 
 held it to her temples. His hand shook, and 
 when she asked if he was cold, he replied that he 
 had been on deck, and supposed that the spray 
 had made him shiver. He then enquired, in a 
 soft voice, if she felt easier. 
 
 " I am very anxious about my father," an- 
 swered the lady, " do not mind me, will you take 
 a peep at him? I think he has been slumbering." 
 
 " I passed his berth not a moment ago, he 
 was asleep." 
 
 " Did his face look very pale? " 
 
 '' I could not see, the long white hair covered it." 
 
 Miss Eodney asked the boy to take the scent
 
 54 TALBOT UALL. 
 
 bottle to her fHthe]*, and, if he was awake, to en- 
 quire how he bore the passage. 
 
 The old officer had suffered very much, yet he 
 did not forget to thank the little page, nor cease 
 to put questions about his daughter. 
 
 Charley, on leaving him again, returned to 
 Miss Eodney, and, after sitting by her side for 
 some time, he went on deck. The first person he 
 met was an Irish reaper, who was returning 
 from England, to get work at the later harvest 
 at home. Hugli wtis but lightly clad, and, though 
 wet to the skin, was amusing his fellow passengers, 
 (those who were able to listen), with humorous 
 anecdotes, laughing as heartily as if he wanted 
 for nothing. 
 
 " It blows the most I ever knew," he said, ad- 
 dressing the boy, " in regard of wind." 
 
 " Is the gale abating? " 
 
 " The sorrow a bit, this tossing is after dis- 
 agreeing with a power of delicate people." 
 
 Hugh O'Neil drew out a bottle from his coat 
 pocket, and tried to prevail on Charley to taste 
 of the whiskey, which he had been liberally
 
 TALBOT HALL. 55 
 
 sharing with his fellow passengers. " Well, here's 
 to the brave steamer ! more power to her ! and 
 less strength to wind and sea! arrah! this is 
 better than a warming pan in a man's breast, it 
 is the real stuiF to cheer the heart and make him 
 speak up like a man to the girl he loves ! " 
 
 Perchance some thought struck Charley, he 
 hung down his head. 
 
 " Talbot Hall ! " exclaimed the boy, some time 
 afterwards, and repeating O'Neil's words, " why, 
 I am going there ! " 
 
 "Now then, are you? sure I live close to 
 Darcy park, it's that same Darcy park that is 
 going to the bad, the old man went mad building 
 a great house, and no money to finish it. The 
 sorrow a more dreary place from this to itself; 
 you will pass close to it; Mr. Tom's the darling 
 for diversion, but the brother, him that come in 
 for the old place, was a broth of a boy for spend- 
 ing all in France, wasn't he obliged to run? 
 musha! they say the old fellow's banshee was for 
 ever tormenting him, and, then that's illnatured, 
 whispered, it was mortal like a bailiff.
 
 56 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Meantiaie, the steamer went on, thrashing her 
 way against a heavy gale, which blew dead in 
 her teeth. Onwards she ploughed, fiercely con- 
 tending every inch of her course, till, maddened 
 at last by constant opposition, she opened her 
 fiery jaws, devouring the coals with which the 
 blackened stokers fed her, and consuming gallons 
 of water in her laboured struggles. 
 
 " We are clo^e to Dublin," said Charley, de- 
 scending the companion steps. 
 
 When the old officer and his daughter came 
 on deck, Hugh, bowing to them and pulling 
 his forelock, said, " I am the fellow will carry 
 the luggage for your ladyship, and welcome, 
 here!" addressing the boy, "shove it on my 
 back and let me get ashore, hew ! your souls ! 
 clear the course ! " thus shouting, O'Neil led 
 the way. 
 
 " You have forgotten your own things," re- 
 marked the veteran, smiling. 
 
 '' It's little trouble they give me," holding up 
 a handkerchief bundle, in which was tied his 
 scanty apparel.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 57 
 
 Charley was very attentive to Miss Rodney, 
 and assisted the old officer across . the landing 
 plank, then in a voice of sorrow was bidding 
 them good bye, when the Waterloo soldier turned, 
 looked hard on the boy, felt his pocket, and, co- 
 louring through his war-wasted features, whisper- 
 ed to his daughter, " Your purse, dear ? " 
 ''Do not father, it will offend him, pray don't !" 
 The old officer paused, then, holding out his 
 hand, said, in a gentle voice, " You are very 
 kind and attentive to us, — good bye ! " 
 
 D 5
 
 58 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 Some few hours later, Charley, in company 
 with Mr. Butterworth's new attendant, was ma- 
 king the best of his way, enquiring, as he went 
 along for Gresham's hotel, w^hen, to his delight, 
 he spied Hervey's French valet, who told him 
 that his master, accompanied by Mrs. and Miss 
 Talbot and a Mr. Darcy, had that day come up 
 from the country, to meet a governess expected 
 to arrive by the steamer in which Charley had 
 crossed. 
 
 " Mr. Hervey ! " exclaimed Lucy Talbot, who
 
 TALBOT HALL. 50 
 
 at this instant looked out of the window, " per- 
 haps this is your little page, I hope it may be, 
 for he is such a nice looking boy." 
 
 " The nattiest turned out youngster I have 
 seen for many a day," remarked Darcy. 
 
 *' It is he ! " joined in Hervey, leaning over 
 her shoulder to get a better view, "and that 
 sanctiiied looking young man must be Mr. 
 Butterworth's new attendant; Louis is eyeing 
 him very closely." 
 
 Lucy asked to have the boy brought up, to 
 which her English admirer at once consented. 
 
 At a signal from Hervey, Charley ran, delight- 
 ed, to a waiter, desiring him to show him the way, 
 and to announce him. 
 
 "• What a cruel person you are, Mr. Hervey," 
 whispered Lucy, as the little fellow entered, " to 
 leave such a boy to travel all the way from Lon- 
 don to Dublin, by himself, T unly wonder that he 
 has arrived safe." 
 
 ''Had you many passengers?" asked Lucy, 
 without allowing him time to reply to Hervey 's 
 questions. «
 
 60 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 "Yes Miss, a great many more than we 
 should have had, if they could but have guessed 
 the weather they were to encounter, or the illness 
 in store for them." 
 
 "Did you suffer much?" asked Darcy, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " Not at all, but felt a good deal for tho^e 
 who did." 
 
 "What do you think of Dublin?" resumed 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Why, — " he hesitated, looked at Hervey, 
 then on Darcy, who said, " Out with what you 
 think." 
 
 " I fancy it is not all gold that shines in Sack- 
 ville street ; people are not so poor as we think in 
 England, for there are -^o many carriages, but the 
 footmen, — " he paused again, " their gaiters don't 
 always cover silk stockings." 
 
 Darcy laughed heartily, and, winking, whisper- 
 ed," You must never look behind the curtains in 
 Ireland, we are fond of outside cars, and some 
 people like outside, or rather, out door show,'' 
 all this was ainheard, save by the boy.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 61 
 
 ^^ May I send him to Miss Rodney's hotel, with 
 mamma's note, Mr. Hervey ? " 
 
 " If Miss Talbot," replied the gentleman, 
 smiling archly, '' does not think him too small to 
 trust in such a large town, he is at her service, 
 but remember, I shall hold you responsible for 
 his reappearance." 
 
 " AVhat teases some gentlemen are ! " remarked 
 Lucy, without looking at any one in particular, 
 but referring, markedly, to some one. 
 
 "So they are," agreed Hervey, without ad- 
 dressing any one, " and some ladies, too." 
 
 '' I will not be laughed at ! " said Lucy, trying 
 to frown, tossing her head, but unfortunately 
 yielding to a smile, at the moment she was feign« 
 ing dignity. ** I will take my messenger away 
 to give him my directions," thus speaking, she se- 
 cured a plate of cakes, and pouring out a glass 
 of wine, led the way to an adjoining room, re- 
 questing Charley to follow, which he did, with 
 great willingness. 
 
 After a few questions, she began afresh, '* You 
 are to deliver this note at the Northumberland
 
 62 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 hotel, and enquire for Miss Rodney, and say, with 
 my compliments, — do you know my name? " 
 
 "Miss Talbot!" 
 
 " How did you know? " 
 
 Smiling, he answered that he had heard Mr. 
 Hervey address her. 
 
 " Say," said Lucy, colouring slightly, " that I 
 am quite impatient to meet her." 
 
 She then made him take some wine, and insist- 
 ing on emptying the cakes into his pockets, 
 glided from the room. 
 
 When Charley reached the hotel, he enquired 
 for Captain Rodney. The waiter at once led him 
 towards liis apartments, pointing down the 
 long passage, to a door which was ajar, and from 
 whence he could not help overhearing the follow- 
 ing conversation, which he did not wish to inter- 
 rupt. 
 
 " Lydia,'"' said the old officer, addressing his 
 daughter, " this is the first time we have been 
 separated, and Heaven knows how severe the 
 trial will be to me at my time of life — but this 
 is not the heaviest blow. The thought of your
 
 TALBOT HALL. 63 
 
 becoming a governess is very distressing," he 
 groaned aloud. 
 
 She tried to console him, by saying that she 
 felt her situation would be rendered one of plea- 
 sure and not of pain. The old man drew her 
 closer to his side, and gazing wistfully on the 
 face, where sorrow sought to conceal itself in a 
 smile, said, " It was for your sake, love, that I 
 di;i it all." 
 
 '^ I know it! I know it !'' she exclaimed, put- 
 ting her arms around his neck, resuming in 
 gentlest tones, *' You have sacrificed much for 
 me, your speculations have turned against us." 
 
 " Every line is rising, dear child, something 
 may yet — " 
 
 *' Do not deceive yourself father, you have 
 been shamefully duped by designing knaves. 
 Old age is creeping on you, your hair has grown 
 very white of late, you are fretting; I know it, I 
 see it, do not shake your head. It is true that 
 we have but little left; but what matter, I am to 
 receive a hundred a-year. Forty pounds annually 
 will suffice for my wants, the remainder will be
 
 64 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 yours. Only promise not to risk it in railway 
 speculation? Oh! father, dearest! grant my 
 petition ; oh, if you love me, refuse not, and we 
 shall yet be happy." 
 
 He pressed her to his breast, and in tones of 
 deep emotion repeated, ''happy! that can 
 never be, when I remember it is the price of my 
 child's happiness;" then, after a moment or two 
 of disturbed musing, he suddenly said, " I know 
 of money ! — but no, it is not ours — '' then re- 
 lapsing into gloomy thought he ever and again 
 articulated the word "governess." His daughter 
 kissed his forehead and bade him not be cast 
 down, assuring him that she felt convinced Mrs. 
 Talbot would treat her with kindness. But 
 when he told her that she did not know the cold 
 world, and could not understand what the separa- 
 tion would be to him, she replied that the plea- 
 sure of sending her remittances would take from 
 their parting half its bitterness. 
 
 They were interrupted by a gentle knock at 
 the door. For a moment there was no answering 
 acknowledgment. At last the old man, wiping
 
 TALBOT HALL. 65 
 
 liis eye«!, bade his daughter see who it was. One 
 look into the passage sufficed. Miss Rodney 
 asked C'harley to come in, and smiling through 
 the tears which she sought to conceal, said her 
 father would he very happy to see their little 
 fellow-traveller once more. He handed her Miss 
 Talhot's note, and, wdiilst looking on Lydia's 
 face, it was all he could do to keep down the 
 sympathising tear that was travelling from his 
 heart to the eye. Captain Rodney, taking both 
 Charley's hands in his, made him sit by the 
 fire, and, without speaking, seemed to be un- 
 consciously examining his features. To his 
 daughter's remark that he was very silent, the 
 veteran replied that he seldom spoke much, and 
 that their little visitor must not mind that, for 
 he was pleased to see him. 
 
 '' Those who say least often feel most," said the 
 boy, looking towards Lydia, and colouring, Avhen 
 she raised her eyes to comment on the kind con- 
 tents of Mrs. Talbot's note. She then enquired 
 if he lived with Mrs. Talbot, to which the page 
 answered, " not exactly, but almost the same
 
 66 lALBOT HALL. 
 
 thing, for Mr. Hervey is on a visit to Talbot 
 Hall." 
 
 " How strange that we should botii be going 
 there. 1 shall often think of our stormy pas- 
 sage, and your good nature to my father and 
 myself." 
 
 " There are some scenes I shall never forget," 
 said the boy, blushing. 
 
 Although the old man wiped his spectacles, he 
 declared they had never been so dim, nor was it 
 till he had passed his handkerchief under them 
 that he could see to read the note, which not 
 only promised his daughter the warmest wel- 
 come, but also invited himself to be Mrs. Talbot's 
 guest fur the day. 
 
 " Yery kind," sighed the veteran, wiping the 
 glass afresh, and perusing its contents a second 
 time. 
 
 That night he slept at Gresham's hotel, or 
 rather, he lay thinking till day dawn. 
 
 After breakfast, Lucy, treading softly, entered 
 the room in which they had left him sitting. 
 He had fallen fast asleep on the sofa. '^ Per-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 67 
 
 liaps/' she whispered to Lydia, '' it would he 
 better not to disturb him." 
 
 " Oh, but when he awakes and finds nie gone 
 without taking h^ave, lie will be wretclied; how 
 sound he sleeps." 
 
 '' He will understand your motive," continued 
 Lucy, seeking to persuade her not to awake her 
 father. 
 
 " You do not know him ; it is not that I have 
 not said good-bye; 'tis not that, for I have felt 
 the p;trting in my heart a thousand times since 
 yesterday; but when he misses me — I dread his 
 feelings at that moment.^' 
 
 Both girls stole softly over to the sofa, and 
 looked silently on the sleeper. His age might 
 be seventy, to judge by the silvery white hiiir 
 which, falliiii!; back from his forehead and restiiiir 
 on the cushion, dispLiyed his features. Across 
 his chest lay his single arm, and by it, or rather 
 under it, an empty sleeve which was pinned to 
 the breast of his coat. A smile was passing 
 over his face, perchance it was some dream of 
 happier days which memory brought back iu
 
 68 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 slumber. His hand was gently outstretched, as 
 if to stay some bright, but passing vision. Miss 
 Kodney stooped silently over the sleeper, and 
 whilst her tears trickled fast on to his cheek, his 
 smile became brigliter. 
 
 " Poor dear old gentleman," sighed Lucy, " he 
 little dreams the truth." Pleadingly, she be- 
 sought her to come away, feigning, as an excuse, 
 that her mamma would be impatient if they 
 detained the posters any longer. Then, winding 
 her arm around Lydia's waist, and raising her 
 soft blue eyes, she said in the most gentle tones, 
 "• You must not refuse the first favour I ask, 
 come away." 
 
 Lydia knelt and kissed her father once more. 
 The old officer brushed his hand across his face, 
 and, turning his head away without waking, 
 sighed aloud. 
 
 " Will you tell him," sobbed his daughter, 
 addressing Charley, who stood at the door with 
 her shawl, " why I did not disturb him." 
 
 The boy, too much overcome to reply, bowed 
 his head. Lucy hurried her governess away to
 
 TALBOT HALL. 69 
 
 Spare lier the pangs of a parting farewell. Darcy 
 offered his arm, and in his kind way begged her 
 to cheer up, and not feel uneasy about her father, 
 as Hervey and he were to return by the coach, 
 which would not leave until two hours later; he 
 went on, **We shall get him to spend the time in 
 relating his Waterloo campaigns, and make him 
 merry as a cricket ; or, if that fails, we can sound 
 him on byegone flirtations, for, like all old officers, 
 I am sure he has been a gay Lothario," thus did 
 he rattle on, in the hopes of turning her thoughts 
 until they should be ready to start. 
 
 '* Thank you for your kind intentions," she 
 replied, stepping into the carriage, " I fear me 
 you little know what it is to part from those we 
 love." 
 
 Darcy sighed, for, unconsciously, she had 
 touched on a tender point. He looked at Mrs. 
 Talbot, sorrowfully. 
 
 Lucy and Hervey had lingered on the stairs, 
 and, so far from being on amiable terms, were, to 
 use lovers' language, in a miff', or more poetically 
 speaking, " at daggers drawn."
 
 70 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " It is useless your trying to persuade nie, 
 i\[r. riervey," said Lucy, making an effort to 
 frown ; '' I am very angry with you, and am de- 
 termined not to shake hands, or even say good 
 bye!" 
 
 " Who is in fault this time?" asked Mrs. Tal- 
 bot, smiling. 
 
 " Mamma, he has been teasing me again, he is 
 such a torment, wliat do you think he has been 
 annoying me about? why! that I am always in- 
 troducing" some Irishism." 
 
 " Nay, Miss Talbot, I told you I particuhirly 
 admired your accent, only do me the justice to 
 acknowledge this, and then I shall be most happy 
 to refer our dispute to Mrs. Talbot's arbitration. 
 ^ '' I fear, Mr. Hervey, that you are spoiling 
 Lucy, I really think I must take her under my 
 special care." 
 
 When Miss Talbot reached the carriage she 
 refused her admirer's assistance, and ascended 
 the three steps with such mock dignity, that 
 Darcy, forgetting his own sorrowful reflections, 
 turned round to quiz his cousin. '' Take care of
 
 TALBOT HALL. 71 
 
 « 
 
 yourst^lves," he said, taking two or three extend- 
 ed hands and pressing them warmly. 
 
 " Mind my commission, Mr. Hervey ! " said 
 Mrs. Talbot, addressing the Englishman, who 
 started from a lover's day dream. 
 
 Miss Rodney was weeping, and had it not been 
 the fear of displeasing, she could not have resisted 
 the impulse, which made her long to return, and 
 bid her father adieu. At this moment Charley 
 brought out a glove, and presented it to Lydia. 
 
 She thanked the boy, who, though Lucy ad- 
 dressed him, never took his eyes off the governess. 
 
 When the carriage moved away, the tear 
 Charley had until then kept down, was but the 
 pioneer of those that followed fast. Miss Lucy 
 told a story, for just as the postillions drove a- 
 way, she put out her hand, and somebody pressed 
 her small white fingers, and whispered, " Do you 
 forgive me? " 
 
 '^ Some gentlemen," she said, " are past all bear- 
 ing, lonly put out my hand to see if it was raining." 
 
 When Darcy and Hervey returned to the room 
 where the officer was, the old man still slept. He
 
 72 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 liad changed his position, and slumbered on 
 unconscious of what had passed. 
 
 '•' He is very infirm," whispered Tom, " a little 
 more sleep will refresh liim." 
 
 " Yes," replied Hervey, in the same low tone, 
 whilst he looked on the empty sleeve, " he told 
 me this morning he had never closed his eyes all 
 night, and that to part, for the first time, from 
 an only child, was a lieavy trial to one so ad- 
 vanced in age." 
 
 They stole gently towards the door, but 'ere 
 they had reached it, he moved. A smile played 
 on his face again. They paused, and knew that 
 dreams were cheating tlie sleeper. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " sighed Hervey, *' I hope it 
 may not forsake your cheek when you discover 
 that she is gone. I could almost wish we had 
 left them to themselves, for the disappointment 
 will even be greater than saying farewell;" he 
 beckoned to Charley, whispering, " should Cap- 
 tain Eodney awake before we return, say we shall 
 be back in half an hour, and do not refer to Miss 
 Rodney's departure."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 73 
 
 '' But if he should ask me? " said the boy un- 
 easily. 
 
 " Poke the fire and make a thundering noise 1 " 
 joined in Darcy, " pretend not to hear him, and 
 then enquire in what battle he lost his arm, and 
 if that don't do, never stop raking the cinders." 
 
 It was a kind heart that dictated this advice. 
 
 Wild Tom, thou lookest on that old man, as 
 on a child, whose thoughts may be drawn from 
 one all engrossing sorrow, by the sight of a 
 long neglected toy, or thou would'st not have 
 hoped, by drawing his mind to his Waterloo cam- 
 paigns, to make him forget his child. 
 
 After the gentlemen left the room, Charley 
 continued to watch the sleeper. His little lips 
 moved occasionally, and his eyes wandered to the 
 ceiling, as if he sought there some excuse to a- 
 void answering the veteran's questions, when he 
 should awake. He had not long to consider. 
 
 The officer, opening his eyes, looked around 
 the room, and, arranging his silvery hair, pre- 
 pared to meet the ladies, asking how long he 
 had been asleep. 
 
 E
 
 74 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 When the boy replied, only a short time, the 
 old man resumed composedly, ** I suppose they 
 are gone to prepare for their journey. Has my 
 daughter been in here recently ?" 
 
 '' Miss Rodney was in the room only a few 
 minutes ago." 
 
 " Did she say anything?" 
 
 Charley, pretending not to hear the question, 
 said, " Will you allow me to run a clothes' brush 
 over your coat, it has got creased in lying down." 
 
 " Thank you," answered tlie veteran, smiling, 
 "oh, yes, we must spruce up a little, before the 
 ladies come.. How long will it be before they 
 leave?" 
 
 " Pray, sir, might I ask in what battle you 
 lost your arm ? does it ever pain now ? " 
 
 " At Waterloo," he replied, throwing a glance 
 on the empty sleeve ; "but you did not answer 
 my question." 
 
 In spite of the boy's attempts to benefit by 
 Darcy's advice, he saw at once that he could not 
 long deceive the officer, who began to look around 
 the room, as if some thought had struck him, when,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 75 
 
 for the third time, he made the same enquiry. 
 Charley, purposely misunderstanding, answered, 
 ^' We don't leave for two hours ;" as he spoke, he 
 accompanied the sentence with lire- iron music. 
 
 " Surely my daughter is not gone — you are 
 not deceiving me, I hope;" the boy remained 
 silent, *' then she has left," said the (jld man, 
 taking up his walking stick, and adding in a 
 tremulous voice, " I see every vestige of female 
 apparel has vanished — why did you bcti'ay me? 
 give me my hat — which way? " 
 
 " Your going in search of Miss Rodney, is 
 useless ; she is a long way off by this time ; you 
 could not overtake her." 
 
 *' All, Lydia, Lydia," groaned the veteran, 
 '^ without saying good-bye to your father;" he 
 laid the stick on the sofa, and seating himself, 
 sorrowfully, shook his head sadly. 
 
 She did say good-bye, and desired me to tell 
 you her reason for not disturbing you was, be- 
 cause they all begged her not. I am sure it 
 was done out of kindness, to save you the pain 
 of a parting. She kissed you over and over. I 
 
 E 2
 
 76 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 think you must have felt her tears in your sleep 
 — you smiled." 
 
 A perfect stillness ensued, only disturbed by 
 sighs and the boy's whispered words, " Do not 
 fret, Mr. Hervey and Mr. Darcy bade me say 
 they would be here soon." 
 
 The remark was unheeded. The little fellow 
 became silent. The single arm lay on the table 
 and on it the long white hair of an old man, 
 who sobbed like a child. 
 
 "Is he awake?" asked Darcy, of Charley, 
 who went out to meet him ; " does he know the 
 truth." 
 
 The boy opened the door softly, and pointed 
 to the table. 
 
 " Poor fellow^" whispered Tom, " leave him 
 to himself for a little, such grief can't last long." 
 
 " Much of it would kill him," said Hervey, 
 earnestly. 
 
 They left him, and when next they returned, 
 it was to say they were come to wish him good 
 bye. The veteran's form, on which age had 
 strung her invisible cord, was bent nearly double.
 
 TALBOT -HALL. 77 
 
 He moved spiritlessly to and fro, murmuring to 
 liimself. They asked him to accompany them 
 to the coach. He shook his head, but did not 
 reply. Darcy put on his hat, he did not try to 
 prevent him. The boy gave him his stick, and 
 Hervey, placing his arm within the officer's, they 
 led him away, in the hope of diverting his mind. 
 They spoke kindly and tried to cheer him. 
 When they bade him farewell, he answered not 
 a word. Charley remained by his side to the 
 last moment and asked if he had any message to 
 send to his daughter. The word vibrated to the 
 old man's heart, he tried to rouse himself, and 
 grasping the little hands in his own, faltered 
 out, " Don't tell her how I have suffered — say I 
 bore it well — nay, do not say that, either— T 
 shall be very, very lonely for many a day — it 
 can't be helped. Bless her." 
 
 The boy could not comfort him. A word 
 would have opened a channel for a fresh stream 
 of tears. He squeezed the fingers he held and 
 turned away his head. 
 
 " Good-bye, my little friend; I hope they will 
 be kind to her — "
 
 78 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 As Charley took his seat, he felt as if lie 
 ~ hoiikl choke. When the coach disappeared, tlie 
 old man tottered into a darkened shop, and, lean- 
 ing against the counter, gave vent to his grief. 
 The apprentices asked him if he was ill. 
 
 *' Yes," he sobbed; "sick at heart — do not 
 mind me.'' 
 
 The shopkeeper oiFered him wine; he shook 
 his long silvery hair. Recovering a little, he 
 told them the cause of his sorrow ; it seemed the 
 only subject on which his mind could touch. 
 They sought to cheer him, and asked if he would 
 like to have some one to accompany him home. 
 
 *' Home," he repeated, looking at them mourn- 
 fully, " I have none." Then thanking them for 
 their hospitality, he walked away sadly, nor 
 knew whither he was bending his footsteps, 
 but thought himself alone in the midst of Sack- 
 ville's crowded thoroughfare. 
 
 The coach, meantime, went along at a slashing 
 pace, the four greys showing a good deal of high 
 breeding. The guard's horn, taking in the breath 
 of life, gave out, in mellow tones, " Over the
 
 TALBOT HALL. 79 
 
 Hills and fur away,'' which so pleased Echo, that 
 she kept up the air by running a long way a-head, 
 and mockingly re[)eating, " away — way." Who 
 could be dull on such a coach — neither Hervey, 
 nor Darcy, for to use the hitter's words, he was 
 merry as a cricket, nor Charley, for ere they had 
 travelled half a mile, up jumped HughO'Neil, with 
 his small bundle, from the roadside. Before he 
 had been seated half a minute, his droll remarks 
 were calling forth laughter. 
 
 '* Bless us and save us, where did you vegetate 
 from?'' asked a stout woman, stretching out her 
 hand to the reaper. 
 
 Mrs. Fotts was an Englishwoman, and her mar- 
 ried a sergeant in an infantry regiment. Her 
 husband had recently been ordered to India, 
 leaving her in Ireland with their only child, with 
 whom she lived in a neat cottage not far from 
 Talbot Hall. In her own way she was a bit of 
 a politician, very prying, good natured, and not 
 without a tolerable share of vulgar quickness in 
 studying peoples' characters. Her person was 
 of large dimensions, her face plebeianly round.
 
 80 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 her forehead low, with a widow's peak, whieh 
 came coquetishly towards the eyebrows, as if to 
 invite a future junction. Above all things, she 
 was fond of dress. Such was the person who 
 addressed O'Niel. 
 
 *' What way was the wife and children," said 
 Hugh, enquiring for his own family, '* when you 
 last saw them ? " at the same time putting his 
 arm around her big waist, for fun. Mrs. Potts 
 asked him if he was not ashamed of himself, en- 
 circling his arm around a married woman's waist, 
 who was joined in holy matrimony, and he a 
 father of a family, too ! After replying that his 
 children were as well as could be expected, she 
 untied her large bonnet, and pushing it back, the 
 more easily to turn her head, for her neck was 
 but a short apology — she resumed, '' It is not 
 fair to 0})press the poor, it's very wrong in Mr. 
 O'Counel to be taking a penny a week or a shil- 
 ling a month, when the potatoes are all dying of 
 a new disease that makes them turn as black as 
 negroes." 
 
 '^ Is sister Agnes still down at the convent ?"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 81 
 
 asked Hugh, in a whisper, without pretending to 
 have heard the foregoing i*emarks. 
 
 " Yes,'' answered Mrs. Potts, mysteriously, 
 "' and~ for my life I can't make her out. As for 
 the mother abbess, she's as deep as a draw-well — 
 there's something very strange about her — that 
 can't be fathomed." 
 
 " Did you ever see a face like that gentle- 
 man's?" asked Hugh, lowering his voice, and 
 pointing towards Hervey's back. 
 
 ''Yes, Mrs. Talbot's; she's another incompre- 
 hensible. There's some great secret amongst 
 tliem ; but TU ferret it out before another year, 
 or my name isn't Betty Potts. I heard Mr. 
 Darcy and him speaking about the Talbots. You 
 may be sure this gentleman is all of a piece of 
 these strange goings on. 
 
 '' Whist! " whispered Hugh, drawing her at- 
 tention off Darcy and the Englishman, " here, 
 put on your bonnet, or it's you that will be 
 catching the proper cold, in earnest ! " 
 
 Mrs. Potts, who had hung her bonnet on the 
 rail, had not perceived, that Darcy had taken 
 
 e5
 
 82 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 it away. Colouring with alarm, she shouted to 
 the coachman to pull up, then, seizing the guard 
 by the collar, exclaimed, " My bonnet ! " 
 
 "Let me go!" roared the man^ who was in 
 the joke, "are you mad? squeezing the wind out 
 of my throat, bad cess to your fingers I " 
 
 Mrs. Potts, taking her hands off him, caught 
 her umbrella, the handle of which she worked 
 into the coachman's collar, calling out, at the 
 top of her voice, "Isn't this shameful conduct? 
 there's the baby's things rolling off my lap ! see 
 there! oh, lor! lor! " 
 
 "Well now Pat!" exclaimed Hugh, taking 
 the bonnet, slily, from Darcy, and placing it 
 suddenly on the guard's head, " aintyou the nice 
 boy, to be playing such tricks on a decent woman ?" 
 
 " You Irish baboon ! " cried out Mrs. Potts, be- 
 hibouring the horn-blower with her umbrella, to 
 every one's merriment. 
 
 " Here, give me the reins," said Darcy, ad- 
 Iressing the coachman, who seemed to know him 
 well, " and I will shake them up a bit, while you 
 are settling the collar of your coat, Jerry ! she 
 handled you rather roughly."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 83 
 
 ^'Bad luck to that same 'Neil, with his tricks I 
 I am most destroyed." 
 
 "Your soul to glory! " called out the guard, 
 revengefully, to Mrs. Potts, " now is your time 
 to hold on ; Mr. Darcy is the one that will tatter 
 them along, and drive you within an inch of 
 your life ! grip the rail firm, woman ! or you will 
 cut the somerset in earnest ! herrew for Mr. Tom ! 
 long life to your honor ! dart them along 1 that's 
 the going ! " 
 
 '^ Have a care, my dear fellow," said Hervey, 
 *' what a pace ! " 
 
 '' Speak to him your honor," whispered Jerry, 
 uneasily, " he don't care a traneen about my ad- 
 vice, sure them leaders are a couple of runaway 
 devils." 
 
 "Hold your tongue!" said wild Tom, "an- 
 other word, and I will let them go ! '' 
 
 " He is in one of his humours," whispered Jerry, 
 trembling from head to foot, and adding almost 
 in audibly, " didn't his father live two years in a 
 mad house? it's in the blood." 
 
 " And they say that his son will be in one
 
 84 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 some day ! '^ roared Darcy, overhearing him, and 
 fiercely thonging the wheelers, whilst he shouted, 
 " away, good horses, forward ! forward ! " 
 
 ''For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Hervey, 
 looking at his companion's flushed face, '' let the 
 coachman take them, — they are oiF! " 
 
 *' It's the full of the moon," groaned Jerry, 
 wiping his damp forehead, and looking on in 
 despair, without daring to interfere. 
 
 '' Now," cried Darcy, excitedly, " my hlood is 
 getting up, I feel their hearts throbbing, along 
 the stretched ribbons into my very hands, and 
 back is flying my beating pulsation, to their 
 foamimg mouths, away ! you devils, away ! " 
 
 Breathless seemed every bosom, borne through 
 the air at that wild speed; save to stay the 
 frightful swinging to and fro, not a hand, not a 
 foot stirred. 
 
 Down the slope dashed the frightened team, 
 to escape the oscillating coach, that was over- 
 running them. Now they are in a little valley ; 
 he is springing them madly, at the gentle rise, 
 to get a pull out of the leaders, and steady the
 
 TALBOT HALL. 85 
 
 pole. They are on the level again ; the woods 
 are catching up tlie loud clatter of their iron- 
 shod hoofs, and re-eclioing it through the start- 
 led hills. Now the near wheeler is down, and 
 up again like lightning. 
 
 " Beautifully saved ! " exclaimed Ilervey, 
 warming, and gaining confidence in his friend's 
 driving. 
 
 Drops of sweat are marking the dust covered 
 road, flakes of snov/y foam are flying mid air, 
 but there is no pulling up till they reach the 
 next hill. Now the trees, which appeared at a 
 distance to form an impenetrable barriei- across 
 the road, are expanding over head, and each 
 eye turns giddy as the flood of light bursts upon 
 it. Ever and anon, as they flew down the de- 
 clivity, the pole sv/ayed from side to side, the 
 front wheels seeming to be madly dodging to 
 escape from the hinder ones, one moment threat- 
 ning an instantaneous crash, the next darting to 
 their original place, restoring the overtopping 
 coach, then so swiftly revolving, that the whirl- 
 ing spokes became invisible, giving to the wheels
 
 86 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 the appearance of hoops, between which the fly- 
 ing mass was borne along the road. An ^occa- 
 sional scream, the exclamations of fear from those 
 whom they dashed past, the wild gingle of the 
 pole chains, the hurried clatter and loud snort of 
 the terrified liorses, were all to Darcy, in his 
 present mood, the sweetest music. His chest 
 expanded, his eye lit up brilliantly, around the 
 lip played a fierce and exulting smile. 
 
 " He has them in hand again," whispered Her- 
 vey to Jerry; " what a terrific pace, how beau- 
 tifully handled ! " 
 
 Inch by inch Darcy gathered in the reins 
 with consummate skill. The veins started out 
 on his forehead, from the efforts he was making 
 to get their heads together, as they neared the 
 sharp angle, on which the coachman fixed his 
 eyes with terror. 
 
 ** Sit close to this side," called out Hervey to 
 the passengers, in a voice of earnest warning. 
 Not a soul stirred from his paralized position. 
 The inner wheels rose — whirled — skimmed the 
 ground — were up again, spun in the air — grazed
 
 TALBOT HALL. 87 
 
 the road, grated hard, and now they are on the 
 straight level once more. 
 
 Jerry wiped his forehead, the guard whirled 
 his horn over his head, in token of admiration 
 of the feat. Not a word was spoken. Darcy 
 trembled from excitement ; but now he is cool- 
 ing down, he has pulled them up ; the flush is 
 leaving his face, he is growing pale. The dark 
 mood has passed away, and lie sits silently gaz- 
 ing on the panting horses, gasping for breath.
 
 88 TAL30T HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Weeks have passed away. The withered leaves 
 are falling in showers, strewing the earth with 
 dead foliage, leaving the trees bleak and bare. 
 It is the hunting season. Two gentlemen are 
 riding their cover hacks to the meet at Talbot 
 Hall. One is Sir Henry Gale, the other Cap- 
 tain Leslie. They were in deep and earnest 
 conversation. *' There is something very gentle 
 and interesting in sister Agnes' manner," said 
 Leslie, thoughtfully, " have you any idea who 
 she is?"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 89 
 
 The baronet did not seem to like the turn the 
 conversation had taken ; the expression of his 
 features was almost sorrowful. He even seemed 
 so absorbed in reflection as not to have heard 
 the last question. 
 
 " Hush ! " whispered Gale, " here comes that 
 wild Irishman." 
 
 " Good morning to you, gentlemen," said Dar- 
 cy, offering his hand frankly to Leslie, and bow- 
 ing, coldly to the Baronet, who evidently noted 
 the marked difference, though without seeming 
 to do so. " We are to have a great meet," re- 
 sumed Tom, " such a field; every man in the 
 hunt will turn out; and as for ladies, — I hear 
 that half a score breakfasted at Talbot Hall. You 
 will see Miss Dawson, our great belle; she will 
 ride and shew some of us the way, if she is not 
 too much taken up flirting." 
 
 Sir Henry Gale enquired, " Is Miss Gordon 
 well ? " 
 
 '^ I was not aware that anything ailed her," 
 replied iJarcy, '^ but you, who take such interest 
 in the lady, may be better informed;"" he added,
 
 90 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 markedly, " I had the pleasure of meeting her 
 last night, Miss Gordon was then quite well/' 
 " It is but polite I should enquire." 
 Darcy bowed coldly, and addressing himself to 
 Captain Leslie, resumed, '' What say you to 
 shaking up a canter ; we shall be late, I hear 
 the horn/' 
 
 In front of Talbot Hall, on the lawn, were 
 assembled a host of pink coated gentlemen, who 
 were schooling their horses over the fences, for 
 the edification and amusement of a number of 
 the fair sex. A few of the elite of the hunt sur- 
 rounded two ladies, into whose good graces they 
 sought to ingratiate themselves. The one was 
 Miss Dawson, who kept up a running conversa- 
 tion with those near, using her eyes to enthral 
 those at a distance. The other was Miss Gordon, 
 a lady who had only a few days previously 
 arrived from London, and was on a visit at Tal- 
 bot Hall. Ada Gordon was tall and dignified, 
 with that peculiar air of high breeding that irre- 
 sistibly commands attention. In her aristocratic 
 features were blended beauty and haughtiness,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 91 
 
 loveliness and scorn, gentleness and determina- 
 tion. In repose, the face wore an expression of 
 calm though tfulness, but there were moments 
 when the dark eye flashed with brilliancy and 
 pride, when the lip, around which had played the 
 sweetest smiles, curled with cold disdain. Her 
 glossy black hair, simply parted off the forehead 
 and braided on the cheek, gave her countenance 
 a Greecian cast. The calmness of her demeanor 
 formed a strong contrast with the flirting viva- 
 city of her companion, who laughed and con- 
 versed with every one in a breath. 
 
 " Here comes Sir Henry Gale, Miss Gordon," 
 said Emma Dawson, touching her white Arab's 
 head, playfully, with a light whip, and mak- 
 ing him arch his neck gracefully. 
 
 ^' And Captain Leslie," remarked her com- 
 panion, signihcantly. 
 
 '' And Mr. Darcy," resumed Emma, looking 
 meaningly at Miss Gordon. 
 
 Tom bowed courteously, and, extending Iiis 
 hand to Ada, addressed a few words to both la- 
 dies. Sir Henry spoke in whispers to Miss Gur-
 
 92 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 don, and appeared to have known her before, 
 he seemed anxious to monopolize her society, by 
 endeavouring, as mucli as lay in his power, to 
 widen the distance, between her and Darcy, 
 wlio remained with them. 
 
 Miss Dawson tried several times to throw her- 
 self in Captain Leslie's way, but he only bowed 
 to her, and passed on. She was piqued by his 
 apparent indifference, and the more annoyed, be- 
 cause she had unguardedly confessed, that niorn- 
 ning, that he was the handsomest man; she had 
 ever seen. Emma flirted with Sir Henry, in the 
 hopes, of drawing Captain Leslie's attention, re- 
 marking to Gale, that his companion, was a very 
 formal person. 
 
 " He is rather stand off at first," replied the 
 Baronet, eyeing Darcy and Miss Gordon. 
 
 '' Captain Leslie is riding up to Mr. Hervey, 
 and Miss Talbot," resumed Emma, " how quietly 
 Lucy has managed to get away from our party; 
 j)retty flirtation going on between them, per- 
 haps they may tliink a third, one too many, what
 
 TALBOT HALL. 93 
 
 amusement I shall have, in quizzing her ! I wonder 
 Mr. Hervey did not prevail on Lucy to ride." 
 
 ** They seem to be quite satisfied, with their 
 own arrangements," remarked Ada, smiling. 
 
 " 1 dare say," whispered Darcy, '' that thoy 
 would just as soon, not be joined." 
 
 Emma Dawson, under the plea, of compassion 
 to Lucy, and to prevent Leslie breaking in on 
 the tete a tete, called out, laughingly, " 1 will go 
 to the rescue," then, tossing her head, and liglitly 
 touching her Arab, she added, " after all it is 
 only having to submit to Captain Leslie s cold 
 conversation for a few minutes, and I shall be 
 repaid by feeling that I am doing an act of 
 charity.", 
 
 " One word for Lucy, and two for herself,'^ re- 
 marked Darcy to Miss Gordon, adding, may I 
 trespass so far on your good nature, as to re- 
 main." 
 
 Ada smiled on him ; it might have been fancy, 
 but Gale thought that a slight tinge coloured 
 her proud cheek. She listened attentively to
 
 94 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 the young Irishman's animated conversation, 
 which gradually assumed a confidential turn. 
 
 For some time after he had ceased to speak, 
 both remained silent. 
 
 Sir Henry Gale addressed her; at first she 
 seemed hardly to notice him, then, bowing rather 
 coldly, she declined some offer he made. 
 
 *' Do you like Ireland? " asked Darcy, recover- 
 ing from his meditation. 
 
 She replied, '' Yes." 
 
 Another pause ensued, which Tom broke by 
 saying, " You find my cousin Lucy, a nice speci- 
 men of an Irish romp ! " 
 
 '* I find her a sweet girl, innocent as she is 
 lovely, and if I have lost my heart to her, I am 
 not the only English person who is enchanted 
 with Lucy's playful manners, methinks, Mr. 
 Hervey has formed the same opinion and " 
 
 " And lost his heart," interrupted Darcy, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 " I sympathise with him," she said, " because I 
 have done the same." 
 
 '^ The world says it was gone before you came
 
 TALBOT HALL. 95 
 
 here/' he whispered, while Gale girthed his sad- 
 dle, " it were perhaps wise, for me to be less often 
 in your society." 
 
 No one saw her face, it was turned away. 
 
 " There they go ! " exclaimed Sir Henry, 
 pointing to the cover, " I must be off." 
 
 " I, too, must leave you, " said Darcy, reluctant- 
 ly, " my uncle always expects me to be by his 
 side, particularly in our own grounds." 
 
 Gale had thought she coloured before, this 
 time he was sure of it. 
 
 "You ought to follow him," remarked she, '*he 
 knows the country so well." 
 
 " If you are so anxious to get rid of me, Miss 
 Gordon," was the testy reply, "I shall obey your 
 wish." 
 
 He rode off, angrily. 
 
 The flirt, much put out by Leslie's apparent 
 coldness, turned her prancing Arab towards Ada, 
 in the hopes he might escort her. 
 
 She dropped a richly worked handkerchief, 
 he picked it up, and, handing it to another gen- 
 tleman, begged him to return it to Miss Dawson,
 
 96 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 then, putting spurs to his horse, cantered down 
 the lawn, and, taking the fence, landed in the 
 field where the pack were. 
 
 *' Yolks! yoiks! ho! wind him! hunt him out, 
 good dogs! " shouted old Talbot, speak to him, 
 my beauties ! " '' crack ! crack ! " went the whip- 
 per's thongs, — " pru-u-um ! " sounded the horn, 
 — " Yoiks to him, Leader ! " called out Darcy, 
 '' challenge him Howler ! " — " Spake to him love- 
 lies !" joined in the huntsman, '' Forward ! for- 
 ward!" roared the master of hounds, "go along 
 game pack ! you, sir ! on the bay cart horse, keep 
 back, and let the fox break cover. 
 
 " How quiet," said Gale to Leslie, " we do 
 things in England compared to this— what a 
 row they make." 
 
 " Take care, here comes Mr. Talbot; they are 
 so hospitable, it is not fair to condemn, — wait 
 for a few seconds, and we shall see how they 
 ride — they are all well mounted." 
 
 " Now you are on the scent," shouted the old 
 sportsman. 
 
 "Arrah!" roared Hugh O'Neil from a tree
 
 TALBOT HALL. 97 
 
 into which he had climbed. " There he goes, 
 sneaking along the furze fence ; watch the crows 
 pointing the lad out." 
 
 '' Tally-ho, and away !" bellowed the master, 
 sighting Reynard, " now, gentlemen, hark to him ! 
 Forward, d take the hindermost!" 
 
 This last exclamation caused about eighty 
 gentlemen, old and young, to gallop off as if they 
 were mad, flying, bounding, scrambling across 
 double ditches, sunk fences and loose walls, their 
 hats or themselves cutting somersaults, and fre- 
 quently exposing bald heads, whose owners rode 
 as hard as their younger companions — certainly 
 not as if they were in pursuit of a little red fox, 
 with a long brush, but more like sinners escaping 
 
 from the old gentleman, designated D ; and, 
 
 alas ! for the depravity of the world, but too well 
 known. Helter, skelter, they dashed on, regard- 
 less of committing suicide, " going to the dogs," 
 as many an Irishman does who ruins himself to 
 indulge in this sport. 
 
 ^' Who knows," said Charley to Greig Dempsey, 
 
 VOL. L F
 
 98 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' that the sulphry gentleman, Mr. Talbot alluded 
 to, is not at their heels." 
 
 *' With his eye on some of them," replied a 
 voice from a tree. 
 
 The only persons on whom the " Tally ho, 
 and away!" had not acted as a charm, were 
 Hervey, Lucy Talbot, Mr. Butterworth, and 
 Mrs. Talbot, all in earnest conversation. 
 
 '^ Quiet, sir," said Hervey, addressing his 
 restive horse, who pawed and reared, as a hint 
 to be off, whilst his rider remained whispering to 
 the fair girl. 
 
 '- Shall I hold your honour's horse?' asked 
 the old butler, who, with two empty decanters 
 and a tray full of glasses, stood close behind, 
 showing some cause for the hard riding and 
 heavy falls. 
 
 •' Now then! don't they charge powerful when 
 there's jewels of ladies looking on," muttered 
 Greig to himself. " A spur in the head is worth 
 two in the heel, to the old boys, any how." 
 
 At this crisis a lad about sixteen jumped 
 t4ie fence, and, dashing along on foot, with a
 
 TALBOT HALL. 99 
 
 single hound after him, beckoned to Hervey to 
 follow. 
 
 " Who is that strange being?" asked Lucy's 
 admirer, gazing in surprise at the bare-footed 
 creature, who had on an old cast-off red coat and 
 a torn hunting cap. 
 
 '^He is deranged, poor fellow," she replied; "he 
 is very happy, although one could hardly believe 
 it; papa gave him the old hound, he was getting 
 too slow; and he allows Joe to run after the 
 hunt." - ' 
 
 " You are bruising that pretty rose-bud — may 
 I beg for it?" 
 
 *' Mamma gave it to me, I ought not to part 
 with a gift — there was only the one." 
 
 " Your honour ought to follow the simple," 
 said Greig, " he goes short cuts, or it is little you 
 will see of the hunt this same day, there is no 
 time to lose." 
 
 '' He is quite right, Mr. Hervey. It was very 
 thoughtless of me to detain you so long," said 
 Lucy, unconsciously pulling the leaflets off the 
 winter bud. 
 
 F 2
 
 100 lALBOT HALL. 
 
 "- Do go at once — he knows the country so well ; 
 it is full of bogs, and very deep ones." The 
 stem broke, the flower fell to the ground. 
 
 Hervey, instantly alighting, picked it up, and 
 placing it in his button-hole, whispered softly, 
 *' It would be a pity to return it to one who has 
 used it so ill." 
 
 "I am sure," replied she, colouring, "now 
 that its beauty is nearly gone, the thorns can be 
 of little value to any one." 
 
 *' 'Tis not the first rose that has left a thorn." 
 Waving his hand, he took the fence within a 
 yard of Greig, who shouted, "More power to 
 your honour" — the decanters chasing the glasses 
 so fiercely in his excitement, that two of them 
 jumped off the tray. 
 
 " Give me your hand, Miss Lucy V said he, 
 assisting his young mistress to get up on the 
 fence; '* It is here you will get sight of the whole 
 hunt. Are you ill, Miss?" enquired the privi- 
 leged attendant, kindly, " you are all of a 
 tremble." 
 
 " No, Greig, thank vou.''
 
 TALBOT HALL. 101 
 
 " Whist, whist ! there he goes at the doable 
 ditch with the scouglis ;" he lifted his leg as the 
 Englishman rode boldly at the rasping leap ; nor 
 was his the only foot that stirred, a small one not 
 tar off was raised, as if the motion could help 
 Hcrvey over. 
 
 " By all that is good, but he is a bully rider; 
 hew ! Miss, how he is thundering along, there ! 
 clean past Joe, and the poor simple never think- 
 ing of telling his honour the short cuts. — by St. 
 Patrick! it is the river he is for; whist! the 
 horse wont agree to a cold bath — he has him 
 round again. Glory be to the holy Father, he's in." 
 
 "Oh, oh, Greig!" 
 
 "By the mortals! — saving your presence, he 
 is the broth of a boy — see he is getting out grand ; 
 it is slippery — herrew! he is on the turf sod 
 again." 
 
 " Is he near any bogs? " 
 
 " Only a fallow and a pratee garden between 
 him and the hunt, not a bog at all where he is." 
 
 " Can you see him nowl " 
 
 "No; yes! that I may never stir hand or
 
 102 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 foot, if Mr. Darcy and himself are not after 
 showing on tlie other side, and the two leading 
 everything; faith! he is almost a match for 
 Mister Tom ; he has not got his diverting ways, 
 for all that; barring tor riding, the English are 
 not a patch on Irish gentlemen, in regard of 
 paying attention to the ladies. Arrah, whist, 
 blazes ! saving your presence, it is at the lime- 
 kiln they are going — aye, and safe they are 
 landed in the stubble, hew !" continued the ex- 
 cited man ; " the pair of them is making a holy 
 show of the whole hunt. Herrew! your sowl, 
 blister Tom, honey! go 'long for the credit of 
 Tally-ho Hall— don't be beat." 
 
 " What are they doing now, oh, tell me, 
 Greig? I dare not look." 
 
 '' Holy Virgin, whist! there's the stopper in 
 earnest.*' 
 
 Both held their breaths. 
 
 " Murder, murder! if they're not killed dead, 
 the beasts are smashed!" 
 
 She pressed the old man's arm, and enquired 
 eagerly, '' Can you see them? "
 
 TALBOT HALL. 103 
 
 " Mister Tom is hurted, for there goes the 
 English gentleman alone." 
 
 ^' Oh, no ! surely he would never leave my 
 cousin if he was hurt." 
 
 *^ Ah, ^e, fieV exclaimed Dempsey, indig- 
 nantly ; " it is long before Mister Darcy, with all 
 his devilment, would disert anybody in trouble." 
 
 Lucy hung down her head, she was disap- 
 pointed in Hervey. The young heart that had 
 a moment before longed to see him first, now 
 sighed to find him leading by himself. 
 
 " Bad cess ! if there is not himself waving his 
 hat, like mad, to Mister Hervey ; look, Miss, on 
 the top of the hill, under the larch plantation." 
 
 "Where, where?" asked she, clapping her 
 hands ; and exclaiming with delight, " Yes, yes, 
 it is cousin Tom ! " 
 
 " Now I understand, he is calling to him and 
 signing because of the bogs, that is what hid 
 him, he was keeping close under the fence on the 
 hard headland. Save us! but they are the 
 darlings — sorrow choke me if I would have given 
 a traneen for their lives when I seen them dart
 
 104 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 at the limekiln — long life to them — what a holy 
 show they are making of the master; by St. 
 Dennis ! the tall stranger is close on their heels, 
 he is a thunderer; you may blow your horns, 
 the never a hound will come to the call, saving 
 that skulking Leander — hung, he ought to be, 
 look at him, slinking miles behind." 
 
 Wild Tom leading. Captain Leslie closing on 
 him, and Herve}^, picking up his lost ground fast, 
 was now the order ; t(^n to twelve in a picked 
 lot, were hokli ng their own a hundred yards 
 behind; the stragglers were everywhere and no 
 where. 
 
 " It is dig for dig," exclaimed Greig, " with 
 Mister Tom and the stranger now, Mister Hervey 
 is on their saddle girths. It is a great sight, en- 
 tirely." 
 
 As he finished the sentence they galloped down 
 the other side of the hill and were immediately 
 lost to sight. 
 
 " Not a know. Miss, I know how it is, but 
 since the English quality came here, the Mistress 
 is all out, sad, anyhow she never was very gay."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 105 
 
 " Greig, will you pull that furze-bush out 
 of my way — I can easily jump down." 
 
 "If Mister Hervey had a little of Mister 
 Darcy's diverting ways he would be a jewel of a 
 man — yourself is not the laughing young lady 
 you was just before they arrived — them British! 
 I am thinking they are a mortal cold sort of 
 people — well, more's the pity, because, only for 
 that—" 
 
 '' Only for what?" asked Lucy, smiling at his 
 prattle. 
 
 " It is no use on me saying my say out — but 
 I have been thinking — " 
 
 "Well, what have you been thinking?" said 
 she, parting the long ringlets off her face, whicli 
 had wandered over it when she leaped the ditch. 
 
 " Why, that—" 
 
 ''Well?" 
 
 " His honour has not seen the like of yourself, 
 to his fancy, since he was the height of them 
 decanters, and small blame to him for admiring 
 you, but if," he added slyly, *• I was a lady, 
 Mister Darcy would be the man for me." 
 
 F 3
 
 106 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " What nonsense you talk, you are getting into 
 dotage," she bounded away to overtake Mr. But- 
 terworth and Miss Rodney, who were together, 
 and appeared to be on the best of terms. 
 
 Gallantly offering Lucy his idle arm, they pro- 
 ceeded towards the house, for it was looking very 
 like rain. She told them how well cousin Tom rode, 
 but not a word about somebody, although she 
 recollected Captain Leslie was close by Darcy's 
 side when last they were seen. 
 
 "" I wonder my young friend was not among 
 the foremost," said Mr. Butterworth, " inasmuch 
 as he has always borne the character of a first- 
 rate equestrian." 
 
 " What a mild day," said Lucy ; " what a 
 beautiful morning." 
 
 " Why, it is raining ! " remarked her governess, 
 smiling; " we had better hurry on." 
 
 ^' Lucy, love," said Mrs. Talbot, joining them, 
 " you have lost your rose-bud, though you teazed 
 me so much to let you become its owner." 
 
 " The stem broke, mamma." 
 
 " And you did not take the trouble to pick 
 it up."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 107 
 
 *' Mr. Hervey was so quick— he — " 
 
 '' Asked you for it." 
 
 '' Yes, mamma," Lucy's face was treacherously 
 crimson; "III run on and get you an umbrella/' 
 Away she flew, glad of an excuse, but she did 
 not return. 
 
 " If I had waited for you, dear," said her 
 mother, *' I am afraid I should have been trust- 
 ing to a very forgetful messenger." 
 
 '' I could not find one — and Greig had not 
 got back— so you see I — I — " 
 
 " I see," interrupted Mrs. Talbot, smiling, and 
 closing the hall door. 
 
 The rain pattered against the windows to 
 verify Lucy's encomiums on the beautiful 
 morning. 
 
 As we are thus unceremoniously excluded 
 from the house, let us take shelter in a small 
 cabin, one of those on the Darcy Park Estate; 
 over the door of which was barely legible, 
 " licensed to sell," the other word is supposed to 
 have been '' spirits," before time obliterated it. 
 
 Thither had gathered eight or ten labourers to
 
 108 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 discuss, over a glass of whiskey, the merits of 
 the riders, and to while away an idle hour. 
 
 As we shall frequently be introduced into the 
 public house, a description of it will not be 
 amiss. 
 
 Like all those on that mortgaged estate it 
 was in a sad condition. The damp manure heap, 
 and the pool of stagnant water in front of the 
 walls, had loosened the clay mortar, leaving wide 
 crevices between the foundation stones, and, 
 though many a coat of whitewash had been 
 daubed on, the green mould showed through 
 them. The upper part was entirely mud built, 
 with a small square opening, intended for a pane 
 of glass through which peeped an old straw 
 bonnet stuffed with dry ferns. The little mounds 
 on the uneven earthern floor likened it to a di- 
 minutive burial ground; in the centre of the 
 room stood two black iron pots, as chief mourners ; 
 a little removed, propped by the wall, leant an 
 aged dresser, decrepid and time-worn, with one 
 leg in the grave, ready to fall at the slightest 
 provocation, and smash plates, panikins, and
 
 TALBOT HALL. 109 
 
 whiskey glasses. A horse collar, the trophy of 
 some over-worked animal, was the main prop to 
 all this household crockery. There was a bench 
 which, on fair days, helped to widen a bed, and 
 accommodate three slumberers. 
 
 Near the door, for the benefit of light, stood 
 a small counter, supported on two old barrels; 
 the scales of justice, which lay on it, were used 
 for weighing articles of grocery, upon which 
 revelling flies had feasted, and where now their 
 forms lay on sugary banks, without funeral 
 rites or the ceremony of a coroner's inquest. 
 Unshrouded bodies were daily handed over to 
 purchasers to be embalmed in scalding tea, 
 fished out, and thrown aside as unworthy of a 
 verdict. Add two wide-mouthed bottles, in 
 which were carefully confined strong spirits, — 
 and they, sum up the Widow Brennan's goods. 
 There were also two small tables, supported by 
 shillelagh legs, which, on the slightest appeal, 
 were ready to espouse any one's quarrel, the 
 festal board always coming to the ground on 
 these occasions; it bore the marks of many a
 
 110 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 carman's pocket-knife, where he had sliced his 
 bit of bacon, without the superfluous aid of a 
 plate. 
 
 In the opening over the door, intended for 
 another pane, was an old felt hat; it nodded 
 to every blast, politely admitting the gentlest 
 zephyr, struggling to keep out rain, and deter- 
 minedly raising obstacles to the entrance of 
 day-light. 
 
 The chief person in the assembled group, was 
 Tim Nowlan, formerly the village school master, 
 a berth which had been taken from him on sus- 
 picion of his being mixed up with the " white 
 boy confederation." 
 
 He was a middle sized person, with shrunken 
 features, liard grey eyes and beetling brows. 
 His was one of those restless brains, ever planning 
 evil for others to execute, Avhilst he himself 
 managed to elude detection. His age, sixty. 
 
 *' Hugh O'Neil," said he, " them Saxons ride 
 wicked.'' 
 
 " They warmed mister Tom's jacket for him, 
 any way."
 
 TALBOT HALL. Ill 
 
 '' What is bringing them all to these parts?'' 
 
 " Sorrow a know, I know, barring to divert 
 tliemselves, or to lose their hearts." 
 
 '•' Him that was talking to Miss Lucy, is a 
 decent man, he is well spoke." 
 
 '• The stranger gentleman is an able fine 
 fellow ; sure wasn't he in the army ? " 
 
 •'Who is the little one? Mr. Dempsey is after 
 telling me he is a baronet." 
 
 " Aye, is he, do you think? but he is terrible 
 sweet on that jewel of an English lady." 
 
 '' Myself was fancying Mister Tom likes her 
 company," said Nowlan. 
 
 '' Did you ever see the like of Miss Dawson, 
 she is able to take the whole army and cut them 
 down to the ground witli her eyes — it is herself 
 that knows how to flirt, and make the boys 
 run 'after her. I would not say but she is a 
 little soft on the captain — him they call the 
 stranger." 
 
 '^ Arrah, whist, your whispering," called 
 
 out the village baker, " and tell us a story, 
 Mister Nowlan, and I will stand a glass apiece
 
 112 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 for the company. Put on a bit of turf, Misses 
 Brennan, and make us comfortable." 
 
 " Well, lads," commenced Tim, giving three 
 clear coughs, " It was a cold evening and the 
 sun had gone to bed quite sulky, because the 
 shivering little birds would not sing, and the 
 young moon came out as modest as a new bride, 
 looking delicate and tender ; so the small stars 
 drew a big cloud round her the size of fifty cur- 
 tains, and there was the sun and moon gone to 
 rest like lawful man and wife;" after a long pull 
 at his tumbler, "well! the shining creatures 
 began the greatest merriment ever was seen 
 before or since. The milky way was turned 
 into a whiskey stream, and the big bear took a 
 powerful long pull, and. the lad was so drunk 
 that the never a up or down the North Pole he 
 could climb, and by the same token, each of the 
 stars swallowed a dram, and got full up of frolic- 
 someness, the bigger ones thinking themselves 
 suns and moons, and the young chaps imagining 
 they were blazing worlds — "
 
 TALBOT HALL. 113 
 
 "Arrah, whist!" called out Hugh, "with 
 your bears and your whiskey streams." 
 
 " Is it bears or the likes in the sky," voci- 
 ferated the baker, " musha ! do not be blarnying 
 us with drunken stars." 
 
 " I'll tell you what," indignantly replied 
 Nowlan, casting a contemptuous look on him, '^ it 
 is easier for a needle to pass through the eye of 
 a camel, than to drive sense into a heap of dough. 
 I spoke alicorigally — but none of you under- 
 stands the like." 
 
 " The sorrow a word of lie in that same," said 
 Hugh, laughing. 
 
 " Well," resumed the narrator, " after looking 
 quiet and easy at the diversions in the firmament, 
 till the sparks in the doudeen were clean out, 
 back I went into the cabin, and what did I do 
 but light it again. When I come out next 
 turn, up I looks to the skies, not expecting to 
 find any more baccy there, and to my astonish- 
 ment there were the little stars, most of them 
 asleep, with small clouds for blankets, and the 
 few that were out, twinkling, the creatures, to
 
 114 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 keep awake signing all manner of signs for me 
 not to be walking heavy or make any noi&e, 
 because their father and mother, and all the 
 brothers and sisters, even the great bear, were 
 dead beat with drink — and what did I see in my 
 cabin — ." He stopped short, and, finishing his 
 whiskey, resumed, " it was a sight, in earnest — " 
 he checked himself again, and gazing into tlie 
 high road, exclaimed, " there is the hunt." 
 Every one jumped up at the false alarm, during 
 which Tim tossed off the contents of the baker's 
 tumbler. 
 
 '' Not a sign of them, good, bad, or indifferent,'' 
 said Hugh, returning. 
 
 "Which of you is after drinkrin' my whis- 
 key?'' asked the man of flour. 
 
 '' Sure, it is long since I seen you swallow it 
 off, like a brave fellow," answered Nowlan, light- 
 ing his pipe, and quietly preparing to go home. 
 
 " And what did you see?" enquired several 
 voices. 
 
 " For certain, I was most forgetting the de- 
 cent way you treated me. Well! forenent
 
 TALBOT HALL. 115 
 
 my very eyes — there was the supper on my 
 table." 
 
 " Bad luck to you, for a deceiver, promising a 
 story," said the baker, angrily. 
 
 Some time after Joe came in, and laying him- 
 self down at full length, pillowed his head against 
 his father's legs. Hugh asked his son, " Did 
 you kill, Joe?" 
 
 •' Ask Pilot," replied the tired cr^ture, fold- 
 ing one arm around his dog and holding his 
 father's in the other hand. 
 
 They thronged round him, putting no end of 
 questions. 
 
 " Which of tliem, beat?" enquired Nowlan. 
 
 " The hounds, the hounds ! sure he gave me 
 the shilling," pulling it out of the pocket of the 
 hunting-coat, and tossing it proudly in his palm. 
 '• I found the rose, and himself gave it to me." 
 
 " Take a sup of this, my poor gossoon/' said 
 Hugh, looking affectionately at his tired son, 
 ^-your feet are most destroyed, they are bleed- 
 ing."
 
 116 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 ''Here is Mister Tom," called out the boy, 
 looking to see what caused his dog to raise his 
 head, "and the hunt." 
 
 All ran to the door, Hervey and Darcy were 
 walking arm-in-arm, with the bridles of their jaded 
 horses slung on their wrists. It was easy to tell 
 by the animals' varnished sides and drawn up 
 flanks, that they had had a very severe day. 
 They dragged their hoofs, and with hanging 
 head, sleepy eye, and dry mouth, walked stifly; 
 their girths, too, had been slackened. Close 
 to their heels followed the mud splashed 
 pack, whose blood-stained jaws told Reynard's 
 fate. 
 
 " Long life to your honours !" shouted Nowlan, 
 waving his hat. 
 
 " Joe must be very tired," said Darcy to 
 Hugh ; " poor fellow, he was everywhere." 
 
 " He knows the short cuts so clever — the old 
 dog and him are terrible cute." 
 
 Scarce had they passed, when Tim, turning to 
 the labourers, said, " Sorry I am to see Mister
 
 TALBOT HALL. 117 
 
 Tom arm-in-arm with a Saxon, bad luck to the 
 breed of them." 
 
 " He is a decent man, any how, that same 
 Englishman," remarked O'Neil. 
 
 " That is queer talk," exclaimed the ex-school- 
 master ; " and the whole of us subscribing to get 
 the repeal of the Union." 
 
 " It is the repeal of the corn-laws we want," 
 shouted a voice. 
 
 " Peel is the fellow," said Hugh, "he is going 
 to give us the big loaf." 
 
 " Sure," chimed in Nowlan, '' they got a 
 powerful spade for him, they are going to make 
 him dig the first sod of Trent Valley, like a 
 labouring man," he added with a chuckle. " Dan 
 O'Connel will wheel the barrow for them, if so 
 be they pay him well." 
 
 " Little time he will have for the like," re- 
 marked the baker. " The never a big loaf I can 
 sell till he carries the repeal." 
 
 '' Pikes," said Nowlan, '' I'd like to see you all 
 carrying; nine inches of sharp iron on those
 
 118 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 handles, instead of flat shovels and facks, it's 
 what would gain the day. Now is the tirae — ^ 
 England has enough to do minding herself and 
 watching Merikey." 
 
 *' O'Neil," said the widow Brennan, " your 
 poor gossoon is ill."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 119 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 '* How is Joe?" asked Hervey, of Hugh, early 
 on the following morning. 
 
 '' Poorly, glory he to heaven, your honour," 
 answered the cabiner, bowing gratefully. 
 
 " You appear in low spirits yourself; are you 
 unwell?" 
 
 •'No, your honour; there are things after 
 happening that is fretting me. May I get a bit 
 ol' turf fur the cigar ? Mister Tom always stops 
 to light at my cabin." 
 
 " I never smoke. Have you seen Mr. Darcy 
 this morning?"
 
 120 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '* He was riding past not two minutes gone." 
 
 '^Fast or slow?" 
 
 *' Betwixt and between trotting and walking, 
 his horse is always dancing. Thank your honour, 
 kindly," said Hugh, pocketing some silver as the 
 giver rode off. 
 
 At this moment Nowlan was coming towards 
 O'Neil ; his head was bent forward till the chin 
 nearly rested on his chest, partly in thought, 
 partly because, being hump-backed, that was its 
 general position. From time to time he halted 
 to look up, at such moments drawing a semi- 
 circle with his foot, and marking a ring with the 
 toe of his heavy brogue. He appeared to have 
 been watching Hervey's movements, but the 
 moment he became conscious that Hugh's eyes 
 were on himself, he smartened his walk, and, 
 without looking at him, said, " Good morrow, 
 Hugh O'Neil, what way are you all?" 
 
 " Joe is poorly." 
 
 " Is it Joey? sure I seen him out at the back 
 of the bawne."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 121 
 
 " True for that, because, sick or well, there is 
 no keeping the creature in doors." 
 
 " Wont you stay and eat a bit with us Mister 
 Nowlan?" asked Hugh's wife, a quiet industrious 
 little woman. " Yes, do, sure the praties are 
 just ready to take off, they are done to the full, 
 with a bone in them." 
 
 " Not this turn, I have business to attend to ;" 
 he fixed his eyes on the floor. 
 
 " Botheration to you for a pig ; be easy till the 
 
 childers gets their share, did you ever know the 
 
 day I forgot you — Hugh, honey, turn the crea- 
 ture out." 
 
 " It is little there will be for her if things do 
 not mend," he replied, " and the way the pit of 
 praties is rotting ; hard set I was to get a bour- 
 rawn of sound ones." 
 
 " Lord save the poor ! " exclaimed Nowlan, in 
 a tone of feigned sorrow. 
 
 He beckoned to O'Neil, directly he got outside 
 the cabin ; Hugh followed. 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed the old hypocrite, "did 
 you get to find it?" 
 
 VOL. 1. ' G
 
 122 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Not a find," answered the cabiner, despond- 
 ingly. 
 
 " When did you see it last ? " 
 
 " It was there yesterday," whispered Hugh, 
 looking round to note if his wife overheard their 
 conversation. *' It will break her heart when I 
 tell her." 
 
 " Did any one know where you kept it?" 
 
 " Barring yourself, sorra a soul, not even 
 herself." 
 
 Ah ! then, 07\eii," interrupted Nowlan, as if 
 a thought struck liiiu, " Do you think but Joey 
 the creature nu^k;. have took it, not knowing 
 the value of the like — sure he had money yester- 
 day." 
 
 " Not he, the poor gossoon — -the Lord be 
 praised, he has sense enough not to dream of 
 robbing his own father." 
 
 '' The loss is not so bad any how, because that 
 villain of an agent would have had it, and no 
 thanks to you — bad luck to him for a robber." 
 
 " It was fairly owing, and 1 did not begrudge 
 the payment ! "
 
 TALBOT HALL. 123 
 
 ^' The rogue, driving the poor, and their 
 praties all rotting in the pits ; but Hugh, whisper 
 you will hold out, and tell the thief you cannot 
 pay, and have not got it/' 
 
 " That is no lie ! for sorra blow the penny, 
 but has been stolen of my little earnings in 
 England ; and what is worse, the price of the 
 cow I was forced to sell to make up my rent, for 
 the bit of stony ground." 
 
 *' How much was there?" asked Nowlart, 
 stooping to tie the string of his brogue. 
 
 '' Seven Pound ten shillings, and not a tell I 
 ever told any one where I put it, but yourself; 
 barring the price of a new cawbeen for going to 
 chapel, I did not spend a farthing." 
 
 " And a brave one it is," said Tim, trying to 
 turn the subject, " with the nap on it waving 
 like grass on a windy day." 
 
 " No, a short haired hat," replied Hugh, me- 
 chanically. 
 
 " Aye, as smooth as if the beaver had been 
 mowed off. 
 
 g2
 
 124 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 O'Neil did not notice this remark; but to 
 judge by his desponding countenance, he was in 
 very low spirits. 
 
 '' Hold out against paying," said Nowlan, " go 
 there to night," he pointed to the unfinished 
 ruins of Darcy Park, " and you will get justice ; 
 the boys will meet an hour before daylight, or 
 may be at midnight, according to the movements 
 of the police." He added in a low whisper, 
 " If the Agent wrongs you, show yourself a 
 man, and his life is not worth — ." 
 
 " Mr. Nowlan," interrupted Hugh, " don't 
 speak to me in this fashion. I tell you once for 
 all I'll never join them." 
 
 " Then go, and be broke to the ground, 
 and when you see your wife starving; and 
 your poor simple, that the Lord intended 
 you to feed, dying with want; and your 
 children crying for food, and not a pratie good 
 or bad to give; your pig drove; the cabin taken 
 from you ; and yourself obliged to crawl to the 
 workhouse, then you'll remember my advice, and 
 repent you did not listen to me."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 125 
 
 The picture startled Hugh, he hung down his 
 head. 
 
 " Will you join them ? " asked Nowlan again, 
 '* and take your turn." 
 
 " No never, I will never be a murderer! " ex- 
 claimed O'Neil, indignantly. 
 
 The old tempter turned away, and as he walked 
 down the lane, he drew from the breast pocket 
 of his frieze, the money he had stolen from 
 O'Neil. The sound of a horse's hoofs startled 
 him — a few yards from where he stood was 
 Doyle, the Agent for the Darcy abroad ; a man 
 without feeling or principle, and who as long as 
 he could get money from the ruined estate, cared 
 but little how the miserable tenantry were op- 
 pressed. 
 
 " Good morning to your honour," said Nowlan, 
 taking off his hat, submissively. 
 
 " Morrow, Tim. You know all about O'Neil, 
 tell me honestly, can he pay his rent? " 
 
 " Can he, your honor? To be sure he can, if 
 so be he is willing."
 
 126 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 *^ What about that luinp of a fool of his? Is 
 the lad able to work? I sent twice for him to 
 help at the potatoe digging, but he never came, 
 they tell me he never does a hand's turn." 
 
 " He is not the fool they make him out," said 
 I^owlan, meaningly. 
 
 " Here, Tim, lay liold of my stirrup, you can 
 walk as far as Hugh's cabin." 
 
 " If he sees me with your honor, it is think 
 he might I was spying for you, and small blame 
 to him for guessing the truth." Nowlan chuckled 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " Is that fellow Dennis O'Shane still about 
 this part of the country ? " asked the Agent, un- 
 easily. " I aui thinking you know more about 
 bim than people generally imagine. A bigger 
 villain never stepped." 
 
 " The black wolf, does your honour mean 
 him? " asked Nowlan beettling his shaggy brows, 
 and stooping till liis broad-rimmed hat partly 
 concealed his face. 
 
 " I think I saw him a few nights ago." 
 
 " Sure your honor, if he was in these parts.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 127 
 
 the police are so mighty cute, he couldn't es- 
 cape. A murderer like him, — they would never 
 let him escape again." 
 
 " I have received a moll," said the Agent. 
 
 Now then has your honor?" Nowlan stooped 
 to pull up his stockings. 
 
 " Trj^ and find out for me, if O'Shane is near 
 this any where. Here is half-a-crown to drink 
 my health." 
 
 As he rode towards O'Neil's cottage, Hugh 
 looked out to see who was coming. The moment 
 he spied the Agent, he told his wdfe he had been 
 robbed — hurrying out at the back door, across 
 the country, to avoid meeting him. 
 
 " Hollo there ! " shouted Doyle, " is O'Neil 
 within? " 
 
 " No, your honor," replied the agitated wife, 
 dropping a curtsey. 
 
 " Has he left the rent with you ; " he asked, 
 gruffly. 
 
 " No, your honor," answered Mary, wiping 
 her eye with the corner of her torn apron.
 
 128 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Is it ready?" 
 
 " Well then, I must tell your hanor's honor 
 what is after happening us." 
 
 " The old tale, some cock and bull story, I 
 told you and him too, the day would come that 
 he should repent, refusing to work the harvest 
 with me. 
 
 " He did all for the best," she replied, " only 
 for the way some one has stolen the money, it 
 was there ready for your honor the last month 
 back." 
 
 " Then tell him I shall drive for it." 
 
 " Och ! ochone, your honor's honor would not 
 break us to the ground." She pointed to Joe, 
 who, with his dog at his heels, entered at that 
 moment, " my poor gossoon is ill, it is bad 
 times for the children, the creatures, look at 
 them trembling with the cold; do not be too 
 hard on us, we will sell the pig, and do our best 
 to make it up, as soon as we can — your honor 
 will give us time, and the blessing of heaven 
 will attend you.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 129 
 
 " Hold my horse, you Sir," called out the 
 Agent, addressing Joe, " come out at once and 
 take the bridle till I light my pipe. 
 
 The boy did — laying the reins over his arm, 
 and stroking the dog's head, muttering, " Ah 
 then! is it jealous you are?" 
 
 Mary hunted for the brightest burning piece 
 of turf, and handed it to him. 
 
 *' Curse that dog ! " he exclaimed, striking the 
 poor brute a heavy blow with his whip. 
 
 " Do not hurt my dog," called out Joe, frown- 
 ing angrily. 
 
 '* I'll cut him in pieces, and you too," shouted 
 the Agent, lashing the dumb animal fiercely, 
 '* how dare you speak to me in that manner, 
 you cur? " 
 
 " You are a cold hearted villain," said Joe, 
 grinding his teeth, as the whip fell on his own 
 shoulders. 
 
 Letting go the bridle, the boy rushed to the 
 hearth; and seizing an old crow-bar from the 
 chimney corner, dashed at Doyle,who drew back, 
 to defend himself. 
 
 G 5
 
 180 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 "• Let me go," yelled Joe, struggling to free 
 himself from his mother's hold. 
 
 'Tor the love of Heaven's mercy! " screamed 
 she, "don't drive my poor gossoon mad, don't re- 
 main another minute, I cannot — I am not able to 
 hold him." 
 
 As the Agent neared the door, he tripped, and 
 before he could regain his legs, Joe stood over 
 him, with the uplifted bar ready to strike. 
 
 "Joey! Joey!" shrieked his mother, placing 
 herself between them, " are you going to murder 
 your own mother," she knelt, overcome by fear. 
 
 *'Who struck my dog? "he asked, staring 
 vacantly at her. "Why did you hold me from him ?" 
 
 " Joey, honey, put it down, cushla," bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 He dropped the bar, gazed hard at his hound, 
 then on his mother, next at the children, who 
 were hiding in every nook and corner. 
 
 ^' It is coming on," mumbled Joe, clasping his 
 forehead," the sickness is coming on," he repeat- 
 ed, while his face became pale and blue by 
 urns.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 131 
 
 ** Joey ! Joey ! oh, wurrah dheelish !" exclaimed 
 the woman, wringing her hands in agony. 
 
 Scarcely had the Agent mounted and turned 
 away his horse's head, before Joe was in a fit. 
 
 It was at this crisis that Mr. Butter worth, 
 who was passing, and saw, by the horror stricken 
 faces of the children who had crept out of the 
 cabin, that someth.ing strange was going on 
 within, immediately entered, and, stooping over 
 the unfortunate sufferer, assisted in every way 
 in his power, helping her to pour some drops 
 from a small bottle down his throat. 
 
 " Joey ! Joey ! honey," said she, affectionately 
 looking into his face, as he opened his eyes and 
 gazed vacantly about; '-it is me, lanner, the 
 poor Moddy that loves you — Joey, don't you 
 know me?" she kissed his moist forehead. 
 
 Mr. Butterwotth, who had never seen a similar 
 fit, was greatly agitated. 
 
 "I can be of little use here now, my good 
 woman," he said, kindly; '' I shall hurry off for 
 medical aid, now that he is on the pallet." 
 
 The dog crept to the bed side, (if sticks rudelv
 
 132 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 laid across each other could be so called,) and, 
 raising himself on the hind legs, looked wist- 
 fully on his master's face, which he licked 
 gently, ever anon whining in a low piteous 
 howl, as if he were pleading to be allowed to 
 lay by his side. 
 
 " Moddy," whispered the boy, sometime after, 
 ''let go my hand," — he placed the freed arm 
 around the hound's neck, and drawing his head 
 close to his own breast, stroked it affectionately ; 
 the dog licked his face, and returned the caress. 
 Slowly did Joe run his hand along the thick 
 welts on his favourite's back, over and over did 
 he feel them; at least he looked reproachfully 
 at his mother. 
 
 " What ails you Joey, honey? " 
 
 " AVhy did you strike my dog? " 
 
 " Sure, achorra machree, the sickness has been 
 on you." 
 
 "My shoulder is paining me," said he, rubbing 
 the inflamed part. 
 
 " That is always the way, honey, after the fit." 
 
 ''Who struck me, Moddy?"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 133 
 
 " Go to sleep, Joey, like a good gossoon ; here, 
 lay your poor head on my lap." 
 
 "WasPilot sick too?" 
 
 " If you don't get a trifle of sleep, honey, you 
 wont be able for the hunt." 
 
 " What day is this? " 
 
 " To-morrow they meet, Joey." 
 
 " No, to-day, Moddy ; I must get up." 
 
 She prevailed on him at last to keep still; 
 for a while he remained in a dreamy state; 
 then, raising himself on his elbow, while a tear 
 gathered in his eye, he said, " Moddy, you never 
 struck my dog before, no, you never did this," 
 he laid her hand on his bared shoulder, exclaim- 
 ing, " Moddy, there is blood." 
 
 " Where, Joey?" she asked, quickly. 
 
 " In Pilot's eye," replied he, pointing to the 
 hound's blood-shot lids — " No, no !" he resumed, 
 "you did not strike us." Kaising his dumb com- 
 panion's ear, Joe whispered low, but of what he 
 thought, the mother could not guess. 
 
 " It is to-morrow, the hunt?" 
 
 "Yes, honey!" replied she, putting her arm 
 coaxingly round his neck.
 
 134 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Tired and exhausted, his head sank back on 
 her lap, and he fell asleep. The dog laid his 
 nose on his breast, and, though he appeared to 
 slumber, he raised his long ears at every foot- 
 step, but stirred not from his master's side. 
 
 When Hugh returned, he found his wife kneel- 
 ing over his son and rubbing oil on Joe's shoulder. 
 
 " What has happened?" asked O'Neil, fixing 
 his wife, then his boy, and next the old hound. 
 
 She did not reply, but covering the welts, tried 
 to conceal them. 
 
 " Mary," said Hugh, running his hand over 
 the brute, '^ who struck him ? " 
 
 " The Agent," she answered, with tears in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "And did he leave this mark on my poor 
 child's back ? " he asked, feeling Joe's shoulder. 
 
 She hung down her head, and whispered, 
 '' Speak low, Hugh, darling, or you will wake 
 him." 
 
 '* He struck a simple !" exclaimed O'o^eil. 
 fiercely, " let him take care he does not drive 
 me to it, — " he paced the cabin floor like a
 
 TALBOT HALL. 135 
 
 caged tiger; in each stride appearing to be 
 measuring oflf a yard in the strand of the Agent's 
 life. He covered and uncovered Joe's shoulder 
 several times; and, grinding his teeth without 
 uttering a word, remained gazing on the sleeper, 
 till his manly features darkened into a fierce 
 scowl. 
 
 " The like will drive a man to bad revenge," 
 he said, at last, stamping the ground violently. 
 
 "Whist! Hugh, honey; don't take on this 
 way," whispered his wife, frightened by his 
 threatning gestures. 
 
 " Aher manum — woman, I wdll speak out or 
 I will burst — Yes ! I will join them — thigum thu 
 ma! you understand me — let me go;" shaking 
 her trembling hand from his arm, and rushing 
 from the cabin in a state of agitation border- 
 ing on madness he went straight to Nowlan for 
 advice. 
 
 When Mr. Butterworth returned, Joe was 
 asleep. He asked Mary if she wanted anything, 
 but as she did not reply, he gave her a few 
 shillings, and started for Talbot Hall.
 
 136 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Mrs. Potts, hearing of Joe's illness, proceeded 
 towards Hugh's cabin, at the door of which she 
 met O'Neil's wife, on whose cheek were the recent 
 traces of tears. Mary tried to look cheerful, 
 and welcomed her visitor with a smile. 
 
 " Good-morrow to you, mam," she began, 
 '•' Lord save us, but the baby is come on the 
 greatest I ever knew since the pratie digging, 
 sure a bourrawn would have made a fine cradle 
 for it then, my blessing on it." 
 
 " Not amiss," replied Mrs. Potts, dropping a 
 curtsey and kissing her child, after enquiring 
 for Joe, " Ho ! there never was such a promising 
 young thing, it would do your heart good to see 
 it holding on to the tub to wash it's own little 
 apron, and how well she knows she ought not let 
 the soap fall on the sandy floor — oh, she'll make 
 a grand laundress when she grows up — so she 
 will ! — it's as good as play acting to watch the lit- 
 tle duckey ironing the doll's cap, and pulling off 
 the bits of tape from the customers' clothes, to 
 make garters and centurions for its waist — it's 
 the most affecting sight, to watch her from be-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 137 
 
 liiiid tlie door or through the key- hole, wiping 
 the doll's eye that was knocked out when it fell 
 off the coach— oh! she's its Ma's own flesh and 
 blood — she'll break many a reprobating man's 
 heart before she's twenty, so she will ! " without 
 taking breath, Mrs. Potts opened her jaws, de- 
 claring her intention of biting it's nose off, habit- 
 uating the cherished child, from early infancy, to 
 the fumes of strong smelling liquors. 
 
 " There will be a power of hardship for the 
 poor this season," said Mary, sighing. 
 
 " Wait a bit," exclaimed the politician, " we 
 shall get the cheap loaf, in spite of all their argu- 
 ments; why shouldn't Sir Robert, the dear man, 
 change his mind and substitute his actions? it's 
 no reason because he thought one way in 1842, 
 he shouldn't see his plans then were erroneous ; 
 why there's myself was married two years ago, 
 and, though I promised to love and obey my 
 husband, I soon found it would never do to give 
 in, so I changed my ideas on that point, and, 
 though I had great opposition from him at first, 
 I carried the day, and now he is quite resigned
 
 138 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 to my amendments, and you know how happy 
 we live, he writes to me quite lovingly, and al- 
 ways signs his name with his own blood, to prove 
 how willing he is to die for me ; there's not a 
 more familiar couple alive than I and him, — 
 before this reconciliation he would hold out and 
 • argue to the last drop in his body, — oh, it's a de- 
 lightful footing to be on, so it is ! " 
 
 Hugh's wife stared at her in amaze, remark- 
 ing, " It's yourself that is the clever woman. 
 Mistress Potts." 
 
 " I'll tell you what," resumed the laundress, 
 '' it's my opinion the Duke will come round to 
 the opening of tlie ports ; there's Lord John, for all 
 he is so little, he is a very pretty man ; but as for 
 Daniel O'Connel, I'm sure his heart is as rotten or 
 rottener than the potatoes that are diseased. But 
 for my fancy the most extraordinary man of the 
 day is Mr. Punch, he is so sly ; he pretends to 
 tickle the aristocrats Avith the feathery end of 
 his quill, while he stabs them with the steel 
 point, as sharp as any dagger." 
 
 "Who's he?" asked Mary, getting in two 
 words.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 139 
 
 " What! not know him — the most littery per- 
 son of the age, it's him that vindicates our sex, 
 and writes all about Mrs. Candle, the woman 
 that submits so patiently to her husband's 
 domineering, without any complaints;" she 
 resumed in the same breath '' Sister Agnes is 
 coming down to my house very often, and look- 
 ing for minutes together at little Flora, her that 
 nobody could see, without saying that she was 
 pretty — !)y the bye, if I aint mistaken, Mister 
 Butter worth is very interested in Mrs. Talbot's 
 governess — mind what I say— there's wheels 
 within wheels."
 
 140 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 That night O'Neil and Nowlan were seen 
 bending their way towards the ruins of the un- 
 finished house, on Darcv Park estate. 
 
 " I don't like to see Hugh and that old scoun- 
 drel together," said Tom to Hervej, watching 
 their Biovements. 
 
 " There is something to me/' replied the 
 Englishman, *'very forbidding, about that old 
 man's features." 
 
 "He ought to have been hung years ago ; when 
 I was a boy, my father ejected him, and four
 
 TALBOT HALL. l4j 
 
 weeks after, our hoggarth was in a blaze at the 
 dead of night ; I swore to Nowlan having been on 
 the premises at nine o'clock ; I saw him, with a 
 piece of turf in his hand, and a pipe in his mouth ; 
 but for want of positive proof, he eluded the law ; 
 I was shot at about six months ago, while riding 
 home in the dark; not being hit, I at once jump- 
 ed off my horse and hunted every hedge near the 
 spot; my firm impression is, that Nowlan and 
 the black wolf, as they call O'Shane, were the 
 parties; for I saw two figures on the road half 
 an hour after, and I could not mistake either of 
 them." 
 
 "Do they owe you any ill will?" asked 
 Hervey. 
 
 '' Yes, both of them, for on two occasions I 
 was nearly getting them transported by the 
 evidence I gave. The black wolf is supposed 
 to have been the murderer of my poor father; 
 he is a desperate ruffian ! They tell me that 
 Hugh has got into some scrape with my brother^s 
 Agent, who is a great rogue." 
 
 '* We shall be late," said Hervey, " we pro-
 
 142 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 mised to be back by ten, I think I heard the 
 church clock strike that hour." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You seem anxious to watch them." 
 
 " Very ; only that I promised Miss Gordon, 
 and do not like to break my promise." 
 
 As they entered Talbot Hall house, Nowlan 
 and Hugh were standing, looking on the owls 
 flying to and fro through the partly roofed 
 walls of the ruin, around which a group of men, 
 with scowling faces, skulked, women were tear- 
 ing up the remaining wainscotting for fire- wood, 
 whilst their husbands, unconscious of Nowlan 
 being so near them, expressed their surprise at 
 his absence, when there was a new member to be 
 sworn in. 
 
 *' Welcome ! welcome ! Mister Nowlan," said 
 several voices at last, as the prowlers followed 
 him and Hugh into the building, where a dim 
 fire burned. Around it about forty men sat 
 down, and with the pipe in their mouths fixed 
 their eyes sullenly on the hearth ; they spoke 
 low and meaningly, occasionally casting a doubt-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 143 
 
 ful glance towards O'Neil, who was in earnest 
 conversation with old Tim. 
 
 One by one the women had withdrawn, with 
 their arms full of rotten wood. 
 
 '' Now boys ! " said Nowlan, looking round as 
 he addressed the lawless set, " it is time for us to 
 go to the Court House," the apartment so called 
 being a large room, in which still stood the bed, 
 on which old Darcy sometimes slept. 
 
 This part was supposed to be haunted by his 
 ghost, and to this circumstance and their great 
 superstition, it owed its preservation. 
 
 Hugh hung back, as with a look of distrust, 
 he eyed the band which, in a moment of anger he 
 had promised to join. 
 
 It might have been on the stroke of midnight, 
 when the shoolmaster closing the door cautiously, 
 pulled a candle from his pocket, lit and 
 struck it against the wall; after which they 
 drew lots to see who should keep watch outside ; 
 this point settled, four swarthy fellows took 
 their hosts, agreeing to imitate the owl's screech 
 for an alarm.
 
 144 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' Now," began Nowlan, standing on the edge 
 of the bed," we are here to see each other right- 
 ed to the full. The crop of praties is failing fast ; 
 it is the only thing — Glory be to the Holy 
 Father ! — the poor have to trust in, and for all 
 that, it is still the one cry, rent ! rent ! " 
 '^ Hear, hear ! " mumbled several low voices. 
 *' Who is to blame? " asked Nowlan. 
 " The absentee ! the absentee ! " responded 
 the listeners. 
 
 '^ No ! it is tyrant agents that invent oppres- 
 sion. Fellows like Doyle, that go into our 
 cabins, and rob us of every thing. Didn't he se- 
 duce my own child to go live with him — to find 
 out our secrets, that he might hand us over to 
 the police for meeting at night, that is what 
 he was expecting, and there is Misther Tom, he 
 is no friend to any of you." 
 
 " He is a good fellow ;" said a voice. 
 " No better ;'* called out another. 
 " It would be good times again if he was our 
 landlord," cried a third.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 145 
 
 Nowlan shook his head in token of pity for 
 their inisphiced confidence. 
 
 '• A coffin for Doyle ! " called out Dennis 
 'Shane, stalking in at that moment. 
 
 The roughest man stood aloof to avoid coming 
 in contact witli the black wolf. 
 
 They opened a way for him ; the fellow stood 
 boldly in front of them, close by the schoolmas- 
 ter's ^si(le. 
 
 " Bad scran to Doyle's sowl," said Nowlan, 
 '^ that it may liy about like a bat in the sunshine, 
 kiiuv'king against every thing, and that it may 
 never tind its way to Heaven, light or dark, 
 night or day.'' 
 
 This malediction wjis repeated by several 
 voices. 
 
 '' That Tom Darcy and him may knock 
 against each other in purgatory, till the two of 
 them iall into — ." 
 
 *' Whist," said Nowlan, holding up his band, 
 and turning pale, '' there is the scream — there, 
 again ! " 
 
 ^' The police," whispered one to another. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' Tom Darcy is after passing by the short 
 cut," said a man putting in his head, " but he is 
 gone on." 
 
 Nowhm shook his liead ominously, and began 
 afresh. *' It is hard times to see a brave lot of 
 boys like you played on and driven for rent, and 
 the man that is breaking you to the ground 
 walking about ^vith as much ease as if he was 
 after carrying {lie repeal of the Union — and you 
 call yourselves men ! perdition to the whole of 
 you, I'm thinking there is not one of the right 
 sort among the lot, barring Denny O'Shane." 
 
 Tim looked anxiously on Hugh, who had 
 never altered his position. 
 
 "Sure," he resumed, "there is O'Neil, as 
 honest as daylight, isn't he going to be 
 driven? Was not his poor simple, that the Lord 
 intended him to protect, struck and most killed 
 by the cold blooded villain? and yet there stands 
 his father forenent your eyes, like a bit of a 
 gossoon, not dreaming of revenging the insult." 
 
 Hugh ground his teeth, and raising his eyes, 
 fixed them sternly on the speaker, " do not tell
 
 TALBOT HALL. , 247 
 
 me I would stand by and see my weak child 
 struck. I would like to meet the man face to 
 face that wrongs me, and not skulk with a gorse 
 bush betwixt him and me. as if I was going to 
 shoot a hare." 
 
 ^* Wont he break you to the ground?" said 
 Nowlan, angrily. 
 
 " In the regard of that, it will not fret me, 
 like his striking Joey." 
 
 *' Then you won't join us and get justice/' said 
 Tim, threateningly. 
 
 " No," answered Hugh, firmly, " I will grip him 
 fair in broad daylight, and murder him honest, 
 and stand by the laws, if he lays hand on Joey 
 again. It makes no odds what you say — I will 
 never sneak, like a coward, behind a fence to mur- 
 der any living man," he eyed O'Shane steadily, 
 
 "Bad luck to your sowl!" exclaimed Dennis, 
 fiercely, "what brought you here at all?" 
 
 "That is no business of yours," replied O'Neil, 
 sternly. 
 
 "Is it come here you are to turn informer and 
 betray us," said the black wolf, squaring him- 
 
 H 2
 
 148 . TALBOT HALL. 
 
 self, till his grim visage nearly touched Hugh's 
 face. 
 
 '' Turn informer," repeated Hugh, fixing his 
 eye determinedly on the ruffian, while a glow of 
 indignation crimsoned his rough cheek. '' Where 
 is the man that dare say so to my face, and 1 
 will tell him he is a murderer and a liar; you! to 
 begin." 
 
 " Dham me skin 1 " growled the black wolf, 
 springing at him, " by the living wars, I am the 
 fellow will make you eat them words ! " 
 " Strike him down," whispered Nowlan. 
 " No," said an able labourer, " show him fair 
 play." 
 
 ^'Dennis forever," shouted Tim, "and to the 
 devil with the luke-waruL" 
 
 A fearful struggle ensued ; both were very 
 powerful. They grasped each other round the 
 body ; now their arms are wormed about tiieir 
 necks; their strong frames are bowing like oaks 
 beneath a blast; every muscle is swollen to an 
 unusual size, but neither can again bend his 
 adversary; the ground beneath their feet is torn
 
 TALBOT HALL. 149 
 
 up with the deadly effort each is making to 
 I'etain his position ; O'Shane's eyes blazed with 
 rage. For a moment they remained panting for 
 breath ; the black wolf m.ade a sudden spring, and 
 tried to trip ; Hugh stepped back, and dragging 
 him fiercely, was turning him on his back, when 
 Dennis seized him like a beast of prey with his 
 large fangs ; the color came to O'Neil's cheek, he 
 winced, but uttered no sound of pain, they 
 rolled over once— rose and fell — Hugh was 
 uppermost. That moment twenty brawny hands 
 grasped at O'Neils throat; in the scuffle, the 
 candle fell from the wall; left in the dark, they 
 yelled and dragged at each other like demons. 
 
 " Finish him clean," whispered Nowlan, '* the 
 informer! never let him out alive— death to the 
 informer ! " 
 
 "Whist," said a voice among them, '^ there is 
 the scream — whist, the owl !" 
 
 O'Neil knew every spot in the room so well, 
 that the moment he felt his throat freed, profiting 
 by the alarm, he c5rept to the door, which some one 
 had opened ; waiting for a moment to regain his
 
 150 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 breath ; he stood unknown in the midst of them, 
 and heard the look out say, *' It is Tom Darcy 
 again, and the Saxon thief that goes l-y with 
 him." 
 
 " Is there no powder in the \vorld," whispered 
 Nowlan, '' to teach them better manners than 
 watching our meetings?" 
 
 All were silent as death ; Hugh expected every 
 moment to be discovered; to attempt escape 
 yet was sure detection. 
 
 " They are gone," said the scout. 
 
 '* Where is the candle ? " asked Nowlan, '* here, 
 boys, get a spark of turf." 
 
 " Stand by the door," said some one, " mind 
 
 O'Neil does not pass." 
 
 '' Yes ! " repiied Hugh, in a feigned voice, "let 
 
 him come, I will stop him." 
 
 '' The price of a dandy for the man that finds 
 him for me," said 0' Shane. 
 
 "Have you got him, Dennis?" whispered 
 Hugh, as the ruffian placed his hand on himself. 
 
 " No, perdition to his sowl," answered the fel- 
 low, moving on in his search.
 
 TALBOT MALI. 151 
 
 Stooping low at the moment ; the light flickered 
 in their eyes; O'Neil crept away; and getting 
 through a window, paused outside for an instant. 
 Instead of turning towards his cabin, he made for 
 the sea shore ; the night was so dark he could not 
 discern anything but the white crested waves, as 
 they growled hoarsely along the strand, and 
 plunged in amongst the rocks, for it was high tide. 
 
 '* Barring 1 want a wet jacket," sighed Hugh, 
 buttoning his torn frieze, and putting up his 
 hand to his bare head, " the sooner I get to the 
 cabin the better." 
 
 Hurrying along, regardless of the severe 
 handling he had undergone, he congratulated 
 himself on having escaped being a member. 
 Hugh felt light at heart, as he bounded over the 
 last ditch between him and his home. 
 
 " No, never, sorrow choke me if do," said he, 
 resolutely, apostrophising himself. 
 
 On reaching his cabin, he listened attentively, 
 to hear if any one stirred, raised the latch softly, 
 and looked in. His wife sat by the black turf 
 fast asleep, with a babe in her lap, the draught
 
 152 TALBOT []\IX. 
 
 from the open door made the rush wick flicker — 
 sweal — brighten — gasp, and expire with a h^w 
 ominous sound. 
 
 He had seen by the short lived light that his 
 hands were besmeared with blood, and knew 
 from the pain that his face was bruised. Anxious 
 not to alarm his wife, he stole out carefully ; and 
 drawing a bucket of water, washed himself. 
 Returning noiselessly, he barred the crazy door, 
 then gently awaking her, said, ** Ah ! Mary, is not 
 it bad enough to be misfortunate, lave alone 
 you sitting up to this hour of the morning." 
 
 '* Hugh, honey,"! was getting uneasy at you 
 stopping so long, it is not many minutes gone 
 since I fell asleep." 
 
 " Get to the bed," said he. 
 
 " Wait till I light — ." 
 
 *' No, no," he called out, unwilling that she 
 should see him in his present state, " I never 
 was so dead tired." 
 
 He wished to avoid being questioned; and 
 after a few words of kindness, bade her good 
 night, telling her to trust in the Lord. Being
 
 TALBOT HALL. l5o 
 
 harassed in mind and body, he soon fell into a 
 sonnd slumber, from which he was shortly after 
 roused by the old hound's fierce barking. 
 
 " Hugh! Hugh! " whispered his wife, shaking 
 him, '' something is amiss." 
 
 " I am awake," said he, starting up on the 
 bed. 
 
 " I hear some one speaking, whist ! how fierce 
 he is barking now." 
 
 " Moddy," called out Joe, " is it coming to 
 drive, they are? " 
 
 '' Hush ! a cushla, lay down for the love of 
 Heaven, they are lifting the door on the hinges." 
 
 There was a moment of uninterrupted still- 
 ness, which was broken by a loud banging — a 
 pause followed, during which, Hugh whispered to 
 his wife, "It is them." 
 
 The knocking was renewed, and this time ac- 
 companied by a gruii voice calling out, " open 
 the door." 
 
 "Who is there? " asked O'Neil, pushing his 
 trembling wife from his side, and adding, " Mary, 
 keep out of harm's way — let m? go — quick 
 
 H 5
 
 154 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 quick, where is the crow-bar? before they break 
 in." 
 
 " Once for all, open it," repeated the person 
 outside, '* them that is waiting on your conveni- 
 ence, wont beg a third time, they will save you 
 the trouble of getting up." 
 
 Hugh did not reply, but standing close by the 
 entrance, with the uplifted weapon, remained 
 motionlessly awaiting their attack. A moment's 
 consultation ensued, the next instant the crazy 
 planks, with a crash, were dashed into the cabin. 
 Four forms, with crape on their faces, entered ; 
 and uncovering a lamp they had concealed 
 under an old hat, looked in carefully. There 
 was a yell, — one of those fearful wild Irish 
 screams, it filled the cabin and its occupiers with 
 affright, — they had discovered O'Niel. With 
 upraised- blackthorn shillelaghs they sprang to- 
 wards him ; he kept his back to the wall, and so 
 determinedly did he brandish the deadly iron 
 bar, that they dared not close. 
 
 "If it is my life you are come for," said 
 he, proudly drawing himself up, '' I will sell it 
 dear;'
 
 TALBOT HALL. 155 
 
 " Your sowl to the devil," roared the most 
 powerful among them, dashing forward ; the 
 black- thorn bounded off the iron, and before 
 O'Shane could recover his guard, it fell on the 
 ruffian's shoulder, who had strength left to hug 
 Hugh, and thus prevent the blow being repeated, 
 whilst he roared, '^ come on, or my curse light 
 on you." 
 
 They did not seem anxious to obey, but there 
 was among them one who whispered a few 
 words, (though he kept out of the reach of 
 danger), which (ired the undecided party; 
 they rushed on, and striking O'Neil's wife to the 
 ground to get at him, pushed her out of their 
 way. 
 
 There was a fearful struggle to wrest the 
 deadly iron from Hugh ; one of the men lay 
 stunned, the two others were bodily dragging 
 him to the ground ; but though they rolled him 
 over and over, his vice like hold was not to be 
 relaxed : at last the fellow at the entrance crept 
 across, and watching his opportunity, gashed 
 Hugh's knuckles with a clasp knife till the mus-
 
 156 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 cles opened, and bared the bone. Unable 
 longer to retain it, O'Neil dashed at the coward, 
 from whom he snatched the knife. At that 
 moment the crow-bar was raised over Hugh's 
 head, who plunged the blade at 0' Shane, in self- 
 defence, and felt it enter a soft substance to the 
 hilt, and as he drew it back to defend his life, 
 the dripping blood from the reeking steel, told 
 it had done execution. 
 
 Ere he could use it again a heavy blow felled 
 him to the ground; thinking he was killed, they 
 turned from him to tlie stunned man, who had 
 recovered, and lay grappling with Joe, whose 
 enraged dog tore at the wretch's face and throat ; 
 it was not without much trouble they extricated 
 liim, for their superstitious horror of striking an 
 idiot saved Joe. 
 
 The watch at the door shouted, " Let us be off 
 like mad, it is most daylight." 
 
 They raised O'Shane, tried to staunch the 
 stream from his chest, by tearing off the clothes 
 from the senseless woman; then crossing their 
 sticks placed him on them and carried him out.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 157 
 
 CHAPTER Vll. 
 
 '•How refreshed every thing looks after the heavy 
 rain," said Hervey, addressing Darcy,as they rode 
 along the road. 
 
 '- Yes, it is a lovely morning, hillo ! here comes 
 that rattle-trap of a woman, fussing on v/ith 
 some news of importance, let us hear what she 
 has to say. 
 
 "• Well Mrs. Potts, how are you? '' asked l;oth 
 gentlemen, in a breath. 
 
 " I only wish every one was as well as me;
 
 158 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 there is Hugh O'Neil, witli a head swelled as big 
 as a washing tub ; nobody can tell where they 
 were the livelong night; Nowlan hinted fairies 
 drew him and his wife out of bed, and beat them ; 
 but that bamboozling wont suit me, or any 
 sensible christian ; oh ! why don't the lazy ministers 
 enact cohersient laws, and not have people scrush- 
 ed and frightened out of their wits,with midnight 
 murderers, perplexing us to death, I have no 
 patience with them, the sleepy aristocrats ! " 
 
 " When did you hear that bad news? " asked 
 Hervey. 
 
 " I wormed it out, like a snail, working my- 
 self into his thoughts." 
 
 " Did he tell you how it happened? " 
 
 " No, but I can guess." 
 
 " I was not far astray, Hervey," whispered his 
 companion, '* about last night." 
 
 *' I fear all was not right." 
 
 '' No, but quite wrong," chimed in Mrs. Potts. 
 
 " When did all this transpire? " asked Hervey, 
 as they rode on, let us go to his cottage, and learn 
 all the particluars.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 159 
 
 " You don't know our Irish peasantry, they 
 will never betray, they have a great dread of be- 
 ing looked on, in the light of informers ; Hugh 
 is a high spirited fellow ; he will never give up 
 their names; but this work does not look as if he 
 had joined them, which I dreaded last night." 
 
 '^ But by making him confide in you." 
 
 Darcy smiled, and shook his head. 
 
 " I was convinced," said he, " it was no owFs 
 scream I heard." 
 
 " I regret that we could not, unseen, have 
 watched their proceedings." 
 
 '^ Either you or I caught in the act might pay 
 dearly for our curiosity ; you could not tell how 
 soon an ounce of lead might ripen, and fall from 
 a tree or a furze bush on your head. Letme go 
 in alone ; ride on slowly, I shall overtake you ; 
 he may drop something in conversation, but as 
 for revealing/' — he shook his head. 
 
 " Sure! it is Mister Tom," said Joe, " is there 
 'ere a hunt to day ? '' 
 
 *' No — what way is the daddy — where is he?" 
 asked Darcy.
 
 160 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 "Didn't the drivers murder him? — they most 
 killed my dog : listen, Pilot smelt the black wolf, 
 he most eat one of them, it was the hunt in 
 earnest," he laughed, and, patting the horse's 
 neck, pulled out his shilling, and played with it. 
 
 " Is he in bed, Joe?" 
 
 For a long while he looked at Darcy, then 
 said, ^^you wont tell on us." 
 
 " Was Tim Nowlan here last night? " 
 
 "Wasn't he out hunting the leprecawns?" 
 replied Joe, seriously. 
 
 "Have you had the falling sickness again?" 
 asked Tom, speaking so as to be understood. 
 
 ^' I don't know." 
 
 " Is that your honor, Mister Darcy," said 
 O'Neil, anxious to prevent any further cross- 
 questioliing. 
 
 " Hillo, Hugh," called out Tom, "they tell me you 
 have been getting your head broken; I thought 
 you had given over such nonsense; but what is 
 bred in the bone will come out of the tlesh~v>rhat ! 
 door smashing! — you have had rough visitors." 
 
 A groan was all the answer.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 16J 
 
 Laying his luirid kindly on Hugh's shoulder, 
 Darcy asked, " What ails your wife, she looks 
 vei'y ill, is she asleep?" 
 
 '•Speak low," whispered O'Neil, ''they treated 
 her shameful, but glory be to the Holy Father, 
 a little sleep will do the creature a power of 
 good," 
 
 *' Do you know any of the party." 
 
 " No one can ever tell the like of them, they 
 were all disguised and blackened." 
 
 " Did you meet Nowlan last night?" 
 
 " I seen him in the morning," 
 
 "Were you at the meeting?" asked Darcy, 
 boldly. 
 
 " At the meeting," stammered Hugh, " what 
 should take an honest man there? sure — I do 
 not belong to the like — I am not one of them 
 boys." 
 
 Darcy saw at once it was useless trying to 
 get any clue. 
 
 *' Show me your face, Hugh," said he, leaning 
 over, '' let us see if they struck you fair — Is it 
 much bruised ? How many cracks did you get ?"
 
 162 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Only a scratch or so," re[)lie(I he, turning 
 his head towards the darkened side of the bed, 
 to conceal it. 
 
 " ril send the Doctor to 3^011, he will draw olf 
 any bad blood your friends left." 
 
 " Not a happorth of use, your honor, it is little 
 that ails me in my body." 
 
 " They tell me you were robbed, and that the 
 Agent is going to drive; cheer up man, if that 
 is what ails you. I'll give you the half, and Mr. 
 Hervey will make up the remainder — rouse up — 
 don't be down.'' 
 
 '* You always was a good friend to me, Mister 
 Tom. — If they only give me time, I will be able 
 to work in a day or so, and pay my rent like a 
 man. 
 
 '' I am very sorry to see your wife looking so 
 ill, she is suffering, I am sure of it, by her heavy 
 breathing." 
 
 " It is no use his breaking us to the ground ; 
 wdiat is fretting me most was him striking my 
 poor Joey — that is worst of all to bear — it is 
 stickin.g in my heart, — and paining me terrible —
 
 TALBOT HALL. 168 
 
 one gets used to troubles and cracks from shil- 
 lelaghs—but the like of raising a hand to a 
 simple/' his voice trembled with emotion, as he 
 added, " your honor does not know what it is to 
 be a ftither." 
 
 " Cheer up, man, I'll come in again before 
 night, I cannot stay now, Mr. Hervey is waiting 
 for me,'' he grasped the cabiner's hand, and left 
 him. 
 
 ^' Here conies Miss Dawson," said Hervey, 
 ^'didyou tliink of the parcel? " 
 
 •' No, by Jupiter! I forgot all about it, my head 
 has been running on — ." 
 
 "Shall I finish the sentence for you? Your 
 thoughts were with Miss Gordon." 
 
 " Perhaps you might be astray — ^joking aside, 
 do you believe Gale is attached to her? She is a 
 lovely girl." 
 
 " He is very attentive; the love seems all on 
 his side, but women are so hard to understand." 
 
 '* My aunt says, the great attraction for the 
 baronet is a handsome income." 
 
 "Is she rich?"
 
 164 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Eeport whispers strange things, among 
 others, that she is of noble blood. All [ can find 
 out is that she is related to Mrs. Talbot; do not 
 say anything about Hugh." 
 
 " Welcome back, truant," said Miss Dawson, 
 as Darcy approached, ^' where have you been all 
 the morning? Lucy has been waiting for Mr. 
 Hervey ; she is only gone up to her mamma, to 
 ask, if she may stay till evening ; here comes the 
 young lady herself, equipped for the journey, 
 Well! have you executed my commission? where 
 are my gloves ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," replied Tom, " I really 
 am very sorry — but — ." 
 
 *' But you quite forgot all about them,'' she 
 replied, covering his momentary embarrassment 
 with her pleasant laugh, " some allowance 
 must be made for any little absence of mind you 
 may be guilty of." 
 
 " The kindly spirit in which you have taken 
 my apparent neglect, makes me doubly regret 
 it: how can I make the amende honorable V 
 
 " Oh, I shall inflict a punishment adequate to 
 the oiFence, but what a deep sigh, Mr. Darcy."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 165 
 
 *^ My involuntary omission called it forth." 
 
 " As you are not quite sure of its destination, 
 will you entrust its delivery to me, if I promise 
 to iind out its beautiful owner." 
 
 " If grace and beauty call forth sighs, Miss 
 Dawson must live surrounded by their at- 
 mosphere." 
 
 " What favour is such a gallant compliment a 
 prelude to; tell the truth, have you a design on 
 my nosegay — are you meditating the purloining 
 of my beautiful flowers? rather than encourage 
 such dishonesty, I will present you w^th one, and 
 even let you bestow it on whomsoever you please. 
 May I ofter you some, Mr. Hervey," she added, 
 archlv. 
 
 " No one appreciates a gift more than T do, I 
 shall not throw it away." 
 
 '' Did you say not give it away — I exact no 
 promises; here comes Lucy, she is so fond of 
 flowers, it is not unlikely that she may covet it : 
 English gentlemen are too polite to refuse." 
 
 As Lucy joined them, Emma turned to Darcy
 
 166 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " I plead, not guilty," said Tom, " to the 
 charge you brought against me; but even if 
 there had been truth in your insinuation, what 
 would be the robbery of a few flowers compared 
 to the thefts you are daily guilty of." 
 
 The flirt seemed not to notice her companion's 
 remark, as she continued, " I am looking for a 
 little hearts-ease, as an oiferiiig peculiarly suited 
 to the occasion, but unfortunately there is none 
 in my bouquet, not even a forget-me-not, though 
 that would not have remained long in your 
 possession, but," she added, with quiet demure 
 gravity, " perhaps you do not admire such little 
 insignificant flowers; something more stately and 
 majestic would suit you better; what say you 
 to this magnificent camelia — is it not much more 
 dignified looking than the violets and lilies so 
 often sung by the poets?" 
 
 Darcy looked steadily in her face for a moment, 
 there was something so arch and merry in the 
 glance that met his, that he entered into her 
 gay humour as he replied, " They jest at scars 
 who never felt a wound ; but take care, lady fair,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 167 
 
 she who has forged so many chains and attached 
 so many slaves to her chariot may some day 
 herself be led captive." 
 
 " You will prove a false prophet Mr. Darcy ; 
 I defy all the 4irrows of Cupid.'^ 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you really do not 
 believe in love?" 
 
 For a moment a faint flush passed over the 
 features of the beautiful girl, as she laughingly 
 said, '' Whenever I am inclined to be sceptical 
 on that score, I have only to think of your case 
 to make me a convert." 
 
 " Look! there come your horses, ladies," said 
 Darcy, giving his own to the stableman, while 
 he assisted Miss Dawson to mount. 
 
 Lucy drew back, declaring that she would 
 not put her foot into Mr. Hervey's hands ; they 
 laughed, quarrelled, made it up, and at last came 
 crmtering along to overtake her cousin and 
 Emma, who rode slowly to let them join. 
 
 " What makes you so thoughtful, Mr. Darcy?" 
 asked his companion at last, *' where are your 
 thoughts now'? "
 
 168 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 , " In the Church -yard," replied Tom, mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 They rode on in silence, till they reached Gol- 
 den Fort, Colonel Dawson's estate ; and although 
 tliey had not gone out of a foot's pace, Lucy and 
 Hervey never joined them, until they were on the 
 gravel drive. 
 
 " You are a desperate little flirt," said Emma, 
 Vvhispering to Lucy, as they ascended the stone 
 flight. 
 
 *' He has travelled so much," replied the blush- 
 ing girl, 'Mie is very. amusing." 
 
 *' I wonder what poor Hugh is doing just 
 now," said Hervey, who, with Darcy, had gone up 
 to see the stables, which were kept in beautiful 
 order. 
 
 '' Hard to guess," answered Tom, settling and 
 straightening the plaited straw, which he had 
 unintentionally kicked out of its place. 
 
 At the very moment he spoke, O'Neil had 
 risen from his bed ; and was preparing to make 
 up the lire, and wash some potatoes — for his 
 wife was too ill to get up — when the Agent
 
 TALBOT HALL. 169 
 
 with a driver, and two athletic men entered his 
 cabin. 
 
 " Pretty work you had here last night," said 
 Doyle, " Is your rent ready? " 
 
 Hugh stared hard at him, then on his satellites. 
 
 *' Is your rent ready?" repeated the same 
 person. 
 
 '• I will have it in a few^ days, only for some 
 one robbing the money, it was there weeks 
 agone." 
 
 *• I told you, wlien you refused to work the 
 harvest with me, it might tell one day." 
 
 " True for that," answered O'Neil, steadily, 
 ■'but you won't drive now." 
 
 " Don't expect to alarm me by your looks, I 
 know who served me with the coffin." 
 
 The cabiner's face reddened with indignation, 
 as he asked, " Do you suspect me? " 
 
 "I do, and what is more, am sure— one of your 
 own party told on you." 
 
 "The man that told you, lied!" exclaimed 
 Hugh, fiercely; "but I would grip you or any 
 man by the throat, that would strike my simple." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " I'll cool your blood ! " shouted the Agent, 
 turning pale with rage, "here men, do your duty — 
 distrain at once — drive the pig — curse that dog, 
 kill him." He aimed a blow with a heavy stick 
 at the hound, who worried him incessantly. 
 
 '' Do not strike my dog," called out Joe, 
 determinedly. 
 
 " It is against law, to do as you are doing," 
 said Hugh, grinding his teeth. 
 
 " Take your action ; if you want law you 
 shall have it — confound the brute, lay hold of 
 him; secure the beast." 
 
 ''The like is ^t to drive me to anything!" 
 vociferated O'Neil, '* only for fear of killing my 
 wife with the fright, I would stand my ground and 
 liold out against the dog being took — it is Joe's 
 own property, the only thing the poor fellow has 
 in the world." 
 
 '• Hugh, honey," whispered Mary, crying bitter- 
 ly, "" do not vex them. Your honor's honor 
 Avill give us time ? " implored the woman, 
 as she turned to her husband and said in 
 his ear, *' let them distrain, do not get to high
 
 TALBOT HALL. 171 
 
 words, I am most dead with fright ; it is no use 
 fretting yourself, it is only getting into worse 
 trouble." 
 
 She was so weak, that she sank back on the 
 bed, breathing thick and heavy. 
 
 " Sure, Mister Doyle," said the driver, " we 
 cannot do the like at all — what ! — is it take the 
 bed from under her — and she sick and all, the 
 creature." 
 
 '' I dare you do that," exclaimed Hugh, plant- 
 ing himself by the side of his wife. 
 
 "I am better, avourneen," she whispered, 
 " help me, an I will get up, and let them take 
 it — ^God's curse will fall on them if I die — sure 
 your lionour's honor is not going to turn us into 
 the high road to starve!" 
 
 "' Don't stir," called out O'Neil, motioning to 
 her not to move. 
 
 There was a momentary silence, Doyk seemed 
 uncertain whether or not to put his threat into 
 execution ; the men hung back — there was sor- 
 row in their rough faces — they pitied Hugh. 
 
 I %
 
 172 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Here," said the Agent, pointing to two carts 
 outside, '* set to at the pit, and load away. Drive 
 on," he continued, " here, take hold of the rope, 
 and bring that brute with you; bad luck to 
 him, tie him to the axle, let him hang if he will 
 i)..t follow." 
 
 Hugh held Joe, who was awfully excited, and 
 kept shouting, " Do not harm my dog — give me 
 my hound." 
 
 '^ The poor creature," muttered Mary, " it will 
 break his heart — my Joey ! my Joey !" 
 
 "Do not be foolish," said O'Neil, angrily to 
 his son, in the hopes of silencing him, "sure 
 boy ! he will come home again before night." 
 
 " He did not get sup to drink or eat to-day," 
 replied Joe, sorrowfully. 
 
 " Joey, acushla," said his mother, " give me 
 your hand, and come and sit down with the poor 
 Moddy — do now, honey — come, that is a darling." 
 He did as he was bade. He did not appear 
 to mind his mother's sorrow, his thoughts were 
 with his dog — he muttered to himself, then 
 laughed, unmeaningly.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 173 
 
 Hugh took his wife's burning hand in his 
 own, and in an under breath said, " I will do it, 
 I will do it '' 
 
 " Whist honey," whispered Mary, pressing his 
 horney fingers, '' do not speak in that fashion, 
 or the Lord will desert us in our trouble." 
 
 Springing up, he rushed to the door. 
 
 "Do not go out, Hugh, darling, without 
 washing the blood off your face " 
 
 " He has driven me to it." 
 
 As he crossed the fields, the labourers gazed 
 on his features in fear. Eushing past them 
 wildly, he never stopped his headlong course 
 till he reached Nowlan's cabin, where he gnashed 
 his teeth in very rage on finding him absent. 
 Striking his chest, as if struggling against some 
 inward feeling, he stamped the mud floor repeat- 
 ing, in a hoarse voice, " I'll do it — Fll do it." 
 
 Shortly after Nowlan came in, and they spoke 
 long and earnestly. 
 
 "Hugh," said he, "shew yourself a man; 
 don't be trampled on — isn't it in every body's 
 mouth that }ou served him with the moll ? so
 
 174 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 it's not a happorth of use in being honest ; sure 
 don't I know you never had hand or part in it?" 
 
 O'Neil groaned aloud, and looking at him, 
 said, you are my friend." 
 
 " As sure as he is shot, and shot he will be — 
 they'll put it to you." 
 
 They proceeded cautiously to an old shed, 
 Nowlan, pulling away some rubbish, uncovered 
 a pair of rusted horse pistols. Deliberately 
 loading them with slugs, he turned to look on 
 Hugh's face, and after replacing the weapons of 
 assassination, lit his pipe in silence. 
 
 O'Neil had watched the whole proceeding 
 without uttering a word, but now he said, " Don't 
 drive me to do it. I could never be easy in this 
 world if I had hand or part in it." 
 
 " Tut, tut, man ! " muttered Nowhm, taking 
 his hand, warmly, " don't be trampled on like 
 a worm, and he after breaking you to the ground ; 
 shew yourself a father." 
 
 The schoolmaster crumbled some clay over 
 the pistols to conceal them, his low muttering 
 sounding like '' dust to dust" over those weapons
 
 TALBOT HALL. 175 
 
 wliose resurrection would be the first step to- 
 wards cowardly assassination. 
 
 " What are you bringing me here for? " asked 
 Hugh, after walking half a mile in sullen silence. 
 
 "Whist! whist!" whispered Nowlan, frown- 
 ing, till his beetling brows nearly concealed his 
 clear grey eye. 
 
 " I'll not go on a foot," exclaimed O'Neil, 
 catching sight of Dennis O'Shane.
 
 176 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 We must return to Hugh's cabin, where Now- 
 lan's daughter was in earnest conversation with 
 his sick wife. 
 
 " Ah, then, sit down, Nelly," said Mary, stir- 
 ring the fire and looking round the desolate hut, 
 " here, on the side of the bed." 
 
 '* Sure I daren't, for if my father was to find 
 me here, he'd destroy me." 
 
 " Lord help us, Nelly, what'ill become on us ? 
 It's the villany of swearing it was my poor
 
 TALBOT HALL. 177 
 
 Hugh that served him with the moll; that is 
 what is distressing me most of all, — ah, to go to 
 take his character, the only thing he has to live 
 
 bj." 
 
 " Is there no one you suspect for putting 
 Mister Doyle against your husband? " 
 
 " Barring Donnelly, his head man, because he 
 did not work the liarvest with him." 
 
 " No one else? " asked the girl in a low whis- 
 per, while she looked as if her own face might 
 give a hint. 
 
 "Sure, Nelly, alanna, we never did a hap- 
 porth of harm to living man." 
 
 " Do you remember the night I came down to 
 beg for shelter, and for all you asked me, I 
 would not tell what made me run from home?" 
 
 " For certain, honey," replied the sick woman, 
 staring eagerly at her. 
 
 " Ah, mushla ! mushla ! " said the girl, put- 
 ting her mouth to Mary's ear, " there was things 
 happened that night most drove me mad; tilings 
 I did not dare tell at the confessional." 
 
 I5
 
 178 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 "Larci, save us," muttered Mary, looking 
 alarmed. 
 
 " He — he — believed I was going to betray 
 him to the Agent — he saw us speaking together 
 once or twice — one Avord from me, and Dennis 
 and him — their lives were not worth — but he — 
 was my father— I would die before I did the 
 like." 
 
 " I came here," continued Nelly, returning 
 from the door where she had been to see if any 
 one was on the road ; " to tell you something 
 I never breathed to mortal; you must promise 
 never to repeat a word. The night I came to 
 you for protection it was because he — he — had 
 been dogging me the day and watching me like 
 a cat following a mouse, and when 1 went to 
 bed, there was trouble in my heart; I did not 
 undress, I was not for sleep; a fear of something 
 came over me; my mind misgave me; in the 
 black dark I listened, for I was certain some- 
 thing in the cabin was moving ; it came closer 
 to me, and then I could not disbelieve, for I felt 
 a hand creeping over the blanket, close along-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 179 
 
 side my neck ; I was so frightened that I could 
 not stir for the life of me ; presently a finger 
 was pressing on my throat— I heard the click of 
 a knife opening — I knew the sound, because it 
 was not the first time that — " 
 
 Mary sat with her eyes staring incredulously 
 at the trembling girl ; who, with a sudden start 
 resumed, 
 
 " I jumped up — I was held — " 
 
 '^ God save us," exclaimed the woman, cross- 
 ing herself. 
 
 " By the greatest luck, I had on an old gown, 
 and, in the struggle, the piece remained behind 
 — I rushed into the bawn — nobody followed me — 
 straight down here I ran, that same minute — " 
 
 " How the Lard watches over us, glory be to 
 His holy name." 
 
 '' I never told word to living woman or man 
 since— You remember, Mrs. O'Neil, you said I 
 must go back in the morning to my— my father, 
 because you would not stand betwixt parent and 
 child ; ever since that day he owes you a grudge, 
 I am afraid he intends doing you mischief; I
 
 180 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 have prayed scores of times for the Lord to turn 
 him from his bad ways— oh, Mary, Mary!" she 
 exclaimed, bursting into tears. '' I came here 
 to put you on your guard against O'Shane, and 
 — and — I cannot tell you — no more ;" she sobbed 
 for some time, at last, checking the agony of her 
 grief, she resumed in hysterical gasps — *' he — he 
 told Mister Doyle— th— that Hugh — belonged to 
 —to the—" 
 
 "Nelly! has your senses left you — are you 
 clean mad? " 
 
 " I wish I were, Mrs. O'Neil — my head is 
 bursting with pain." 
 
 " Poor creature, and me so weak, not able to 
 help you — what did he say? Was no one there 
 to speak up for Hugh ? " 
 
 " Father Tracey stood forenent them, and 
 spoke to the fore; he said, " O'Neil is the last 
 man in the world would do such a thing," she 
 uttered this sentence unbroken, adding, " he said, 
 he would stake his conscience on his innocence, 
 and — th —then, I could hear — a lit — little low
 
 TALBOT HALL. 181 
 
 chuckle — it made me tremble all over — I knew 
 the laugh so well." 
 
 " Ah, Nelly, honey, that is what's been fretting 
 the poor fellow so bad, for Father Tracey,and he 
 were cogghering together in the bawn, very 
 serious like." 
 
 " I must run away,'' said the girl, hurriedly 
 escaping, " for if I was found here. — " 
 
 "" Mary, darling," said Hugh, entering the 
 stripped cabin, '' this is no place for one ailing 
 bad." 
 
 " Hugh," she sighed, " my heart misgives me 
 about you." 
 
 " What should it misgive you for? " 
 
 " Nelly was here, and, she was afraid of her 
 life, of her father catching her." 
 
 " What brought her here ? " 
 
 "The creature came to serve us, and to warn us." 
 
 " Against who?" exclaimed Hugh, excitedly. 
 
 " A — a — against her own father." 
 
 *'• And would you believe a word she said?" 
 • *' She spoke very earnest." 
 
 " Isn't it in every body's mouth, the way she
 
 182 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 left him; young and old, it's the talk of the 
 parish." 
 
 '' He drove her to it — where were you all night, 
 and I so poorly," she continued, hesitatingly. 
 
 A deep scowl came over his face; it passed 
 away, as he approached his wife; there was a 
 fearful struggle going on in his breast ; he never 
 seemed to notice the naked cabin ; his manner 
 grew wilder. " There's money, honey, to buy 
 yourself and the children bread — they took all 
 the — Eevenge! revenge! 
 
 Madly, like some rabid animal, he tore across 
 the country, till he reached Nowlan's cabin. 
 The tempter made him drink ; and to the dregs 
 he emptied each cup. 
 
 Hugh wiped away the drops, that agony of 
 mind distilled on his forehead, as Nowlan looked 
 enquiringly into his tempest-stricken face; he 
 bowed his head; he was tired of struggling 
 against the storm of conscience. 
 
 Nowlan grasped his hand ; — he had gained his 
 point. 
 
 *' Now, Hugh, come to the widow Brennan's."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 183 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Beneath an old oak, whose gnarled boughs 
 spread over a wide space of ground, stood Lucy 
 Talbot and Ada Gordon. The two girls spoke 
 confidingly. 
 
 *' Poor Tom," said Lucy, " if you had known 
 him two years ago ; he was not then the change- 
 able being he now is, one moment, boisterous 
 with mirth, and the next, as you may have 
 noticed, buried in thought; ah, no, he was 
 always gay and merry. I have known him sit 
 for hours on her tomb- stone, and when others
 
 184 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 wondered where he was, I could always find him, 
 unconsciously picking any weed, whose head peeped 
 above ground. Many and many a time has he 
 chased me from the church-yard, for disturbing 
 his meditations, forcing me to leap every ditch 
 on my way home, and laughing as heartily as 
 myself, before we were a hundred yards from the 
 spot of his sorrow." 
 
 " He seems very much attached to you," said 
 Ada, pulling a tender laurel bud, and rubbing it 
 in her fingers, for its almond scent, while she 
 watched her companion's face, to see if it 
 betrayed any hidden feeling. 
 
 '' Only for her sake," replied Lucy. 
 
 ^'But, think you, that he does not admire you 
 for your own ? " 
 
 '- What ! cousin Tom !" exclaimed she, laughing, 
 and adding slily, ^' I never saw him so attentive 
 to any one as to you, since; I know he likes 
 you." 
 
 The compressed leaflets fell from Ada's hands, 
 as she remarked, " not more than he considers 
 complimentary to me as your guest."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 185 
 
 It was perhaps the stooping to pick them up, 
 while speaking, which caused the blood to 
 mantle her cheek and forehead ; a paler shade 
 than usual followed, as she said, *' here comes Mr. 
 Hervey." 
 
 '' Am I encroaching upon your tete-a-tete," 
 said he, smilingly. 
 
 " It is too bad," said Lucy, tossing her pretty 
 head, '* that we cannot go any where, without 
 being persecuted by gentlemen's curiosity." 
 
 " I trust," replied he, piquedly, '^ that Miss 
 Gordon will view my intrusion more leniently 
 than Miss Talbot," saying which, he turned 
 haughtily on his heel. 
 
 '' Mr. Hervey," called out Lucy, in a low 
 voice, tliat spoke a hundred apologies, '' you are 
 angry," she watched to see if he would turn, 
 no — then fainting hope whispered, " Go after 
 him," but pride rebellingly replied, "let him 
 come round, you must not." 
 
 At this moment, Darcy joined Hervey. 
 
 '' Surely you don't mind what the young romp 
 said ; come along back, if it is only for the fun
 
 186 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 of seeing me make her go down on her knees," 
 said Darcy. 
 
 '' No, I should feel no pleasure in annoying her ; 
 although it affords Miss Talbot great amusement 
 to treat me coldly, whenever an opportunity 
 offers ; but it were perhaps better thus," biting 
 his lip, " for it has occurred so frequently of 
 that late, it makes me quite unhappy." 
 
 " Nonsense," exclaimed Darcy, taking his arm, 
 and endeavouring to lead him back to the old 
 oak, adding, '^you are like a couple of spoiled 
 children, come along, there is not a better hearted 
 child in the world than Lucy." 
 
 The girls watched the discussion, anxious to 
 see how it would terminate, for both felt deeply 
 interested in the issue; Hervey was determined. 
 
 '' I did not mean to offend him," said Lucy, 
 following them with her eyes, till they were out 
 of sight. 
 
 " Many a word spoken in jest has been mis- 
 interpreted." 
 
 " I am certain he heard me call, I would not 
 say a rude thing to any one, and least of all to
 
 TALBOT HALL. J 87 
 
 Mr. Hervey, I wonder if he really is angry, I 
 am so sorry, we shall never be such good friends 
 again." 
 
 " Your quarrels never last long ; you will be re- 
 conciled before night," said Ada, in a voice of 
 gentle assurance, adding, 
 
 " Will you be my guide to the church yard, it 
 is such a sweet, quiet little spot, and so secluded, 
 I long to take a sketch of the ivy-covered walls ; 
 I know not how to account for the feeling, but 
 there are periods T could dearly enjoy its soli- 
 tude ; at such moments I could sit for hours, 
 among the old grey tombstones and fancy the 
 sleeping dead were whispering their dreams in 
 my ears." 
 
 *' It is, perhaps," said Lucy, winding her arm 
 round Ada's waist, as they walked along the nar- 
 row footpath, leading througli the Darcy estate 
 to the little church, " that very feeling which 
 gives my cousin such melancholy pleasure; I am 
 sure he imagines her spirit wanders there at 
 night." 
 
 Ada listened with deep interest.
 
 188 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' I have known him sit tliere, poor dear Tom, 
 for hours, when the cahn air siglied softly." 
 
 " It recalled sweet recollections." 
 
 " He has told me often, that it sounded like 
 angels winging their viewless course among the 
 graves." 
 
 '' To see Mr. Darcv at times, we could scarce 
 believe him so sensitive; I have noticed him 
 crimson for what appeared to me mere trifles, 
 once I asked if his father was of the same change- 
 able temperament as himself; he looked steadily 
 for a moment; the two next days he never spoke 
 to me." 
 
 '' You know, Ada, that his father was — in deli- 
 cate health for some years before he was — his 
 mind was impaired at the time he began building, 
 never repeat what I am going to say; give me 
 your promise.'"' 
 
 "•'" I pledge my word." 
 
 ^' He was in a mad -house for three years; he 
 returned, and appeared quite reinstated in health, 
 when one night he got up, and, in a fit of insanity, 
 tried to ; my aunt knew him so well that she
 
 TALBOT HALL. 189 
 
 had presence of mind enough to seize the poker, 
 
 and threaten to ; he put down the knife he 
 
 had concealed under his bolster, and laid down 
 quietly ; nothing but her great presence of mind 
 saved her." 
 
 "Were they a happy couple?" asked Ada, 
 agitatedly. 
 
 " The fondest in the world; but you know 
 that is one of the peculiar features of the malady ; 
 mamma says they always attack those they love 
 the most." 
 
 Both girls drew a long sigh ; Ada, after a 
 moment's deep thought, said, anxiously, "Was 
 your cousin engaged to your sister ? " 
 
 "I do not think," replied Lucy, in an 
 earnest tone, " that I am at liberty to answer 
 this question — it is the only secret that exists 
 between Tom and myself." She added, "yet 
 there can be no harm in telling you, promise 
 never to betray me." 
 
 '' I have no wish to pry into any one's secrets, 
 and certainly not Mr. Darcy's," said Ada, 
 drawing up, and assuming an air of indifference.
 
 190 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " He admires you very much," whispered 
 Lucy, " I know I can trust you." 
 
 " Please yourself," said Ada, curling her 
 proud lip, and colouring. 
 
 " When she and Tom asked me to break it to 
 mamma, I felt quite frightened." 
 
 ^^Why?" 
 
 "• Because mamma had often said, she had a 
 dread of any one marrying into families, where — 
 where — hereditary — ." 
 
 Lucy laid her head on her companion's shoulder, 
 and whispered, " you know what I mean." 
 
 " You allude to the hereditary malady in the 
 f-imily." 
 
 " Yes — shall I go on ? " 
 
 ''Do." 
 
 " Mamma wished to break off the attachment — 
 from that day, poor Annie drooped like a fading 
 lily ; change of air and new scenes were recom- 
 mended, and, as a last resource, Italy's sunny 
 clime w^as tried ; it failed in recuscitating our 
 sinking flower — she returned to linger, pine, and
 
 TALBOT HALL. 191 
 
 die at home." The tremulous whisper subsided 
 into silence. 
 
 Ada put her own kerchief to Lucy's eyes, and 
 pressed her lip to the fair forehead. 
 
 " Dry your tears, love, some one is coming, I 
 hear footsteps and voices." 
 
 The party, who at this crisis disturbed the 
 young confidantes in their tete-a-tete came rather 
 suddenly on them, comprised Mr. and Mrs. 
 Talbot, Mr. Butter worth, with Miss Eodney, and 
 Sir Henry Gale. 
 
 The baronet was markedly attentive to Miss 
 Gordon; she appeared too much absorbed in 
 recent thoughts to attend to what he said ; per- 
 ceiving this, he turned to Lucy, saying, in one of 
 his gentlest tones. — 
 
 *' Why so pensive, young ladies ? Care ought 
 not to find a resting place in such youthful 
 breasts, where only thoughts, bright as yourselves 
 should dwell; believe me, life's harrow will 
 prepare a bed for her seeds of sorrow soon enough, 
 without your planting thorns, where everything 
 ought to be fair and smiling.''
 
 192 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 *' Would you have us ever the same? " asked 
 Ada, coldly. 
 
 " Nay, not always, because then pleasure's 
 course would become monotonous." 
 
 *' You do not suppose we are never to meet 
 with annoyances, Sir Henry Gale," said Lucy, 
 pouting her pretty lip, as if she had undergone 
 some dreadful affliction. 
 
 ** Why child ! " exclaimed old Talbot, putting 
 his arm round her waist, " what is the matter 
 Avith my spoiled pet? on my veracity, I hardly 
 know you for my own dauf^hter, with that woe- 
 begone face; by St. Patrick, Lucy," he continued, 
 laughingly, '' you would make all the foxes in the 
 country sad, with such a cloudy expression, have 
 you and that torment, cousin Tom, been squabbling 
 again? " 
 
 *' No, pa, — have you met him? " 
 
 " We saw him and Hervey walking towards 
 the old ruin, but they seemed anxious to avoid us, 
 I tallyho'd till I was nearly hoarse." 
 
 That gloomy aspect becomes you not, Miss 
 Talbot," said Mr. Butterworth, gallantly adding, 
 ^' wherefore so cast down, lady fair?'*
 
 TALBOT HALL. 193 
 
 " I know some one who has become very 
 courteous in his speeches of late ; I wonder what 
 is the cause?" said Lucy, trying to smile, and 
 casting a glance at her governess, who turned 
 away to pick a simple blade of grass. 
 
 Mr. Butterworth was seized with a coughing fit, 
 which prevented him giving an explanation to 
 the question. 
 
 " I think Mr. Hervey is coming in this direc- 
 tion," remarked Ada. 
 
 " Cousin Tom ! " whispered Lucy. 
 
 "How strange," remarked Miss Rodney, retali- 
 ating on her pupil, playfully, " I can see two 
 gentlemen arm in arm, and yet others can only 
 make out one." 
 
 '' Please," interrupted Lucy, pleading with her 
 soft blue eyes, " do not tease me to-day — we are 
 not friends." 
 
 Mrs. Talbot, with woman's penetration divined 
 her daughter's feelings ; she made no comment, 
 but it was evident her child's growing attach- 
 ment was making her very thoughtful. 
 
 Lucy turned her head from her mother's 
 
 VOL L K
 
 194 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 searching look, it met her father's affectionate 
 gaze; she tried to conceal her face from him, lest 
 he too, might read the secret of her heart in her 
 eves. 
 
 The usual cold salutation passed between Sir 
 Henry Gale and Darcy. 
 
 '* Have you been paying a visit to our romantic 
 little church ?" asked Tom of Miss Gordon. 
 
 ''We were aoinpr when we met Mrs. Talbot's 
 party." 
 
 " You have been there before ; the tomb 
 stones are pretty, do you not think so? " 
 
 '' One in particuhir struck me," replied Ada, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 ''From what cause?" 
 
 ''I l)e1ieve owing to the sweet shrubs that 
 grew around its basement, and which seemed 
 to be tended with the tenderest care by some 
 fiffectionate — " she paused, as if for a worcl. 
 
 " Go on," siglicd Darcy. 
 
 " No weed is allow-ed to grow there — it leads 
 one to suppose the kind survivor spends a good 
 deal of time near the shiniberer's arave."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 195 
 
 " Perhaps he does," again sighed Tom. 
 
 " I wish,"" said old Talbot, laughing, " joxi 
 would try to put Lucy in humour, Hervey ; did 
 you ever see such an angry face? " 
 
 *' I — I — have something to — to — consult Mr. 
 Butterworth about," replied he, colouring, and 
 thinking in his own mind that she did look angry. 
 
 "Would 'you like to accompany me to the 
 nunnery, .Mr. Hervey ? " asked Mrs. Talbot, 
 separating him from the rest of the party. 
 
 '' Nothing could give me greater pleasure." 
 
 Without knowing wliy, his heart beat violently, 
 it always did when left alone with his kind but 
 mvsterious hostess. 
 
 K 2
 
 196 TALBOT HALL. | 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 They had not long been separated from the rest 
 of the party, who were on their way home, when 
 Mrs. Talbot broke the pause by saying, 
 
 " I have for some time past remarked your 
 attention to Lucy ; my daughter's happiness and 
 your welfare are dear to me — it is but fair, nay, 
 imperatively urgent on my part, to put you on 
 your guard; the more so since I cannot help 
 seeing that, that which at first appeared a light 
 flirtation is now assuming a more serious nature, 
 and is likely to involve both your fates." 
 
 Hervey remained silent.
 
 - TALBOT HALL. 197 
 
 '' What I am going to say is dictated by the 
 kindest feeling, both for your own sake and my 
 child's — for Lucy is little more yet — there are 
 circumstances connected with the mystery that 
 hangs over you, which, when revealed, may not 
 only entirely change your position, but — do not 
 be impatient — may so materially alter your 
 
 worldly that I trust you will hearken to my 
 
 advice and follow it." 
 
 '' For heaven's sake," interrupted Hervey, 
 imploringly, '* tell me the cause of the strange 
 mystery by which I have been surrounded since 
 my earliest childhood ! " 
 
 " Ask me not — a sacred promise binds me not 
 to divulge — " 
 
 " Then why am I here — your guest? I, who 
 never heard your name before, I who love as a 
 son only can love a mother." 
 
 She was silent, agitated, and unprepared to 
 answer. 
 
 " It is in your power," he resumed, em- 
 phatically, *' to unveil the misfortune, for such 
 it must be, that requires this painful conceal-
 
 198 lALBOT HALL. 
 
 ment; were it otherwise," he added, mournfully, 
 " it would be a relief to you to — " 
 
 Mrs. Talbot Liid her hand on his arm, in- 
 terrupting him, ^' I would not, fin- all T possess, 
 say one word that might wound your feelings; 
 our conversation has taken a turn I had wished 
 to avoid — the promise by which I am bound is 
 too solemn — it cannot be broken — ^Yhen you are 
 of age — then — ," she paused. 
 
 " Could it be," he murmured, in deepest 
 dejection, while his chest heaved with the con- 
 tending feelings that were racking it; "Yes — 
 more than once a strong likeness lias been traced 
 — what lurking suspicions are these that force 
 themselves on me — why does she turn her blanched 
 face from me. No explanation — then indeed are 
 my dreams of hope crushed for ever." 
 
 " You are wrong to dwell too nuich on 
 the present; the future may have nuich in 
 store." 
 
 " Talk not in riddles, solve them for me, but 
 for mercy's sake harrow my heart no longer with 
 this fearful suspense, which one moment buoys
 
 TALBOT HALL. 199 
 
 me up with hope and the next sinks me into 
 despair." 
 
 Mrs. Talbot's answer was interrupted by Lucy, 
 who had run after and joined them. 
 
 '• How solemn you look, dear mamma," said 
 she, blushing, ** papa has sent me for the keys 
 of his desk." 
 
 '' We are only going to the nunnery, dear, 
 will you come with us?" asked her mother, glad 
 of a third party, to put an end to the painful 
 conversation. 
 
 "' If you wish it.'* 
 
 '' Certainly." 
 
 " Perhaps I am not wanted, besides, papa will 
 be expecting me back;" how anxiously did she 
 await a request from Hervey, who remained silent. 
 
 " I did not mean to intrude on you," said Lucy, 
 breaking the pause, " indeed I did not ; now I am 
 rested." 
 
 He had been so deeply engrossed with what had 
 passed between Mrs. Talbot and himself, and was 
 now so annoyed, that any interruption should 
 take place, at a moment when he believed he was
 
 200 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 on the point of worming out the secret on whicli 
 his fate hung, that he could not conceal his vexa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said, " Miss Talbot will do me 
 the honour of accepting my arm." Mrs. Talbot's 
 reference to his attachment, on which he had put 
 his own construction, piqued him ; he felt hurt. 
 
 " We never shall be friends again," thouglit 
 Lucy, placing her arm, light as a feather, on the 
 offered support. 
 
 The conversation, which was now carried on 
 between Mrs. Talbot and Hervey, was frequently 
 interrupted by awkward pauses. 
 
 ^' Will you amuse yourselves, walking about 
 the grounds till I return," said her mother, " show 
 him the little ruins, little — I shall not be long 
 away." 
 
 There was no reply, nor did her daughter 
 withdraw her arm from Hervey 's. 
 
 The young couple walked on in perfect silence 
 for some distance, he caring little what path they 
 took; she, poor girl, saw not where they were 
 going, her handkerchief kept excluding the beau- 
 ty of the pretty scenery.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 201 
 
 ^'' It is nearly ankle deep," remarked Hervey 
 at last. 
 
 '' Oh ! why — why — you are taking me straight 
 into the marsh." 
 
 '* Had we not better retrace our footsteps? " 
 
 '' Yes," replied she, sorrowfully. 
 
 " Are you going to the nunnery, Miss Talbot." 
 
 " I was not thinking, at that moment, where 
 we were going." 
 
 "Mrs. Talbot said, gentlemen were not ad- 
 mitted so near the building." 
 
 "Are you still angry with me, Mr. Hervey? 
 you know I did not mean to offend." 
 
 The softest and most forgiving smile was on 
 his lip, but recollecting Mrs. Talbot's warning, 
 he checked it, and replied, coldly, 
 
 " I hope not — it were better for me that I were 
 less in your society — then, now, or hereafter, my 
 feelings would not be subjected to annoyances — 
 Is this the way to the ruin? " 
 
 " No, we must turn to the right." 
 
 " The sooner we do so. Miss Talbot — " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Lucy, piqued by the 
 
 k5
 
 202 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 change in his manner, " Mamma is sure to join 
 ns there; mj weight may tire you, let me beg 
 you not to punish yourself for the sake of politely 
 oifering your arm to a thoughtless Irish girl, 
 Tvho has seldom been accustomed to such atten- 
 tion from any one but her OAvn father or cousins ;" 
 she' withdrew her arm, resuming, in a cheerful 
 tone, " I am sorry, Mr. Hervey, that some one 
 better acquainted with tlie old legends, attached 
 to the these spots, had not accompanied you." 
 
 The young Englishman could not have been 
 more surprised by an electric shock, than he was 
 at this seeming ease on her part. 
 
 " There is the nunnery," continued Lucy, 
 '^ just look behind that clump of old mournful 
 pines, you may see by tlie number of serial cradles 
 in which the rooks of last year were reared, how 
 quiet and undisturbed the place remains, summer 
 and winter; few are ever admitted, save that 
 noisy tribe, to share the retired seclusion." 
 
 *' It is against the rules for gentlemen to come 
 so near— now^ that j^ou have seen the building, 
 we must go no closer — indeed the ruin is in this
 
 TALBOT HALL. 203 
 
 direction," pointing to the right, ^' do you mind 
 walking faster, I should not like to meet the 
 Mother Abbess; she might be displeased with me 
 for bringing you; besides, mamma whispered, 
 " not to take that walk." 
 
 All this time, Hervey had allowed her to go 
 on, uncertain how to act. 
 
 " It is a matter of perfect indifierence to me 
 where we go," he said at last. 
 
 " I hope mamma will soon join us," said Lucy, 
 after a long silence. 
 
 " Did you not say we should meet her at the 
 ruins ? " 
 
 " I expressed a wish, that some one more com- 
 petent to interest you had been your guide— and 
 as mamma knows all the — " 
 
 " Does Miss Talbot think," he asked, formally, 
 "thati cannot feel interested in hearing from any 
 one else, "the story attached to the ruin." 
 
 " Miss Talbot," slie replied, repeating the name 
 in his marked tone, " does not presume to judge 
 Mr. Hervey's thoughts, which are far too intricate 
 for her to understand."
 
 204 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " They are of a nature, which subjects their 
 owner to much unhappiness." 
 
 " How strange," exclaimed she, tossing her 
 pretty head, " I thought nothing could have 
 made sufficient impression on Mr. Hervey, to 
 give him a moment's uneasiness." 
 
 " Has that always been your sentiment ! " 
 
 " I see no reason why it should not." 
 
 '• Do you speak as you feel? " 
 
 '' That implies deceit.'' 
 
 " A strong word from a gentleman to a lady." 
 
 " One which, though used in my simplicity, 
 conveys your refined meaning." 
 
 *' On most points. Miss Talbot's simplicity is 
 superior to my judgment." 
 
 " You are certainly not in the most amiable 
 mood, Mr. Hervey." 
 
 " I fear I am but too faithful a mirror." 
 
 *' There is mamma at the end of the walk, and 
 the Mother Abbess," said she, pretending not to 
 hear him, "I am afraid they will not wish to meet 
 us ; you can find the ruins by yourself — there — 
 she is beckoning to me, I am so glad ! excuse
 
 TALBOT HALL. 205 
 
 my leaving." She ran off to join her mother and 
 the nun. 
 
 The instant Lucy left him, he felt he had 
 carried the quarrel too far ; and now that the two 
 ladies approached, he experienced as much an- 
 noyance at this unexpected intrusion, as he had 
 done, when Miss Talbot interrupted them, a 
 short time previous. 
 
 The nun kissed the young girl, and leaning 
 heavily on Mrs. Talbot's arm, as if she were in 
 delicate health, seemed to be hesitating whether 
 to come on or turn back. The sable dress and 
 the dark veil, which covered her face, tended to 
 cast a mournfulness over her appearance — the 
 unsteadiness of her walk led one to suppose her 
 aged and infirm. Lucy offered her arm, Mrs. 
 Talbot looked very much agitated — she was very 
 pale. 
 
 Hervey raised his hat respectfully, he did not 
 wish to be the first speaker. 
 
 The Mother Abbess seemed for a moment to 
 examine him with a look of sorrow, then turning
 
 206 TALBOT UALL. 
 
 to her elder supporter, who trembled violently, 
 leant heavily on her. 
 
 ** You are ill, dearest marama," said Lucy. 
 
 " No, love, it is going off — I felt giddy — a 
 glass of water for — " 
 
 '^ Shall I go?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, run." 
 
 The Mother Abbess sat down on a rustic 
 bench, she seemed fatigued. 
 
 " Can I be of any assistance? " asked Hervey. 
 anxiously. 
 
 Mrs. Talbot signed him to go away. 
 
 He withdrew, till a clump of laurels concealed 
 him; then stood silently watching Lucy. She 
 never turned, no, not even to see if he followed, 
 and when she had disappeared into the building, 
 he remained, with crossed arms folded on his 
 breast, staring at the opening where she had 
 vanished. Before she came back, the two ladies 
 had risen, and were slowly bending their foot- 
 steps in her wake. 
 
 It seemed ages until Lucy returned ; he waited, 
 but she never looked in his direction.
 
 TALBOT HALL. . 207 
 
 With heavy heart he heard the old oaken door 
 close on them. Hardly knowing whither he 
 went, he followed a path, which led him to some 
 ivy covered walls ; heaps of loose stones were 
 strewn on the ground, and overgrown with moss, 
 showing how long they had lain. With down- 
 cast lid he gazed on the grey ruins, as if a 
 feeling of sympathy existed between him and 
 them. A few hardy briars had struggled with 
 snake-like efforts to burst through the rocky 
 bed, beneath which their roots were entombed — 
 they had distorted themselves in trying to force 
 their way through the open crevices ; but, unable 
 to gain the open air, they crept along their flinty 
 burrow, raising their blood-red heads to each 
 aperture, where the sun's warmth could be felt; 
 till strengthened by its influence, they pushed 
 aside the smotheriug rubbish, luxuriated for a 
 season, then died, leaving their thorny stems to 
 guide the young shoots year after year. 
 
 He believed that Lucy was a heartless flirt — 
 he could not understand her, and with the
 
 208 TALBOT II\LL. 
 
 blindness of a man deeply in love, made many 
 rash vows. 
 
 Shortly after he had retired from the nunnery, 
 Lucy came out, and knowing that he Avas most 
 likely to be at the ruins, turned her back on 
 them, following a narrow path, which led to the 
 river. 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. Talbot and his party 
 had reached Talbot Hall, and after waiting for 
 upwards of an hour, ordered in lunch, remarking, 
 with a wink to Darcy, who paid little attention 
 to him — 
 
 " Fortunate I was in no hurry for my keys, 
 this day's work will not establish Lucy as a 
 speedy messenger — how do you account for their 
 non-arrival?" 
 
 " When ladies," said Sir Henry Gale, " get 
 together, there is so much to be spoken of, that 
 time flies very swiftly — besides, the ruins to be 
 shown to Mr. Hervey, and the exterior of the 
 nunnery." 
 
 " Are gentlemen not admitted?" asked Ada, 
 of Darcy, who was by her side.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 209 
 
 " No," he replied, as if he thought of some- 
 thing else. 
 
 *' Have you been there, Miss Dawson?" en- 
 quired Sir Henry. 
 
 " Once, with Mrs. Talbot, but I did not go in ; 
 to the convent I have several times been — it is 
 a more humble order." 
 
 " A convent ! where is it? " 
 
 " About a mile further." 
 
 " Do you intend becoming a nun? " 
 
 '^ My mind," she laughingly answered, " is 
 not yet made up, our sex are rather fickle, we 
 are allowed to change — if you are very 
 anxious, perhaps I may some day take you to 
 see it; there is one very nice nun, I often meet 
 her." 
 
 " Do they not confine themselves within 
 certain boundaries, I heard the convent was sur- 
 rounded by a high wall." 
 
 "Yes, but the Sisters of Charity not only 
 admit ladies wlio give them needle-work, but go 
 out and attend on the sick; it is quite a different 
 order from the nunnery, where they seldom are
 
 210 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 seen ; indeed, unless you were taken there by Mrs. 
 Talbot, I know of no one with sufficient interest 
 to get you a view of the old monastery — ruins, 
 which are well worth seeing — there is no other 
 inducement, unless you wait till I take the veil.'' 
 
 *' Then truly,'' whispered he, softly, '' the 
 building would contain irresistible attractions." 
 
 *' To whom ! to me ? I am not yet tired of 
 worldly pleasures." 
 
 " Where the treasure is, thither will the heart 
 follow." 
 
 " My treasure is my dear good father." 
 
 *' The allusion was not intended to apply to 
 Colonel Dawson." 
 
 " To whom, then ? " 
 
 Gale looked steadily at her; there was no 
 visible change in her features, but something 
 like lurking mischief played in her eyes, as she 
 laughingly drew him on, by saying, — 
 
 " Who, except papa, would care whether I be- 
 came a nun or not ?" 
 
 " The man who might most regret your self- 
 banishment from the world, might pine in silence
 
 TALBOT HALL. 211 
 
 over his secret, and not dare breathe his thoughts," 
 lie whispered, Vv'ith a sigh. 
 
 '• I do not under;>tand inuendos, and as for 
 sighs, gentlemen are so versed in artificial love 
 making, that a giid ought to bo careful how she 
 listens to, and still more how she trusts them; 
 they act so frequently from sordid motives." 
 
 Her lip curled : he watched her closely, and 
 considered her attentively. 
 
 " Miss Gordon may not approve of your de- 
 voting yourself to me, Sir Henry," said she, 
 leading his eye to Ada and Darcy, who spoke in 
 low earnest tones; frequent long pauses occur- 
 ring between each sentence. 
 
 " Do you think my mind, my feelings, nay my 
 heart, is with her at this moment? " 
 
 '* They ought to be — are you not engaged to 
 her?" 
 
 " I was — bu — init — I had not then seen — ."' 
 
 '^ Seen whom? " provokingly asked the flirt. 
 
 " You, Miss Dawson, if you will wring the 
 truth from me." 
 
 Desperate Lothario; not but you are pretty
 
 212 TALBOT HALL 
 
 well matched, for slie seems to treat you ratlier 
 unceremoniously.'' 
 
 " I regret now having betrayed myself," he 
 whispered, with affected sorrow, '' those few 
 words, so thoughtlessly expressed, are likely to 
 give me many an anxious hour's reflection." 
 
 " Similar speeches have so often been made, 
 that I only look on them as a repetition of empty 
 compliments, if it had come," she added, seriously, 
 ^' from one who professed little — from such a 
 man as — " 
 
 '* As whom? " 
 
 " Any one — I — I mean persons, whose feelings 
 having long remained untouched — if awakened 
 at last, appreciate - — " 
 
 Gale's thoughts ran on the unfinished sentence ; 
 the beautiful heiress, her broad acres, and her 
 thousands; he thought of her father too, but very 
 little; he was going to say something, but 
 checked himself, to read the cause of the tinge 
 on her face, and the momentary agitation the 
 features displayed; he paused, for recovering 
 lierself— she looked steadily at him.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 213 
 
 The baronet felt this was not the auspicious 
 moment, and smothering the rising words, he 
 substituted others, saying, — 
 
 " Captain Leslie is not unlike the style of 
 man you describe/' 
 
 "' Captain Leslie," she repeated, flashing up 
 angrily, and crimsoning, " a misanthrope ! " 
 
 " It grieves me to find that I have unin- 
 tentionally annoyed — but I thought — " 
 
 " You thought wrong, sir." 
 
 " Any one may err in forming opinions — it is 
 excusable." 
 
 " Provided they have the good taste to keep 
 their erroneous surmises to themselves." 
 
 " I am sorry that I mentioned his name — do 
 you forgive me? " 
 
 '^ You are at liberty to use it whenever you 
 feel disposed, Sir Henry Gale — but I do not wish 
 to be made the theme of comment in the same 
 breath." 
 
 ^" I had no conception that you disliked him 
 so much."
 
 214 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 ^' He is to me nearly a stranger — I neither 
 like nor dislike — " 
 
 '* You are indifferent to him?" 
 
 Lunch was announced at this moment. Gale, 
 as he offered her his arm, smiled satisfactorily, 
 and thought to himself, " Leslie is not the man." 
 
 " Cut out," exclaimed Mr. Talbot, good na- 
 turedly, laughing as he entered the room, " no 
 chance for an old gentleman like me — Ah, 
 Butterworth ! I intended being Miss Eodney's 
 beau to day, but you are so active — so attentive 
 — so, so — hang the word — quick in doing the 
 polite — as for Ada, I suppose Tom has been 
 giving her an account of our last hunt, very 
 likely he is telling how I crossed the river — well! 
 we may as well let him finish — they do not seem 
 inclined to move — there was a day I could do 
 without lunch — but now I require nourishment, 
 you understand me." 
 
 "No signs of Mrs. Talbot ?' he asked of 
 Dempsey, who entered again at that moment. 
 
 " Yes, your honor — I saw the mistress behind
 
 TALBOT HALL. 215 
 
 the Scotch fur at the lottom of the lawn; she 
 was entirely invisible, but I wouldn't say but 
 they are close now, any how. 
 
 '' Send down, with my compliments, to say lunch 
 is waiting.'' 
 
 *' Hervey and Miss Talbot," said Gale, " are 
 not far off." 
 
 In the recess of a bow window, whose partially- 
 drawn curtains nearly concealed them, stood Ada 
 Gordon and Darcy, side by side, contemplatively 
 looking out on the lawn. With his forehead 
 resting on his hand, he appeared, absorbed in 
 reflection ; while from time to time she would catch 
 the low words he breathed as he slightly turned 
 his face towards herself. Now he spoke louder, 
 '• The Lord needed that beautiful flower, it was 
 too pure for this world — " he paused, then re- 
 sumed, almost inaudibly, " Annie Talbot, I never 
 was jealous of you but once, 'twas when Heaven's 
 angel came to beguile you away. I know whither 
 he bore you in his arms, I heard thee whisper it 
 vvith thy last breath."
 
 216 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 He ceased to speak, she saw that his feelings 
 were overcoming him, and that he turned away 
 to conceal the gathering tear. She drew nearer, 
 and with bending head, and neck curved like a 
 swan gracefully approaching the object it ad- 
 mires and slightly fears, laid her hand softly on 
 his arm. 
 
 There are moments when the lips are incom- 
 petent to express the sympathy the heart feels in 
 silence, when a touch, a look, a sigh, is more 
 eloquent than any language. 
 
 Darcy wound his arm around Ada^s waist, and 
 in words the softest, the most endearing, con- 
 tinued his soliloquy to the departed — then turn- 
 ing to Ada, addressed her by another's name; his 
 thoughts were not with her — she knew it. 
 Gently displacing his hand, as if it were a child's, 
 who in falling asleep had laid it on her, she 
 listened on to his low soft murmuring whispers, 
 he seemed to be communing in dreams with the 
 dead girl. His fingers unconsciously sought 
 Ada's; she did not withdraw them.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 217 
 
 A light knock, and Charley's voice roused them 
 from their reverie. Darcy looked mournfully 
 on her, and as he offered his arm, started and 
 whispered, " I was thinking of Annie, my first— 
 my only love — " 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 218 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 '•' Denny," said Nowlan, addressing O'Shane, in 
 the widow Breii nan's shebeen, what's the least 
 you e\^er shot a man for?" 
 
 *' Such questions to be asking, and she not a 
 dozen yards off." 
 
 " Tut, man, alive; she is gone to feed the pig." 
 
 '• Least," replied Dennis, grinning, with the 
 pain from his wound ; " for a red herring and a 
 dandie." 
 
 " Troth, and that same, was little enough." 
 
 '' And you, Tim?" 
 
 '' Barring for revenge, never less nor t^w 
 shillings."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 219 
 
 " Will Hugh come to the scratch ? " 
 
 " Whist ! here he is himself; let us be speaking 
 about something else, or the devil blow me if he 
 will have hand or part in it ; hide yourself, 
 Denny." 
 
 " Welcome, O'Neil," said Nowlan, " here man, 
 come in and wet the whistle." 
 
 " Sure I heard some one speaking," whispered 
 Hugh, looking around him. 
 
 " I was reciting a discourse to myself." 
 
 Hugh leant against the wall, his chest heaved, 
 he breathed heavily and fast. 
 
 " It's all settled to the full," resumed Nowlan, 
 in a whisper, " there is not a happorth of use in 
 coggering it again till it is done; do not stay 
 here ; if we were seen together it might go hard, 
 meet me at nine o'clock." 
 
 ''Where?" 
 
 " You know Joe Dempsey's bawn — well, be- 
 twixt it and Paddy Kelly's cabin, forenent the 
 lime kiln, there is a dead oak ; the one that was 
 killed with the lightning last month." 
 
 " With withered ivy round it? " 
 
 L 2
 
 220 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Yes ; he is sure to pass that way, close along 
 side of it, the branches will most touch his head 
 on the high road. I saw him go into Frank 
 Young's for the rent, he. never will get out 
 of tliat without soaking his skin." 
 
 Dennis from his lair watched the heavy 
 working of O'Neil's chest. 
 
 "To-night at nine," whispered Nowlan, grasp- 
 ing Hugh's hand. 
 
 Night came on, deepening, darkening ; every 
 thing around became wild and furious. The 
 howling winds flew yelling across the desolate 
 bogs and rushed through the bleak forests as if 
 some invisible form chased and forced them to 
 cling to the stubborn oak and dreary pine to 
 stay their mad career ; the crashing trees turned 
 on each other; and fiercely locking their black 
 branches, wrestled till the earth was strewn with 
 rackling boughs. 
 
 As Hugh passed through the little chuich- 
 yard, groping his way along the burial ground, 
 the clock struck nine. He paused, and sought 
 to retrace his way into the narrow p .th from 
 which he had deviated; now he would feel a
 
 TALBOT HALL. 221 
 
 tomb-stone, now an iron railing, now some sliriib 
 then a green mound; a deadly cliill crept over 
 him, something struck him on the head. Super- 
 stition, so easily roused in a guilty breast, was 
 at work instantly ; his hat was cut through on 
 the left side near the temple, he felt the bleeding 
 gash and stood still, fearful of stirring, not know- 
 ing whither he might be going; he heard a sound 
 as of a flight of birds; a shower of slates, blown 
 from the church roof, fell around him; he re- 
 mained paralized. The bells began to peal, adding 
 theirominous sounds to the raging noises ; a terrific 
 crash followed; the spire lay in ruins close by 
 him — ^he had escaped — "It is God's warning; it's 
 as if hell was in my breast — I'll turn back — 
 what a nigjht." 
 
 O'Neil hurried as fast as he could towards the 
 old cow-shed, buried the pistol, and on discover- 
 ing its fellow was gone, bent his footsteps towards 
 the rendezvous, where he knew the Agent must 
 pass on his way home. 
 
 All thought of harming Doyle that night had 
 left him, but as he neared the place he listened
 
 222 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 breathlessly, expecting every moment to hear the 
 deadly report of the missing pistol. 
 
 The pitchy darkness, pouring rain, and howl- 
 ing gusts, sounded fearfully wild as he groped on 
 — Nature seemed in convulsion. 
 
 Hugh felt as if his eyes emitted sparks, whilst 
 he strove to make out the invisible objects he 
 touched; a voice close to him called out, — 
 "Is that you, O'Neil?" 
 
 Dennis O'Shane's hand was stealthily laid on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " Take your fingers off me," shouted Hugh, 
 fiercely. *' What do you want with me r " 
 
 *' I'm come in regard of the little job," coolly 
 replied he ; '• to give you a hiind to make a 
 decent corpse ; you must take it easy, or you 11 
 
 not settle him. Hush! by the living I 
 
 hear a horse's hoof — if it is him," added he, 
 creeping along the fence, '' I'll whistle." 
 
 "' This is the sort of night for the work," 
 shouted Nowlan, whose voice, before it reached 
 Hugh's ear, was nearly drowned in the gale.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 223 
 
 '^ But there is an eye can see in the blackest 
 dark/' replied O'Neil, wavering. 
 
 "What eye?" 
 
 A lightning flash answered the question, as it* 
 Heaven would prove no deed could be concealed 
 from its all-searching glance. 
 
 For the second everything around was lighted 
 up vividly. 
 
 '' There is murder in everything I look on," 
 said Hugh. '* It's more warnings from God — 
 another night — but such a one as this — no. Til 
 not have hand or part; no man shall harm him 
 to-night, if so be my hand and my strength are 
 able to save him." 
 
 '' You are trembling like a child," said Nowlan, 
 laying his hand on him. 
 
 " I am cold and hungry; I did not touch so 
 much as a pratie since morning ; here, give me 
 the whiskey, it will warm me." 
 
 '^ Now you talk sense ; but, man alive, it is so 
 weak, you may suck it like your mother's milk, 
 the devil a happorth more hurt it can do you."
 
 224 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 ^* It will warm the cockles of your heart," 
 exclaimed O'Shane, returning and adding; "the 
 other road he is taking, it is not Doyle." 
 
 " It's mortal strong," remarked O'Neil, catch- 
 ing his breath, " I'm most choked." 
 
 At the very moment the single flash of light- 
 ning had darted into their faces, searching the 
 secrets in their breasts, the Agent was drinking 
 freely at a farm hard by. 
 
 " Sure, Mr. Doyle," said the grey-headed 
 tenant, " you will not be thinking of going home 
 such a black night, it is not fit to turn a dog out, 
 leave alone a Cliristian ; the wife can make up a 
 bed in no time ; the sorrow a foot I would move 
 for gold itself." 
 
 " Another tumbler, Frank, and I am off." 
 
 ** Does your honour never feel afraid riding 
 alone r 
 
 " Afraid ! what the dickens should I be afraid 
 of— to the devil with it ; that I shall be murdered 
 some day, I do not deny; but, to-night, my 
 heart's blood is high. I am in a humour to meet 
 Old Nick, himself, this minute; here's to the
 
 TALBOT HALL. 225 
 
 health of the man that is to cast the ball which 
 is to let daylight into me, and that won't be for 
 many a long day, for I dreamt last Friday, and 
 it was the mischiefs own disagreeable dream, that 
 I was shot; — sure we all know dreams go by 
 contrary. Here, Frank, help me to put on the 
 coat. Never fear for me," said he, a few minutes 
 after, as he mounted, " the old fellow^ takes care 
 of his own." 
 
 " God be with him," said old Frank, bending 
 forward to catch the sounds of the horse's feet as 
 long as he could, " Biddy, honey," to his wife as 
 he closed the door ; *' I am glad we are rid of 
 him ; the same man will come to the bad — my 
 mind misgives me — there is something here," 
 placing his hand on his breast, " that makes me 
 distrustful — the Lord protect him this blessed 
 night, for he is not fit at all to die with the curse 
 of so many poor cabiners, that he has broke to 
 the ground, hanging on him." 
 
 During the time old Frank and his family 
 prayed, the Agent had been nearing the fatal 
 spot. 
 
 l5
 
 226 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' Hush ! " whispered O'Shane. 
 
 '* Whist !" uttered Nowlan. 
 
 ^' By gorra, it i ^ a horse. ' 
 
 " I wouldn't say but you are in the right of it, 
 Denny." 
 
 *' Herrew, shillelagh!" shouted Hugh, holding 
 on with one hand to the tree and staggering ; 
 "you are the boy that never missed fire — let me 
 at him ! fair play ! " 
 
 *' Is it mad you are, all of a sudden^ " asked 
 Nowlan. 
 
 " No, Tim, drunk as a lord he is," said 
 O'Shane. 
 
 **rm the lad for him,'* resumed O'Neil; 
 ^•herrew for fair play; if I only had the cau- 
 been to pitch in liis face and challenge him ; the 
 villain that struck my poor simple and destroyed 
 us all." 
 
 "The cross road he has took; no — whist — 
 yes," said Nowlan. 
 
 " So much the better," muttered Hugh. 
 
 " Hush, hush! keep back," whispered Nowlan, 
 afresh, and grasping Hugh's arm; "here he
 
 TALBOT HALL. 227 
 
 comes, look at the sparks flying from the beast's 
 hoofs; rd swear to Mat. Kavanagh's shoeing, 
 they always strike fire like a steel and flint." 
 
 *' Let me at him fair, Fll grip him honest," 
 said Hugh, excitedly. 
 
 " Here man—take it, nonsense, mind it is on 
 full cock." 
 
 " I will not do it," exclaimed O'Neil, dropping 
 the pistol. 
 
 At this moment the Agent began singing or 
 humming, '' To the devil with care." 
 
 " Do you hear that?" 
 
 '- Yes,*" answered Hugh, '• it drives me mad." 
 
 ^' Take it easy," whispered O'Shane; "not yet 
 — now, — now ! " 
 
 The horse snorted and backed : instantly fol- 
 lowed a loud report — a flash — Doyle's fearful 
 oath — the animal, shot through the head, fell to 
 the ground dead. 
 
 "Father of Heaven!" ejaculated Nelly, rush- 
 ing into Hugh's cabin ; ''Mary, Mary! didn't I 
 warn you ? Oh, why did you let your husband 
 out this same wild night?" Freeing herself
 
 228 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 from the woman's grasp — '• I can't stay another 
 minute ; the police are close, coming to take 
 your misfortunate husband — he has shot the 
 Agent's horse under him." 
 
 Scarce had she escaped by a back door, before 
 the sounds of footsteps fell distinctly on Mary's 
 ear. 
 
 Betrayed by Nowlan, the police were already 
 in search of O'Neil. 
 
 -' Keep a close watch outside," said Kennedy, 
 entering the cabin, "for on such a night he 
 might pass within a foot of you, unseen; now 
 men," he whispered, after searching the cabin 
 and questioning the wretched wife, " tread light, 
 not a word, forward ! 
 
 *• Listen ! " again whispered Kennedy, after a 
 pause, groping his way along a fence; "some 
 one stired — there — there a^ain : — it is a human 
 tread." 
 
 The men bent their heads to the earth, to 
 quicken their hearing ; the next instant they 
 hurried forward. 
 
 " Steady," said their officer, in a low voice ; 
 " no rushing!"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 229 
 
 For a moment a sickly moonbeam fell faintly 
 on a human being. 
 
 " It's Hugh O'NeiL" said one of them. 
 
 '^ No, the Black Wolf," whispered another. 
 
 " Hush ! I hear voices," said Kennedy, lis- 
 tening intently. *' No running; fix bayonets 
 and be prepared, noiselessly. Now creep along, 
 silently." 
 
 Like tigers, crouching for their victim in the 
 dark, they stole stealthily over the field, exa- 
 mining every hollow and bush in the fence. 
 
 Kennedy paused: some one breathed close to 
 him. Stretching out his hand, and feeling 
 an old thorn stump, he moved around it, con- 
 vinced another did the same to avoid coming in 
 contact : turning suddenly in the contrary direc- 
 tion, he came against a human being. 
 
 Instantly was Kennedy's throat seized, and his 
 windpipe so forcibly pressed, that he could not 
 call or give warning to his men. 
 
 Though nearly choked, he grappled with his 
 invisible foe, who closed so tightly, that Kennedy 
 could not use his sword.
 
 230 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Let me go, or by the living ," muttered 
 
 Dennis O'Shane, savagely, on finding himself 
 tirmly grasped. 
 
 "It's Mr. Kennedy's voice, as I hope to be 
 saved," said Berrigan, agitatedly, and calling for 
 help. 
 
 Again the same cry, but much feebler, was 
 repeated. 
 
 The men were, rushing towards the stump, 
 guided by the sounds of hard struggling, when a 
 thrilling shriek pierced the stillness, and came 
 flying through the dark air from the opposite 
 side of the field. 
 
 " What scream was that?" asked Berrigan of 
 the man who came running towards him. 
 
 " Some one I stabbed in the fence," answered 
 the breathless policeman, ** a woman ! "
 
 TALBOT HALL. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 With Mrs. Potts lived a little girl whom she 
 called her niece : from her child-like expression 
 and flaxen hair, which made her appear very- 
 youthful, she would have been guessed as twelve 
 years old, though in reality her age was nearer 
 fifteen. 
 
 *' What is that," exclaimed Mrs. Potts, shak- 
 ing her little bedfellow. 
 
 *' I am not asleep," replied the trembling child, 
 who had been kept awake by the gale.
 
 232 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 ** Midnight murderers coming to ravage my 
 property in the hopes of purloining my husband's 
 musket — let us get up, Floy : perhaps they are 
 planning our lives; I will shew them what it 
 is to be a military man's wife, and how I can 
 defend my castle." 
 
 " Hush, it is a woman's voice," whispered 
 Flora, listening. 
 
 '* Oh, you little simpleton, more likely men 
 ravaging the country in sheeps' clothing, and 
 coming to devour us like wolves, while the shep- 
 herd is from home." 
 
 With the child's assistance, Mrs. Potts drew 
 her mangle against the door, placed the 
 table on it, heading this barricade till it reached 
 the ceiling ; then, after drawing back to survey 
 her preparations, she brought over a mattrass to 
 make the fortification ball proof, telling Flora 
 she expected them to fire a volley, and then make 
 a parley, when refused admittance. 
 
 '* They have roused the British blood in my 
 bosom, hand me the bottle, dear, to stimulate my 
 courage."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 233 
 
 " For the love of Heaven's mercy, let me in," 
 said the person without. 
 
 '' You are sure you are not a man, imitating 
 a woman's voice?" 
 
 ^' I am certain it is a woman, and in pain," 
 whispered Flora. 
 
 Cautiously did Mrs. Potts pull down the for- 
 tification. On opening the door, she found Nelly, 
 nearly senseless. Eecovering slightly, she ex- 
 plained how one of the police had stabbed her in 
 the dark, whilst searching for O'Neil. 
 
 Scarce had Nelly given the account, when 
 groaning, she sank again to the ground, from 
 which they had raised her. 
 
 Flora, feeling the hot stream from the wound 
 trickling down her arms, and seeing her night 
 dress dyed scarlet, wrung her little hiinds, 
 bursting into tears. 
 
 " Oh, lawks a mercy ! " exclaimed Mrs. Potts, 
 anxiously examining the gash on the shoulder 
 '' quick ! quick, Flov ! anything to quench the 
 bleeding, except my best velvet gown."
 
 234 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 So intent was the laundress in her efforts to 
 recover Nelly, that she scarce noticed the chihl's 
 face of fear, asking her to fetch water, and 
 giving a score of messages in one breath. 
 
 " Do you think, Floy," she asked, as the 
 frightened child helped to lave the wound, from 
 which she turned her white face, " that you 
 could find your way to the doctor's." 
 
 " I will try, God will go with me," was the 
 quiet reply. 
 
 . Mrs. Potts clasped her to her breast : hesi- 
 tated about letting her go; then said, '-dress 
 yourself, dear, and the Lord watch and guide 
 you." 
 
 Flora hurried on her clothes ; looked out from 
 the door on to the dark road, stretched out her 
 trembling hand to grope her way; and when 
 Mrs. Potts shouted for her to return, the child 
 was wandering, out of hearing. Hours elapsed, 
 but Flora did not return. 
 
 Mrs. Potts, seriously alarmed, was hurrying 
 excitedly in the wake of a crowd of peasants, 
 who were thronging towards a precipice.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 235 
 
 Foremost in the group were Hervey and 
 Darcy, their eyes fixed on a projecting oak, whose 
 slight stem, springing from a rent in the rock, 
 yards below them, bent beneath the weight of 
 little Flora's motionless form, which now hung 
 mid-air over the precipice. 
 
 A hundred anxious eyes are strained on the 
 same spot : the crowd stood in silent awe, 
 ^vatching a man descending a ladder, to rescue 
 the child ; but the bough bent and swayed so 
 wildly with the extra weight, that they feared 
 it would either snap, or shake her off, ere the 
 giddy extremity could be reached, and hurl her 
 headlong into certain destruction. 
 
 Darcy, in his first wild impulse, was in tlie act 
 of springing down, when a hand grasped liim; 
 it was Mrs. Talbot's, who, with an exclamation 
 of horror, called out, " Are you — " mad, was 
 on her lip, but she substituted, '*in your senses.'' 
 
 Hervey, after leaning over to examine the 
 istrength of the yourig tree, took off his hat, and 
 laying it down with the cool determination of 
 one about to do some desperate deed, raised his face 
 for a moment, earnestly to heaven, then, with a
 
 236 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 steady eye, measured the distance, as he looked 
 first on the tree, then down into the foaming, 
 rock-dashed waters. 
 
 There was a dead silence, as Hervey swayed 
 his body to and fro, before taking the spring, 
 which, bounding him into the air, carried a 
 hundred hearts with him, to the branch on 
 which, as he lit, he grasped at the child's dress. 
 A shriek burst close bv ; no one turned round. 
 Lucy Talbot had fallen into Ada Gordon's arms. 
 
 A breathless stillness followed : every heart 
 sank with the bending bough; and bounded 
 again, as the tough young oak sprang up from 
 beneath the shelving rock, swaying wildly, as if 
 it sought to shake them off; now it is hanging 
 nearly motionless, and so low, that the blood 
 rushes to his face as he clings tighter, for death 
 stares on him in its most frightful form. The 
 child is swinging by the dress in his hand — the 
 only chance on which hangs her life — the gown 
 is tearing, the rent is creeping inch by inch to 
 his fingers. Heaven seems to will her death. 
 
 Twenty brawny arms are on Darcy; they
 
 TALBOT HALL. 327 
 
 know that if he leaps, all three must die. Mrs. 
 Talbot clings to his knees in an agony of 
 suspense, her aching eyes rivetted on Hervey. 
 
 Captain Leslie rides up at this moment: 
 throwing the bridle from his hand on to the 
 panting horse's neck, he pushes through the 
 crowd, reaches the edge of the precipice, hur- 
 riedly takes off his coat; then seizing a rope, 
 which had several times been thrown without 
 success, alters the noose : calculating his cast in 
 the manner of one accustomed to feats of danger, 
 he swings the coil over his head ; the lasso has 
 left his arm, and snake-like, coils and tightens 
 around the child's body. The dress has given 
 way, the senseless form has dropped from Hervey 's 
 hand, in which remains nothing but a small 
 fragment — Heaven be praised ! she is now safe. 
 
 A burst of admiration rent the air, as if 
 every heart had sprung up with one unanimous 
 shout, then followed a hushed stillness, as the 
 bough, relieved of a portion of weight, flew up; 
 the soil gaped, opened, and closed on the roots, 
 flakes of earth gave way, masses of yellow clay
 
 238 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 shook loosening pieces of the rock, which played, 
 balanced, and toppling forward, fell, crushing 
 everything they struck, ere they plunged into 
 the boiling foam. All hope for Hervey seemed 
 at an end; the bending tree hung lower and 
 lower — its roots began to crack and part. 
 
 Again did Leslie prepare the lasso; but this 
 time, as he swung it over his head, he appeared 
 agitated; his hand trembled, his lip alone in- 
 dicated firmness. 
 
 Away from him flies the rope, falling on, but 
 slipping off from Hervey 's body ; he makes an 
 attempt to seize it with one hand; the spring 
 has parted the last but one root, on which mo- 
 mentarily depends his fate. 
 
 Like lightning is the lasso cast again, but with 
 no better success. Hervey is turning deadly 
 pale : his fingers seem to be relaxing their hold. 
 
 Leslie's arm is once more raised, he drops it 
 for a second to regain his usual calm ; and now, 
 with steady, calculating eye, he casts it for the 
 last time. Good rope! splendid noose! how it 
 tightens and bites Hervey 's waist, who has let
 
 TALBOT HALL. 239 
 
 go — the branch springs up wiklly — scores of 
 horny hands have grasped the rope — the noble 
 fellow is standing, reeling, his head is swimming 
 giddily, each limb trembles as he leans on Darcy 
 for support. 
 
 Old Talbot seized Hervey's hand, and raised his 
 hat, in token of silent admiration ; Darcy gave 
 the signal, and the air was oppressed with 
 deafening shouts. 
 
 Captain Leslie, who had instantly retired, 
 stood a little apart, leaning on his horse's 
 shoulder, for the time, deeply moved. Hervey, 
 recovering, joined him, and pressed his hand in 
 token of silent gratitude. 
 
 Leslie returned the pressure, and without ut- 
 tering a word, mounted his steed and rode away, 
 to avoid further congratulation. 
 
 Flora was conveyed to a cottage close by, where, 
 on reviving, she opened her eyes, looked around 
 the strange apartment, then closed them again. 
 
 Mrs. Potts wept and made endless lamentations 
 over the recovering child, blaming herself for 
 all that had happened, but in the same breath
 
 240 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 thanking Heaven for her miraculous preser- 
 vation. But more anxious than any other stood 
 Sister Agnes at Flora's head, ever and again 
 pressing her lip to the little sufferer's blanched 
 cheek. 
 
 When Lucy fainted, Ada showed great presence 
 of mind ; receiving her fallen companion in her 
 arms, she bore her behind the carriage un- 
 noticed by any one, and placing her on a small 
 mound, loosened her shawl, untied the bonnet 
 strings, fanned the white cheek with her kerchief, 
 till its natural hue returned a little, when she 
 placed her in the carriage, and hurried away to a 
 hovel close by for a cup of water. On seeing Darcy 
 held backfrom leaping over the precipice, her heart 
 bounded, her face bleached, but there was no other 
 sign of fear in her expression. She could not see 
 Hervey, who was hid beneath the overhanging 
 rock. 
 
 Lucy for some time remained insensible; her 
 companion tending her as collectedly as if she 
 were only complaining of being tired, but when 
 she recovered, Ada, feeling it no longer necessary
 
 TALBOT HALL. 241 
 
 to string her nerves to such a pitch, clasped her 
 forehead and sat silent. 
 
 " Ada," whispered Lucy, " I am well enough 
 to walk home with papa. Ask Mr. Hervey to 
 take my place. Oh, how pale he looks! Do you 
 think that if I went up to him he would — ?" she 
 paused and coloured; her mother was anxiously 
 scanning her face. 
 
 " Mamma," she enquired, *' how is poor little 
 Flora?" 
 
 '' Shehashad a wonderful escape; I left her with 
 Mrs. Potts and Sister Agnes. They will nurse 
 her tenderly; I hope to see her quite restored in 
 a few days." 
 
 Ada asked Hervey if he would take a seat in 
 the carriage ; he replied, " he was quite himself 
 again and should prefer walking home with Darcy." 
 
 As the two gentlemen proceeded on their way, 
 they met Nowlan, who, drawing his hat over his 
 eyes, affecting to be in a great hurry, told them 
 his daughter had been wounded and was lying at 
 Mrs. Potts' in a dangerous situation. 
 
 *' Why do you keep up your quarrel with 
 VOL L M
 
 242 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Lucy?" asked Tom, as they walked on. As 
 Hervey did not reply, he resumed, — *' She is 
 breaking her young iieart ; it frets me to see you, 
 day after day. Missing and Mistering each other 
 with marked formality and strained politeness; 
 like a good fellow, take her hand when we get 
 home, without a word of explanation, for," con- 
 tinued he sorrowfully, "she is looking ill — I saw 
 her sister droop — and I could not love the man who 
 would cause Lucy to pine. Annie was a sweet 
 flower — even in her coffin." He paused, for a 
 feeling was in his throat, as if a ball of fire 
 were working up it. 
 
 '^ She does not care for my coldness," said 
 Hervey, at last; ''you are mistaken in her cha- 
 racter, as I was — see the way she flirts with Sir 
 Henry Gale ; would she act thus if she had a 
 sjjark of affection for me — no, no — 1 shall never 
 forget her heartless manner in the nunnery 
 grounds, when she exclaimed, " here comes 
 mamma, T am so glad?" 
 
 " Who is so glad? " repeated Tom, awakening 
 out of his reverie and looking Hervey in the face.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 243 
 
 " ah, yes ! we were talking of poor Lucy, she is 
 but a child in innocence; put your arm around 
 her waist and tell her, laughingly, to go down on 
 her marrow -bones and beg your pardon; if your 
 proud English blood is too hot to stoop to a 
 warm-hearted, affectionate girl, whose only fault 
 is loving you too well, and whom you love in 
 return." 
 
 " I did, I did ! " exclaimed Hervey, pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 " And do still ; promise me not to let this cool- 
 ness go beyond to-day ? She does not care that 
 for Sir Henry," said he, snapping his finger. 
 
 " Then why smile on him and listen so atten- 
 tively when I am near." 
 
 '' Because," replied Darcy, drawing up proudly, 
 " the blood that runs in her veins is the same 
 as mine, and its boiling pride teaches even an 
 artless girl to conceal the mortification of being 
 slighted." 
 
 A shade passed over TTervey's face, a deep 
 flush followed, his eye sparkled, but as those 
 
 M 2
 
 244 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 tokens of feeling passed away, he hung his head, 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 '' You will do what I ask, Hervey, — come, 
 smother your pride, and say — yes." 
 
 The Englishman was silent — his chest heaved 
 — a pause ensued. 
 
 " By heavens ! " exclaimed Darcy, so wildly, 
 that Hervey started, " she loves you, and behind 
 your back sits and sorrows ; if, after what I have 
 told you, her conduct still appears to you unac- 
 countable, remember that instinct teaches a 
 woman that man's most vulnerable point is his 
 vanity." 
 
 " Mine has been hurt often ; she, at least, 
 might have spared me." 
 
 Scarce had he uttered the last sentence, when 
 Lucy and Ada appeared, unexpectedly ; it were 
 hard to say which party felt the sudden surprise 
 most. 
 
 Ada addressed Hervey, complimenting him on 
 his daring feat, turned towards Darcy, and, as- 
 suming an air of ease, asked if Flora was much 
 hurt; tlien, seeing Lucy's awkward position.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 245 
 
 linked her arm in hers, saying, '' We were going 
 to visit the little sufferer, and enquire for No av- 
 ian's daughter." 
 
 '* Now," whispered Darcy to his friend, " I will 
 join Miss Gordon." 
 
 " Not now, for worlds," entreated Hervey, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " Tom-boy," began her cousin, addressing 
 Lucy, and drawing her aside, wliile his companion 
 walked on with Ada, " you are as proud as Queen 
 Victoria, and not half as handsome." 
 
 The blushing girl, looking abashed, whispered, 
 " Fie, Tom ! when you know we are not friends, 
 please don't call me that name again." 
 
 '^ Well, speak to him/' said he, laughing, ''' and 
 I will see about making promises." 
 
 " It is very unkind, cousin Darcy, to make a 
 laughing-stock of me; I would not mind if we 
 had been friends." 
 
 *' Been fiddle- sticks," exclaimed her tormen- 
 tor, gaily. 
 
 Perceiving that tears were gathering in her 
 eye, he changed his manner, resuming in a sof-
 
 246 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 tened tone, " why are you keeping up this 
 quarrel ? " 
 
 " Indeed, Tom, it is no fault of mine," sighed 
 Lucy. 
 
 " I know you love him." 
 
 The artless girl timidly acknowledged that she 
 had liked him. Darcy insisted that she did still, 
 adding, " and he loves you." 
 
 " Indeed, you were never more mistaken; I am 
 sure he will never care for me as I did for him." 
 
 Darcy went on telling her that Hervey was as 
 frightened as a school boy when they met, and 
 though he was dying to make it up, dared not even 
 go near her. 
 
 *' I do not think so," replied she, trying to get 
 a peep at her admirer from beneath her bonnet. 
 
 The peace-maker began afresh, by assuring 
 Lucy that he had had many a quarrel with her 
 sister, but that they were always better friends 
 after. 
 
 ** Not of so long lasting as this." 
 
 " Because I would just put my arm round her 
 waist, and say, by your leave, cousins may kiss.''
 
 TALBOT HALL. 247 
 
 They were overtaken by Charley, who, address- 
 ing Lucy, said that Mrs. Talbot thought there 
 would not be time to go to Mrs. Potts' cottage 
 before dinner. 
 
 Darcy, unceremoniously leaving her, placed 
 his hand f\imiliarly on the boy's shoulder enquir- 
 ing, where he had met Sister Agnes before? 
 ''Never,"he replied, '* till that day, but that she 
 had asked him a great many questions." 
 
 Hervey offered his idle arm to Lucy, she placed 
 her wrist on it; they did not speak; silently, 
 happily, each walked on, conscious of the return 
 of a pleasure, they had not felt for days past,
 
 248 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 '^LucY, will you accompany me to the nunnery ? " 
 asked Mrs. Talbot. 
 
 "Mr. Hervey will be delighted to go with you, 
 aunt," said Tom, slily. 
 
 The Englishman looked at Lucy, then at Mrs. 
 Talbot, remarking, he would leave himself in 
 their hands, satisfied that which ever party he 
 went with, there was pleasure in store for him. 
 
 Ada declared she wanted Lucy's company, Mrs. 
 Talbot thought she could do without Mr. Hervey 's ; 
 Tom vowed he could not trust himself alone with
 
 TALBOT HALL. 249 
 
 two young ladies. Half an hour afterwards they 
 started in couples. 
 
 Somehow they had strayed from one another, 
 Hervey and Lucy finding themselves overtaken 
 by Mrs. Talbot, in quite a different direction 
 from that leading to the churchyard ; they ac- 
 cepted her offer, much against their wish, to go 
 as far as the nunnery gate. As they got into the 
 carriage, Charley, who was seated by the coach- 
 man's side, whispered to him, " What a sell ! " 
 
 " Charles," said Hervey, " as Mrs. Talbot does 
 not want you, you need not remain in the grounds, 
 run home, and call, in passing, to see how Hugh 
 O'Neil's wife is to-day." 
 
 '* Please sir," said Charley, some time after- 
 wards, running np the avenue to Talbot Hall, 
 where he found Mr. Butterworth consoling Miss 
 Rodney, who had that morning received a letter 
 from her father, with sorrowful news, " poor 
 Hugh's wife is very ill, she bade me go for the 
 priest, but as she told me you were very kind 
 and had given her money, I thought you would 
 do best." 
 
 M 5
 
 250 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " I shall be ready in a minute, even now," say- 
 ing which he pressed Lydia's hand, and, looking 
 anxiously in her face, walked away. 
 
 " Is she so very ill? " asked Miss Kodney. 
 
 *' I am afraid, Miss, that she is breaking her 
 heart, fretting about her husband; I told her 
 that I would lay my life he never did it, and, 
 though I repeated it over and over, I could see 
 by her tears, that she was broken spirited." 
 
 *'You look pale yourself, are you not well ? 
 is anything annoying you? " 
 
 " I noticed you were very sad since you re- 
 ceived the letter." 
 
 ** It was from my dear father, he speaks of you 
 in it." 
 
 " 1 hope the kind old gentleman is not ill." 
 
 *' I trust not, but fear that he thinks too much 
 of my absence; it preys on his mind." 
 
 Forgetful of Charley's presence, she continued 
 reading her father's letter aloud. 
 
 " ' I have a beautiful pet spaniel, I called it 
 Lydia, at first, but it ran away one day, while I 
 slept ; since then I christened it FidelC;, it never
 
 TALBOT HALL. ' 251 
 
 seeks to leave me, the little thing loves 
 me so, yes, dearest Lyddy, as you 
 used to do; it knows quite well when I am 
 thinking of you — that is always. If I mention 
 you, it listens attentively, I never told it that 
 you deserted your father ; when I want to reprove 
 it, I say she is coming back, and then its big 
 black eyes fill with tears, its soft bit of a heart 
 beats jealously. I love it, because it reminds 
 me of you, but I cannot love anything as I love 
 my own — own child, you will come back some 
 day, I know you will — ' " 
 
 Her voice became tremulous, she could read 
 no further. 
 
 " It is !" sighed Miss Rodney, clasping her 
 hand, " so unlike his style, yet so affectionate — 
 he has never recovered that parting; I shall not 
 be happy tiih I return to him?" She walked 
 away to conceal her emotion. 
 
 Charley made for his own room, and, closing 
 the door, sympathised with her in secret. 
 
 '' How differently I spent the moments last 
 time I was here," said Hervey, softly addressing
 
 252 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Lucy and poioting to the mound of moss-covered 
 stones, on which were strewn the withered briars. 
 
 "I could hardly believe," replied Lucy, drop- 
 ping her eyes, " that I had dared to sit alone in 
 a dark vault as I did on that day — I — I did not 
 think — I — 1 did not feel the least alarmed, though 
 it makes me shudder now, to fancy that I was 
 surrounded by the dead. Oh, here comes 
 mamma and Sister Agnes," added Lucy, in a very 
 different tone to what she had done on a previous 
 occasion, leaving out, " I am so glad." 
 
 Mrs. Talbot, leaving her companion, joined the 
 young couple to say they might take the carriage 
 and send it back, as she could not then ac- 
 company them. 
 
 The nun moved gracefully to Hervey, and, with 
 some hesitation, remarked, *' that the quiet seclu- 
 sion of a nunnery was the last place in which she 
 had expected to see a young man of the world, 
 whose thoughts would be fixed on pleasure." 
 
 " It is in the hallowed stillness of such a spot," 
 replied he, bowing courteously, " that one is 
 most likely to indulge in reflection." 
 
 " And feel happy or sorrowful, according to
 
 TALBOT HALL. 253 
 
 the recollections memory brings back. In youth 
 they are generally unembittered by regret." 
 
 " I am old enough," he said, with a sigh, " to 
 have spent hours and nights in painful medita- 
 tion." 
 
 He could not help remarking, that the nun's 
 eyes were never off him. Lucy noticed it, too, 
 and proposed sacrificing herself, by taking Mr. 
 Hervey away ; she reminded him of his promise 
 to join Ada and cousin Darcy, and appeared very 
 anxious to start at once. 
 
 Hervey held out his hand to the nun; she 
 advanced hers, but, remembering her religious 
 vows, immediately withdrew it, and stood 
 gazing on him. 
 
 '• On my word," said Lucy, to her admirer, 
 " you seem to have made a deep impression ; well, 
 she will not forget you in a hurry." 
 
 Lucy was annoyed by the manner Sister Agnes 
 looked at Hervey, who, smiling, said, " She 
 is handsome, do you not think so? " 
 
 '' You are a better judge of beauty than I can 
 be, Mr. Hervey."
 
 S54 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Were she not old enough to be my mother, 
 I might be apt to agree in your opinion." 
 
 A long pause ensued, which he broke by 
 asking Lucy to take him to the vault before 
 they went to the church-yard. 
 
 " With pleasure," she replied, "provided you do 
 not ask me to go into it." As they walked along, 
 the little cloud on her fair forehead wore away. 
 She leant on his arm till they reached the 
 entrance, and following liim with her eyes as far 
 down the darkened flight of broken steps as she 
 could, told him the first coffin on the right was 
 the one on which she had sat, begging him not 
 to stay long, and almost wishing to go down 
 after him. 
 
 When Hervey reached the last step, he paused, 
 for it was dark ; by degrees his sight blended 
 with the sombre shades; he felt his way among 
 the coffins, and wondered how Lucy had had 
 courage to enter so gloomy a spot. 
 
 He listened attentively, for he thought a voice 
 whispered, " we are tracked." 
 
 " Yes, curse me !" muttered another, " it is 
 the chief of the police, and alone!"
 
 TALBOT HALL. 255 
 
 Hervey held his breath and strained his eye 
 in the direction of the sound ; objects became 
 discernible. 
 
 There, dimly visible in a darkened nook, leaning 
 against a coffin, lay a human form ; the wild 
 eyes glared, a snarling sneer, extorted by a pain- 
 ful wound, curled the thick lip, exposing fang- 
 like teeth that shone in this murky atmosphere 
 white as crested breakers at night, and gave 
 warning of the black wolf's dangerous vicinity. 
 Hervey had never seen 0' Shane, but from Darcy's 
 description, thought it must be he; his first im- 
 pulse was to secure the dreaded murderer; then 
 he thought of Lucy and made up his mind to 
 return, as if unconscious of O'Shane's presence. 
 The crouching figure rose, crept stealthily till he 
 reached the outlet ; where, standing so as to ex- 
 clude the faint ray of light, he left the place in 
 total darkness, placing himself in such a posi- 
 tion as, in case of a bodily struggle, to have a 
 great advantage. 
 
 Nothing daunted, Hervey prepared to force 
 his way. 
 
 ^' Stand!" called out O'Shane, fiercely.
 
 256 
 
 "Let me pass!" exclaimed Hervey, com- 
 mandingly. 
 
 "Not alive 1" vociferated the ruffian, instantly 
 clutching at Hervey 's throat, still under the im- 
 pression it was Kennedy. 
 
 Feeling that he had to deal with a very power- 
 ful man, and that a terrible struggle must needs 
 ensue, Hervey dragged him down the narrow 
 steps, the walls re-echoing the heavy shocks, as 
 they staggered to and fro locked in each other's 
 deadly hold — the earth is ploughed up beneath 
 their straining feet — a pause — both breathe 
 harder — a fearful fall — O'Shane is on his back, 
 panting with rage and exhaustion. 
 
 " Your sowl to perdition," he gasped, ad- 
 dressing his hidden confederate, " Why don't you 
 help me — stick your knife into him." 
 
 '' Never," answered a voice, which was O'Neil's. 
 
 Letting go Hervey 's throat, the ruffian seized 
 his hand between his huge teeth, drew out his 
 clasp knife from his breast, opened the blade 
 against his hip, then raised his arm to strike.
 
 257 
 
 " God of Heaven ! " exclaimed O'Neil, rushing 
 forward, and beating up the weapon only in 
 time to weaken the blow. 
 
 '' Hold ! " he cried, as Hervey turned to defend 
 himself against what he considered a second 
 foe. 
 
 Seizing the uplifted arm, O'Neil tightened the 
 fingers of his other hand on O'Shane's throat, 
 till his face blackened, compelling him to let go 
 his savage bite. 
 
 " Fly ! run for your honor's life ! " exclaimed 
 Hugh. 
 
 " I cannot forsake you." 
 
 " Leave me alone with him, I am able enough 
 for him, now that I have got the murdering 
 knife from him." 
 
 " Merciful ! " was all that Lucy could 
 
 utter as she stared, in mute horror, on Hervey 's 
 blood-stained clothes and pale face, and fainted, 
 tailing into his arms, not a soul was visible. 
 
 Finding himself becoming weaker, Hervey 
 pressed her to his breast, and leaning against a
 
 258 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 bench, sank slowly on his knees; then strained 
 his treasure closer. 
 
 " Lord save us ! " screamed the lodge keeper, 
 coming to them, and shaking her hands in terror. 
 
 The woman's shrieks brought Mrs. Talbot and 
 Sister Agnes to the spot. 
 
 The Mother Abbess, leaning on two nuns, fol- 
 lowed ; she was deadly pale.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Lucy, opening her soft blue eyes, and finding her 
 mother leaning over her, said, in a low whisper, 
 " Mamma, what has happened?" 
 
 She raised herself on her arm, looked anxi- 
 ously into Mrs. Talbot's face, asked for Mr. 
 Hervey, and clinging to her mother, awaited the 
 reply with trembling dread, — "where, oh, where 
 is — he?" 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, dearest Lucy, calm 
 your fears, my own sweet one, he is not seriously 
 wounded, indeed, his greatest suffering is con- 
 cerning you." 
 
 She wound her arms closer, and hanging on 
 her mother's neck, covered it with kisses. The
 
 260 
 
 abbess was sitting, concealed by the bed hang- 
 ing, but Sister Agnes, gently encircling Lucy's 
 waist, begged her to lie down, promising to re- 
 turn immediately after she had seen Hervey, 
 whom she left a few moments before, nearly 
 recovered, though very weak. 
 
 Lucy looked at her, and, colouring, turned her 
 head away without replying. 
 
 Mrs. Talbot told her he could not be under a 
 kinder nurse. 
 
 After a pause, she said she felt quite well, 
 and entreated to be allowed to get up; Mrs. 
 Talbot kissed her forehead in token of refusal. 
 
 '* Then go yourself, dearest mamma, to him, he 
 will like to see you, be — because he knows you 
 best, I — I — am sure — you could send her to stay 
 with me, and remain with him yourself, do dear- 
 est ! or let me go ? " 
 
 The abbess, leaning over Lucy, whispered, *' I 
 will nurse you myself." 
 
 " She is a stranger to Mr. Hervey, he never 
 saw her till they met at the cottage, by little Flo- 
 ra's bed side," resumed the young girl, uneasily.
 
 261 
 
 " Nothing, love, can exceed her interest in 
 him." 
 
 A sigh was all Lucy's answer ; the nun and her 
 mother exchanged looks. 
 
 " Why do you sigh? are you in pain?" 
 
 *' Did I sigh? " asked her daughter, turning 
 her face from them, and sighing unconsciously, 
 afresh, added in an entreating tone, '' it will gra- 
 tify him to see you." 
 
 She rose to please Lucy, who smiled and 
 thanked her. 
 
 When Mrs. Talbot reached the small white- 
 washed room, in which Hervey sat by the window, 
 in earnest conversation with Sister Agnes, she 
 could not help remarking how pale the nun was, 
 and with what avidity she caught at every word 
 which referred to himself. 
 
 He smiled, and turning round, asked for Lucy 
 assuring her, that his kind nurse had given him 
 a cordial, which had strengthened him so much, 
 that he felt quite able to walk home. 
 
 " Will you tell Miss Talbot it is only a 
 scratch, which her presence will cure, and add
 
 262 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 that though I shall never again laugh at dreams, 
 I am still sceptical as ever about magpies." 
 
 '' You are far from being well," said Mrs. 
 Talbot, placing her finger on his temple, *' lie 
 down and sleep till the carriage comes. Do try, 
 your eye is heavy and languid ; I am afraid you 
 are more seriously wounded than I at first was 
 willing to believe." 
 
 " I shall be quite myself, as soon as I breathe 
 the fresh air." 
 
 '* Surely," interrupted the nun, " you will not 
 think of leaving in your present state." 
 
 " Although," he replied, smiling, " in my 
 present state, I am unable to thank you for the 
 kind interest you have shown me, I am strong 
 enough to take leave, and promise to recall this 
 day with feelings of gratitude." 
 
 There was a pause, as he advanced towards 
 the door; he turned back, and looking for a 
 moment on Sister Agnes, held out his hand, 
 saying, " I hope we shall meet again." 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
 Hervey, now resting, now walking, wearily
 
 TALBOT HALL. 263 
 
 approached the church-yard. Darcy, whom he 
 was seeking,was there, and with him Miss Gordon. 
 
 Side by side they sat on Annie Talbot's grave ; 
 he told her in words low and soft, how dear slie 
 had been to him; he whispered, almost inaudibly, 
 " If I could love you as I do Lucy, I would then 
 tell you your own society is dearer to me than 
 til at of any one else, because y.ou understand my 
 nature, because you enter into my feelings, 
 because I can speak to you of the departed — if 
 you were my cousin, my sister, I should be very 
 happy, and always wish to be by your side." 
 
 After a moment's silence, he enumerated the 
 dead girl's perfections, and spoke of her as all 
 that was loving and beautiful. 
 
 Ada, with a sigh, whispered, " she is in 
 heaven." 
 
 He pressed her hand ; she tried to withdraw 
 it, he held it more firmly, and with a responding 
 sigh, said, " I love you, as a sister." 
 
 Ada rose, he bade her not leave liim ; colouring, 
 she replied, " I would rather not stay." He 
 drew her gently back.
 
 264 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 In the long pause that ensued, the heart 
 strings, touched by soft emotion, vibrated forth 
 tremulous sighs. 
 
 Suddenly a wandering manner came over him, 
 he spoke to himself in low soliloquy. She looked 
 on him ; his thoughts were far from her — again 
 did she seek to free her hand ; he started, and 
 dropping it, fixed his sparkling eye on her. 
 
 Ada's lids droi)ped, but when he said, " did 
 you not promise that we were to love as brother 
 and sister — then why do you try to make me 
 forget my first, my only love? " She proudly 
 drew up, and returning his wild look, answered, 
 '' I am here against my will." 
 
 He gazed on her haughty face, it were hard 
 to say whether in surprise, or admiration, perhaps 
 both. The expression on his countenance became 
 stranger, his looks grieved her. Almost fiercely 
 he turned away. 
 
 She followed him, and laying one finger lightly 
 on his wrist, asked if he would return home 
 with her. For a moment he did not reply ; seiz- 
 ing her hand, he wound her arm within his own,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 265 
 
 and pressing it painfully, rather dragged than 
 led her along. 
 
 Hervey, unwilling to overhear more, remained 
 seated behind an upright head-stone, waiting till 
 they should come up to him. 
 
 He was stretching himself to rise, when Darcy 
 ftsked Ada, abruptly, if she had ever been in 
 love. So startled was she by so unexpected a 
 -question, that tlie color for a moment forsook 
 her cheek ; quickly recovering herself, she looked 
 angrily, not at, but towards him. 
 
 Without heeding the silent reproof, he went 
 on, excitedly, *' did they ever tell you the man 
 you loved would be one day like his father," with 
 increasing violence and brilliant eye, be con- 
 tinued, '* did they say, if united to him, your 
 existence would be slavery — that your union 
 would entail the same misery on posterity — did 
 they command you in stern language to drive him 
 from your thoughts, or, by change of scene, seek 
 to wean your affections from him," then be re- 
 sumed softly, *' no, no, you have never felt a 
 this; it was thus they killed Annie; had they 
 
 VOL I. N
 
 266 lALBOT HALL. 
 
 treated you so, methinks thou, too, would'st have 
 pined, drooped, and died." 
 
 Ada's dark eyes were full of softness; she 
 listened attentively. 
 
 '* Since Lucy," he resumed, " has forsaken me, 
 and that the tendrils of her young heart have 
 found an object to cling to, I have learned to 
 like you as I did her." 
 
 With an exclamation of fear and surprise, she 
 pointed to Hervey, who, emerging from his con- 
 cealment, stood close by their side. He begged 
 her not to be alarmed, told them what had 
 happened, and proposed to Darcy going back at 
 once to the vault. Tom hinted that the police 
 ought to be informed, and dropping Ada's arm, 
 asked if he were sure it was Dennis O'Shane, 
 declaring he would give all he possessed to take 
 him alive. 
 
 " Thank goodness," he exclaimed, " here 
 comes the carriage. 
 
 He shouted and waved his hat, fearful they 
 might pass without seeing them; in it was a
 
 TALBOT HILL. 267 
 
 heart that was all eyes—the horses were pulled 
 up. 
 
 Mrs. Talbot asked Hervey if he did not 
 intend accompanying them. 
 
 He replied "no", and after a whispered word or 
 two with Lucy, leaning on Darcy's arm, he 
 walked away. As they proceeded, he said — 
 
 " I owe Hugh a debt of gratitude — I shall go 
 and see his wife and children, now, this very 
 instant — but Lucy, what will she think has 
 become of me ? " 
 
 After they separated, he was several times 
 compelled to sit down and rest. Leaning against 
 an old thorn, he yielded to the drowsy heaviness 
 that stole over him ; his lids began to exclude 
 the light, and soon he was in deep slumber. 
 When he awoke it was quite dark, night had 
 overtaken him; stretching himself, he tried to 
 recall his confused thoughts, and one by one each 
 incident of the day returned. He attempted to 
 got up ; numbed, cold, and stiff, he could not 
 rise without the aid of the hawthorn stump. 
 N 3
 
 268 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 With difficulty he dragged his weary legs over 
 the uneven ground, and remembering Hugh's 
 claim, roused all his energy. He thought of Lucy 
 and halted. Love drew him towards her. Grati- 
 tude led him to O'Neil's cabin. 
 
 It was past ten when he reached it; pausing 
 and listening, for he heard voices within, Hervey 
 hesitated, thinking it might be a nightly meeting 
 between husband and wife. He looked through 
 the crevices in the door ; by the bedside of the 
 sick woman knelt Mr. Butterworth, his face was 
 full of anxious concern, he spoke encouragingly, 
 alternately praying and consoling her. 
 
 Unwilling to disturb them, Hervey was 
 moving away, when the tutor, rising, placed 
 money in Mary's hands ; and bidding her be of 
 good cheer, said, as he departed : — 
 
 " The Lord will not forsake you, and if, as I 
 pray, your husband is innocent, there is a power 
 above that can deliver him from the snare of 
 his enemies, though they oompassed him 
 on all sides.''
 
 TALBOT HALL. 269 
 
 '* She thanked him in language wild and 
 grateful, just as the heart dictated. 
 
 Hervey fancied as the door opened, and Mr. 
 Butterworth left, that some one stirred close beside 
 him. He remembered how weak he was, and 
 thought of the black wolf.
 
 270 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Not fairer is the lily bending beneath the spark- 
 ling weight of a heavy shower, than was Lucy 
 Talbot's pale face, down which tears trickled, 
 while she watched her wounded lover, to whom 
 she had been reading till he fell asleep. 
 
 With her hand locked in his, and her eyes 
 resting on the features she loved so well, she sat 
 gazing on the closed lids, before which were 
 they to open, her own would modestly drop. 
 She is leaning over him sighing, sigh for sigh, as 
 if her soul sought to inhale the thoughts which 
 might escape from his spirit in sleep. Now
 
 TALBOT HALL. 271 
 
 parting the curls from the forehead, and looking 
 around the room, she is bowing her head till her 
 lip is within a hair's breadth of his brow ; trem- 
 blingly, she raises her crimsoning face, imagining 
 the sleeper has been disturbed. Lucy hurriedly 
 opened a book, and pretending to be reading 
 very attentively, anxiously awaited to be ad- 
 dressed. But when the lips, whose whisperings 
 were sweetest melody to her ear, still remained 
 silent, she would turn timidly, expecting to meet 
 the smile of triumph which should tell that her 
 lover had discovered the cause of her blushes. 
 When his breathing grew regular, and his sleep 
 more like a child's, she dropped a kiss on his 
 hair — he did not stir, her lips skimmed his fore- 
 head, they touched it lightly, as a gossamer 
 winged fly brushing over the soft down of flowers. 
 The door handle moved, Johnny Talbot put 
 in his head and beckoned her. Lucy raised a 
 finger, and pointing to Hervey, signed to her 
 brother not to disturb the sleeper; seeing that 
 he would not leave, she went over and whispered, 
 " Ask Charley to go with you."
 
 272 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " He will not leave Mary, they are having a 
 game at domino in the nursery." '* Please do 
 come Loo," resumed Johnny, coaxingly encircling 
 her waist. '' I have got the saddle on the bay 
 filly — she is so quiet, and leaps so nicely." 
 
 " Do not ask me,'' entreated Lucy, gently 
 trying to disengage herself, and accompanying 
 him out of the room, so as not to disturb the 
 sleeper. 
 
 When she refused again, he broke out into a 
 series of complaints. " I might a s well have 
 spent my holidays atschool, it would not be half so 
 dull as being here — Pa is out of sorts, Ma is sor- 
 rowful. Miss Eodney is fretting, Charley is jealous, 
 and I have no play-fellow — Miss Gordon is so 
 quiet, and as for cousin Tom, I do not know 
 "what has come over him, all his fun is gone;" 
 then slyly, " I guess what ails you, if somebody 
 asked you to polka or waltz, you would not say, 
 Please let me go, I am too old to romp,' just as 
 if I had not seen you jump every fence on the 
 lawn, and cousin Darcy after you, with his hunt- 
 ing whip — but of course that was not romping, 
 oh, no!" then, piquedly, *' Yes, you are in love
 
 TALBOT HALL. 273 
 
 that is the truth, and I wish he was gone." He 
 only said so to vex her, for he liked Hervey. 
 
 "■ You are very ill-natured," remarked Lucy, 
 colouring afresh. 
 
 " Why don't you marry him, and be an old 
 granny, at once?" 
 
 '- Fie !" sighed the abashed girl. 
 
 '* Fie yourself — of course, you are not ill-na- 
 tured, oh, no! there, look at Mr. Butterworth, 
 he used to be merry, but now he mopes about;. 
 I wish you were all gone to glory, with your ro- 
 mantic fits — wait till I ask you again. You 
 need not go back to Mr. Hervey— I know some- 
 one else who is in love with him — Sister Agnes ! 
 I saw her whispering to him in the garden." 
 
 This was the severest cut of all to poor Lucy, 
 who had tried to conceal her emotion — Johnny 
 saw it; putting his arm around her neck, and 
 kissing her, he said '^ I wish I had not told you, 
 perhaps I was mistaken — I am sure I was;" Ada 
 Gordon coming towards them, Johnny jumped 
 down the steps, and mounting his pony, cantered 
 awav with a sorrowful heart. She enquired for
 
 274 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Hervey, and when Lucy replied that he slept, 
 Ada said, smilingly, that a little fresh air would 
 bring back the colour to the lily. Whilst 
 they sauntered down the lawn, she mentioned 
 that the Sister of Charity had passed a few mo- 
 ments before, that without being able to account 
 for it, she felt a strange interest in her, and 
 every time they met, liked her better, adding — 
 *'I remember having seen some one very like 
 the nun when I was a child." ' 
 
 Lucy acknowledged, that though the nun had 
 never done anything to make her take a dislike 
 to her, she could not like her, though she tried 
 hard to do so. 
 
 '* Poor thing," said Ada, '^ she is not happy, 
 look at her poor care-worn face, it is full of soft- 
 ness and sorrow." 
 
 *' You do not think her handsome V 
 
 ** She must have been — even now, when she 
 has a color." 
 
 Darcy leaped a fence close behind, and joining 
 them, turned the conversation, by asking Lucy to 
 run and see if Hervey was awake ; she appeared
 
 TALBOT HALL. 275 
 
 to hesitate, but when he said he would go him- 
 self, s he left them. 
 
 ''Ada sought to follow her; Darcy asked if 
 she were afraid to trust herself alone with him — 
 she did not reply ; but the tinge on her cheek 
 deepened. The dark haired girl and wild Tom 
 were alone. As Lucy moved away, her thoughts 
 ran on Sister Agnes. 
 
 Lightly she glided to the drawing room door ; it 
 was ajar. Softly opening it, she peeped in to see 
 if Hervey still slept. 
 
 At first, Lucy could not believe her eyes, 
 catching her breath, she rubbed them. 
 
 Sister Agnes was leaning over Hervey, who 
 gazed up in her face, and listened with deep 
 interest to what she related: so engaged were 
 both that neither noticed the door open. 
 
 Lucy, unable to withdraw, continued to gaze 
 on them in mute surprise. The invalid turned 
 round ; and starting, placed a finger to his lip. 
 The nun looked towards the door, silent and 
 confused. Hervey appeared agitated, he tried to 
 smile, asking her to come in.
 
 276 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Lucy did not answer, her young heart 
 throbbed, the color came and left her face, which 
 at last remained pale. Drawing herself up, and 
 casting a reproachful look on her lover, she 
 closed the door. 
 
 Scarce had Lucy left the room, when Sister 
 Agnes followed, She found her sitting on the 
 sofa in the adjoining apartment; both hands 
 covered her face, but the moment the nun stood 
 before her, she tried to get up. 
 
 '* You are not well, Miss Talbot." 
 
 " A long walk, and the — the unexpected — I 
 was not aware you were in the room, or I should 
 not have disturbed you." 
 
 Lucy's heart was too innocent, too truthful to 
 act the deceitful: she could not conceal her 
 agitation. 
 
 The nun spoke to her in gentlest tones, and 
 taking a scent bottle from the chimney-piece, 
 held it to her ; she pushed it aside, fretfully, and 
 turned her head away. Meekly did Sister Agnes 
 ask, if she had ever done anything to offend.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 277 
 
 Lucy closed her eyes, as if to exclude a sight 
 which pained. 
 
 Hervey at this moment entered; and taking 
 the hand which hung by her side, asked what 
 ailed her ; she threw it from her. 
 
 With crimsoning face, he looked to the nun for 
 some explanation; she hung down her head. 
 Gently placing his arm on Lucy's waist, he 
 whispered, " are you angry with me? " 
 
 " You may speak out, Mr. Hervey, I am not 
 aware of any secrets between us." 
 
 The next moment was heard his irregular 
 tread, pacing to and fro. 
 
 " I am better thank you," replied Lucy, 
 wildly, to the nun's kind inquiries, " and should 
 prefer being left alone," rising, she went over to 
 the window. 
 
 " I fear, Miss Talbot, you have taken a dislike 
 to me, the first day we met in the nunnery 
 grounds you appeared prejudiced, I could not 
 help feeling how distant you were, and to me — 
 alone."
 
 278 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 '' I was not aware of it," replied she, trying 
 to look composed. 
 
 Sister Agnes sighed, and drawing her hood 
 closer, prepared to depart. Curtseying, she bade 
 Lucy good-bye, adding, *' you do not wish me to 
 remain." 
 
 " Thank you, I do not require any further 
 assistance." 
 
 As the door closed, Lucy returned to the sofa, 
 she could not sit ; getting up and looking out of 
 the window, she pressed one hand to her breast, 
 and with her chin resting on the other, stood 
 silently communing with a heart which scarce 
 knew what ailed it. 
 
 Hervey had gone out. In passing, he looked 
 up — she would not notice him. 
 
 Darcy and Ada were coming up the approach 
 with Sir Henry Gale, who had joined ; Hervey 
 tried to avoid them. 
 
 In a moment Lucy formed some resolution, 
 and instantly leaving the room, went down to 
 meet the party — Ada looked hard at her, then at 
 Hervey.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 279 
 
 *' I am glad to see you, Sir Henry Gale," began 
 Lucy, " what a truant you have been lately, stay 
 and dine with us.", 
 
 *' He did remain — who could have believed, 
 to see her that day laughing and flirting with 
 the baronet, what were her real feelings. He 
 who felt the deepest interest in them, knew then 
 the least. 
 
 On the following forenoon. Sir Henry returned ; 
 Lucy welcomed him again, in the presence of 
 Hervey, who left the room. 
 
 He proposed a walk ; she hesitated, reflected, 
 and agreed to accompany him. 
 
 At first he was both gentlemanlike and 
 amusing, but by degrees his manner became 
 more free, Lucy repented coming out, and in- 
 sisted on returning. 
 
 '* One would think," said Sir Henry, *' judging 
 by the rate you are going. Miss Lucy, that 
 there was a wager at stake." 
 
 ^' Or a prize to be won," replied Lucy, un- 
 thinkingly.
 
 280 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Which I claim," whispered he, taking a step 
 in advance, and pressing his lip to her cheek. 
 
 So quick, so unexpected had been the mo ve- 
 ment, that she was quite unprepared. Her face 
 and neck crimsoned, she drew up with wounded 
 pride, and looking haughtily at him, said, 
 
 " Sir Henry Gale, you have offered me an 
 indignity I had not expected from a gentleman ; 
 from this moment we meet as strangers." 
 
 ^' Not so, beautiful blusher, leave me not in 
 anger, forgive the ambition to which in a moment 
 of temptation I madly yielded, and I will swear 
 never again to offend," he seized her hand. 
 
 Lucy withdrew it scornfully ; in an instant 
 she was a tall, dignified girl. 
 
 ^' A word with you, sir," called out a stern voice. 
 
 Darcy, with flashing eye approached ; he had 
 seen what had passed. Lucy's first impulse was 
 to throw herself into his arms, the next to hurry 
 home, but ere she had gone thirty yards, high 
 words fell on her ear; she paused, fearful that 
 her cousin's excitable temper might induce him 
 to raise his hand to the baronet.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 281 
 
 Their voices sank into deep threatening 
 whispers, and bowing formally, they parted. 
 
 Lucy ran to her boudoir; and closing the 
 door, buried her head in an arm chair, sobbing 
 bitterly. A knock startled her, and she asked, 
 " who is there ? " 
 
 " Me, Miss," repl'ed the maid, '* Mr. Darcy 
 wishes to see you immediately." At first she de- 
 termined on refusing to admit him, but collecting 
 herself, she dried her tears, and with crimsoning 
 face heard his footstep. 
 
 Fiercely pushing the door open and fixing his 
 eye wildly on her, he said, " this is what comes 
 of flirting ! " 
 
 '* Oh, cousin Darcy, do not blame me," cried 
 Lucy, clinging to his arm. 
 
 He shook her off, and looking excitedly at the 
 frightened girl, told her she deserved it, and that 
 had she not encouraged him to make Hervey 
 jealous, he had never dared offer an insult to a 
 Talbot, or a Darcy. 
 
 "Oh, forgive me! do not stare at me in that 
 way?"
 
 282 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 She fell on her knees before hira, imploring 
 his forgiveness. 
 
 *' I would not Hervey knew what had 
 happened for worlds — you may well hang 
 your head, shame on you." He paced the room 
 agitatedly, for several seconds, without noticing 
 her, then turning abruptly, said, '' there is but 
 one way of wiping out this stain which you have 
 brought on yourself — I warned you that he was 
 a libertine — An insult was never offered to a 
 Talbot with impunity — a Talbot or I, must 
 meet him him," he paused, his chest heaved 
 convulsively. 
 
 '' I implore you, cousin Darcy, not to tell dear 
 papa — if anything happened to him, I would 
 sooner be dead," she clung to his knees. 
 
 " Then you must meet him, or forfeit Hervey's 
 love for ever." 
 
 " I meet him ! " exclaimed Lucy, staring up 
 to his face in consternation. 
 
 ** Yes, you ! or I never notice you again. 
 Hervey must never know of this insult." 
 
 Bursting into tears and wringing her hands
 
 TALBOT HALL. 283 
 
 she sobbed out, ** oh ! oh ! what will mamma and 
 papa say, and the world — they will think you 
 are — " 
 
 *' Let them think," interrupted Tom, fiercely, 
 " they will say that I am mad ! " the accom- 
 panying look and laugh made her tremble 
 violently, she did not dare reply. 
 
 *' To-night," he resumed, in the same excited 
 tone, " meet me under the old oak, it will be 
 dark at ten — wrap yourself in my cloak, I shall 
 leave it in the hall — fail — and I will make 
 Hervey despise you, and will hate you myself — 
 remember, ten o'clock." 
 
 Without one word of consolation he strode 
 fiercely from the kneeling girl. Lucy, to avoid 
 going down stairs, complained of pain in her head, 
 and did not leave her room the remainder of the 
 day; poor thing! she might have added, with 
 truth, that her heart ached. Over and over again 
 she determined on making Ada her confidante; now 
 she would tell Darcy, that what he had proposed 
 was madness, then came the thought that Hervey 
 would know all.
 
 284 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Thus did the long evening pass away, till the 
 approaching hour. 
 
 *' True to your time, Lucy," said Darcy, 
 grasping her hand, and leading her to the old 
 oak, " they are not yet come." 
 
 " Who?" she gasped, as if fear had rendered 
 her unconscious of the reason of her being there. 
 
 ^*Gale and his second, Captain Leslie — courage ! 
 do not be afraid, it is not the first time you have 
 heard a pistol fired ; be cool, no one will know 
 you in the dark." 
 
 She twined her arms around his neck, and in 
 heart rending whispers, entreated him to think 
 of her dear mamma and kind papa. 
 
 '* You ought to have thought of all this before, 
 it is too late now. Why did you encourage 
 him?^' 
 
 '* Here they come," he said, " stand — no, lean 
 against the tree, till I sfeik to Captain Leslie." 
 
 '' I cannot," replied the sinking girl, " cousin 
 Tom, mercy! — have mercy on me." He left 
 her on the sward, and advanced towards Leslie, 
 who remarked to Gale, that Irishmen were very
 
 TALBOT HALL. 285 
 
 punctual on these occasions; Sir Henry replied 
 in a thoughtless strain, " Yes, when there is 
 powder to burn." 
 
 Leslie said it was the strangest proceeding he 
 had ever heard of; the hour chosen, was, though 
 not unprecedented, of most unusual occurrence. 
 
 The baronet whispered that Irishmen only 
 waited to let the sun go down on their anger, to 
 come out cool at night. 
 
 " I shall propose an apology, but I fear it is 
 useless, he is so excited." 
 
 '^ Excited ! why, he is as mad as his father, 
 at this moment — here he comes, I will leave 
 you. 
 
 Leslie raised his hat most courteously, and 
 tried to soothe Darcy ; he twice offered an apo- 
 logy which was angrily refused ; then seeing that 
 he was resolved on a meeting, said it must be 
 put off till day-light, as he would not subject 
 himself or his friend to censure, by allowing 
 [principals to fire in the dark. 
 
 '* If your friend," remarked Darcy, tauntingly, 
 •'is a coward, you may screen him on this plea.
 
 286 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 if not, the sooner the ground is measured, the 
 better. In Ireland, we are rather impatient to 
 exchange shots. Place your principal !" 
 
 Leslie joined Gale, and after telling him that 
 Darcy insisted on going to work without delay, 
 said, that he would positively refuse to act un- 
 less he promised not to fire at him. Sir Henry 
 asked if he intended him to stand and be pinked 
 at; Leslie replied, that having oflfended a lady, 
 he was bound to receive her champion's shot 
 without returning it. On these conditions he 
 agreed to yield to Darcy 's mad mood, as prefer- 
 able to having the whole made public. Leslie 
 stepped twelve paces — the most the duellists 
 would hear of — then returning to Sir Henry, 
 awaited anxiously for a few moments. 
 
 *' You will give the word," said Darcy, ad- 
 dressing Leslie ; ^' my principal is unwell — I'm 
 ready,'^ he cocked the pistol, and lowered his 
 hand — " I will take my place ;" Leslie's counten- 
 ance changed. Gale looked serious. The former 
 said, that if Mr. Talbot was not well enough to 
 come forward, the meeting must inevitably be
 
 TALBOT HALL. 287 
 
 postponed to the morning. Muttering angrily, 
 Darcy went over to the oak, and shook Lucy — at 
 first there was no answer. He spoke to her in 
 a low voice, said that he only wanted her to 
 stand by, and that no one would ever know who 
 she was. The poor girl only sighed, and clung 
 to his arm. He whispered to her softly, and 
 tried to encourage her; next, angrily asked if 
 she wished him to be thought a coward, and 
 then upbraided her with being a flirt. 
 
 Leslie remarked to Gale, that there was some- 
 thing unaccountable going on, adding, " Can it 
 be young Talbot, and not the father?" 
 
 *' The youngster will not come to the scratch," 
 said Gale, jestingly. 
 
 Darcy, overhearing Sir Henry, strode to the 
 measured ground, saying, sternly " Captain Les- 
 lie, you are a soldier and a gentleman. My 
 principal is unwell. I call on you to give the 
 signal— I am ready." 
 
 Leslie and Gale were surprised by such a 
 strange proceeding ; and after consulting together
 
 288 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 for a few seconds, Captain Leslie, approaching 
 Darcy, declined acting for both parties. 
 
 ** Sir Henry Gale," said Darcy, fiercely^ ^' is 
 not satisfied with insuUing an innocent girl, but 
 he must even use cutting language within my 
 hearing, and now he hesitates to give me satis- 
 faction. We leave not this ground without ex- 
 changing shots." 
 
 Gale, seeing that Darcy was so determined, 
 became equally anxious, and though Leslie would 
 not at first hear of such a meeting, he at last 
 yielded, when the young Irishman said, " I had 
 not anticipated that an English gentleman, who 
 had the daring to insult a lady, would lack 
 courage at a moment like this, particularly as 
 he passes for a first rate marksman.'* 
 
 " It is not fear that restrains me," replied Gale, 
 sarcastically, " but a dread of being supposed to 
 labour under some derangement of the mind." 
 
 Leslie, to prevent the principals exchanging 
 further words, and dreading i!ie consequences if 
 he did not agree to the meeting, which Gale was 
 now as eager to bring to a conclusion as Darcy,
 
 TALBOT HALL. 289 
 
 placed the gentlemen, and then withdrawing a 
 little on one side, said, " when I count one, two, 
 at three you will iii-e. Are you ready? " 
 
 A deep, firm " yes," from both men, and then 
 followed a dead silence. Leslie could not make up 
 his mind to give the signal. He knew they were 
 candle snuffers. The two principals stood mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 Darcy at last stamped the ground; and 
 turning to the stranger, asked if he sought to 
 amuse himself at their expense, declaring that 
 he himself would give the signal, and fire, if he 
 did not instantly act. Leslie bit his lip, and 
 then called out, one, two, three, so quick that 
 Darcy had hardly time to raise his pistol arm, 
 ere the flash and report followed, and Gale 
 started back a pace. Tom's generous nature 
 was instantly roused, he sprang towards the 
 baronet, and so did Leslie. The ball had struck 
 the barrel of Sir Henry's pistol, and turning, 
 had gone through the collar of the coat, grazing 
 his throat. The baronet remarked in the 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 290 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 calmest manner, " a good shot," and as a proof of 
 his own coolness as a marksman, levelling and 
 iiriiig at the stranger's walking stick, which had 
 been stuck in the ground, and which he could 
 hardh/ discern in the dark, sent the splinters 
 Hying. 
 
 Darcy and the stranger seemed annoyed by 
 this feat, which appeared to have been done to 
 show the Irishmt.n that his life had been at the 
 other's mercy. 
 
 " We meet again ! " exchiimed Darcy, loading 
 afresh, " I accept that challenge."" 
 
 " After such a sliot as yours," replied Gale, 
 '' I was bound to show you, that it was no want 
 of courage, that made me hesitate to stand your 
 tire under sucli strange circumstances; any one 
 can fire at a mark, but few can take such a 
 quick and sure aim, as you did, with a pistol 
 staring them in the face ;" as be spoke, Sir Henry 
 held out his hand. 
 
 Darcy took it, and bowing coldly, hurried 
 \way to the old oak.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 291 
 
 , The moon broke out ; her rays fell on the form 
 which Darcy held across one knee, while, kneel- 
 ing on the other, he threw back the hood from 
 Lucy's face. 
 
 Leslie uttered an exclamation of surprise, call- 
 ing out, as the long hair streamed over the cloak/ 
 ''Miss Talbot!" 
 
 They moved over to the oak; Leslie, seeing 
 that she had fainted, asked if he could be of any 
 service. Gale was stooping to unfasten her shawl, 
 when Darcy fiercely put his hand aside, remark- 
 ing, that his presence might alarm his cousin 
 when she recovered ; Sir Henry, though chafed by 
 the remark, withdrew instantly. 
 
 '' Lucy, Lucy," whispered Darcy, softly raising 
 her in his arms, and l>earing her to a bower, 
 where placing her on a rude bench, he supported 
 her while Leslie flew to a small stream, and re- 
 turning with his pahn filled with water, sprinkled 
 some drops in her face. Lucy recovered slowly ; 
 she gazed on Leslie, then on Darcy, next her 
 eyes wandered, as if she fcuieti to meet a third 
 person, and yet wished to see him safe, 
 
 2
 
 292 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " Sir Henry is safe," replied Tom, to her look 
 of anxious inquir3^ 
 
 A tear rolled down her cheek, she hid her face 
 with both hands, and then laid her head back on 
 her cousin's shoulder. Leslie moved away.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The night was already far advanced, when 
 Nowlan and O^Shane, creeping on all fours, un- 
 der the concealment of the dark side of the hedge, 
 which led to the Agent's cottage, stopped short ; 
 '' Hush," muttered Nowlan, '' the dog is giving 
 warning, perhaps he is loose." 
 
 O'Shane whispered '' Have you got it, Tim? 
 'cute as he is, he will most like eat the slip down 
 lard it is mixed with." 
 
 '* The mischief seize his barking ! " 
 Nowlan bade Dennis keep back, and as the 
 dog was accustomed to see him with the Agent,
 
 294 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 he might succeed. Cautiously approaching, he 
 called the animal by name; with his head pro- 
 jecting from the kennel and his long, sharp ears 
 pricked up, like a sn'dil's horns, E anger appear- 
 ed to be feeling for sounds in the dark. Nowlan 
 drew nearer; a deep warning growl made him 
 hesitate; keeping without chain's reach, he spoke 
 pettingly, and held out the poisoned food; the 
 dog eyed the lard at its feet, smelt it, then brist- 
 ling his rough coat, and turning up his black 
 muzzle, gave a deep growl. 
 
 Nowlan immediately retired; the dog strained 
 on his tether, lashed his sides with his swollen 
 tail, and breathing thick and quick, reared in his 
 excitement to watch the intruders' movements. 
 
 Around the hay-rick flew his starting eye; be- 
 hind the potatoe pits it lost Nowlan's crouching 
 figure; at the gate it caught a glimpse of him 
 again, and now he h?is vanished. 
 
 Half an hour has elapsed ; the dog is on the 
 alert again, he hears stealthy footsteps, he knows 
 Nowlan's, but cannot recognise the wolf-like tread 
 which accompanies it *, he is challenging two men
 
 TALBOT HALL. 295 
 
 who are lying flat on the ground ; now they are 
 crawling into a cow shed ; hark ! to his enraged 
 bark, — he is hounding madly forward, the:y dare 
 not stay — where now ? to the rick ! a match ! 
 another wild spring! the jerk has thrown him on 
 his hack, as if he had been struck down ; Nowlan 
 is slinking back, O'Shane is stretching the lighted 
 match, it is curling and crisping the hay ; Nowlau 
 is running at the top of his speed ; hold ! another 
 frantic plunge has snapped the chain! the stag- 
 gering dog is rushing at Dennis, who is flying; 
 now he is taming, what a spring ! foam-covered 
 fangs are closing on O'Shane's throat, they are 
 relaxing their hold — the noble animal is writhing 
 in convulsive rage and agony — at the black wolfs 
 feet has dropped the poisoned dog — he is dying 
 — gasping — dead. 
 
 Wreaths of smoke are playing around the 
 rick; a dull glare is bursting forth, and brighten- 
 ing; everything is hushed, nothing but a low 
 crackling — how still — hark! the wild cry of 
 *' Fire! fire! fire!" is flying through the air like 
 the screech of evil spirits, and acting with elec- 
 
 m.
 
 296 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 trie speed — windows are daslied up — scared 
 faces are thrust out, there is no mistaking that 
 dread smell, starting eyes are fixing on the lurid 
 glare, gaping mouths are catching up the wild 
 cry. The Agent is rushing to the haggarth, in 
 drink, he is madly dragging at the rick and yell- 
 ing " Fire ! fire ! help !^' 
 
 The huge mass is waving, hells are pealing 
 alarm, half dressed peasants and screaming 
 women are rushing towards the light, which is 
 growing brighter and brighter every instant, 
 scorched birds are fluttering and consuming, 
 stalwart men are roaring and dashing buckets 
 of water on the adjoining stacks, hungry flames 
 are feeling their way and stretching their fiery 
 tongues towards the valuable wheat — now they 
 touch the eaves, now creeping up the drenched 
 thatch, dart with a hiss at its defenders, and re- 
 turn to devour the tottering pile. 
 
 Stifling smoke is driving the bravest back to 
 drink in a breath of fresh air, and cool the suffo- 
 cating lungs. One figure alone still keeps his 
 place like an Indian at the stake, they cannot
 
 TALBOT HALL. 297 
 
 tell whose begrimed face it is. The solitary 
 man is defending the stack with his life — they 
 have ceased to hand him up water, he is reeling 
 and clinging to the ladder, now gasping, no one 
 dares approach — O'Neil has dropped. 
 
 Hervey has pushed through the awe-struck 
 crowd, and, plunging past the flames, is rais- 
 ing the fallen man, and carrying him to a fence. 
 The living mass has swept out of reach of the 
 scorching heat — they have gained the spot where, 
 alone, weak, flushed, and his clothes singed, 
 stands Hervey. 
 
 Stillness is creeping around; strange whisper- 
 ings are afloat; a heap of smouldering ashes 
 show where the winter food for thirty head of 
 cattle reared high two hours ago. 
 
 A frightened labourer is running towards the 
 scene of desolation, every eye is turned on him ; 
 he has seen Hugh all blackened, and making 
 across the country. The police have just arrived ; 
 hundreds of people are speaking low, with that 
 kind of dread which fire inspires in the dead of 
 night ; they are whispering O'Neil's name— Ken- 
 
 5
 
 298 TALBOT HALL. . 
 
 nedy is questioning Hervey, who declines an- 
 swering ; the young officer is getting hot, and 
 the Englishman, drawing up haughtily, turns 
 homewards, saying — 
 
 *' This is no place for a man who is only a 
 convalescent." 
 
 The chief is giving the word, his men are 
 hurrying in the indicated direction. 
 
 By twos and threes the crowd is dropping oif. 
 The moon is shining, an occasional bark is only 
 heard, cocks are crowing, daylight is peeping. 
 
 Merrily are beaming the sun's rays, playfully 
 reflecting themselves on a travelling carriage, 
 drawn up in front of Talbot Hall, four posters 
 are impatiently waiting to start, Mrs. Talbot 
 and Miss Kodney are taking leave. Now, Mr. 
 Butterworth, touching the governess on the el- 
 bow, is signing her into the dining room, and 
 saying aloud that he wishes to speak a few words 
 in private about Captain Rodney, but is wliisper- 
 ing on quite a different subject. Lydia is 
 colouring, and declares she must run away, but 
 forgets that it is impossible, so long as her lingers 
 are held.
 
 TALBOT HALL, 2!) 9 
 
 Presently Lydia appeared, and wishing every 
 one good-bye, entered the carriage with a light 
 step, for though she was leaving a place where 
 she had been very happy, the thought of once 
 more meeting her dear old father cheered her. 
 
 The postilions stuck in their spurs as they 
 beared their own village, a practice Irish posters 
 are fond of. The labourers called out, '^ Gobs ! 
 them is the boys that can dart them along," 
 whilst their wives, running to the cottage doors, 
 dropped curtseys to Mrs. Talbot and her com- 
 panion, crying out, *' God speed your ladyshi]), 
 and our blessing go with you." 
 
 When they had reached the top of the hill, 
 Miss Rodney looked back towards Talbot Hall ; 
 a white handkerchief was waving from the 
 mound on which she had last seen Mr. Butter- 
 worth standing. Charley saw it, too, from the 
 coach box. 
 
 For a few minutes the carriage pulled up, 
 while Mrs. Talbot spoke to Captain Leslie and 
 Sir Henry Gale, whom they had overtaken. 
 
 '* The whole estate comes to her," said the-
 
 300 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 baronet, resuming the conversation where it had 
 been interrupted, " what is the Colonel, but an 
 old and delicate man, with one foot in the grave?" 
 
 '* While he has her to cling to, he may linger 
 on for years, I hope Heaven wills it thus. To 
 me she is nearly a stranger." 
 
 " It is folly, Leslie, to throw away such an op- 
 portunity, the girl is in earnest, she cannot hide 
 her feelings from me, her father is at her beck, 
 only hint to her, or allow me." 
 
 '* Gale, talk not in this strain to me, you know 
 my motives for accompanying you to Ireland, 
 my heart is with Hervey ; to gain his love, I would 
 make any sacrifice, my very soul dreams of him by 
 night, and yearns for his society by day ; alas ! 
 mine is a hard fate," he struggled to keep down 
 his strong feelings. 
 
 '' What I propose would give you greater 
 claims on him, it would raise your worldly 
 position, and guarantee you his friendship." 
 
 " I hate the hollow word friendship, mine is a 
 strongly moulded nature, which requires some-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 30l 
 
 thing to love — to love as a brother — I am alone 
 in the world, a blank which no one cares for." 
 
 ^' I tell you again that she is madly in love — ^ 
 am I a fool? Can a man who has seen so much 
 of women be deceived? no, I have read both 
 your hearts." 
 
 '* With all your boasted knowledge, you are 
 grievously astray; never touch on this subject 
 again, I will not hear it repeated, and — unless 
 you wish to deprive me of your friendship— 
 more than once you have given me advice which 
 ill became you." 
 
 '* To me you are ?io stranger," said Gale, 
 laying stress on the last words, " or I might feel 
 hurt with your insinuations." 
 
 '' You wrung them from me, as you have done 
 many a painful feeling before ; you lean heavily 
 on my misfortune — is it not enough that it 
 haunts me ; does it not make me wretched enough, 
 but you must cast it at me?" 
 
 " Then marry, and be a happy man. It will 
 enable you to lend me a few thousand pounds to 
 clear off my creditors."
 
 302 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 " I tell you once for all — never ! " 
 
 Full a quarter of a mile had they proceeded 
 without uttering a word, when both were sur- 
 prised by the sounds of sweet voices and musical 
 laughter. A glimpse of the parties as they 
 turned the angle in the road, showed Hervey 
 and Emma Dawson; Darcy, Lucy, and Ada 
 behind. 
 
 Leslie would have avoided them, but so narrow 
 was the path, that it was , impossible to pass 
 without exchanging greetings. Another winding 
 concealed them again. 
 
 " Gale," said Leslie, in a tone of reconciliation, 
 and holding out his hand, *' I have no room for 
 more care in my breast," 
 
 Sir Henry took it coldly — the next instant 
 Hervey and Emma Dawson were close on them, 
 Lucy, colouring, let go Darcy 's arm, and loitered 
 behind on pretence of hunting for violets, as if 
 they had not instinct enough to hide their 
 pretty little heads so early in the spring. 
 
 Lucy watched Miss Dawson, but could not 
 see that Hervey would have been glad to get rid
 
 TALBOT HALL. 303 
 
 of her company ; her blind heart could not dis- 
 cern that all Emma's artful coquetting was re- 
 sorted to, not to make her heart ache, but to 
 pique Leslie, who was apparently unconscious of 
 her presence; nor did Emma seem to consider it 
 necessary to acknowledge him by more than a 
 cold salutation, which he returned with polite 
 indifference. 
 
 Redoubling her flirting with Hervey, Emma led 
 him to every retired nook, at last declaring there 
 used to be a bed of early primroses farther in 
 the wood, which, when they could not find, she 
 vowed he had made her loose the way. All this 
 time Lucy was miserable, though Darcy told her 
 that it was nonsense being jealous of Sister 
 Agnes, and folly to quarrel with her best friend. 
 
 " If Emma," she said, hesitatingly, '' had a fall- 
 ing out with any gentleman she liked, I would 
 not, — I — it is unkind of her to — but I do think 
 he does feel happy in her society." 
 
 '^ A3 much as Miss Gordon likes Sir Henry 
 Gale's at this moment." 
 
 The baronet had drawn her towards a fallen
 
 304 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 tree, and proposed sitting down, till the remain- 
 der of the party joined them. Leslie was en- 
 deavouring to get away by hanging a little 
 aloof, and watching an opportunity to escape, 
 when Darcy hailed and asked him to make up a 
 trio; Lucy hung down her head abashed, fearing 
 Leslie might refer to the scene of the previous 
 night. 
 
 Meantime, Sir Henry, finding himself alone 
 with Ada, after a few moments' reflection, broke 
 the silence thus, " Miss Gordon, I have longed 
 for an opportunity of addressing you in private, 
 one now offers." 
 
 He looked at her averted face to see the effect 
 of this preliminary remark; it was cold, the 
 upper lip slightly raised, her eye anxious, yet 
 determined. 
 
 ''Your heart has already told you," he re- 
 sumed, " the subject to which I am going to 
 refer." 
 
 Ada drew herself up, her cheek became paler. 
 
 " Have you forgotten, Ada, the happy hours 
 we spent together when you were a child?'
 
 TALBOT HALL. 305 
 
 She was silent — even agitated, and before her 
 self-possession had entirely returned, he repeated, 
 " I entreat of you to recall our parting in Eng- 
 land, when, laying your head on my shoulder, 
 you whispered soft hope to my heart; on my 
 knees I plead for the renewal of that promise — 
 I implore — I command it as a right." 
 
 " Rise, Sir Henry Gale, you have not chosen 
 a fitting position for one who commands." 
 
 " Hear me, scoffing girl, I will not be played 
 with, think you that I am a child, thus to be 
 dealt with?" 
 
 *' You were less than a man, when, trying to 
 gain my heart as a girl, scarce sixteen, you so- 
 lemnly swore that your affections were unfet- 
 tered — base perjury !" She stood before him a 
 judge, haughty, almost fierce; he was evidently 
 unprepared for so stern an attack ; after a mo- 
 ment he resumed, 
 
 " I have broiif]fht vou here, not to lis- 
 ten to insinuations couched in mysterious lan- 
 guage, but to seek an explanation." 
 
 " Cruel, heartless, deceiver !" her lip curled 
 with scornful disdain, as she added, " would
 
 306 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 YOU Still seek to take advantage of my childish 
 faith in you?'' 
 
 '• It is one honor binds you to fuliil." 
 
 '• J^o not urge me on too far, think before you 
 force me to speak words — every one of which 
 will cut vou to the very quick/' 
 
 *" Imagine not to alarm me by threats, which 
 are as empty as unmeaning/' 
 
 Ada drew her breath hurriedly, and looked at 
 him steadily, as she proceeded. "* I was not the i 
 aware you had deceived others. Since then, 
 I have heard of your cruel conduct to a young 
 lady, who lived with Lady Gordon/' 
 
 Gale's lip quivered, he grew pale with anger. 
 
 *• Go on, proud scotfer, you appear to have 
 studied your part well/' 
 
 " Allow me to finish," she added, " I did not 
 know, at that time, how attractive an heiress i» 
 to most, not all men;" she coloured for the first 
 time, as she uttered the last words. He noted 
 it, and tried a fresh strain — 
 
 *• You are taunting me cruelly — give me but 
 one word of hope? ''
 
 TALBOT HALL. 307 
 
 '' Never!" she exclaimed, disdainfully. 
 
 *' What if I could expose you to disgrace? '* 
 
 Cold, stern, and unflinching, she stoo 1 before 
 him, uncertain whether to trust herself with a re- 
 ply or not. 
 
 He raised his eye, it met hers, and like a load- 
 stone, which travels in pow^erless circles, whilst at 
 a distance, but is held motionless when it nears 
 the steel, so too, did his furtive glance at last 
 become fixed ; and, though no outward sign be- 
 trayed their inward struggles, each throb of their 
 hearts, told of the searching power of that look. 
 
 '' Have you thought of wliat I have said? " he 
 at last resumed, breaking the trying pause. 
 
 ** I am thinking how cruelly you deceived poor 
 Violetta." 
 
 Gale gnawed his lips and dropping his eye frown- 
 ed fiercely; he would not look up, he could not 
 undergo anotljer such a stare; he dared not ques- 
 tion her again. 
 
 A few moments had passed thus in silence, when 
 Darcy approached them, but, as they appeared 
 yerj earnest, he rejoined Lucy, who was so taken
 
 308 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 up with her own thoughts, that she hardly heard 
 one word Leslie addressed to her. 
 
 Ada moved to join them, Sir Henry, with more 
 than usual effrontery, offered his arm ; a glow of 
 indignation spread over her features; with an 
 effort at appearing calm, she bowed coldly and 
 walked towards Lucy's party. 
 
 The baronet, recovering his self-composure, 
 addressed her as they moved along with apparent 
 ease, and though she scarce deigned a reply, he 
 smiled, as if they had been on the best terms. 
 
 Darcy fancied her manner strange, and watched 
 them narrowly, perhaps more interestedly than 
 he was aware; for a moment he thought of join- 
 ing them, but as Leslie took his leave at this in- 
 stant, he remained with Lucy. 
 
 " Where can Emma have tak,en Mr. Her vey ? " 
 asked Lucy, uneasily, of her cousin. 
 
 " What ! jealous of her too ! " 
 
 Lucy turned away her tell-tale face, it was 
 crimson.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 Hervey sat alone, when Darcj, excited and 
 heated from hard riding, suddenly entered the 
 room. 
 
 *' Quick! " exclaimed the latter, ''I have dis- 
 covered that O'Shane is the incendiary, and that 
 he will be hiding in the Agent's out offices to-night, 
 to perpetrate some villany ; Nelly was my inform- 
 ant, but not a word of this must be repeated, or 
 she will get into trouble — order your horse quick- 
 ly, w^e may be in time to warn Doyle not to leave 
 home to-night." 
 
 But a short time elapsed before both mounted ;
 
 310 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 they rode so hard, that Hervey called out, " Ride 
 steady!'' for Darcy was dashing along the road 
 at a racing pace. '*Is he running away with you? " 
 he resumed, noticing that Tom pulled hard at his 
 horse, who was a desperate bolter. 
 
 " He is trying to get his head into his own 
 keeping," replied he, reigning in his fiery blood 
 by degrees. 
 
 The pace still continued tremendous; Hervey 
 rode close to Darcy's saddle girths. 
 
 At this rate did they proceed, till a figure, 
 barely discernible in tlie evening shades, climbed 
 the fence a little in front of them, and waving, 
 called to them to pull up. 
 
 " It is Hugh! " exclaimed Tom, sawing at his 
 plunging horse. 
 
 Hervey wheeled short, and returning to the 
 spot, found O'Neil had climbed back to the field- 
 side of the fence, from whence he raised his h;!g- 
 gard face, saying, in a low energetic tone 
 of warning, *• Take care of your honor's 
 life; mind the black v/olf, he is tracking you 
 like a cat after a bird;" with these words 
 he vanished.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 311 
 
 '* Hallo! Hugh, come to us! where are jou?" 
 roared Darcy. 
 
 " I will find him," he resumed, dashing his 
 horse at the fence, and riding furiously down the 
 field; then taking a wide circle, for he could not 
 pull up, he faced the run-away boldly at. an iron 
 spiked gate, calling out, as the hoofs grazed the 
 sharp irons, '' I will take it out of you, you mad 
 devil!" plunging his s{)urs into his ribs, he rode 
 on again towards the Agent's, with Hervey's 
 horse's nose close on his hips. 
 
 *' Steady ! steady !" exclaimed the Englishman, 
 as they turned into the avenue leading to Doyle's 
 cottaize, the gate of which was closed. 
 
 *'N8ck or nothing," shouted Tom, as, gathering 
 in his reins and grinding his teeth, he leant back, 
 for it was a tremendous leap. 
 
 "Splendid!" exclaimed Hervey, as the top 
 bar flew into splinters ; and the ride rnot deign- 
 ing to look round, pulled up in front of the cot- 
 tage, and throwing the bridle to a stable man, 
 muttered between his teeth, " I will tame or kill 
 him."
 
 312 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 *' Keep them stirring," said Hervey, putting 
 half-a-sovereign, into the groom's hand," and drop 
 a rug over their loins." 
 
 "Augh! you Grecian-nosed Roman!" called 
 out the fellow, addressing Darcy's bad tempered 
 horse, " are you going to take the bit out of the 
 calf of my arm? and you panting like a broken 
 winded parson- — bad cess, to your manners!" 
 
 " Follow me," said Darcy, beckoning to 
 Hervey, the instant the door was opened. 
 
 After putting Doyle on his guard, they sepa- 
 rated; Hervey returning home, Darcy going, as 
 was not unusual in his strange moods, to visit 
 Annie Talbot's grave. 
 
 "Where is his honor, Mr. Hervey?" asked 
 O'Neil, whom he fell in with. 
 
 When told that he had taken the road leading 
 homewards, Hugh said that O'Shane and Nowlan 
 had passed him in the dark, and from what he 
 overheard of their conversation, not a moment 
 ought to be lost in overtaking Hervey. 
 
 " For," added O'Neil, " I am mistrusting them 
 this blessed night."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 313 
 
 Hervey, owing to the darkness, had ridden 
 slowly for some distance, throwing the bridle 
 on the horse's neck, and trusting to his sagacity 
 and instinct to find his own way. 
 
 Suddenly the animal sprang round with a loud 
 snort. Thinking, as it was near the spot he 
 had seen Hugh, and that he still lingered about, 
 Hervey called him by name. No answer — the 
 animal still declined nearing the bank. 
 
 '* Who is there? " he shouted, forcing the 
 frightened beast close up, in spite of his efforts 
 to swerve. 
 
 He listened attentively, but could hear no 
 sounds, save the wind moaning, and the rain 
 dripping from the trees by the road side, yet he 
 felt convinced that some one w\as near. Recalling 
 Hugh's warning, Hervey allowed the restive 
 horse to plunge back into the middle of the road. 
 
 Twice did he pull up, convinced by the man- 
 ner the beast started and trembled, that all was 
 not right, (for he knew him to behighcouraged.) 
 Now he would stop short, and with a snort wheel 
 on the spot, uncertain whether to spring forward 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 314 lALBOT HALL. 
 
 or back, plunge to one side, and forcing liiraseh 
 against the opposite bank, refuse to move, 
 though the spurs were buried in his flanks; 
 presently, sliifting his ])Osition, and rearing side- 
 ways, as if he were receding from sometliing 
 which frightened and followed, the tei'rified 
 horse made a staggering scramble, his hind legs 
 went I'rom under him, the next instant he had 
 fallen on his rider into the drain Muwlan and 
 Shane had examined, some little time previous. 
 The struggling lasted for several minutes, 
 during whicii the poor brute groaned incessantly; 
 then followed a stillness, next the sour.d of a 
 hand, as if Ilervey, having extricated himself, 
 sought to grope his way out; the loose and wet 
 soil kept giving way, and at each attenipt he fell 
 back. 
 
 At last he succeeded in climbing out, and w'as 
 vainly endeavouring to get the horsj on his 
 let^s by draooiijnr at the bridle, the more 
 the beast struggled, the firmer he became wedged 
 at each plunge. 
 "Who is that?" called out Ilervey, turning
 
 TALBOT HA LL. 315 
 
 suddenly, for he was convinced a figure stood 
 close to him. 
 
 ^' Me, Hugh O'Neil, your honor," was 
 O'Shane's low reply. 
 
 ^' Here, quick, lend me a hand, my good fellow, 
 why did you not answer before?" 
 
 '' Poor creature ! " muttered the betrayer. 
 
 Meantime the horse beat his head violently 
 against the sides of the drain, bubbling sounds 
 came from the mouth, from w^hence streamed 
 blood mingled with froth and black mucl, even 
 in the dark the distended eye glared, the whole 
 body quivered. 
 
 " He is dying," said Hervey. 
 
 " Lean widl over, your honor,'' advised 
 O'Shane, and take a fi'esb grip of the bridle, low 
 down, lower still, yoiir honor, get on your 
 knees, and let us pnll together." 
 
 *' We are turni^ig him, Hugh, strain every 
 muscle in your body, we are raising his neck 
 and shoidders, lay on while I take a fresh hold." 
 
 While bending down to catch at the head 
 piece, fearing the bridle might break, Hervey 
 
 P 3
 
 316 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 felt himself suddenly (he thought accidentally,) 
 ])ushed forward; the moment he fell, the reins 
 were loosened, and he lay beneath the horse's 
 neck ; notwithstanding his cramped position, and 
 the weight on him, he managed to free himself, 
 and was calling to Hugh to help him out, when 
 the moon peeping for a second, unwilling to look 
 longer on the dying beast's agony, showed two 
 crouching figures; and the thought instantly 
 flashed on him that the horse had been treach- 
 erously frightened into the drain. 
 
 Nowlan, taking advantage of the returning 
 darkness crept closer, and whispered, '* do it 
 now," as he handed a large stone to O'Shane. 
 
 The villain groped his arm low down to feel, 
 DHimbling, " tliis is surer.'* 
 
 A click followed; the same instant Hervey 
 grasped the groping hand, a struggle ensued. 
 At this crisis the gallop of a horse made O'Shane 
 tremble, for lie felt himself dragged downward. 
 Clasped in deadly embrace, Hervey and he 
 rolled on to the dying horse. 
 
 Meantime, the loud clatter neared fast, a thrill
 
 TALBOT HALL. 317 
 
 of horror shot through the ruffian's breast, as lie 
 lay with Hervey firmly holding him down, a 
 flash — a report, 0' Shane is struggling afresh, 
 but he is still under; his hand is pressed to 
 Hervey 's mouth to prevent him shouting for help, 
 it was a useless precaution, the head drooped 
 towards him, the vice-like grasp relaxed. 
 
 " You infernal brute ! " exclaimed Darcy, 
 pulling at his runaway, wdio, snorting, plunged 
 past at greater speed, frightened by the shot and 
 smell of powder. 
 
 No sooner had the clatter died away, than 
 O'Shane pushed Hervey's shoulder against the 
 slippery drain, and placing a foot on it, tried to 
 pull himself up, whispering, "give me a hand." 
 
 '* Where are you?" asked Nowlan, crawling 
 back to catch the exact spot from whence the 
 sound came. 
 
 " Quick ! quick ! " said the climber, " it was 
 mad Darcy, he will be back." 
 
 Scarce had he uttered the words, when a 
 heavy stone, thrown by his treacherous confederate.
 
 318 - TALBOT HALL. 
 
 grazed his head, and bruisiDg his shoulder, fell 
 with a hollow sound on the dead horse's chest. 
 
 Involuntarily shuddering at his narrow escape, 
 O'Shane succeeded in getting out. Pausing for a 
 moment, he discovered tliat Nowlan had fled. 
 Peering down into the drain, he listened atten- 
 tively, Hervey moved; the ruffian appeared un- 
 decided, until hearing footsteps, and feeling some- 
 thing cold touched his hand, he rushed hurriedly 
 away, leaped the fence and ran through the dark 
 across the fields, e\eTY inch of which he knew; 
 nothing was heard but his step splashing tlirough 
 the swampy bogs. The cold touch was Pilot's 
 nose, the tread Joe's. 
 
 Joe noticed that his dog sniifed around the 
 drain, and muttering, "they threw the driver 
 into the cold bog," slid silently down, the hound 
 leaping after him; together, and each in his own 
 way, examined the dead horse. 
 
 Joe felt a body, it moved; immediately push- 
 ing the brute up, he tried to follow Pilot, but in 
 vain for a long time, till at last, catching at his 
 whining companion's legs, he half drew, half
 
 TALBOT HALL. 319 
 
 scrambled out. He appeared to be thinking, 
 then, mumbling to Pilot, called out, '^forward! 
 forward ! " 
 
 The beast looked up to him in uncertainty; 
 Joe, going on all fours around the trodden foot- 
 steps, put his head to the ground, giving a deep 
 bay like a hound's to explain his meaning; in- 
 stantly the dog ran his nose over the prints, and 
 raising his dark muzzle, gave a clear challenging 
 note. So long as Joe coiild, he followed in the 
 same posture, giving tongue to encourage his 
 favourite, ^yho now took up the fugitive's tracks, 
 running on him steadily at first, but soon in- 
 creasing the pace. Joe is close on Pilot's til 
 he is listening with delight to that familiar 
 challenge note, to him so sweet, so full of music. 
 
 On sped the hound, with his idiot master run- 
 ning bare footed and urging him, as if they 
 hunted a hare. Who can tell, perhaps the boy 
 believed he was. 
 
 '* Away ! away ! good dog, and though from 
 old age thou art discarded from the pack, thy 
 deep chest, strong loins, and still muscular body
 
 .H20 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 tell that once thou wert a favourite, and well 
 deserveclest tliy name. 
 
 " Forward, Pilot, hark to him ! " Nature, 
 startled by thy death challenge, is hushing her 
 breath to listen, " hoi ! wind him." 
 
 Now he scents the human track, and skims 
 his nose closer to the ground, gives tongue, his 
 stiff joints are growing warm and flexible in the 
 pursuit. Across deep bogs, whose black soil 
 spluttering as it closes on the fugitive's footsteps, 
 he seems to mutt(?r, quick ! quick ! On through the 
 thick furze fences and clumps of coarse marsh. 
 Forward ! good dog, no lagging at that gorse 
 bush, thy game cannot hide there; at fault, at 
 fault, puzzled hound, and now, away ! away ! 
 for thou art on his track again, hush thy deep 
 toned challenge, or it may cost thee thy life, 
 hush it ! 
 
 Softly up that steep hill, overgrown with wild 
 shrubs, turn not thy head, it is but the loosened 
 stones rolling from beneath thy master's bleeding 
 feet. Stay not, Joe, to listen to them bounding 
 down the rugged mountain side ; if it were day
 
 TALBOT HALL. 321 
 
 their sportive leaps might charai thy weak brain: 
 on boy ! 'tis night, mind ! hark to the soil plung- 
 ing into the stream below, listen to its hungry 
 growl. 
 
 The dog has gained the steep top, and peering 
 through the dark, sniffs the air, and waits for 
 his master. Joe, panting, is standing with his 
 hands on his palpitating breast — Pilot is turning 
 his hend towards tlie wind, and sucking in fresh 
 breath. 'Tis but a moment's check, for now the 
 deep challenge is again floating on the stilly 
 night ; down the slope they are dashing ; on, gal- 
 lant couple, it is but the frightened cry of the 
 startled wild fowl; the moon is peeping, a dark 
 shadow hovers over the boy and his dog; heed it 
 not, it is a screech-owl, soaring over a rabbit. 
 *' War hare, war hare ! " shouted Joe, as the 
 frightened little thing sprang from them. 
 
 For a moment the hound looked up anxiously 
 at his master's wistful eye, something was 
 puzzling the boy's weak brain. 
 
 Suddenly Joe called out, *' a fox we were 
 hunting! tally ho!" 
 
 p 5
 
 S22 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 The beast, seeming to understand, wagged his 
 tail, and running back to where he had taken up 
 the rabbit's scent, bent his head to the ground, 
 buried his nose in the deep human print, raised 
 his bhick muzzle, and challenged afresh, till the 
 valle}^ rang with deep-toned music. 
 
 " Forward ! forward ! hone\%" shouted the boy, 
 eyeing an owl jealously, '^or she will be up 
 before u:^, listen to her screaming. On they sped 
 througli valley and d;i\e, Joe growing hoarse, 
 and the hound brushing his lolling tongue 
 against the wet grass to cool his dry nioutli. 
 
 Away ! away ! over high ditches and loose 
 stone fences, stic:k to the human steps through 
 the gaps in the old hawthorn hedges, hold up, 
 gallant dog, and now face that high wall — well 
 scrambled, good hound, on! on! thy master is 
 close at thy tail, you are close on your game — „ 
 you know it, your short impatient note tells it. 
 Huah ! he sees you — he heai-s your challeng:^, see 
 how he scowls on your master, lie he->itates, and 
 dare not stand, conscience shouts him to fly — 
 another moment of hesitation, he notes Filot's
 
 TALBOT HALL. 323 
 
 bristling hair, the dog has him at bay, his huge 
 blackthorn is upraised — what ! a splash, a 
 plunge, the dreaded black wolf is striking out 
 against the strong stream, and is already clam- 
 bering up the slippery sides to the bank. 
 
 At fault, brave boy; never heed the check, 
 O^Shane is not chasing thy game, it is on his 
 scent that thou art running, then quench thy 
 burning thirst, drink from that river, and madly 
 track hini again; soon, too, thou mayest have 
 fresh followers, for the police are on the move. 
 Gaze not on thjit r)lashing wheel, which seems to 
 thee to be fiercely struggling to escape from its 
 rusty keepers, nor mind its screech, it screams 
 not after thy game, but calls for oil to moisten 
 its iron throat. 
 
 " How wicked the wheel is to-night," said Joe, 
 to his h.ound, looking into the deep stream, and 
 watching the splashed water. " Rorwai d, honey !" 
 he shouted, to the panting bcclst, which lay 
 stretched on the ground to recover breath ; " let 
 us 1 unt it again,"- he patted his companion's 
 head, and pointing to a clump of trees on the
 
 324 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 opposite side, the underwood of which crackled 
 as if somebody moved through them, he called 
 out ^'f)llow me!" and plunging fearlessly into 
 the river, swam across. 
 
 The old dog ran uneasily up ;ind down the 
 bank whining anxiously ; at last he entered tlte 
 water near the mill where it appeared narrowest, 
 and soon felt himself drao:ired towards the crush- 
 ing wheel ; harder and harder struggled the beast, 
 till he became tired. A low, piteous howl at- 
 tracted Joe's attention, he shrieked wildly ; the 
 strong tide was sucking Pilot down. The boy 
 instantly plunged in again, swam towards the 
 dam, crossed a narrow footpath plank, and 
 rushing round the mill, stood gazing distract- 
 edly into the foaming eddy. 
 
 Suddenly, his quick eye caught something 
 floating, which instantly disappeared; it came 
 to the surface and sank again — it was his dog. 
 Instantly springing forward, he seized the beast's 
 paw, and though the fierce waters whirled him 
 round and round, tumbling them over and over, 
 he held on; though bruised himself when 
 reaching the bank, he thought but of the sense-
 
 TALBOT HALL. 325 
 
 less old frtend at his feet. Laying him gentlj 
 on the grass, Joe cried out in a wailing voice, 
 '' My poor Pilot, where are you hurt, honey?" 
 then raising his head, and pulling a handful of 
 withered grass to pillow it on, he called out, 
 '' Wake up, they say the two of us are simple, 
 you and I!" 
 
 The dog moved and shivered. 
 
 *' I cannot warm you, for my frieze is soaking 
 with the wet, I am shaking too — och, och, look 
 at me with your own two eyes, do not stare in 
 that wild fashion, it is me, honey, sure you are 
 not afraid of your own foolish Joey, you do not 
 know me, aw — o, aw — o," clasping the dog to 
 his breast, and kissing his face, he cried bitterly. 
 ^* I will stand you up," resumed Joe, looking 
 into his pet's cold staring eye, " there, put your 
 foot out, it is me, darling, holding you, do not 
 drop your poor head in that fashion — sure you 
 are not foxing, there is nobody near us ; how slow 
 the poor heart is beating ; but you will come to ; 
 yes, honey, you are winking now, you will be- 
 lieve me presently, arrah ! is not the Agent
 
 326 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 dead." The boy smiled through his tears and 
 hugged his faithful companion closer, adding,— 
 " you know me now," the dog stirred his tail 
 and opened his eye with returning consciousness. 
 Joe in delight, jumped up, and creeping on all 
 fours imitated a deep bay, and whispering into 
 the beast's car " I v/ill make you lively again, 
 it's me ! it's me !" hiughed aloud, then suddenly 
 changing his wild manner for one of softness, he 
 said — 
 
 " Where are you killed, honey? " 
 
 A low whine, as the hound stretched bis bruised 
 limbs, was all the reply. 
 
 ** Do you want to jet \\\)? " 
 
 The dog looked up wistndly. 
 
 Joe endeavoured, by placing his hand under his 
 shoulder, to raise hiiii, but tlie cieature howled so 
 piteously, that he laid him down again. 
 
 Stooping, he kissed him repeatedly, and adding, 
 "try to sleep," nursed the hound fondly. 
 
 Not long after Joe had left Hervey, Hugh 
 reached the dvd'm ; hearing a groan, he groped 
 towards the sound; so intent was he in trying to
 
 TALBOT HALL. 32 f 
 
 save the person's life, that he hardly heeded the 
 approach of a horse's hoofs coming along the 
 road, till the rider was quite near. 
 
 The animal's loud snort startled him ; by the 
 light of the moon, which at that moment shone 
 out bright,*' Hugh beheld Father Tracey looking 
 on him in mute horror, but unable to articulate 
 a word for several seconds. 
 
 '* Father of Fleaven ! *' at last exclaimed the 
 priest, spurring his frightened horse, while he 
 continued to gaze on the dead animal, the sense- 
 less form, and CNeiFs blood stained hands. 
 
 " You miserable man," proceeded the priest, 
 trembling so violently that his knees shook 
 against the saddle flaps. *' What does all this 
 mean? wis I mistaken in you? Rug)]! Hugh!'* 
 
 " No, Holy Father, Mister Darcy can tell you 
 all I am after doing to warn him of this." 
 
 Thi* priest groaned, tied the snorting horse to 
 a thorn bii^h, and shaking fearfully, helped Hugh 
 to mise Hervey out of the drain. 
 
 '* He is not dead, glory be to Heaven,'* ejacu-
 
 328 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 lated Father Tracey, placing his fingers on the 
 motionless wrist, then on the breast. 
 
 ''Where is he wounded? the blood is flowing 
 from his mouth." 
 
 '' Here, I think in the arm, your holiness.'' 
 
 The priest examined the limbs *one after 
 another; the ball had entered at the elbow, and 
 then penetrated the horse's skull; Hervey had 
 swooned from the animal's weight laying on his 
 chest, and not from the pistol wound. 
 
 Hugh's emaciated, care-worn features and 
 blood- shot eye, as both leaned over Hervey, 
 formed a strange contrast to the priest's round, 
 but ashy pale fnce, from wdience the pupils 
 seemed ready to start, as he called out, '' God be 
 praised, he is moving." 
 
 Hervey slowly opened his eyes, and, fixing 
 them with a senseless stare, gazed vacantly on 
 the moon. 
 
 " Whist! whist! here comes help! " suddenly 
 called out O'Neil, whose quick ear caught 
 sounds of distant footsteps, *' it is the police ! it 
 is them!''
 
 TALBOT HALL. 329 
 
 Hugh bounded to his feet, and looked enquir- 
 ingly into the priest's fiice. 
 
 " Run ! run for your life ! " he exclaimed, " hur- 
 ry ! (piick man, fly ! do not stand staring, tiiey 
 are so clever, they will take you for a certainty, 
 go this instant; Hugh, I command you to save 
 your life, that the Lord may have mercy on 
 your repenting soul." 
 
 Father Tracey listened to every sound with 
 terror; the dread of being detected sheltering a 
 murderer, made him shudder. 
 
 Hugh, creeping to the top of a fence, lay close 
 in the furze, considering what was his best course 
 to pursue ; there were sounds to the right, to the 
 left, behind, before, everywhere. 
 
 The shot had been heard, and Darcy had men- 
 tioned the spot where his horse had shiedand bolted. 
 
 Kennedy, spreading his party into a wide circle 
 surrounded the priest, just as O'Neil escaped. 
 
 The young officer looked at Father Tracey in 
 amaze, on whose knee was pillowed a senseless 
 head; next at his tethered horse, who, snorting 
 with fright, tried to break loose, then on the dead 
 animal, but ere he had recovered from his surprise
 
 330 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 gtifficiently to ask a question, Father Tracey, said, 
 *' The Lord has heard my prayer, and sent you to 
 my assistance. Scarce tliree minutes liave elapsed 
 since I found him in the state you see; make 
 your men carry him to the nearest cabin, Frank 
 Young's is closer than any other." 
 
 Kennedy stared hard at the priest's stained 
 hands, but the order he belonged to, screened him 
 from questions or suspicion. Desiring three 
 of his men to remain with Father Tracey, 
 he himself only waited till he saw Hervey raised, 
 then, saying, *' Except in a surgeon's, he could not 
 be in better hands than yours," he bade the rest 
 of his party follow the human tracks, and not 
 allow another night to pass, without taking a 
 prisoner; lie even added, in cutting language, that 
 the murderers seemed to he playing with them. 
 
 The moon shone full on half a score of silent 
 but determined faces.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 331 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Before Father Tracey, who headed the three 
 policemen by some twenty yards, reached Frank 
 Young's farm house, an altercation was going on 
 within, between the old man and his sons. The 
 former said it was his intention to raise some of 
 the hard earnings of past years, to make up the 
 rent, as Doyle would not give time; for which 
 purpose he should go to the Savings' Bank on 
 the morrow. 
 
 The three sons (athletic young men) with 
 deference, entreated it should not be touched, 
 and that as so many were gone to America, and
 
 332 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 doing well, it would be advisuble for them to 
 emigrate, as the rents kept up (on the Darcy 
 estate, and many other similarly mortgaged) 
 were too high to remunerate the farmer. To 
 this proposal the aged father listened with in- 
 creasing uneasiness. 
 
 *' Boys," he said, at last, shaking his grey 
 hair sorrowfully, and bowing down his face to 
 conceal his emotion, " times are bad and looking 
 as if they would grow worse; but — but — in this 
 house I was born, in it I reared yon all; my 
 father, my mother died in it — two of my child- 
 ren sleep within a hundred yards of it — my 
 heart is in it — you may take my body with you 
 to America, my love will follow you over the 
 world — for better lads never breathed, thanks be 
 to Heaven — but — it will be a sad day to me 
 when I am torn from the old place ; " he ceased 
 to speak for some time unable to proceed, then, 
 taking his eldest son's hand and pressing it, he 
 resumed. 
 
 '' James, I used to think much of your judg- 
 ment and opinion, but of late, since you and
 
 TALBOT HALL. 333 
 
 your brothers have joined the nightly meetings, 
 it has changed you," he paused, evidently agita- 
 ted, " I cannot tell why, something makes me 
 fear for my children." 
 
 '* The Roman Catholics meet, why should not 
 the Protestants too?'' said James. 
 
 The father looked earnestly on each of them 
 and then, addressing the elder, *' James, you do 
 not assemble for the protection of your religion, 
 but, I fear, to support this new system, so in- 
 jurious to the Landlords, of making away with 
 the produce of their farms by night, and then 
 stealing off to America like robbers ; if we must 
 go, — let it be as honest men." 
 
 " Do you call Doyle an honest man ? " asked 
 the elder, angrily, " I would blame no person for 
 resisting his tyranny, I — my brothers — the 
 neighbours — " 
 
 A knock interrupted and startled him, the 
 younger son ran up stairs and came down, saying, 
 " the police! " and looked at James in alarm. 
 
 *' What do they v/ant? " asked James fiercely, 
 for, unknown to their father, the sons had in
 
 334 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 the earlier part of the night, removed two stacks 
 of wheat. 
 
 ** The priest is with them," said the same lad, 
 returning afresh. 
 
 '* Let liim in hoys, though he differs from us 
 in religion, I believe him to be a good man." 
 
 When the door was opened, Frank Young 
 drew himself up proudly, and asked the motive 
 of the priest's visit, accompanied by the police 
 at such an hour, for it was on the stroke of eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
 Father Tracey hurriedly explained. Hervej 
 was brought in and tended with real Irish hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 '* What can that galloping mean?" said 
 Kennedy, '' it is too measured to be young colts 
 taking a moonlight romp — there ! there ! in the 
 stubble field, now in the fallows, tliey are taking 
 the fences at steeple chase pace, one of them is, 
 I think, Mr. Darcy, the other — " 
 
 *' It is Father Tracey 's horse, sir," said one of 
 the men. 
 
 *' By Jupiter, what a race, straight after
 
 TALBOT HALL. 335 
 
 Berrigan/' resumed Kennedy, *' what roaring is 
 that? upon my soul they will ride him down, he 
 is dead blown, and can no longer shout — they 
 are questioning hiui — there, away again! direct 
 for us, no, a little lower down, where the landing 
 is better, but tlie water deeper — all ! pulling up, 
 it is not to be taken without thought. Mr. 
 DarcY is pointing, the other is examining the 
 traces, he sees us, ah ! it is Captain Leslie! hush! 
 they are halloing to us, perhaps they bring 
 tidings of the murderer." 
 
 '' Any ti'ace on your side? " shouted Darcy. 
 
 " Yes," answered Kennedy, that moment 
 coming on the large bare foot, then on Joe's, 
 which led back to the i iver. 
 
 " Is there a dog's track? " 
 
 '' No, (lily a mr.n's.^' 
 
 " Dennis O'Siiane, by — ! " Tom's last words 
 
 were drowned in the stream, into which he 
 
 madly dashed his horse, who, plunging for a 
 
 secor.d or two, recovered himself and swam 
 
 across. 
 
 " I have him a^ain," he shouted, and rising
 
 336 
 
 in the stirrups, wildly he roared, "hark to 
 him — there ! I see a head in the cover, tally ho ! 
 the black wolf." 
 
 Never was a view halloa given which, caused 
 such fierce excitement. Leslie fought deter- 
 minedly with the priest's horse, (which Father 
 Tracey had asked him to mount in pursuit of 
 O'Shane, for he had met Hugh and knew him 
 safe in his own hay-loft.) The animal swerved 
 fearfully, and bounded in the air, as if clearing 
 tremendous leaps to avoid f^icing the growling 
 stream. Changing his plan, he backed him 
 slowly, and patting him, turned his head, till 
 panting and trembling the horse watched the 
 other : then sudden as thought the rider plunged 
 in the spurs and dragging his head forcibly, 
 lifted him into the river. 
 
 For an instant Kennedy looked on anxiously ; 
 the horse fought desperately to regain the bank, 
 twice he fell back, and disappeared entirely, then 
 came to the surface with a bubbling snort and 
 plunge. Even Darcy held his breath.
 
 TALBOT HALL. 337 
 
 '* Splendid ! " exclaimed the officer, ** he is 
 swimming by his side, what a gallant fellow/' 
 
 When the horse reached the bank he was so 
 blown from struggling that at first he could not 
 scramble out, but soon he was on the hard sod, 
 and shaking himself, till the saddle flaps rattled 
 loudly, looked about as coolly as if nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 Next moment, Leslie was in the saddle gal- 
 loping past the officer and men, who trembled 
 from excitement and fear, lest the riders might 
 deprive them of the honor of taking Dennis 
 O'Shane, whom Darcy had certainly seen, for 
 be faced his horse to take the bound's fence, and 
 they could hear the crashing boughs breaking 
 before the rushing animal. 
 
 Leslie rode along the cover in search of foot- 
 marks, which he discovered close to where Darcj 
 had enteied ; it was the same naked print; the 
 police, spreading around the plantation, knelt 
 like statues with their bayonets fixed. 
 
 So well were they disciplined, that no word of 
 command was ever given ; a sign from their young 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 3.18 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 chief sufficed; save Tom, bursting through the 
 Touug trees, nothing was audible but the crash- 
 ing, as it neared the upper side of the boundary ; 
 again the view holloa " black wolf" rang on the 
 stillness. 
 
 The men crept towards the spot, the underwood 
 moved close to them, they appeared ready to 
 spring, some thought a grizly face and flushing 
 eye had protruded within a few yards; Dar- 
 cy burst through, and looking wildly arouml, 
 exclaimed, *' He is in it ! " 
 
 Kennedy whispered to him to keep cool and re- 
 main outside with Leslie, whilst he with the men 
 should draw the plantation, and thus force him 
 to break cover. 
 
 Darcy's eyes sparkled strangely ; he replied 
 iiercely, " I will judge for myself, let the better 
 man be he who first throttles O'Shane ! " 
 
 Leslie succeeded in calming him a little, and 
 showing the officer's plan was right. 
 
 Spreading from end to end of the cover, the 
 whole party crept towards the other extrem- 
 ity, without leaving a spot unexamined; while
 
 TALBOT HALL. 339 
 
 they advanced, Darcy trembled as he watched 
 and listened to the crackling branches, now 
 breaking in the very centre, now shaking close 
 to the edge, as if the game sought to creep out; 
 next he would be ready to dash in again, when 
 the huddled trees bent together sprang up from 
 the ground the police had passed over. The long 
 line is moving faster and faster, as it nears the 
 extreme end, Tom is raising himself in his stir- 
 rups, and shortening his reins to steady his equally 
 nervous and agitated horse. Leslie is looking 
 on as steadily and coolly as the priest's liorse. 
 
 " He cannot be in," said Kennedy, pushing the 
 boughs aside with his drawn sword, " we have 
 not left a spot unexamined," he held up his hands 
 which were bleeding from tlie thorns, " it must 
 have been fancy, Mr. Darcy." 
 
 '' Fancy," replied Tom, fiercely, " tell ipe I lie, 
 and I will think better of you." 
 
 A scarlet spot dee[)ened, without spreading, 
 on Kennedy's cheek; he grasped his sword, then, 
 throwing it down, laid a hand on a pistol, and, 
 drawing the other, was going to present it to 
 
 Q2
 
 340 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Darcj, who, jumping from his horse, snatched 
 at the deadly weapon, when Leslie, spurring, stood 
 ] between them, Darcy laid his hand menacingly 
 on the bridle, the officer looked at Leslie steadily. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, firmly, whilst his face 
 glowed, " nothing has passed between you to war- 
 rant such steps; by daylight, if you will, meet 
 like men of honor, but on the night of a murder, 
 — do not look so fiercely on n;e; if I have obtrud- 
 ed myself, you can make me responsible before 
 the morrow's sun sets ; you will find me as willing 
 to apologise, as ready to go out, if my honor de- 
 mands it; a coward must fight, a brave man can 
 reason first, and act accordingly — there! " he ex- 
 claimed, drawing their attention from himself, and 
 pointing to a branch which sprang up, "what is 
 that?" 
 
 In an instant Darcy was on his horse; Kenne- 
 dy held out his hand. 
 
 " Hang those cool English'nen! '' said Tom, 
 grasping it, '' Leslie is right." 
 
 When Hervey did not appear at breakfast, 
 Lucy, without daring to inquire for him, touched
 
 TALBOT HALL. 341 
 
 on every subject which was likely to introduce 
 his name. 
 
 Scarcely had she left the table, where, by 
 her father's serious countenance, she read ail 
 was not right, than Sister Agnes was announced. 
 
 "Whom does she wish to see?" asked Lucy, 
 colouring. 
 
 " You, Miss." 
 
 ^'Not papa, Greig?" 
 
 The old butler shook his head, and looked 
 ominously mysterious. 
 
 "Will you go to her, Ada?" said Lucy, 
 trembling, '' what can she want at this early 
 hour — I do not know what is makinii: me so 
 nervous." 
 
 Miss Gordon left the room; Lucy hurried 
 out to avoid the visitor, put on her bonnet, and 
 went on to the lawn.
 
 342 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 On the evening of the day on which Mrs. Talbot 
 reached Dublin, accompanied by Miss Rodney, 
 she at once set off to the old officer's lodgings. 
 
 It would be hard to describe the poor girl's 
 countenance, when the landlady, opening the 
 door, asked, with tears in her eyes, — 
 
 '* Ah! now, miss, are you his daughter?" 
 
 " Yes ; where is he now ? " 
 
 The woman was silent. 
 
 " Is he ill, oh, answer me, tell me, what has 
 happened ? " 
 
 *' His honor has left me ! "
 
 TALBOT HALL. 343 
 
 '* Left you ! where — whither is he gone? '' 
 
 *' I do not know/' she replied, wiping her eyes 
 with the corner of her apron. 
 
 Lydia leant heavily on Mrs. Talbot's arm. 
 while the latter put fresh questions. 
 
 *' He received a letter not long ago; how he 
 used to read and read it all day, and by candle 
 light, till — " here she paused, " it was the 
 Lord's will that he should lose his sight entirely.'' 
 
 " Oh, my father, my poor dear father," 
 groaned his daughter. 
 
 '* I missed him one cold noon, the last day in 
 March, when I went in to put on coals, for he 
 would sit hours, with his knees almost 
 touching the grate, and let it black out; but I 
 did not mind for his being absent, because he 
 would take an odd turn, now and again, feeling 
 his way along the footpath by the rails, with the 
 little dog to accompany him ; oh ! how fond he 
 was of the creature, and how it loved him, he 
 could not be happy if it was from his side a 
 moment." 
 
 Lydia, interrupting her impatiently, asked if
 
 344 TALBOT UALL. 
 
 he had not been heard of. The woman replied, 
 that day after day she had expected to see him 
 return. 
 
 " Did he take anything with him?" 
 
 " No, Miss, he left the purse on his table ; all 
 that I miss is his Bible, and a pair of small 
 slippers." 
 
 " They were mine," sighed Lydia, sinking into 
 a chair. 
 
 '^ I have been making every inquiry, and all 
 I can find out is, that he slept at a little cabin 
 about a mile out of Dublin, and that he told 
 them he was going with the small dog to search 
 for his child." 
 
 Lydia buried her face on Mrs. Talbot's arm, 
 and sobbed hysterically. 
 
 " Try and calm yourself, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Talbot, deeply moved, '^if anything had hap- 
 pened to him, it would be known, I shall have 
 every inquiry set on foot — to-morrow, at farthest, 
 he may fold you to his heart." 
 
 *' Oh ! if any accident " she wrung her 
 
 hands in excess of grief, " in my dreams I have
 
 TALBOT HALL. 345 
 
 seen him in troubles, which made me start and 
 shudder, and now they are realized; oh, me! — 
 raj poor dear father." 
 
 Lydia was alone on her knees, when the door 
 opened very slowly; she raised her mournful face 
 
 '^ Do not take it to heart so much," whispered 
 Charley, putting in his curly head of hair and 
 glistening eyes. 
 
 A deep, deep sigh, was all the answer. 
 
 '* I am sure," he resumed, in a tremulous voice, 
 *' to find him to-morrow, for I have traced him 
 to a little inn where he slept three days ago, 
 they told me he was well, but — but — " Charley 
 hesitated, hung down his head. 
 
 " Tell me the truth, hide nothing!" exclaimed 
 Lydia, starting to her feet, " what has hap- 
 pened?" she asked, with breathless alarm. 
 
 The boy remained silent, but perceiving how 
 much he had agitated her, and how pale her 
 cheek grew, said, in a whisper — 
 
 '' He is blind." 
 
 *' I know it! I know it?" ejaculated the re- 
 lieved girl, " are you sure he was quite well?"
 
 S46 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 "Quite certain, he told them he was going to 
 seek his child, they said he had a little spaniel 
 with him as his only companion, they watched 
 him a long way on the road, and remarked that his 
 tiny guide led him carefully, and there was no 
 danger. I met Mrs. Talbot at the hall door, 
 and told her all this. Don't fret, I shall find him 
 before to-morrow afternoon — I am sure of it, only 
 smile, it will make me so happy," a tear stole 
 down his cheek. 
 
 She saw it, and in a moment of gratitude, 
 pressed her lip to his forehead. She looked 
 around the apartment; over the chimney-piece 
 hung the Waterloo medal ; that medal he prized 
 so much was left behind, his stick lay on the 
 tixhh where last he placed it, and by it those 
 spectacles he might never again want, how lone 
 and deserted did the room appear, the empty 
 arm-chair seemed to whisper of desertion. 
 
 To follow the old man through his wanderings 
 we must go back to a cold day, the last in March 
 when, sitting in a state of dotage, he listened to
 
 TALBOT HALL. 347 
 
 the wind moaning throagh the keyhole of his 
 silent apartment. The fire was nearly out: at 
 his feet lay the landlady's spaniel. 
 
 " Fidele," began the old man, in a nervous 
 whisper, '* do you love me?" 
 
 The tiny thing jumped up on his knees, and 
 placing her fore paws on his chest, put her nose 
 close to his face. 
 
 A large tear fell from the darkened fountain 
 and spreading over his furrowed cheek, fell on 
 his hand ; Fidele licked it away. 
 
 The veteran stooped and kissed the dog's 
 forehead. " Yes, I know you love me — I am 
 blind now — I cannot see thee, from henceforth 
 I must judge by feeling. 
 
 " Wilt thou be my friend, Fidele?" he began, 
 afresh, witb a sigh, *' will you take her place, 
 and be my guide, and lead me to her — she may 
 have forsaken, bat she has not forgotten me," 
 placing the single hand to his brow, as if re- 
 calling past events, "she always sent me the 
 promised portion — but — but — how dearly earned, 
 and how am 1 to blame — alas! — and yet they
 
 348 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 are kind to her ;" raising the dog's face, as if to 
 draw its attention, he resumed, '' I shall never 
 more behold her sunny face with these sightless 
 eyes — I am a weak, blind old man, oh ! Heaven, 
 Heaven have pity on me," 
 
 Bowing his head till the silvery locks blended 
 with the spaniel's black hair, he wept like a 
 child, asking, through broken sobs, " wilt thou 
 be to me what she once was, will you come away 
 
 with me now — this very minute " He stole 
 
 softly to his sleeping apartment, groping in the 
 broad day ; kissed, then placed a pair of small 
 slippers in his breast, whispering, *' tliey were 
 hers." Next he sought among some books, and 
 felt them one after another, (he was yet inex- 
 perienced in the touch,) then handling the old 
 Bible, to make sure^ pressed it to his heart, and 
 tying his wee guide's ribbon to a button, he 
 stretched out his shaking hand, feeling his way 
 down th-e creaking stairs, till he reached the hall 
 door. Raising the latch noiselessly, he stood 
 uncertain which way to direct his flight. 
 
 The next instant an old blind Waterloo
 
 TALBOT HALL. 849 
 
 officer, with a little dog, were seen moving 
 through the outskirts of Dublin — that heart 
 which had beat with manly courage, when the 
 Duke called out, *' up Guards, and at 'em," 
 now throbbed with child-like fright, as ever and 
 anon the spaniel led him against the passers, and 
 he fancied some one sought to stop them ; now it 
 would run between people's legs, and in her 
 anxiety to return home, entangle the ribbon, 
 when, stooping, he would tremblingly disentangle 
 it, murmer apologies, pat the dog's head, and 
 without a word of rebuke, or a sign of im- 
 patience escaping his lips, bid it go on again — 
 how often did he stop — over and over he whis- 
 pered, " we shall find her, she will love thee too." 
 
 As evening came on, a policeman asked him 
 where he was going to, (for the people were 
 watching the dog and his master.) 
 
 '* You seem unaccustomed to go al)out alone,*' 
 resumed the man, kindly, " the little dog does 
 not lead you straight at all; if your honor will 
 tell me where you live, I will take you home, for 
 I am this minute relieved," seeing that he
 
 350 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 trembled violently, he added, " I am a policeman, 
 do not be afraid of me." 
 
 *' Oh, do not detain me," said the veteran, in 
 an imploring tone. 
 
 " Where do you want to go? " 
 
 " To my child," he replied, raising his head, 
 as if to look at the questioner. 
 
 u Where does she live ? " 
 
 " I forget; but, where she is, thither we would 
 go — I and my little friend." 
 
 ^' Then I cannot direct, or guide you, but 
 surely, sir, if you tell me your own house, I will 
 go with you." 
 
 " I b.Mve no house; let me go, please do not 
 stop me," said the old man, becoming more and 
 more alarmed, " if you let me go, I will find 
 her, only put me on the main road, and Fidele 
 will know the way." 
 
 '• The policeman hesitated as to the propriety 
 of leaving him to himself, and was consulting 
 with the lookers on, when the officer said, in a 
 tremulous tone, " if you had a child, and she left 
 you while you were asleep, would it not break
 
 TALBOT HALL. 351 
 
 your heart to be delayed — oh, please, do not 
 retard me ! " 
 
 " God help him," sighed the policeman, leading 
 him to the road, and watching till he turned 
 the angle. 
 
 "Mushla! where is the bit of a creature 
 leading your honor?" asked a poor woman, 
 seeing the spaniel close to a drain by the road- 
 side. 
 
 " To my daughter/' then beseechingly, " can 
 you tell it where to go, and I will pray for you 
 at night." 
 
 " God bless yourself, you look very weak, it 
 is not fitting for an old gentleman like your 
 honor to be going about in this fashion, and 
 night coming on, it is myself will show you the 
 way, and welcome — where to? " 
 
 "'-' Mrs. Talbot's;' 
 
 " Not a know I know the name, good or bad." 
 
 "■ Then you cannot guide us," to himself, 
 " perhaps she never had a child to love; go on, 
 Fidele — God will point out the way, I am very 
 tired; we must rest a little, poor Lyddy I poor
 
 S52 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Lyddy ! " the sleeve of his threadbare coat was 
 brushed across his eyes. 
 
 The woman led him into her cabin, she gave 
 him a drink of milk, and made him sit down, 
 saying, she would be back presently. 
 
 Her children at first were shy, but soon they 
 played with the dog ; the old man, fearing they 
 might take it away, pushed them pettishly 
 aside; and, feeling for the door, was on the 
 high road again; the spaniel ran from the 
 little boys, fearful of being hurt ; and turning 
 down a narrow unfrequented lane, wandered, it 
 knew not whither. 
 
 Tired out, (it required little to do that,) the 
 old man sat down on the side of the fence. 
 
 'Tis a very cold night," he said, shivering, for 
 he was lightly clad, " and you too, little tiny, are 
 trembling, the air is very chilly, there! nestle 
 away in your old friend's bosom. He who 
 tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and bids 
 tender flowers to bud, when the stormy blasts 
 have passed away, will not forsake us — no, He 
 will protect thee, and thy blind friend. No one
 
 TALBOT HALL. 353 
 
 will harm us ; why raise thy frightened head — 
 why beats thy heart so timidly — no danger can 
 reach thee without first attacking me, I never 
 injured any, and none will seek to hurt us." 
 
 A labourer, passing by, took him to his hum- 
 ble abode. There, the children slept. He 
 seemed uneasy about his dog, but after eating 
 of the poor fare, he laid himself down on the 
 sacks they spread for a bed near the turf fire, 
 its warm glow soon made him drowsy, then 
 every instant he would pull the wanderer by the 
 ribbon close to his side, till at last the movement 
 became mechanical, and he fell asleep witii the 
 arm stretched as far as the dog could get into 
 the chimney corner. The next morning they 
 gave him the spaniel, and urged him to 
 eat; he scarce touched a mouthful, but drinking 
 some milk, which he shared with Fidele, the old 
 man begged to be put on the high road. 
 
 They sought to coax him to return to his 
 home again, they tried to persuade him that one, 
 of his years, was too old and feeble to travel 
 alone, they did not say he must not leave, for
 
 354: TALBOT HALL. 
 
 they saw it fretted him, but wheu at last lie 
 stood at the cabin door, he thanked them wit:h 
 child-like words for tlieir hospitality. He of- 
 fered no payment. They did not expect remu- 
 neration ; the labourer's wife silently put food 
 into his pockets while he yet lingered on the 
 threshold to pat his fellow traveller. The man 
 offered him a walking-stick, he did not refuse it, 
 but pointing to his empty sleeve, shook his head, 
 till the long silvery hair covered his face,then turn 
 ing his siglitless eyes on th'-it hand, which even 
 in sleep had still held the ribbon, sighed : they 
 knew what was meant. 
 
 They watched him on the road till the sound 
 of his dragging feet died away, and as man, wife, 
 and half-naked children returned to their cabin, 
 each sighed, '' Ah! sure, the old blind gentleman 
 is gone!" 
 
 When he felt the sun's warm rays, he began 
 thus :— 
 
 " Fidele, they say the world is cold, and that 
 it cannot feel for strangers, did I not tell thee 
 Heaven would protect us? — I know why the sun
 
 TALBOT HALL. 355 
 
 is shining, because I prayed for a fine day — you 
 are not frightened now ; we are a long, long way 
 from Dublin; no one can overtake us; listen to the 
 birds; pretty, pretty lark, how sweetly it sings 
 its morning hymn — I'm quite strong to-day, go 
 on— go on." Thus did he address the spaniel, 
 and when it sought, poor thing ! to turn back to 
 its home, he chided it tenderly, repeating, from 
 time to time, " you would not forsake an old 
 blind father, who trusts to thee to find his dear 
 — his only child." For days did he wander about, 
 fed by the peasants, sometimes, as evening set 
 in, brought to their cabins by a child, and whilst 
 he believed himself far from Dublin (his guide 
 had more than once led him to the suburbs, but 
 fearing the crowd and children, turned away 
 again) the veteran was, at the moment Charley 
 left his daughter, not a mile from them. 
 
 Many a kindly voice and friendly arm had 
 tried to prevail on him to return, but when they 
 saw how it fretted the old man, they even in- 
 dulged the humor, sighing, '' Sure 1 he is out 
 of his mind."
 
 356 TALBOT HALL. 
 
 Charley had gone before night from cabin to 
 cabin, to some of them the blind officer had re- 
 turned twice ; thus reassured, the boy asked for 
 shelter, and laying down on the clay floor, with 
 a bh^nket around him, slept by snatches, some- 
 times starting and fancying he had found Lydia's 
 father. 
 
 That very night the old man -wandered into a 
 lonely bye road, and the dog, leading across a 
 swampy field towards the high road, brought 
 him to a fence, which they could not cross; she 
 tookhim to thegate, and creeping between the bars, 
 expected he would follow — it was padlocked. 
 
 Tired out at last, he sat down under a syca- 
 more tree, against which Fidele led him, and 
 with the single hand pressed to his breast, he 
 raised his head meekly to Heaven : the officer 
 opened the Bible, and laying his aged head be- 
 tween the open leaves, remained on his knees, in 
 the attitude of a child praying, with its face 
 buried in a mother's lap. 
 
 The spaniel scratched the ground at his feet, 
 but the damp grass was no bed for a pampered
 
 TALBOT HALL. 357 
 
 pet; with the selfishness of its breed, she jumped 
 on to his knees, and ferreting her nose under the 
 skirts of his coat, tried to make herself com- 
 fortable. 
 
 During that long night he stirred but little ; 
 but when morning came, and the early lark in 
 tremulous tones first whispered, then sang dawn's 
 approach, he moved his head slightly, next in- 
 stant it fell back wearily ; the old soldier slept. 
 When the sun's first rays stole over his face, 
 the features were very still; the reflection of a 
 smile that had passed over them during the 
 night, remained. The birds hopped among the 
 branches and sang over his head; the spaniel 
 .stretched herself, and placing her paws on his 
 
 breast, sought to awaken him, she looked anxi- 
 
 « 
 
 ously into his sightless eyes, all expression was 
 gone. 
 
 The morning wore on, and schoolboys chasing 
 each other with their satchels in sportive play, 
 stilled their laughter as they crossed the style, 
 and creeping on tip-toe, with a finger to their 
 mouths, whispered in gentle tones, —
 
 358 TALBOT HALL- 
 
 '* Hush ! the old man is very tired, he is 
 sleeping." 
 
 They patted the spaniel, and looking silently 
 on its master, felt a chill creep over them, as 
 they gazed on his blanched cheek. 
 
 The sounds of a regimental band, passing into 
 Dublin, struck up, not a hundred yards off, the 
 boys jumped at the fences and made for the high 
 road. One of them said, as he leaped amongst 
 the crowd which followed, '* let us go back and 
 awake him, somebody may steal his little spaniel." 
 
 "Who are you talking of?" asked Charley, 
 joining the boys. 
 
 They told him, and as they went on, each 
 elbowed the other to look at Charley's eyes. 
 
 Brushing the sleeve^ of his coat across them, 
 in a low, earnest voice, he entreated to be led to 
 the spot instantly. 
 
 They pointed to the tree; the band was quite 
 near, and as Charley reached the spot, he covered 
 his face with his hands. 
 
 " No," whispered a boy at his side, '* he is not 
 (lead — look — there, again."
 
 TALBOT HALL. 359 
 
 "^ Look ! look ! " exclaimed a dozen joung 
 voices. 
 
 Charley opened his fingers partly, then un- 
 covered his eyes. 
 
 The old officer's lids moved slightly, something 
 like an attempt he made to hold his head up, 
 the fingers of the sword hand closed ; he appear- 
 ed to be listening, a faint stir of each foot fol- 
 lowed. — Heaven knows — he was*^ dreaming of 
 marching. 
 
 END OF VOL I.
 
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