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 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SAMUEL TINSLEY, 34, SOUTHAMPTON ST., STRAND. 
 
 1873. 
 [All Rights of Translation and Reproduction Reserved.}
 
 8?3 
 
 V. ± 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. — TAKEN TO TASK I 
 
 II. — MARCHING ORDERS 1 4 
 
 III. — AN ACQUAINTANCE -MADE . . . 2 J 
 
 IV. A TETE-A-TETE 49 
 
 V. — THE JOURNEY RESUMED . . . 67 
 
 VI. — A HILL-SIDE ADVENTURE . . . .78 
 
 VII. — THE MOUNTAIN MIST .... 88 
 
 VIII. UNEXPECTED QUARTERS . . . .110 
 
 IX. — GLEN-NA-FIAC 1 24 
 
 X. — RELATIVES 1 46 
 
 XI. CONFIDENCES 1 69 
 
 XII. AN OLD IRISH RETAINER . . . . 180 
 
 XIII. RAVENSDALE HOUSE 1 95 
 
 XIV. — A DECLARATION 2l8 
 
 XV. —A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE . . . 243 
 
 XVI. — LETTERS 263
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 
 
 THE present century was as yet in long- 
 clothes, when I found myself, a youth- 
 ful student of the law, under the legal 
 tuition of Mr. Mark Mainmarches, of Chan- 
 cery Lane, and of the Grove, Peckham. 
 
 For more time than I could be reasonably 
 expected to call to mind, Mr. Mainmarches 
 had filled the post of legal adviser to my 
 father. In fact, it was no secret among us 
 youngsters that the first and primary meeting 
 of these two gentlemen — when they took 
 each other's measure very sharply and very 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 2 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 accurately — had been over those self-same 
 "settlements" which were to confer on my 
 parent, hitherto an Irish captain on Colonial 
 service, a husband's right (with well-guarded 
 restrictions, however,) over a snug country 
 seat in Gloucestershire : in consideration of 
 (his contribution to the marriage venture) an 
 equivalent number of Irish acres, known — 
 throughout Ireland, at least — for their excel- 
 lent supply of snipe-shooting. Though I have 
 heard my father frequently complain that 
 " Mark Mainmarches had tied him up a deal 
 too tight on the occasion," yet the circum- 
 stance by no means detracted from his 
 admiration for his then adversary's legal 
 acuteness and conscientious discharge of 
 duty. From that hour, he had taken him 
 (much, I suppose, on the principle which sets 
 a thief to catch a thief) as his adviser on all 
 points of law and property ; he being un- 
 supplied, at the time, with any person acting 
 in that precise capacity toward him. From 
 which, it is certainly open to inference that 
 any the like previous appointment, in con- 
 nection with our branch of the house of
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 3 
 
 Featherstone, would have been much in the 
 nature of a sinecure. Let me add, however, 
 that if my parent carried little with him, in 
 the shape of property, into the concern 
 matrimonial (barring those Irish acres), he 
 brought a goodly stock of common sense — 
 or shrewdness, as, without any filial irre- 
 verence, I may fairly pronounce it ; with 
 which was joined a knack of " keeping things 
 respectable," which, inasmuch as it is not 
 supposed to be, at all times, characteristic of 
 his countrymen, may have helped to earn for 
 him the reputation of a long-headed fellow : 
 just as we find ourselves occasionally lost in 
 admiration of the depth and profundity of a 
 child, which, with less tender years, might 
 show to no such wonderful advantage at all. 
 Not only did the Gloucestershire acres lose 
 not in quantity — there, perhaps, the praise 
 was more justly due to the aforesaid Mark 
 Mainmarches. But, even as to quality, they 
 always appeared well fenced and well 
 cropped; and, if I might judge from the 
 regularity with which tradesmen found their 
 accounts meet, proved sufficiently remuner-
 
 4 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ative for the wants of a small and quiet 
 establishment. 
 
 The astute reader having already collected 
 from these few preceding lines that Mr. 
 Mainmarches had acted professionally on 
 the female side and interests, until these 
 interests were become identified with the 
 aforesaid house of Featherstone, it will be 
 admitted that, both by the maternal and 
 paternal line, that gentleman was in all points 
 to be regarded as " a friend of the family." 
 When, therefore, my school and college 
 education was adjudged to be sufficiently 
 complete, and it became incumbent on me to 
 embark on that further course necessary to fit 
 me for the profession and practice of the law, 
 the possession of such a friend and adviser as 
 Mr. Mainmarches was considered no mean 
 acquisition. In accordance with which view, 
 and after some correspondence on the sub- 
 ject, I had been despatched to London with 
 a letter of introduction to that gentleman, 
 and the first quarter's portion of a moderate 
 allowance handed to me in advance. I had 
 now been about two years in the great
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 5 
 
 metropolis ; spending my time partly in Mr. 
 Mainmarches' office, and partly in attendance 
 on the necessary prelections and dinners. 
 At this particular period I open my narra- 
 tive, inasmuch as it brought to a close a 
 portion of my life uninteresting to the reader, 
 and I was now to engage in scenes and 
 pursuits of a sufficiently different character. 
 
 Will it be thought that I once too often 
 raise the remark, if I here observe what 
 small and apparently contemptible events 
 control our destinies? Either my parent 
 took too moderate a view of the expenses 
 attending a London residence, or I lacked 
 the power necessary to the due manipulation 
 of the funds actually at my disposal. My 
 early quarters closed in uneasiness and appre- 
 hension, my later ones in absolute debt and 
 despair. Yet, through the very depths of 
 this despair, pierced a feeble ray of light, 
 which my eye at length caught ; and catch- 
 ing, learned to connect hopes with. A certain 
 Mr. Jack Armstrong had passed through 
 our office, and was now open to practise his 
 profession. I knew his country remittances
 
 6 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 to be less regular than my own, and even 
 smaller in amount. But, though still brief- 
 less, he had money enough for his own wants, 
 and even for those of his friends, if they would 
 accept the obligation. I was less reluctant 
 to participate in the actual source of his 
 gains than in those gains themselves; which 
 he was as ready to impart. He possessed, by 
 nature, a trick of throwing off a light, trifling, 
 but readable article, readily bought up by 
 the conductors and owners of the few maga- 
 zines of the day, and the greater crowd of 
 Keepsakes, Wreaths, Garlands, Amulets, and 
 the like flourishing productions of the period, 
 but fated to yield the post of periodic literary 
 supply to their less numerous contempo- 
 raries, or, at least, our present modifications 
 of them. My literary Mentor supplied me 
 with subjects, hints as to style, mode of 
 treatment ; informing me that he would sub- 
 mit my first promising production to one of 
 his numerous patrons. My failures were 
 frequent, and sufficiently disappointing; in 
 fact, they never got beyond the critical eye 
 of Mr. Armstrong himself. But youth is
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 7 
 
 the season of hope ; and I still hoped and 
 worked. 
 
 One day, as I sat on my accustomed stool, 
 I became aware that Mr. Mainmarches was 
 standing at the opposite side of my desk, 
 appearing to contemplate with some interest 
 the paper I was engaged upon ; which, as 
 happened too often of late, bore no reference 
 to the law, or my present preparation for its 
 practice. 
 
 Mr. Mainmarches was a short, square 
 man, a trifle bald ; with an acquiline nose, 
 and a keen small eye, which lurked under a 
 remarkably shaggy brow. Ordinarily, his 
 accents were sarcastic — almost harsh ; and 
 his opinion of human nature in general (if 
 one might judge from a stray remark now 
 and again) far from complimentary to his 
 species. Possibly, these qualities stood some- 
 what in the way of anything like a close 
 companionship between himself and his 
 fellow-mortals. And yet, again, the dry 
 spice of humour with which such remarks 
 were seasoned (and by means of which they 
 always carried the laugh with him) hindered
 
 8 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 the breach from assuming any very wide or 
 irreparable proportions. In public and pri- 
 vate life, his character was without stain ; 
 and those clients who entrusted their legal 
 affairs to him had just cause to feel satisfied 
 with his conscientious discharge of his duties. 
 In a word, I have every reason to believe 
 him an honest man — as (so he himself would 
 have qualified such an assertion) honest men 
 go. And this, notwithstanding the apparently 
 contradictory fact that, while regarding, or 
 proclaiming that he regarded, the world as 
 an assemblage of rogues, he made no pre- 
 tence to exemption in his own particular 
 favour. 
 
 Success in life — and indifferently in all and 
 every department and walk in life — went an 
 immense way in Mr. Mainmarches' estima- 
 tion of his neighbours; so, at least, it was his 
 frequent pleasure to declare. If the success 
 happened to be obtained without loss of 
 public favour, it rose to the level of genius 
 — the only idea of genius, I am bound to 
 confess, which I ever discovered him to 
 entertain. For, as to the genius which
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 9 
 
 created a "Paradise Lost" to convey away 
 the fee-simple thereof for some five pounds 
 — or that which put together the Homeric 
 rhapsodies to hawk about Grecian villages, 
 it was not of an order to obtain from that 
 gentleman any expression of very high com- 
 mendation. My father, who had converted 
 a somewhat uncomfortable, because penni- 
 less, situation in a marching regiment into 
 that of a squire over broad Gloucestershire 
 acres, always stood high in his consideration. 
 A fair share of which favour I had hitherto 
 found extended to myself. 
 
 Such was the gentleman who now stood 
 opposite to me, evidently waiting for a 
 suitable moment — to wit, when I could suc- 
 ceed in bringing to an end the sentence I 
 had been some time employed upon — to 
 open a conversation. 
 
 " I had a letter this morning from your 
 father, Master Frank. He tells me you have 
 been doing something in — in the literary 
 line." 
 
 The charge — for charge I saw it was to be 
 — found me prepared with no very precise
 
 IO RAVENSDALE. 
 
 line of defence. I could have hardly appre- 
 hended that any very artless — and perhaps 
 too sanguine — confessions of mine to country 
 relatives would have been thus returned to 
 our office in the shape of a direct and un- 
 compromising bill of indictment, as appeared 
 to be but too evidently the case now. I could 
 only stammer forth a hope that my office 
 work had not been found too palpably in 
 arrear. 
 
 " If there's one thing/' pursued that gen- 
 tleman, suddenly rising from the apparently 
 courteous to the more unmistakably accu- 
 satory, and wholly heedless of my reply — 
 " if there's one thing which a man of my 
 profession shuns more than another, it's a 
 literary counsel, a ' junior ' who dabbles in 
 printer's ink. I wouldn't trust one of such 
 cattle farther than I could throw a bull by 
 the horns ; and if the like ever gets wind 
 on your father's son, your prospects at the 
 Bar are as good as ended." 
 
 I made haste, on the opportunity of a 
 pause which had every indication of being 
 brief, to intimate a frame of mind — possibly
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. I I 
 
 the result of some disappointing experience 
 — not disinclined to a more exclusive devo- 
 tion to the business of the profession I was 
 adopting. 
 
 "Do you find it to pay itself?" resumed 
 Mr. Mainmarches, with the same apparent 
 heedlessness of my reply. 
 
 I was obliged to confess that I had not yet 
 brought my labours of a literary character 
 to that desirable stage. 
 
 "So!" said Mr. Mainmarches; "to think 
 that it should come to this with a son of 
 Dominick Featherstone ; a poor captain, who 
 married an heiress out of the teeth of a whole 
 county ! I never turned a man out of my hands 
 that was satisfied with anything short of a silk 
 gown or a serjeantship; ay, and I could count 
 you up judges by the half-dozen ; and to find 
 in my old age that I should take to growing 
 literary hacks and Grub-street scribblers !" 
 
 Did my offence justify language of this 
 nature? I said to myself, no. Besides, 
 there were barely perceptible indications of 
 a less serious character, chiefly lurking about 
 the corners of the mouth.
 
 1 2 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 However, I was now getting on my mettle, 
 thus taunted with deteriorating the ordinary 
 productions of Mr. Mainmarches' office ; 
 and proceeded to state, in more measured 
 terms, my proposed course of conduct, pre- 
 viously referred to. 
 
 " I have not yet taken any steps in the 
 matter which can be pronounced decisive ; 
 in other words, nothing of mine has been 
 pledged to the public. I am not entirely 
 inclined to disagree with you, sir, as to the 
 incompatibility of the two pursuits with each 
 other — at least, during such period as the 
 foundations of a sound legal training are to 
 be laid. Of course, if you make it a rule of 
 your office, I now pass my word to that 
 effect." 
 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Mainmarches, who 
 seemed to pay but slight attention to these 
 somewhat studied sentences of mine — to be 
 talked to " like a book" was one of that 
 gentleman's chiefest aversions — "well, well, 
 maybe it's not as bad as we thought. At all 
 events, if you do amend your courses, you'll 
 not be the first young gentleman whose gait
 
 TAKEN TO TASK. 1 3 
 
 I have stopped in that direction. Not that 
 I would have you whistle till out of the 
 wood, The livery of Grub Street, easily 
 donned, is not shifted so readily as you 
 may suppose." 
 
 Here Mr. Mainmarches, voluntarily, in- 
 dulged in a pause, which, from very endur- 
 ance, was becoming awkward. At length, 
 he resumed, in a key perceptibly lighter, — 
 
 "I received an enclosure for yourself with 
 your father's letter of this morning — backed 
 by a request, however, that I would not 
 transfer it to your hands until I had given 
 you a — a (here the relaxation of the corners 
 of the mouth was still more unmistakable) 
 — a talk-over on the matter we have been 
 discussing." 
 
 And handing me the note referred to, 
 with some more words on the subject 
 which appeared to have called forth this 
 sudden — and suddenly subsiding — outburst, 
 Mr. Mainmarches, with somewhat of a self- 
 satisfied step, left me to its undisturbed 
 perusal.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. 
 
 MY father's epistle was short, and, be- 
 yond the mere opening lines, con- 
 tained no reference to the subject of the 
 conversation which I have just transferred to 
 these pages. In all probability, he deemed 
 the matter sufficiently well placed in the 
 hands of Mr. Mainmarches — and it was 
 preeminently my parent's habit to let well 
 enough alone. With this barely passing al- 
 lusion, the letter, or rather note, proceeded 
 as follows : — 
 
 " And now, my dear Frank, I may assume 
 that you have already promised to confine 
 yourself more exclusively to your proper 
 study of the law. Sure am I that such pro- 
 mise, when passed, is made with the good 
 faith of a Featherstone. But, by all accounts,
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. 1 5 
 
 the Muses are sad jades to fall into the toils of, 
 and keep tight grip of a man when they get 
 him. What say you to a little change of 
 scene ? He who fights — but the quotation, 
 I make no doubt, is sufficiently familiar to a 
 gentleman of your literary range. Six 
 months would give you time to re-arrange 
 your mind, and to return to the pursuit of 
 case and precedent with a proper degree of 
 zest. Come here if you like — and are not 
 too sensitive to our bantering. But, if I 
 might suggest, I would say go to Ireland. 
 Forbye other reasons — which are as yet too 
 confused in my poor brain for explanation 
 — you will be among my own people, and 
 may reckon, if the times haven't changed us, 
 on an Irish welcome. My poor brother 
 Allen has often expressed a wish to see an 
 English Featherstone. You will find him a 
 trifle odd at first, but that will wear away — 
 he has had his troubles, and they have been 
 hard to bear. He has long retired from the 
 world, contrary to my advice expressed at 
 the time. But that should not interrupt 
 friendly feeling between us; and maybe it's
 
 1 6 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 something of the sort that sets me putting 
 pen to paper to you. When I wanted to 
 make a decent show before your mother's 
 people here, he was the first to come forward 
 and place a few Irish acres at my disposal. 
 To be sure, they were only unreclaimed bog, 
 with no heavier stock than snipe : and, 
 indeed, my brother was so candid as to have 
 me represent as much. Anent which, I took 
 my own counsel, and so they served their turn. 
 And who's the worse of it? Sir Digges, 
 my eldest brother, has, I am informed, fallen 
 into very sad ways. He was always wild ; 
 and, succeeding young to the headship of our 
 house, there was little to keep him in check, 
 barring the length of his tether — and, by 
 all accounts, he has run that out long ago. 
 Still, the property's entailed, and, sooner 
 or later, must come to somebody, and life's 
 uncertain to us all. You may call on him 
 or not, as circumstances may dictate. I 
 have always taken a charitable view of 
 these things myself. At most, Castle Coote 
 is only a short run from the Irish metro- 
 polis. But Ravensdale, my brother Allen's
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. I 7 
 
 residence in the adjoining county of Wick- 
 low, ought to be your first object. Only last 
 week, I had a letter from your cousin Con- 
 stance — she is a daughter of my poor sister 
 Sophy. Sophy, as you may have heard me 
 mention, married Tom De Vere, who served 
 with me through the American campaign, 
 and got his billet, or bullet, at Yorktown ; 
 and my sister did not long survive him. 
 Both my eldest brother and your uncle 
 Allen proposed to take Sophy's child (I 
 was then a simple sub in a marching regi- 
 ment, and hardly able to care myself), and it 
 was your aunt's dying request (I stood by 
 her bedside till the breath left her), that she 
 should be given to Allen. No doubt Sir 
 Digges' offer looked the finer ; but my sister 
 was firm, saying, Castle Coote was no fit 
 place for a young female to grow up in. 
 She was right ; and I carried out her com 
 mands to the letter, never losing sight of the 
 child till I placed her under Ravensdale roof. 
 Allen has been a father to her ever since. 
 She writes — I have no doubt at the sug- 
 gestion of your uncle — to regret that the 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 I b RAVENSDALE. 
 
 family is not more united at the present time; 
 we were a united family, notwithstanding 
 anything that may appear to the contrary 
 now. I also gather from her letter (my poor 
 brother's vacillations of mind, to call them 
 by no other term, have in all probability 
 communicated this seeming obscurity to 
 portions of her letter), that the presence 
 of myself, or a representative of mine, would 
 be desirable at Ravensdale at the present 
 juncture. I shouldn't be surprised if it was 
 your cousin's letter which has set me ram- 
 bling on family matters in this manner; 
 though I believe I told Mark to pitch into 
 you about the perils of Parnassus. Maybe, 
 if I had you here, I could tell you more ; but 
 I am an indifferent clerk. After all, haven't 
 I told you enough ? Your uncle has turned 
 suspicious and secret, and may prefer to tell 
 his own story to having it told for him. If 
 the wind sits in that quarter, sink the little 
 you know, and Allen may give you more 
 of his confidence than he has vouchsafed to 
 me. Ireland, then, say I ; and, if you are 
 of the same mind, I will drop a note to
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. 10, 
 
 Ravensdale to tell them to be on the look- 
 out for you." 
 
 Few propositions could have been more 
 acceptable to me, at the time, than this one 
 of a trip to the sister isle. During a few 
 months' absence from London on my part, 
 Mr. Mainmarches might find time to forget 
 all allusions to literary hacks and Grub 
 Street poetasters ; with which allusions, 
 during my suggestive presence, I was well 
 assured the office would repeatedly ring. 
 My promise, too, to refrain from all invoca- 
 tion of the Muses — could I be quite sure of 
 my power to abide by it, so long as pen, 
 ink, and paper strewed my daily path ? 
 Again, futile as, I knew, would be the appli- 
 cation for an increased allowance, whereby 
 to settle my more pressing accounts, while 
 a resident of London, I felt quite satisfied 
 that the first step in my proposed mission 
 — a mission which I was already suffi- 
 ciently acquainted with the parental style 
 of correspondence to pronounce as lying 
 near to the writer's heart — would be a 
 clearing off of all outstanding claims. If
 
 20 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 for no other reasons than these — and others 
 there were of a different character — a short 
 absence from the English metropolis, and 
 even from the more domestic Woodlands, 
 seemed to me highly desirable. 
 
 My other considerations may be briefly 
 defined as a certain natural curiosity, 
 springing from somewhat exceptional cir- 
 cumstances, to learn more of my Irish rela- 
 tives. Hitherto, I knew myself only as the 
 lawful son of Dominick and Maria Fea- 
 therstone, in the county of Gloucester — 
 beyond which, my knowledge of myself and 
 my belongings extended not, as far as 
 concerned the name I bore. To be sure, my 
 mother's people had lived and died 
 in the aforesaid county, and its adjoining 
 counties, from time out of mind, and I could 
 count up uncles and aunts by the score, 
 with cousins, male and female, to the first, 
 second, and more distant orders, or until 
 they became inextricably blended with the 
 surrounding families of the shire. So far, 
 the matter was simple enough. It was 
 when I turned from the English to the Irish
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. 2 1 
 
 elements of the case that I found my infor- 
 mation becoming vague, scanty, and incom- 
 plete. Not but I had long known my father 
 to belong to the Irish family of the Feather- 
 stones, the head of the house being repre- 
 sented by a certain baronet to whom reference 
 had just been made in the letter which now 
 lay before me. That my parent had served, 
 with some distinction, throughout the Ameri- 
 can war of independence, I was also aware — 
 as that, returning with his regiment, he had 
 then and there exchanged the sword for the 
 ploughshare, — a step which his marriage 
 at the time was mainly instrumental in 
 enabling him to take. Notwithstanding, 
 however, a certain weakness for comfortable 
 quarters, — which, possibly from their novelty, 
 I am bound to confess did distinguish my 
 paternal parent — I could not altogether think 
 that his final and absolute settlement in 
 England was entirely to be attributed to 
 the fact of having there secured his desires. 
 In his daily routine as a farmer, when in- 
 specting his wheat-fields or directing the 
 succession of green crops (and having put his
 
 2 2 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 hand to the plough, it is but fair to state he 
 was not the man to turn back), snatches of 
 Irish melody have occasionally fallen from 
 him ; and, at a somewhat tender age, my 
 own mind was stored with much of the 
 legendary lore of that island of saints. I 
 could, too, call to mind the period when the 
 question of a migration thither had been 
 seriously debated in the family circle, in 
 connexion with certain works of drainage, 
 reclamation of waste lands, and improved 
 rotation of crops ; my mother apparently 
 being no opposing party. About that 
 period, however, I had been despatched to 
 one of our large public schools, and when, 
 during a succeeding vacation, I returned to 
 the paternal roof, all mention of main drain- 
 age, bog lands, and rotatory crops, as bear- 
 ing on an Irish residence, had entirely 
 ceased and determined. My father still 
 continued to whistle his bits of Irish melo- 
 dies, and, it might be thought, with a 
 certain predilection for the more plaintive 
 ones, but the subject of a removal to that 
 country was no more discussed ; and the land
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. 23 
 
 itself but rarely — never openly. Nor had 
 any reference been made to the members of 
 my father's family, until their names now 
 appeared — doubtless for good and sufficient 
 reasons — in the letter which I had just read. 
 Whatever might be the object of interrupting 
 this silence, even in so partial a manner, at 
 least it afforded me the opportunity of ap- 
 pearing before my Irish relatives not quite 
 ignorant of their names and circumstances. 
 For the rest, I trusted to the chapter of acci- 
 dents — no very unusual course, I suppose, 
 in a young man of my years. 
 
 JVly preparations were soon made. In due 
 course, I found myself stepping on board the 
 small sailing vessel, dignified by the name of 
 packet, which then formed the chief means of 
 communication between the two portions of 
 the United Kingdom. In a few moments, 
 the tide allowing, with the setting sun just 
 resting on the horizon, we were following the 
 track of light still lingering on the almost 
 smooth surface of the Irish Channel; which 
 a young and somewhat fervid imagi- 
 nation might be permitted to regard as
 
 24 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 marking out our way to the land of the 
 West. 
 
 I remained on deck until long after dark- 
 ness had completely set in. Sooth to say, 
 my sensations were novel ; and to yield to 
 their entire sway, I found not unpleasant for 
 the hour. It was the first time I had set 
 foot off my native soil. Then, my father's 
 manifest intention — plainly manifest to me, 
 somewhat skilled in the parental manner — to 
 pique my curiosity, but to leave me to my 
 own unassisted efforts to satisfy it ; in effect, 
 to send me to my Irish relatives with my 
 finger in my mouth, as it were ? And those 
 relatives — of what nature was to be my re- 
 ception by them ? With these and other 
 the like thoughts passing through my mind, 
 I was equally heedless of the growing gloom, 
 and the chill night wind now rising. Nor 
 was it until a push here, and a violent col- 
 lision there, informed me that I stood in the 
 way of the due management of the vessel, 
 that I betook myself to the regions below. 
 
 Making my way down " the companion," 
 I found myself in the cabin, a small, close,
 
 MARCHING ORDERS. 2$ 
 
 and dimly-lighted compartment, where such 
 of my fellow-passengers as had not yet be- 
 taken themselves to their berths, sat, in all 
 the various stages of somnolency. Here, a 
 couple blinked over a game of cribbage ; 
 there, a gentleman, one of a small convivial 
 knot, and evidently loth to withdraw from 
 its attractions, had so far compromised mat- 
 ters as to indulge in a short nap, with head 
 and arms on the table ; while, beyond him, 
 another, coiled up on the seat or bench, and 
 further provided with an ample woollen 
 night-cap, had wholly abandoned himself to 
 the influence of the drowsy god, and was 
 now affording audible proof that he had al- 
 ready accomplished all the intervening stages, 
 or possibly skipped them, and was far ad- 
 vanced into the land of dreams. 
 
 Having answered some half-dozen ques- 
 tions from some half-dozen persons, on the 
 one topic of the state of the night, and the 
 progress we were making; and having, in my 
 own proper person, during the short period 
 that I sat on a bench near the door, gone 
 through a few of the preliminary stages just
 
 26 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 alluded to, I at length retired to my own 
 proper compartment, and soon sank into 
 complete oblivion. 
 
 Nor did I open my eyes until the bright 
 morning's sun, shining through a very small 
 round window, coupled with an unusual 
 trampling of feet overhead, warned me that 
 it was time to rise. In a few minutes more, 
 I stood on deck, in time to catch a first view 
 of the Irish coast.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AX ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL sight, sir," said a 
 somewhat deep, but by no means 
 unpleasant, voice beside me, as my eye con- 
 tinued to dwell on the succession of rounded 
 hill-top and wooded slope, forming a back- 
 ground, or rather enclosing amphitheatre, to 
 the Bay of Dublin, which we were now ap- 
 proaching under the combined influence of 
 bright sunshine and a genial early summer's 
 morning. The owner of the voice I had 
 already met on the preceding evening, both 
 on deck and in the cabin ; and, on each 
 occasion, some trifling matter connected 
 with the vessel had brought us into conver- 
 sation. My impression had been decidedly 
 favourable. It was not, therefore, without
 
 28 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 pleasure I again recognised his tones, and, 
 in turning to reply to them, took a more full 
 glance at the speaker than the imperfect twi- 
 light had enabled me previously to do. 
 
 I beheld a portly figure, disclosing con- 
 siderable broadness of chest, with corre- 
 sponding breadth of shoulder. His presence 
 betokened a certain air of command, though 
 whether this was more attributable to a clear 
 well-set eye, or to an erectness and more 
 than common height of stature, I was unable 
 to decide. In other respects, nothing was 
 discernible of a military character, either 
 about his person or the ordinary civilian's 
 garb which he wore. Some forty-five, or 
 perhaps fifty, summers had embrowned a 
 frank, good-humoured set of features ; and 
 a slight — the very slightest — flavour of the 
 Irish accent, just sufficient to fix the country 
 of its origin without launching out into the 
 broadness of provincialism, appeared in 
 keeping with the style of countenance ; both 
 being, in a manner, racy of the soil. In his 
 address, the stranger had not entirely suc- 
 ceeded — I am not sure that he wished to
 
 AN ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 20, 
 
 succeed — in abandoning the somewhat ex- 
 treme manners of the old school : though, at 
 the period, their decadence was already be- 
 ginning to render their use marked. This 
 punctiliousness, however — it extended no 
 further — was considerably relieved by a 
 certain lightness and elasticity of demean- 
 our, which completely removed all appear- 
 ance of primness. In a word, while atten- 
 tive to all the minute points of courtesy 
 — even to the extent of those which had 
 already passed out of practice — a natural 
 buoyancy of manner communicated to this 
 attention all the appearance of impulse. 
 
 Having accosted me with the few words 
 above given, he afforded me ample oppor- 
 tunity for any scrutiny of him I might choose 
 to take, by directing his own glance to the 
 objects he had thus alluded to — and appa- 
 rently with similar pleasure. 
 
 " The view is indeed a very fine one," 
 was my reply — " seen, too, I should suppose, 
 under favourable circumstances? " 
 
 "Yes; a clear spring morning is no bad 
 time to view the beauties of our Dublin and
 
 30 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Wicklow hills ; though a lowering day in 
 midsummer — if there's no mist, and the 
 hills look near and clear, more especially if 
 you can get a bit of sunburst — is better, to 
 my mind. Then some of these slopes put 
 on their more vivid emerald and amber tints, 
 and patches of the hill-side — it may be a 
 native's partiality — assume an appearance 
 nothing short of charming. Now some of 
 my countrymen," proceeded the stranger, 
 launching more deeply into his theme, while 
 I continued to turn my gaze in the direction 
 of the scene of his remarks, "are for com- 
 paring our bay with the Bay of Naples — a 
 more injudicious attempt I cannot readily 
 call to mind. Our bay is a fine bay, seen 
 from here (nearer you get a view of some 
 unsightly sandbanks), but it is not the Bay 
 of Naples, nor very much like it." 
 
 " As this is my first step off terra-firma, I 
 am by no means in a position to pronounce 
 an opinion." 
 
 " Doubtless," said the stranger, "and very 
 judiciously spoken ; not but I have seen that 
 trifling consideration no impediment to
 
 AN ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 3 I 
 
 tongues wagging, and with show of author- 
 ity too. It is now a matter of some score 
 years since I commenced my travels, though, 
 possibly like yourself, contemplating at the 
 time nothing more than a cross-Channel trip 
 — and just so long is it since I took my last 
 view of those heights. It is somewhat of a 
 stretch to look back upon." 
 
 " It must appear so," I replied. " Travel, 
 then, would seem to be a serious business to 
 enter upon ? " 
 
 " True — very true. We may not say how 
 long the stone will roll — or where, indeed, 
 it will roll to — when once it is set in motion." 
 
 " In the present instance — if I may make 
 so bold as to say so — back to its former 
 place of rest ?" 
 
 " Surely — surely ; that, and little more 
 beside. In the morning of life, we start with 
 large ideas of conquest — it is a kind dispen- 
 sation of Providence which moderates our 
 views with day's decline. Not, you will say, 
 a very original — as scarcely a very appro- 
 priate — remark to lay before a young man 
 whose noonday has yet to come." And, for
 
 Z2 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 a moment, my companion — if I might now 
 call him so — was silent, apparently occupied 
 by his own thoughts. 
 
 I, too, paused, until the silence was be- 
 coming marked, and then resumed, — 
 
 " I think you spoke of the heights we are 
 now coasting along, as the Dublin and 
 Wicklow Hills ? " 
 
 "Of a certainty — they lie chiefly along 
 the borders of the two counties ; though a 
 succession of similar ranges extends through 
 the whole of the central portions of Wicklow. 
 I ought to know, for I was born in the thick 
 of them ; and when the stone has rolled back 
 there, it will be pretty nigh time to put an 
 end to its rambles." 
 
 " I, too, am bound for the county of Wick- 
 low, which is my reason for making the 
 inquiry. Possibly, you can suggest the 
 most convenient manner for reaching my 
 destination ? I am informed that a coach 
 starts daily from some part of Dublin — 
 Henry Street, or Harry Street, if I recollect 
 aright." 
 
 " Surely — Harry Street, it used to be in
 
 AX ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 7)3 
 
 my time, at the sign of the ' Three Travellers.' 
 A very regular and respectably managed 
 conveyance it was — and, I hope, is. But I 
 doubt if we shall make land in time to secure 
 its services to-day. The hour of starting, 
 unless my memory fails me, was ten o'clock 
 — and Miles, the name to which the worthy 
 whip responded, tarried neither for man 
 nor tide. It's now" (here the stranger ap- 
 plied to a large old-fashioned watch) ''close 
 upon nine — there is a chance of the coach, 
 certainly — but only a chance. What say 
 you if we make a push for it ? " 
 
 I assured my companion that my prepara- 
 tions were soon made. They amounted to 
 little more than restoring a book and some 
 few articles of toilet to a light travelling-bag. 
 
 "Then, there is breakfast," resumed the 
 stranger ; " but that, I trust, you are already 
 traveller enough to take against time. My 
 intention was to remain a night in my native 
 metropolis; partly, indeed, on the supposition 
 that our vessel would arrive too late, and 
 partly to renew some recollections of the 
 town. But if the chatter of an old traveller, 
 
 vol. i. 3
 
 34 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 who can promise little more than an acquaint- 
 ance with our common road, be not too 
 burdensome to you, such assistance as I can 
 render is entirely at your service, so long as 
 our paths lie together. Ogleby is my name 
 — Captain Ogleby, when I wore the cloth — 
 simple Peter Ogleby in the present and 
 future, if my countrymen (somewhat given 
 to the weakness of 'handling' a man's 
 name) will let me be." 
 
 Assuring Captain Ogleby that I antici- 
 pated pleasant companionship (as well as the 
 assistance which he promised) from his offer, 
 and giving my own name in return, I hastened 
 below to complete my arrangements. 
 
 These were of the slightest, as I had 
 already intimated, though somewhat delayed 
 by an unexpected incident. This occurrence, 
 also of itself the very slightest, dwelt in my 
 mind longer than its nature might appear to 
 warrant, and it is proper that I should here 
 mention it. 
 
 While extricating my valise from a number 
 of trunks and travelling-bags, piled rather 
 confusedly on the deck, Captain Ogleby, in
 
 AN ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 35 
 
 passing from one side of the vessel to the 
 other, happened to address some observation 
 to me (its import I entirely forget), using my 
 name at the same time, and, as the distance 
 rendered necessary, in a somewhat raised 
 tone of voice. A sailor standing near, and 
 engaged in some duty connected with the 
 craft, appeared absolutely startled by the 
 sound of my name thus uttered — at least, I 
 could attribute his sudden movement to no 
 other cause. He turned rapidly round — 
 scanned me for a moment or two — and it was 
 even some time before he resumed his em- 
 ployment. The whole movement was so 
 marked that I could not help thus connecting 
 it with myself, and my first inference was 
 that the man possessed some previous ac- 
 quaintance with my father's family, most 
 likely with the Irish portion of it. Under 
 this impression, valise in hand — I had already 
 secured possession of it — I drew near to him 
 for the purpose of making some inquiry. 
 Both build and features proclaimed him 
 foreign ; and, presently, his accents removed 
 all doubt. He had now resumed his employ-
 
 36 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 ment, and, to all appearance, was undesirous 
 of courting observation — whether this was 
 attributable to change of mind, or a habitual 
 reserve which had been thus involuntarily 
 interrupted for the moment. However, my 
 curiosity on the subject of my family having 
 been of late on the increase, I was not dis- 
 posed to let slip this opportunity — should my 
 conjecture prove true — of adding to my 
 slender stock of family information. 
 
 " My name appears to attract your atten- 
 tion ; doubtless you are acquainted with 
 some portion of my family ? " 
 
 Thus accosted, the sailor looked up from 
 his work ; though, in reply to my actual 
 inquiry, he shook his head. 
 
 " I know not your family. You are the 
 first Featherstone I have ever gazed face to 
 face with, as far as my knowledge extends." 
 
 "Yet the sound of my name startled you, 
 a moment ago?" 
 
 "True; I once heard it repeated by a 
 passenger on board a vessel I was bound to for 
 some years. He was in delirium, and made 
 frequent use of the name Featherstone ; all
 
 AN ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 37 
 
 else was incoherent. I have not since heard 
 the name, until now. I am not long on this 
 coast ; I served chiefly in the American 
 merchant service, and in that of my own 
 country — Sweden. Our passenger was, to 
 all appearances, in humble life, and his fever 
 was the result of recent wounds, I inferred 
 that he had been involved in the late Irish 
 rising ; that was the cause of any unwilling- 
 ness you may have perceived in me to enter 
 on the subject." 
 
 Such was the substance of the sailor's 
 statement ; of course, I omit his broken 
 English, and his attempts — sometimes almost 
 ineffectual — to convey his meaning to me. 
 The man himself was not devoid of a certain 
 rough honesty of voice and manner, and I 
 could not doubt that he was telling me the 
 truth, and as much of the truth as he himseh 
 was aware of. 
 
 The near approach of the vessel to land 
 now obliged me to hurry my preparations ; 
 for which purpose, I went below. Nor were 
 my movements at all too quick. When I again 
 emerged on deck, the packet had already
 
 38 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 arrived at the quay, and the shore was lined 
 with a tumultuous assemblage of owners of 
 jingles, noddies, whiskies, and other various 
 vehicles — all violently gesticulating to the 
 passengers on board. One of the most 
 energetic of these had already caught the 
 eye of Captain Ogleby, and I arrived in time 
 to hear a portion of the parley which had 
 ensued. 
 
 " Catch the Wicklow coach, your honour? 
 — sure we can thry. Anyhow, if horseflesh 
 can do it, man or beast won't get there 
 before us." 
 
 "What say you, Mr. Featherstone ; we 
 can't in reason expect fairer promises ? " said 
 my new acquaintance, as I rejoined him. 
 " Perhaps we had better close with the 
 fellow's offer. You will find them all equally 
 plausible, while time travels in the interim." 
 
 As I yielded acquiescence, we took our 
 seats, and placed no further impediment in 
 the way of our charioteer exhibiting to the 
 full the powers of horse and man. 
 
 And, indeed, so long as there remained 
 uninterrupted, or, at least, not very much in-
 
 AN ACQUAIXTAXCE MADE. 39 
 
 terrupted, stage, these powers were displayed 
 in a manner which left little to be desired, 
 except, perhaps, a greater feeling of security. 
 But on entering upon the more thickly-in- 
 habited portions of the city, obstructions 
 became more frequent ; and, as we drew 
 still nearer to the object of our pursuit, we 
 were already reduced to little more than 
 walking pace. Indeed, on arriving at Col- 
 lege Green, through which our route lay, this 
 modest rate of locomotion was seriously 
 threatened with further diminution. Here, 
 the concourse of idlers pretty nearly filled 
 the open space, the national university 
 being adequately represented by a number of 
 its alumni, who stood within their appro- 
 priate railings, and laid both Greek and 
 Latin authors under considerable contribu- 
 tion in passing comment on the outside 
 crowd of townsmen. Familiar as Dublin had 
 been to my ears as the " car-drivingest, tea- 
 drinkingest metropolis within the realm/' I 
 was by no means prepared for such evidence 
 of numbers and bustle ; which, however, was 
 partly explained by the holiday appearance
 
 40 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 worn by all. It is not to be supposed that 
 our Jehu bore this enforced delay with any 
 particular exhibition of patience; so far from 
 it, both whip and voice continued to be ex- 
 ercised long after the least benefit could be 
 anticipated from either. 
 
 As might be naturally expected, the coach 
 had already started. We arrived merely in 
 time to see the crowd which its departure had 
 drawn around the spot silently breaking 
 up. 
 
 " So ! " said my companion, " late — and 
 with the further aggravation of being late 
 by a few minutes ! That last half mile we 
 might have got over more expeditiously on 
 foot. So terminates my first essay as guide 
 and conductor, Mr. Featherstone." 
 
 " Better luck next time, Captain Ogleby," 
 was my reply. " You know you gave me fair 
 warning that the odds were against us. But, 
 in truth, I am not sorry for fair excuse to see 
 a little more of your good city; more 
 especially as there would appear to be some- 
 thing beyond the ordinary afoot." 
 
 " Pray, sir," said my companion, address-
 
 AN ACQUAIXTAXCE MADE. 4 1 
 
 ing one of the by-standers, a countryman 
 by his garb, " might one inquire the cause of 
 this unusual excitement and concourse of 
 persons?" 
 
 "Eh, sir," said the man, emitting a strong 
 northern accent, " ye' 11 be frae the country, 
 lik' mysel ; but I reckoned a' folk kenned 
 what riding the Fringes meant ? ' ' 
 
 " Surely," said my companion, turning to 
 me — "ay, surely; I forgot all about the 
 Fringes (more properly Franchises), not- 
 withstanding having taken part in them, 
 many a time and oft." 
 
 " A solution, however, which scarcely ex- 
 plains itself to my English experience," was 
 my reply, "unless, indeed, it is something in 
 the nature of our Lord Mayor's show? " 
 
 "Well, no; I doubt if your Gog and 
 Magog would recognise much in our trien- 
 nial ceremony. But we are like to be forced 
 spectators of the scene ; and you will have 
 an opportunity of judging for yourself. Our 
 impedimenta we may consign to the care of 
 the coach-office ; after wjiich, we had better 
 betake ourselves to some place of greater
 
 42 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 safety than this narrow and crowding tho- 
 roughfare promises to be. Movement up or 
 down the street is already, I should imagine, 
 out of the question ; but, if my memory 
 serves me aright, a passage existed some- 
 where in our immediate neighbourhood, by 
 means of which we may gain access to more 
 open space — there to wait until the stream 
 flows by." 
 
 Suiting the action to the word — we had 
 already dismissed our vehicle as unfitted 
 for present locomotion — my fellow-traveller 
 applied his somewhat broad shoulders to the 
 compact mass which encircled us ; and, after 
 a time, though not without strong expres- 
 sions of remonstrance, the crowd exhibited 
 symptoms of yielding in the required direc- 
 tion. Hastily following in the wake thus 
 temporarily opened for me, I found myself 
 at length shot out into a narrow alley or 
 court, leading at right angles to the main 
 thoroughfare, and, to my further relief, dis- 
 covered Captain Ogleby standing beside 
 me. 
 
 " Hard words break no bones. As to our
 
 AN ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 43 
 
 wardrobe, I suppose we appear to no worse 
 advantage than our neighbours." And 
 taking my arm, and conducting me through 
 some comparatively empty streets and alleys, 
 my companion eventually led me out on a 
 portion of the College Green, through which 
 our late interrupted course had lain ; where, 
 though still prisoners, we enjoyed compara- 
 tive immunity from the force of the living 
 current, and were also in a position to re- 
 ceive edification from the encounters of wit 
 continually taking place between gownsmen 
 and townsmen. 
 
 With the ceremonial of the day, now num- 
 bered with the past, this narrative needs not 
 to suffer interruption. On its conclusion, 
 the concourse rapidly dispersed, and locomo- 
 tion again became practicable. 
 
 " And now," said Captain Ogleby, as we 
 proceeded from the spot, "after a hurried 
 breakfast, and plenty of fresh air, would it 
 not be desirable to ascertain what cheer 
 for the inner man the town may afford us ? " 
 
 " That — with some provision for the 
 coming night," was my reply. " As I have
 
 44 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 already made confession, I am an utter 
 stranger to your city, and must again trust 
 to your taking me in hand." 
 
 " Notwithstanding previous trial and re- 
 sult ! Well, I accept the office of cicerone 
 — not wholly without considerations of self. 
 In truth, so much of change has already met 
 my eye during the short period I have again 
 become a citizen of my native metropolis, 
 and, among all the concourse, so vainly have 
 I sought for a familiar face, that a certain 
 feeling of loneliness (these confessions, you 
 will say, savour of the sod) already begins to 
 steal over me. I shrink from the anticipation 
 of a solitary meal, and a solitary bottle, in 
 an inn, which, doubtless, has already expe- 
 rienced the change of more than one Boni- 
 face. Let me think, during the few remain- 
 ing hours I have to spend here, that I am not 
 altogether useless — mancus (as our young 
 friends of the railings yonder might say) et 
 extinctd corpus non utile dextrd. With to- 
 morrow's light, I exchange the city for my 
 native hill-side — pray Heaven it preserve a 
 few familiar faces for me ! "
 
 AN ACQUAIXTAXCE MADE. 45 
 
 My own short experience of travel had 
 already discovered to me that there are few 
 things less cheerful than to take one's 
 solitary ease at one's inn. Further, I could 
 readily understand how scenes once familiar, 
 but now no longer peopled by friend and 
 associate, would seem to intensify the feeling 
 of isolation. Assuring Captain Ogleby, 
 therefore, that such service, in the form of 
 return of companionship, as I could com- 
 mand, was at his disposal, we proceeded in 
 the direction of the Castle. 
 
 " If the house still stands," continued my 
 companion, who, after this passing allusion 
 to private feelings, now altered the tone of 
 our conversation to one of a more general, 
 as more lively, character, " we may eat our 
 dinner, and smoke our pipes (I know not if 
 you are a lover of the weed) on classic 
 ground. When I was a somewhat younger 
 man, and heard our Dublin chimes at mid- 
 night, the Rose Tavern was the chief resort 
 of the wits of the day." 
 
 We had now proceeded past the Lower 
 Castle Yard, and were ascending the hill on
 
 46 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 which the Castle itself stands. When nearly 
 abreast with the Castle steps, my companion 
 turned down a court, which opened from the 
 opposite side of the street. Here, a few 
 minutes' walking through an exceedingly 
 narrow passage, with high and very old- 
 fashioned buildings on either side, brought 
 us to a large and equally old-fashioned 
 house. This structure exhibited numerous 
 symptoms of decay, and, furthermore, suffi- 
 ciently indicated, by various articles of 
 wearing apparel, hung out by means of 
 poles to dry, that its former uses had been 
 altered to those of a somewhat different 
 character. 
 
 " This must be the house/' said my com- 
 panion, as he gazed up at it with looks indi- 
 cative of some perplexity ; " and yet it's not 
 the house — tempora mutantur, et nos muta- 
 mur cum tilts — our young friends of the 
 railings have set my school-boy Latin adrift 
 in my head again. But, of a certainty, the 
 ' Rose' stood here — and, indeed, this battered 
 front preserves somewhat of the familiar face 
 of an old friend about it. Howbeit, honest
 
 AN ACQUAINTANCE MADE. 47 
 
 Matthew Hanlon, mine host, affected a more 
 tidy appearance ; and, though he kept open 
 house, it was not for lack of a door, as seems 
 to be the present predicament. — Sirrah ! " 
 (here the Captain addressed a very airily- 
 clothed young gentleman, bare-headed and 
 bare-footed, who stood in the open doorway 
 referred to) — " who might claim ownership 
 here?" 
 
 " Ye may count for yourselves," said the 
 urchin addressed, straightway proceeding to 
 apply his fingers to aid any deficiency of our 
 powers of calculating — " there's ould Pether 
 Murphy mends shoes in the parlours — mother 
 keeps a mangle in " 
 
 " Hold ! Did not one Mat Hanlon reside 
 here — a fat man, with a nose somewhat 
 inclined to reddish ? " 
 
 The boy shook his head. " There's no 
 Misther Hanlon near here — barrin Tim 
 Hanlon, that keeps the New Rose, beyant, 
 in Bridge Street." 
 
 " So ! " said my companion, as he pro- 
 ceeded to turn from the spot, " after this 
 second misadventure, Mr. Featherstone, I
 
 48 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 fear I must resign my commission into your 
 hands." 
 
 " Nay, nay. Captain Ogleby, surely not — 
 with the game now within reach ! This Tim 
 Hanlon will, most likely, prove a son, or near 
 relative, of the veritable Mat, removed to — 
 to more tenantable premises — and this young 
 gentleman will doubtless conduct us to the 
 newer establishment, for a suitable recom- 
 pense." 
 
 The urchin evincing his readiness to take 
 part in this engagement, a few minutes' 
 brisk walking brought us to the locality 
 indicated by him. Here we found the Mr. 
 Timothy Hanlon referred to — a nephew, we 
 were not long in learning, of the former pro- 
 prietor of the " Rose," who intimated his 
 readiness to take us in hand, and attend to 
 our wants.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 
 
 AFTER we had concluded our meal, and, 
 at my companion's solicitation, I had 
 been induced to make trial, with him, of 
 the national beverage — to wit, some whiskey 
 punch, smoking hot in tumblers — Captain 
 Ogleby lit his pipe, and threw himself back 
 in his chair ; evincing, on the whole, a more 
 marked disposition than I had yet seen to 
 relax from the somewhat ceremonious man- 
 ners of the old school, to which I have already 
 drawn the reader's attention as characterising 
 his earlier address. 
 
 "Perhaps," proceeded he, after he had 
 brought his pipe into full working order by a 
 few preliminary whiffs — " perhaps, had my 
 tastes been more with the fashions of the 
 
 vol. i. 4
 
 50 RAVE NSD ALE. 
 
 day, I should have urged claret ; but with so 
 few familiar faces to meet (still harping on 
 the string, Mr. Featherstone), I could ill 
 dispense with an old friend." 
 
 " The potation surely needs no apology," 
 replied I, a preliminary mouthful having 
 assured me that the mixture — one sufficiently 
 novel to English tastes at the period — was 
 not altogether unpalatable. 
 
 " Doubtless; and yet, Mr. Landlord," 
 (Mr. Hanlon had lingered for a few moments 
 in the room,) "your worthy uncle kept an odd 
 drop by him, which smacked more of the 
 mountain heath and less of the exciseman's 
 supervision ?" 
 
 Mr. Hanlon' s countenance, it appeared to 
 me, was not entirely free from alarm as he 
 turned to respond to these words. 
 
 " My uncle, gentlemen, was a rash man 
 when the sup was in him ; and lost, at times, 
 by over-confidence in chance customers." 
 
 "Surely — surely," said my companion; 
 " I have heard as much ; more's the pity. 
 But I have served your uncle a turn ere this, 
 young man ; at a time when Peter Ogleby,
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 5 I 
 
 of Tinnaheely Lodge, was no stranger to the 
 metropolis, and was even less likely to pass 
 for a gauger. I doubt not you have heard 
 the name from your relative?" 
 
 But a moment's reflection and scrutiny 
 seemed already to have convinced Mr. Han- 
 Ion of his error, even before the foregoing 
 words had been quite spoken. He now 
 hastened to apologise for his momentary 
 doubts. "No one was likely to take an 
 Ogleby for a gauger ; but folks living under 
 the eye of the Castle had need to be cautious. 
 If his uncle was alive, it's the best in the 
 house he'd hasten to lay before anyone that 
 belonged to Tinnaheely." 
 
 "Ay, ay; I daresay," replied my com- 
 panion; "but as my young friend here 
 confesses to an objection to ghostly visita- 
 tions — forbye, having no particular desire on 
 my own part " 
 
 A faint corruscation twinkled for a moment 
 in the eye of Mr. Hanlon, as, crossing over 
 the floor, and opening a press which I had 
 not hitherto perceived, he drew therefrom a 
 stone-coloured jar. Placing this on the table, 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 /UINOJS LIBRARY
 
 52 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 he added, "if it was my uncle himself, gen- 
 tlemen (the Lord betune us and harm), he 
 couldn't set before you better than that." 
 Then, throwing a few additional sods of 
 native peat on the fire (for though summer 
 was now advancing, the evenings were as yet 
 chilly), and having shifted the position of the 
 kettle on the hob, more caiiponum, without 
 any assignable cause — he finally closed the 
 door behind him, and left us to ourselves. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said my companion, whose nose 
 was already applied to the place where the 
 cork had previously been, "//W smacks of the 
 mountain-side and the peat smoke ; I could 
 almost fancy I was sitting by my own turf fire 
 in old Tinnaheely Lodge — please the pigs ! I 
 will, before nightfall to-morrow, dum superest 
 Lachesiquod toi'qiieat : confound those college 
 lads ! I am as full of Latin — and, it may be, 
 as doubtful Latin — as a young gentleman 
 going up for his entrance examination. And 
 now, my young friend, when you have tossed 
 off that drop of Parliament in your glass, let 
 me recommend you to try your hand at a 
 small potation of the poteen"
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 53 
 
 " My experience, I fear, scarcely reaches 
 to the difference between the two mixtures — 
 are they not both the product of the barley- 
 corn ? " 
 
 "Of a verity," said my companion ; " the 
 one manufactured by the licensed, or author- 
 ised distiller, whence its title, Parliamentary, 
 or legal ; the other the result of illicit dis- 
 tillation, deriving its peculiar properties from 
 the mountain stream and peat fire, which are 
 essential to its due manufacture. When we 
 get you down among our native glens (I ex- 
 pect an early visit, Mr. Feathertone, now that 
 we are to be near neighbours — a bachelor's 
 establishment — indeed, for some years now 
 an old maid's, with nothing, however, more 
 formidable in the shape of womankind than 
 my sister), — you shall examine the whole 
 process for yourself, and taste the liquor as it 
 comes from the worm, hot and strong : how- 
 beit, for ordinary tipple, your novice may 
 essay it qualified with a little sugar and 
 water. And now that we are alone, I am 
 sorely tempted to infringe on the ordinary 
 rules of politeness — for which, were I a few
 
 54 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 potations deeper in the night, I might plead 
 the potency of our landlord's mountain 
 dew." 
 
 " I was under the pleasing belief," was 
 my reply, though not without some curiosity 
 as to the drift of my companion's latter 
 words, " that I had already got beyond those 
 outworks of rigid etiquette with Captain 
 Ogleby?" 
 
 " Faith ! the plea (neatly put, and readily 
 conceded) sounds better than the poteen, 
 and I am more inclined to avail myself 
 of it, in propounding a question which has 
 been playing sad pranks with my poor wits 
 this whole day — in fact, ever since we 
 interchanged names this morning on the 
 deck of the packet. Was there not — to 
 plunge at once into the matter — a Sir Percy 
 Featherstone ? I can bring to my mind (it's 
 as much as I can do) a very old man of that 
 name about Dublin town." 
 
 "Yes ; such an individual, I am informed, 
 there certainly was — a member (though I be- 
 lieve not a very near one) of my father's 
 family. Sir Digges Featherstone, who
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 55 
 
 eventually succeeded to the title, is the pre- 
 sent head of the family, and my father's 
 eldest brother.' ' 
 
 "Ah! I recollect Sir Digges, as it were 
 yesterday ; not indeed as a companion, for I 
 was then but a bit of a boy, when your uncle 
 set the laws of fashion to Bachelor's Walk 
 and Merrion Square. He was then plain 
 Digges Featherstone, though waiting (and 
 not without some need, the town said — these 
 were awful times of fast living, Mr. Feather- 
 stone) for Castle Coote. So, so — I am 
 getting hold of the end of the skein. But 
 was there not another brother, learned in 
 the law ? Egad ! it might be your father? " 
 
 "No, no," said I, scarcely refraining from 
 a smile at the idea of my respected parent in 
 a horse-hair wig, and armed with a blue bag; 
 " my father is a country squire, and was a 
 soldier, with all a soldier's suspicions of the 
 quirks and quicksands of the law. Doubt- 
 less, you refer to another of the brothers, 
 intermediate between my father and Sir 
 Digges, who, as I have heard, made some- 
 what of a name for himself at the Irish Bar,
 
 56 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 before he retired into private life. My pre- 
 sent visit to Ireland is intended for him." 
 
 " Ay — surely," said my companion, ''that 
 will be the man. He was nearer to my own 
 age, though a shade older. The circum- 
 stance is somewhat fresher to my mind in 
 consequence of a letter or two which I 
 received, when abroad, from my sister. We 
 were just then engaged in some small law 
 matters, which — being tied to my post — I 
 was obliged to let my sister fight out by her- 
 self. I recollect she wrote to me that Allen 
 Featherstone — ay, Allen was certainly the 
 name — was then the most able advocate at 
 the Irish Bar, and ought to be retained for 
 our case." 
 
 " I have no doubt it will prove to be the 
 same ; Allen is certainly my uncle's name — of 
 Ravensdale House ; but that, I believe, is a 
 comparatively recent title; the place, I think, 
 was formerly known by a strictly Irish 
 appellation." 
 
 " It must have been so. I can call to 
 mind no so-named locality," said my com- 
 panion, shaking his head after some time
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 57 
 
 apparently spent in reflection. "There was, 
 to be sure, Glan-na-fiac, or the Valley of the 
 Ravens, a few miles from Ballybay ; of which 
 we may take Ravensdale as a near transla- 
 tion. The county is full of such natural 
 ravines ; there is a Glan-na-mole, or Valley 
 of the Thrushes, beside my own place." 
 
 " Ballybay is certainly the nearest town or 
 village, according to my instructions." 
 
 For a moment my companion was silent, 
 apparently following out the thread of some 
 by-gone reminiscences. Presently, he 
 resumed : — 
 
 " You never heard, then (plague take the 
 matter ! — your pardon, Mr. Featherstone ; it 
 seems to be getting faster grip of me) — you 
 never heard the reason for your uncle's re- 
 tirement from his profession? " 
 
 " No ; I confess I never heard any cause 
 assigned. Indeed, about the time, my 
 schooling removed me from my father's 
 house; and, my college course succeeding, 
 I was almost entirely a stranger to the do- 
 mestic roof; as, also, to much of the family 
 history."
 
 58 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 "It's on my mind ; and, doubtless, I shall 
 be able to trace it out. Yes ; it's like a dream 
 to me that I did hear some account of the 
 matter." 
 
 Not feeling quite certain whether my com- 
 panion addressed these words to me, or was 
 merely giving expression to his own train 
 of thought — the latter supposition appeared 
 to me the more probable — I made no attempt 
 to reply. In truth, much as my curiosity 
 had been of late aroused to learn if any 
 mystery did really hang over the house of 
 Ravensdale, I shrank from pushing my in- 
 quiries, or even evincing my ignorance, 
 before a comparative stranger. "A few 
 days' patience," thought I, " an d I shall 
 know all ; if, indeed , anything is to be 
 known." 
 
 But already my com panion — who ordi- 
 narily was far from betraying any want of 
 delicacy — had perceived my embarrassment, 
 if I might apply so strong a word to the 
 feeling which had thus momentarily exer- 
 cised influence over me. He now broke 
 in : —
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 59 
 
 " But enough on your side, Air. Feather- 
 stone. Change, long absence from home, 
 and a general smattering of European affairs, 
 have all lent their aid to mix up and 
 confound facts and occurrences in my poor 
 brain ; and, in all probability, I have been 
 associating your worthy uncle in my mind 
 with some Continental gossip, or diplomatic 
 secret. It is now time I should endeavour 
 to balance the account (more especially as I 
 am to regard you as our promised guest) by 
 informing you who and what are the persons 
 you are to meet at Tinnaheely Lodge — when 
 you honour its roof. To be brief — they 
 comprise myself and my sister, an old 
 bachelor and an old maid, who (proclaim it 
 not, ye discreet walls !) has, I believe, a 
 trifle the start of me in respect of years. If 
 your curiosity extends further to learn how I 
 became a sojourner in strange lands, the 
 record is at your service. While I was up 
 in town here attending to my college studies 
 (I will spare poor Tabby's feelings, and not 
 say how long ago) my sister managed our 
 few acres, and kept matters together.
 
 60 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 When I returned, with ' Bachelor of Arts ' 
 tacked to my name, I lacked the heart — 
 you may add the inclination, if you wish — to 
 take the control out of her hands. The soil 
 was poor — one of those light upland strips, 
 a cross between a mountain and moorland, 
 which much of the central portions of Wick- 
 low and Wexford consist of; with enough of 
 rocks and glens, brawling stream and thun- 
 dering waterfall to furnish out a decent page 
 in the guide-books, but ever crying to the 
 farmer, * Give, give,' instead of * Take, take; ' 
 and I possessed not the needful capital to 
 satisfy its hungry propensities. Cheese- 
 paring, if you will have observed, Mr. 
 Featherstone, is distinctly a female passion. 
 A man may be a miser or a spendthrift — 
 one extreme or the other ; but it is only a 
 woman who can pinch and squeeze under a 
 less reward than dying a half million or so 
 above or below zero. We lack ' management ' 
 — when we acquire it, it is with loss of ease 
 and temper. We chafe under the petty 
 contrivances and small shifts which the 
 womankind exalt into that virtue which is to
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 6 1 
 
 be its own recompense ; in a word, I take it 
 that you or I would sit at the head of a 
 stingy household with as ill a grace as we'd 
 move in petticoats, or set off the last new 
 style of bonnet. Had I made the attempt 
 to carry on Tinnaheely Farm, I should, most 
 probably, have impaired a naturally tolerable 
 peace of mind, and made a mess of the con- 
 cern. My sister, on the contrary, preserved 
 her placidity, and exhibited a clear balance- 
 sheet at the end of each year ; and — if the 
 truth must be told — has, ere this, come to 
 my assistance under a pinch. Well, that's 
 over now ; for, as I said, I am speaking of a 
 consideration of twenty years ago ; and, after 
 debating over the matter in my own mind, I 
 determined to leave farming to Tabby, who 
 had proved her right to it, and to seek for- 
 tune by some less uncongenial road. Most 
 roads, then, lead to London — to attempt but 
 a poor parody on the older dictum ; though 
 a young man with no particular talent, and 
 a purse all as one as empty, set a hard fight 
 before him twenty years ago in your capital, 
 Mr, Featherstone. I made effort to keep
 
 62 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 head above water by the exercise of my pen ; 
 I might have done better at it had I felt able 
 to attach myself to any one of the more 
 powerful political parties which then held the 
 chief patronage in their hands. But, unfor- 
 tunately — like most young men hot from the 
 universities — I was highly tinged with the 
 * Liberalism ' just struggling into light over 
 Europe. Your neighbours, the French, 
 shelved Liberalism for the day — and my pen 
 was idle. A poor commission in a marching 
 regiment was all my friends — patrons, if you 
 like, Mr. Featherstone — could place at my 
 disposal. Of course, I took it — anything 
 was better than going back to Tinnaheely, 
 with my finger in my mouth. As fortune 
 would have it, a succession of active service 
 enabled me to make it somewhat more re- 
 munerative than I could have originally 
 expected ; that is, I have brought back 
 enough to put the farm under a proper 
 system of cultivation, and to allow my sister 
 — and those under her rod — a little ease 
 from pinching and toil. There ! you have 
 the brief chronicle of Peter Ogleby, ex-
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 63 
 
 journalist, ex-captain, and now farmer ex- 
 pectant. Confess to a certain feeling of dis- 
 appointment. Your first specimen of an 
 Irishman on his native soil should carry 
 more prominently the features of his country. 
 I lack the imperial ideas of your own 
 countrymen — and, mayhap, talk too rea- 
 sonably for an aboriginal ; but, in truth, 
 travel has given me somewhat of a cosmo- 
 politan turn. Take me for a poor specimen 
 of the Travelled Irishman, and suspend your 
 final judgment until you meet the real un- 
 sophisticated native." 
 
 "Pray Heaven I fall into as safe hands, 
 Captain Ogleby ! " 
 
 "Well, well — keep your opinions to your- 
 self about the late Union — unless you can 
 abuse it ; and practice yourself a little more 
 perfectly in the poteen. There are bounds 
 to my countryman's patience, and if you 
 refuse to wax mellow at his bidding, I may 
 not answer for the consequences. But, be it 
 known to you, for politico-potatory discussions 
 (and their matutinal results) you are just now 
 going somewhat out of the Irish world, in
 
 64 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 your present trip to Wicklow. A little more 
 toward the west of the Shannon, or even in 
 this metropolis itself, were your stay to be 
 prolonged, I would recommend the addition 
 of a brace of hair-triggers to your qualifica- 
 tions as an Irish tourist. But, some five 
 years ago, you will bear in mind, the scourge 
 of war swept over that and the adjoining 
 county ' ' 
 
 "You allude, of course, to the rebellion 
 immediately preceding the Union ? " 
 
 " The same ; and the inhabitants, I sus- 
 pect, have had enough of fighting for some 
 time to come? " 
 
 " My relatives (pardon the interruption) — 
 my Irish relatives, I believe, bear a loyal 
 name?" 
 
 " Preeminently so, Whatever causes may 
 have influenced — rather, I should say (my 
 poor head rambles at times) — any disloyal 
 or unconstitutional act is the very last I 
 should expect to hear told of a Featherstone 
 of my day — I may not of course speak of the 
 young fry; and, indeed, it's like a dream to 
 me — not that that has any connexion— tush !
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 65 
 
 I wander — old Sir Percy was an independent 
 supporter of the Irish Administration — much 
 looked to for his influence with the peasantry, 
 which he always applied to conciliatory pur- 
 poses — and your uncles hold, or held, com- 
 missions in the peace. Though absent from 
 Ireland, my quondam connection with the 
 press kept me more or less au courant with 
 these matters ; — but where was I ?" 
 
 " You spoke of the consequences of the 
 Irish rebellion." 
 
 " Ay; you will find your neighbours, there- 
 fore, lying under a peaceful reaction. May 
 we hope — I have borne the King's cloth, Mr. 
 Featherstone — that the whirlwind has cleared 
 the political atmosphere ? — or are action and 
 reaction still further to repeat themselves ? 
 But our lights burn low ; and you will not be 
 prevailed upon to trust our mountain dew 
 further than a stranger's shake of the hand. 
 What say you ? Will you enter on your 
 poteen practice, or are you for making trial 
 of our landlord's sleeping arrangements ?" 
 
 I was not sorry to avail myself of the 
 choice, and at once elected for bed. In 
 
 vol. u 5
 
 H ----. DAM 
 
 ■ :-:'.r ::' ±e ] 
 
 : . - 
 
 -It r.e r my bead 
 'our when I I
 
 :, 
 
 T 
 
 z ::::: -.v;-.i. 
 i u~Vr:ke~ 
 
 streaming into my room; in another moment, 
 m y companion of the preceding day stood 
 
 a: n:y be-isiif. :".;'* y iressed. sr.ave-i. .\~ ;. 
 apparency e^uippe-i : : his r.ay's ;';urr.ey 
 
 Good gracious ! Captain Ogleby," I 
 hurriedly exclaimed ; " it is not possible I 
 have so completely overslept myself! Is 
 there danger, then, of again missing the 
 Wicklow coach?" 
 
 "No, no," replied he, laughing. "We have 
 time by the forelock to-day; and the apology 
 has to come entirely from me. By nature,
 
 68 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 or habit — it may be both — I rise early; and 
 this morning, after a vain attempt to beguile 
 the time by strolling through dark passages 
 and cheerless rooms, an uncontrollable 
 desire to anticipate our pre-agreed mode of 
 conveyance has got hold of me. I am come, 
 therefore, to say good-bye — or " 
 
 " Or what, Captain Ogleby?" 
 
 " Faith, to ask you to make a similar start 
 of it yourself. I know — or should know — a 
 short path across the Dublin Mountains, 
 which ought to be nothing to your young 
 legs ; the difference in point of expedition 
 will be met by our earlier start ; our ways do 
 not diverge until I have placed you almost 
 within sight of your destination. I am sending 
 on a few of my own belongings by coach, and 
 I can insure yours being delivered in safety.'' 
 
 " I should like the trip of all things." 
 
 " Your hand on it, then. In sooth, I so far 
 anticipated the success of my proposition as 
 to order a half-awake waiter, whom I stumbled 
 over, to lay a knife and fork for you. He is 
 now engaged in the preparation of a pan of 
 hot chops; for, though the journey may be
 
 THE JOURNEY RESUMED. 69 
 
 accomplished under some half- score of miles, 
 they are Irish miles, and up-hill ; and I 
 would not have you attempt them on an 
 insufficient foundation." 
 
 In a short time, my toilet was completed, 
 and I rejoined Captain Ogleby in the coffee- 
 room ; which, owing to the earliness of the 
 hour, we had to ourselves. During the few 
 intervening moments, he had apparently been 
 by no means idle. A very appetising little 
 meal now awaited us, to which the worthy 
 Captain pointed with a mingled expression 
 of pride and affection. 
 
 "I take no small credit to myself, Mr. 
 Featherstone, for my performances of the 
 morning. One of the housemaids found me 
 in despair over what refused to be a fire, and, 
 I confess, took that task out of my hands ; 
 but the rest I may say I had a chief share in 
 preparing — and I have just directed our 
 luggage to follow by coach. Five-and- 
 twenty minutes, or say the even half-hour, 
 for breakfast, and it must be a fast whip will 
 come up with us on this side of the Sugar- 
 loaf Mountain."
 
 70 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " Excellently done ! Mr. Featherstone — 
 with a minute or two to spare," said my 
 companion, as I rose from the breakfast- 
 table within the specified time; "and now 
 our little bill (reasonable enough, I must con- 
 fess) is settled — no words : you shall strike 
 an even balance when we get you at the 
 Lodge — and nothing remains to delay our 
 start." 
 
 Half-an-hour's walking through a portion 
 of the town, evidently once important, but 
 already exhibiting signs of decline, brought 
 us out on the Green of Harold's Cross. Here, 
 the land — rising, at first, by gentle and 
 almost imperceptible gradation, and then 
 more abruptly to the summit of the Dublin 
 range — lay expanded before us, and wholly 
 visible. 
 
 For some time, our way through this 
 ascending space — intimately associated with 
 the tale I am about to unfold — lay along 
 devious winding roads and cross-roads, over- 
 shadowed by large trees, now burst into 
 green leaf. Occasional breaks in the ranks 
 of these exhibited to much advantage the
 
 THE JOURNEY RESUMED. 7 I 
 
 mountain flanks on one side rising above us, 
 and, on the other, the valley of the Liffey 
 with the city we had just left, now sinking 
 lower and lower beneath us at every advance 
 we made. Ever and anon, we passed some 
 quaint old-fashioned road-side house, with 
 its high enclosing walls, closely-barred gate, 
 and other signs and symptoms of a silent 
 and mysterious isolation, which might have 
 made the fortune of a Minerva-press romance- 
 writer of the period. 
 
 A similar half-hour's walking had already 
 brought us to the village of Rathfarnham ; 
 a little beyond which we fairly counted our- 
 selves as actually on the flanks of the hilly 
 range. My companion, however, made no 
 attempt to breast the mountain side, but 
 skirting along, and amid, its lower portions, 
 followed some apparently well-remembered 
 path, for we had now completely abandoned 
 the road. As for our conversation, it could 
 not be fairly described as flagging. It might 
 be that each turn of the way, each new com- 
 bination of view, was recalling in my fellow- 
 traveller associations which, under less rigid
 
 72 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 rules of etiquette than those that guided him, 
 would have reduced him to silent reflection ; 
 or — and the supposition more than once 
 forced itself upon me — a guarded avoidance 
 of the subject of my family, even to the ex- 
 clusion of topics which might indirectly lead 
 to it, was producing in him a hesitation and 
 perplexity which, at times, did take the form 
 of silence, and, at best, of desultory con- 
 versation. 
 
 With myself, youth — unencumbered by 
 cares of any very considerable magnitude — 
 opposed no barriers to the inspiriting influ- 
 ence of the pure mountain air — the fragrant 
 odour from heath-bell, furze, and a various 
 hill-side flora which • breathed around — and 
 the delightful prospect growing more ex- 
 tended at every step we surmounted. Here, 
 we passed over a rising knoll sacred to the 
 purple heath, or bright yellow furze, alone. 
 Anon, we came upon a green ocean of fern, 
 through which the nut-brown, but transpa- 
 rent, streamlet brawled, leaping from rock 
 to rock, and forming here and there some 
 deeper pool ; presently, our path conducted
 
 THE JOURNEY RESUMED. 73 
 
 us through one of those woodland strips, 
 where the young fir and its various cone- 
 bearing brethren loaded the air with their 
 aromatic fragrance, and the native blue-bell, 
 in close and endless profusion, formed a 
 carpet for the foot. Such was my first ac- 
 quaintance with the beauties of the Dublin 
 Mountains — no unsubstantial creation of the 
 imagination. 
 
 We had now proceeded some miles along 
 the flanks of the range, and having again 
 struck the road, were approaching a some- 
 what singular natural feature. The moun- 
 tain-side, which we had now more fairly 
 directed our faces toward, bore the appear- 
 ence of having been cleft by a deep natural 
 chasm or cut, extending quite through the 
 hill; and as we entered upon " the Pass," a 
 shelving naked bank rose almost precipi- 
 tously on each side of us, consisting solely 
 of large granite blocks, heaped together in 
 the wildest confusion, and apparently ar- 
 rested, at some remote period, in their race 
 to fill up the rent which had been caused. 
 Through this our way wound, several blocks
 
 74 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 of stone, of the same size, having been rolled 
 to the road-side to make room for the ordi- 
 nary traffic. 
 
 " This," said my companion, ''is called 
 the Scalp — we now stand on the borders 
 of the two counties. Here we part ; your 
 way lies somewhat to the left. It is now 
 (here Captain Ogleby consulted his watch) 
 close upon noon. By following the path on 
 which we stand, you should reach Ballybay 
 a little on the other side of the hour. The 
 mountain mist is your only peril — and I doubt 
 not (with a glance to windward, and toward 
 the summits of the chief peaks) but it will 
 be strong up among the hills before day 
 declines. With moderate walking, however, 
 you should be long clear of this high table- 
 land, and, in fact, close on Ballybay, before 
 Douce, or the Keeper (properly, the Kippure 
 Mountain, to our right here) puts on his cap. 
 My way lies farther, and more to the right. 
 I would ask for your companionship through 
 a somewhat lonely tract of country, were it 
 not that the request might seem to outrage 
 all propriety, in the face of your present, and
 
 THE JOURNEY RESUMED. 75 
 
 more pressing, visit to your relatives. When 
 you report the claims of kindred as complied 
 with, I must then ask you to bear the Lodge 
 and its inhabitants in mind." 
 
 For the first time, it now occurred to me 
 that I had been somewhat wanting in my 
 own offers of hospitality — so far, at least, as 
 the close relationship existing between my- 
 self and the inmates of Ravensdale House 
 might warrant me in making them. This, in 
 all probability, was now the more conspicu- 
 ously brought before my mind on mention 
 of the much farther distance which yet lay 
 between my companion and the termination 
 of his journey. I, therefore, replied — though 
 not, perhaps, wholly without some hesitation, 
 arising from my very slight acquaintance 
 with the circumstances and peculiarities — if 
 they had any of note — of the persons I was 
 about to visit. 
 
 " I could not, I fear, with any regard 
 to good manners, delay much longer my 
 appearance at Ravensdale House. My 
 father spoke of writing — in any case, 
 my arrival is expected about this time.
 
 76 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Possibly, however, Captain Ogleby lies 
 under no similar necessity ? The visit is my 
 first to my Irish relatives ; but I do not think 
 I take too much upon myself, even setting 
 aside all considerations of Irish hospitality, 
 in assuring a welcome from my uncle." 
 
 " No, no, my young friend — at least, not 
 now. Old maids are apt to grow fidgety 
 (forbye, it's in the family), and if my appear- 
 ance were delayed much beyond the arrival 
 of the Dublin coach, Heaven knows what 
 accidents by flood and field (by which you 
 must understand the English packet and the 
 mountain mist) might fill my sister's head ! 
 When you have fulfilled a kinsman's duties, 
 and paid your own promised visit to the 
 Lodge, you shall find me a more ready 
 guest at the Valley of the Ravens. As for 
 the journey now before me, I shall be guided 
 by circumstances. If my legs betray indica- 
 tions of failing me, I shall allow myself to be 
 picked up by the coach. In any case, I am 
 pretty sure of * a lift ' from some returning 
 Wicklow or Gorey farmer." 
 
 And so saying, with a friendly shake of
 
 THE JOURNEY RESUMED. 77 
 
 the hand, Captain Ogleby turned from the 
 spot ; and, in a few moments more, his 
 portly form was completely hidden from view 
 by the foliage, and devious nature of the 
 path down which he was descending.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A HILL- SIDE ADVENTURE. 
 
 MY own path lay before me, pretty ac- 
 curately defined ; and with another 
 glance at the one or two " bearings " which 
 Captain Ogleby had desired me to use as 
 additional safeguards, I struck into it. 
 
 I had advanced, however, but a little way, 
 when the noise of a vehicle in rapid motion 
 struck on my ears. In a few moments more, 
 a turn of the path disclosed the high road 
 (which I had recently abandoned), pursuing 
 its winding course almost under me, while 
 on it a small and light carriage, drawn by 
 two horses, was approaching with great 
 rapidity the singular cleft in the mountain, 
 where I had so lately parted from my com- 
 panion. From the appearance and move-
 
 A HILL-SIDE ADVENTURE. 79 
 
 ment of the animals, I could have little 
 doubt that thsy were in actual and uncon- 
 trolled flight, though, as they were now 
 breasting, or at least partially breasting, the 
 hill-side, their motion was somewhat retarded 
 by that circumstance, and I trembled to 
 think what fearful acceleration of speed the 
 vehicle might receive when it had reached 
 the Scalp, and the road thence lay entirely 
 down hill. Nor will the reader consider my 
 expressions of feeling exaggerated when I 
 inform him that the carriage, now almost 
 under me, contained the single figure of a 
 young and graceful girl, while the reins had 
 escaped from the vehicle so as to be wholly 
 irrecoverable by her. 
 
 The descent to the road, though steep, was 
 sufficiently protected by underwood, of which 
 I could have availed myself. And there was 
 yet time for me, had my efforts taken this 
 course, to stand before the runaway horses. 
 I perceived, however, that the side of the 
 road opposite to that over which I stood was 
 wholly unprotected, forming, in fact, the 
 shelving slope of the hill round which the
 
 80 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 road itself was winding ; nor could I doubt 
 that the least deviation of the horses, so 
 likely to occur in any efforts I might make to 
 stop them, would have inevitably sent steeds, 
 carriage, and its fair occupant to the bottom 
 of the deep and dark valley which lay below. 
 On the other hand, there was yet time for 
 me to regain the Scalp, where both sides of 
 the road were fully protected by high cliffs. 
 The difference in distance, to me and the 
 carriage, was very greatly in my favour, 
 when measured against the winding road ; 
 while, as my path had been somewhat as- 
 cending, I had now the further advantage 
 of an incline to run down ; that is to say, 
 while my course lay down the chord of an 
 arc, the carriage would be obliged to traverse 
 that arc itself. 
 
 To deliberate was to lose every hope of 
 affording assistance, and scarcely had my 
 eye taken in the whole scene when I was 
 again hurrying along the way which I had 
 so lately trod. The carriage was now 
 wholly hidden from sight, though the sound 
 informed me it was still in rapid motion ;
 
 A HILL-SIDE ADVENTURE. 8 1 
 
 and with this sound in my ears, I re-entered 
 the Pass, and — time still permitting — pro- 
 ceeded hastily up it, in order that the horses 
 might get well into the defile before they 
 obtained view of me. Scarcely had I done 
 so when the animals appeared at the en- 
 trance. They were now on level, if not 
 actually descending ground, and their acce- 
 leration of speed was at once apparent. 
 Quickly retiring behind one of the large 
 boulders, or blocks of stone, which stood by 
 the road- side, within a few feet of which the 
 carriage must pass, I awaited its approach. 
 In a moment, steeds and carriage were upon 
 me. Heedless of the cloud of mingled dust 
 and spray, I fixed my eye on the bridle-rein 
 which depended from the flake-covered bit, 
 and was so fortunate as to find it firmly in 
 my grasp. On bit and bridle, I could not 
 but feel, now hung, in no small measure, the 
 fate of us all ; had either given way, steeds 
 and carriage must have passed over me, and 
 the horses, driven desperate by my sudden 
 and unexpected apparition, would have 
 plunged madly down the mountain side. 
 vol. i. 6
 
 #2 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 But both were good, and well sustained the 
 pressure and weight of my body, now, of 
 necessity, thrown upon them. I was carried 
 several yards in advance, but by the time 
 the vehicle had lost its vis momenti we all 
 stood panting on the road-side in the midst 
 of the Pass — the horses fairly on their 
 haunches, I, hatless, and gazing on an ex- 
 ceedingly beautiful young girl, who had 
 successfully maintained her position in the 
 carriage. 
 
 I was about to address some words of 
 inquiry, as well as I was able, to this young 
 lady, when a loud voice on the road — partly 
 accosting myself, and partly my new com- 
 panion — drew my attention. 
 
 " Splendidly done! my dear young 
 friend. Not hurt, Lucy ? — God be praised ! 
 Splendidly done, indeed, my dear sir. I saw 
 you on the height over the road, and was 
 apprehensive you should endeavour to stop 
 the carriage there — shouted with all my 
 might — suppose I might as reasonably have 
 attempted to direct some one in the moon. 
 Excellent thought of you to make for the
 
 A HILL-SIDE ADVENTURE. 8$ 
 
 Scalp ! — saw your purpose, and hurried on 
 after you." 
 
 The stranger, who now restored to me my 
 hat, and grasped me most cordially by the 
 hand, was a tall elderly man, of unmistake- 
 ably dignified presence. As he stood by the 
 young lady for the purpose of further as- 
 suring himself of her perfect safety, I could 
 have no doubt that I gazed on father and 
 daughter. Words the fair occupant of the 
 carriage had none for me just at present — 
 but if a glistening eye, and a set of features 
 charmingly struggling between a natural 
 bashfulness and a desire to express frank 
 gratefulness, could be taken as their sub- 
 stitute, I was already rewarded. After a 
 moment spent in mutual congratulations, 
 the elderly gentleman again turned toward 
 me. Now that first excitement had in some 
 measure subsided, I could perceive that his 
 features and bearing were expressive of a 
 certain grave seriousness, apparently the 
 result of habitual exercise ; to which, rather 
 than to any natural gift of outward form, 
 was doubtless attributable that dignity of
 
 84 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 demeanour just alluded to ; deprived of this, 
 the stranger before me would have still been 
 a benevolent-looking man, but without any 
 particular mark of dignity. 
 
 " I got down to adjust a trace — unluckily 
 without a firm hold of the reins — extremely 
 careless on my part : we must not, my love, 
 come to town without attendance again. 
 Well, well, all's well that ends well. But get 
 into the carriage — plenty of room ; doubtless 
 you are for town ? No fear of the cattle — 
 they seem quiet enough now." 
 
 " I have just come from Dublin," I re- 
 plied, glancing, not without regret, at the 
 seat which the fair Lucy herself was setting 
 aside for me on this intimation from her 
 father. 
 
 " Ah ! and I must be at Court by twelve. 
 Go you far into the county Wicklow ? — 
 surely we are not to part thus ! Lucy, my 
 love, what is to be done ? If you should 
 happen to be in the neighbourhood of St. 
 Kevin's, you might relieve us somewhat of 
 our load. Perhaps you will bear the address 
 in mind? My daughter, Miss Warden,
 
 A HILL-SIDE ADVENTURE. 85 
 
 whom you have so gallantly rescued — pos- 
 sibly the name of John Warden, that which 
 I have previously borne, is not unfamiliar to 
 your ears ? ' ' 
 
 My knowledge of Irish affairs, short as it 
 was, enabled me to find that I was now in 
 conversation with a dignitary of the Irish 
 Judicial Bench, whose public services and 
 acknowledged reputation for wisdom and 
 moderation in the late most critical times, 
 had procured his recent elevation to the 
 peerage, under the title of Lord Kill- 
 grove. 
 
 " I am on my way to Ravensdale House, 
 my lord," I replied, ''to visit my rela- 
 tives." 
 
 "Ah! a relative of my old friend, Allen 
 Featherstone — not his son, surely? — not 
 Leslie Featherstone?" — and Lord Kill- 
 grove's countenance for a moment grew 
 almost severe. "But no, no; I see you 
 must be at least three or four years younger 
 — though a Featherstone; yes, most certainly 
 a Featherstone." 
 
 "I am a nephew of Mr. Allen Feather-
 
 86 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 stone, just come over from England for the 
 first time." 
 
 "Yes, yes; I might have known. Poor 
 fellow ! poor fellow ! Young man — my dear 
 young friend, be wise ; be prudent : we live 
 in difficult times, apt to mislead the young 
 and generous mind. Will you give my kind 
 remembrance to my very esteemed friend, 
 your uncle ? We were rivals — friendly rivals, 
 for many years, at the Bar. Egad ! I might 
 be plain John Warden still, had Allen 
 Featherstone continued the contest. Well, 
 well ; I did my utmost to commit professional 
 suicide by stoutly advising him against the 
 course he pursued ; but it was not to be. 
 Lucy, my love, will you not bid good-bye to 
 our friend, Mr. Featherstone? Plenty of 
 shooting and fishing about St. Kevin's, if 
 they lie in your way." 
 
 Thus called upon, the fair Lucy blushed — 
 hesitated — and, with a still glistening eye, 
 held forth a small hand, which clasped — 
 sensibly clasped — mine for a moment ; and, 
 in a few moments more, I was, for the second 
 time, standing alone in the mountain Pass.
 
 A HILL- SIDE ADVENTURE. 87 
 
 Thus, anon thinking over my unexpected 
 adventure, and now busied in anticipations 
 of my visit to the Valley of the Ravens, I 
 struck into the path pointed out to me by 
 Captain Ogleby — and, at length, made a 
 fair start of it.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 
 
 FOR some time, the thick underwood 
 and the gently undulating character of 
 the ground afforded a pleasing contrast to 
 the barren and abrupt ruggedness of the 
 Scalp. Presently, however, these signs dis- 
 appeared, and I found myself entering upon 
 an apparently unproductive district, most 
 sparingly interspersed with a few wretched 
 cabins, or hovels, of the peasantry. Annexed 
 to each of these latter was a small and most 
 miserable-looking patch of cultivation — if, 
 indeed, it deserved the name, appearing very 
 little better than the surrounding common. 
 Gradually, too, even these vestiges of human 
 habitation became more rare. At length, 
 my course lay through an elevated, unin- 
 habited tract of table-land, composed of the
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 89 
 
 real Irish peat, or bog, thinly clothed with 
 heath and furze — not without a marshy spot 
 here and there. This would have afforded 
 me but slight concern, as — having previously 
 learned that Ravensdale House lay in a com- 
 paratively fertile district — I was in momentary 
 expectation of seeing before me a drier and 
 more inviting portion of country. But a new 
 and far greater source of uneasiness was now 
 rapidly disclosing itself. The sun, which 
 had hitherto appeared in unclouded majesty 
 overhead, was becoming more and more 
 obscured, and a dense fine vapour, borne on 
 the wings of a light breeze, was descending 
 down the sides of the higher headlands, and 
 threatening every moment to envelope the 
 entire scene in complete obscurity. The 
 Sugar-loaf and one or two other heights 
 loomed shapeless, and more gigantic still, 
 for a while — and then were entirely blotted 
 out. Nor could T say how long the path, or 
 half-formed road, on which I trod would be 
 allowed to preserve sufficient indications to 
 enable me to distinguish it from the sur- 
 rounding tract. To lose one's way, or
 
 90 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 become benighted, in this inhospitable waste, 
 afforded a prospect by no means cheering, 
 and, insensibly, I continued to quicken my 
 pace, notwithstanding all peril of pitfall and 
 precipice. The curlew uttered his singularly 
 lone and melancholy cry as he rose on the 
 wing at my approach. The snipe started 
 from his marshy bed, and cleaving the thick 
 dull air in his peculiar zigzag movement, was 
 soon lost to sight in the impenetrable gloom 
 which hung around. The lapwing, indeed, 
 idly flapped about my head for some time 
 longer; but she too, rightly inferring that her 
 nest was free from detection on such a day, 
 grew less frequent in her gyrations, and 
 eventually vanished behind the same dark 
 curtain. At length, the sun — shorn of every 
 beam, and not without difficulty distinguish- 
 able as to his position in the heavens — was 
 the one sole object of nature, animate or 
 inanimate, which remained visible — and the 
 mountain mist had fairly closed around me. 
 
 How long I had adhered to the path, I was 
 unable to judge ; that I was no longer upon it, 
 appeared to admit of little doubt. The ground
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 9 1 
 
 on which I now trod was entirely composed 
 of furze, peat, and a very much thicker crop 
 of heath, with occasional shallow pools, or 
 " flashes " of water. A certain cold, chilling 
 atmosphere, too, furnished an additional 
 reason for my supposing that I was in the 
 midst of a large tract of bog land. The surface 
 of the ground had now become somewhat 
 more level, and, as I continued to proceed, the 
 mist, which had hitherto lain close on the soil 
 — mingling, indeed, with the heather-bell and 
 bog lichens — now began to exhibit signs of 
 rising to a higher altitude above the surface. 
 Partially encouraging as these latter symp- 
 toms might appear — indicating, at least, that 
 I had reached a comparatively lower and 
 more level tract of country — they were, how- 
 ever, wholly overbalanced by another circum- 
 stance, which I could not regard without a 
 certain feeling of uneasiness ; if my manhood 
 would not allow me to say of alarm. I was 
 unable to resist the impression that for some 
 time now (on the most moderate calculation, 
 I must have been walking for three, or, 
 perhaps, four hours, since I had parted from
 
 92 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 my companion of the morning) I was no 
 longer alone in my journey. It is true that 
 I heard nothing, and the little I saw failed, 
 on closer inspection, to give strength to any 
 such supposition. Yet when I had again 
 resumed my course after every such inspec- 
 tion, and had succeeded in turning my 
 thoughts to other and more distant objects, 
 something very like a human head, enveloped 
 in a cap, appeared to me, ever and anon, to 
 rise above some acclivity close by, and then 
 sink out of sight again ; and, more than 
 once, I could not divest myself of the feeling 
 that the barrel of a gun was discernible amid 
 a neighbouring furze-bush. I hastened to 
 the acclivity, indeed ; but the rising mist 
 showed me nothing visible in the human 
 form. I struck the furze-bush with my stick, 
 but it only swayed mournfully to and fro in 
 the vapour-laden air. That I could hear 
 nothing, was of little account toward assuring 
 me ; the springy nature of the soil would 
 have permitted even a large body of men 
 to pass noiselessly over the wastes which I 
 was now treading ; while, had concealment
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 93 
 
 from view been desirable on the part of any- 
 one, the heath-clad surface, the large clumps 
 of furze scattered here and there, and the 
 mist which still continued to hang in clouds 
 and patches around, afforded endless facility. 
 The reader is at liberty to form what ideas 
 he may please on the amount of fortitude 
 evinced by me on this occasion. Truth 
 obliges me to confess that the feeling, having 
 its source in fact or fancy, of being thus 
 watched, and my footsteps followed, through 
 these dreary wastes and partial obscurity, 
 came, in time, to take so firm a hold upon 
 me as to threaten, if much longer indulged 
 in, to prove well-nigh intolerable. Reason, 
 it is true, assured me that no attempt on my 
 life could be intended ; if it were really a gun 
 which I was under the belief of beholding, 
 its unseen owner had had abundant opportu- 
 nities for lodging its contents in my body ; 
 for I had not the least doubt that I was now 
 in the midst of a large and uninhabited tract, 
 and the mist, even thus rent and partially 
 dispersed, still lingered in sufficient force to 
 render all objects invisible at any considerable
 
 94 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 distance. My assassination would therefore 
 be unseen ; while the report of firearms — if 
 heard at all, a most unlikely supposition — 
 would, doubtless, be attributed to the gun of 
 a fowler, or some citizen sportsman come 
 out from the neighbouring metropolis for a 
 day's shooting. Simple robbery without 
 violence — or with the least violence possible 
 — was not perhaps a supposition so untenable 
 as ihe former. But setting aside the security 
 of the empty, or comparatively empty, tra- 
 veller, I had the further one of considering 
 myself quite competent to cope, hand to 
 hand, with a single assailant: and no stretch 
 of my fancy had hitherto conjured up more 
 than one cap, and one barrel of a gun, at a 
 time. But if apprehension was thus slight, or 
 groundless, on the score of reason, the powers 
 of the imagination are not at all times 
 amenable to its control. And thus, while all 
 idea of spiritual or ghostly agency was the 
 farthest from my thoughts, one good look, face 
 to face, at a real man, with a cap and a gun, 
 would have done more to reassure me than 
 all my efforts of pure argument.
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 95 
 
 Having continued my journey for some 
 time under these far from agreeable sensa- 
 tions, I at length, and as a last resource, 
 formed the resolve to put an end to them by 
 fixedly, and more permanently, concentrating 
 my ideas on some other subject. My best 
 course of proceeding in the face of the coming 
 night, being that one which most appropriately 
 presented itself to me, I determined to give 
 my whole mind to its consideration. With 
 which purpose, I took my seat on a neigh- 
 bouring knoll, the highest I could find. 
 
 I looked to the sun, and found — as well as 
 I could define the position of that luminary — 
 that he had yet some hours to run ; besides 
 which, I might fairly calculate on an hour or 
 so of twilight. I was obliged to confess to 
 myself that symptoms of fatigue were already 
 making themselves known to me ; but, on a 
 pinch, I felt equal to a few hours' more 
 walking — my only perplexity being whither 
 to direct my steps ; or, in other words, by 
 what course lay the most feasible exit from 
 this cheerless tract. I could have no doubt 
 now that I had wandered into that elevated
 
 96 RAYENSDALE. 
 
 plateau, which (so Captain Ogleby had in- 
 formed me) traversed the whole of the central 
 portion of Wicklow, entering at its northern 
 boundary, and making its exit through the 
 southern confines of the county. On the 
 other hand, the east and west portions of the 
 county, running on either side of this central 
 strip, were (the same informant had given 
 me to understand) considerably lower, and 
 contained good level soil. As I approached 
 either of these side portions, I had little 
 doubt that I would soon fall in with human 
 habitations again. Thus my most advisable 
 course evidently lay in pursuing a direct 
 path, due east or west, as long as my powers 
 of endurance enabled me. The sun was now 
 sinking toward the west, and so far might be 
 taken as a pretty tolerable guide in adhering 
 to a straight line. The task before me was 
 by no means inviting. But it was the best 
 — if not the only one — which suggested itself 
 to me ; and I started up, with fresh alacrity, 
 to enter upon it. 
 
 For the first half-hour or so, the country 
 continued to preserve the same appearance
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 97 
 
 of flat unprofitable bog, bearing the like 
 plentiful crop of heath. But, gradually, I 
 became aware that I was entering upon a 
 more hilly portion. I passed some eminences 
 on my right hand and left ; and others, of 
 much greater altitude, lay before me. Gazing 
 on their heights, I was paying but slight 
 attention to the intervening space, when 
 suddenly I found myself on the margin of a 
 small circular lake, and perceived my course 
 in that direction completely arrested. In- 
 deed, the body of water on which I now 
 looked was enclosed on all quarters — except 
 that by which I had gained access to it — by 
 lofty mountainous sides ; and, had I been 
 able by any means to cross the lake, all 
 further progress up these perfectly pre- 
 cipitous heights seemed impossible. The 
 contents of the lake were of the deepest 
 tinge which I had yet seen, doubtless from 
 the peaty character of the soil; and the 
 inclosing sides, or walls, rising out of the 
 water, and towering high above, added in 
 no small degree to invest the whole scene 
 with a singularly gloomy appearance. Nay. 
 vol. i. 7
 
 98 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 the sun — as it were to intensify this latter 
 
 effect — was just then sinking behind the 
 
 overhanging mountain which rose on the 
 
 side of the lake opposite to me, and flung a 
 
 gigantic shadow across the surface of the 
 
 water, and far into the heath -covered shore 
 
 on which I was standing. I gazed on him 
 
 as long as a portion of his disk was visible, 
 
 not without a certain feeling of fascination : 
 
 with his swift disappearance — and I could 
 
 almost mark the progress of his descent 
 
 behind the mountain — my last hope of 
 
 escape from these inhospitable wilds seemed 
 
 passing away. Another moment, and he 
 
 had plunged out of view. The vast black 
 
 mass of the mountain lay between me and 
 
 the luminary, and I turned for relief toward 
 
 the other objects of the landscape. For the 
 
 first time, I now perceived a human figure 
 
 standing within a few feet of me. My 
 
 previous preoccupation, and the springy 
 
 nature of the soil already alluded to, were 
 
 quite enough in themselves to account for 
 
 the approach of this person being unnoticed 
 
 by me — had any thoughts of a ghostly, or
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 99 
 
 immaterial, nature obtained previous hold 
 on my mind, or now found admission from 
 the singularly sombre and desolate character 
 of the scene which surrounded us. But the 
 appearance of the individual which now met 
 my gaze — though sufficiently striking and 
 remarkable at any period or place — was 
 calculated at once to convince me that I had 
 a real person of flesh and blood to deal with ; 
 while the attitude, manner, and bearing were 
 certainly more those of one who stood 
 on the defensive — and habitually so stood — 
 than those of an actual aggressor. I make 
 this explanation more in reference to pre- 
 vious sensations, already recorded by me, 
 than to any apprehension which so sudden 
 an apparition in the midst of these dreary 
 wastes might be calculated to draw forth ; 
 once thus brought face to face with mortal 
 mould, my principal idea was that of aid 
 in escaping from my hitherto purposeless 
 wanderings. 
 
 The person who now stood within a yard 
 or so of me, on the margin of this dark and 
 motionless body of water, might be about
 
 100 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 six feet, or nearly six feet in stature — though 
 an apparently habitual stoop in his shoulders 
 deprived him of an inch or so of his natural 
 height. Notwithstanding this stoop, how- 
 ever, and some stoutness of form, his appear- 
 ance gave indications of considerable bodily 
 activity. His complexion was ruddy, and a 
 lively, clear, and penetrating eye — which 
 was now by no means unobservant of my 
 movements — contributed to create an im- 
 pression not at all unfavourable in the mind 
 of the beholder. In social position, I should 
 have placed him somewhat above that of the 
 peasantry whom I had yet met — and, indeed, 
 a certain air of decision, and even of autho- 
 rity, aided to elevate him still further above 
 this class. A gun, the stock of which rested 
 on the turf at his foot, the barrel being held 
 lightly in his left hand, might have given 
 him the appearance of a fowler; to which 
 impression, a bag, or netting, slung round 
 his shoulder, and stocked to repletion with 
 hares, widgeon, snipe, and other game (in 
 which I had previously ample testimony that 
 these mountainous tracts abounded), lent
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 101 
 
 additional colouring. But a brace of pistols 
 equally conspicuous in the belt which en- 
 compassed his waist was not similarly ex- 
 plainable, while a semi-transparent horn, 
 rudely fashioned into a shot-pouch at one 
 end, was sufficiently capacious to afford sus- 
 picions of other more bulky contents, in the 
 shape of ball cartridge, at the other and 
 larger extremity. As his left hand main- 
 tained the barrel of the gun in its upright 
 position, I was able to observe that it was to 
 some slight extent injured, though evidently 
 not to such a degree as to hinder its owner 
 making use of it. In England, the word 
 " poacher" might have possibly risen to my 
 lips on contemplating this figure. But I 
 had previously heard from my friend, Cap- 
 tain Ogleby, that no efforts had been as yet 
 made to preserve these tracts of mountain 
 and bog — at all events, on their Wicklow 
 side ; and that they were free to all who 
 could command the necessary time and 
 materials for bagging their game. Here, 
 then, a poacher, in the ordinary acceptation 
 of the term, could have no real existence.
 
 102 RAVENS DALE. 
 
 My chief impression in gazing on this 
 somewhat singular-looking person was that 
 plain dealing held out to me the best, and 
 indeed only hope of quieting suspicion and 
 obtaining my needful information. Without 
 any appearance of show, his eyes had been 
 hitherto narrowly scanning my movements, 
 and, so far from making advance, he had, as 
 yet, not even recognised my presence by 
 word or gesture — a most unusual proceeding, 
 I had already opportunities for observing, 
 among the Irish peasantry and small-farmer 
 class, whose ready "God save you kindly," 
 seldom failed to meet the wayfarer's ear. 
 
 " I started from Dublin, this morning, 
 and have lost my way among these moun- 
 tains." 
 
 " Naithless," was the sole exclamation of 
 my new acquaintance, apparently uttered 
 under the impression that my statement was 
 quite superfluous, and that I had yet to come 
 to the gist of the matter. 
 
 " I am bound for Ravensdale House — can 
 you put me on the straight course again ? 
 I am a relative of Mr. Allen Featherstone."
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. IO3 
 
 "Ay — that's true enough. Your Saxon 
 tongue can't hide a Featherstone." 
 
 Somewhat encouraged by this recognition 
 (if I might so understand it) of the truth of 
 my assertion — whether attributable to face, 
 figure, or manner I was ignorant — I was 
 about to repeat my request, when the stranger 
 again proceeded, — 
 
 "You are now ten good miles from the 
 Glen of the Ravens — and have been turn- 
 ing your back upon it for some hours. 
 Are you man enough for the journey, when 
 you are put on the road?" — And he of the 
 gun glanced at my travel-stained limbs in a 
 manner which seemed to infer little doubt 
 as to the answer which conscience must 
 prompt. 
 
 In truth, after a whole day spent in walk- 
 ing and strict fast, ten such miles as these 
 I had more lately waded through, and under 
 impending night, did appear to me to lie 
 beyond my present powers of endurance. 
 Without any direct reply, therefore, I turned 
 to some less doubtful alternative. 
 
 " Is there not some house of entertainment
 
 104 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 nearer, then ? — I have not met any 
 signs of human habitation for some hours 
 now." 
 
 " Nor will — for some hours to come. You 
 are now in the midst of an uninhabited bog, 
 stretching- away for miles on every side of 
 you." 
 
 Where the person who thus addressed me 
 intended to make his own residence for the 
 coming night — or whether he felt his legs 
 sufficiently strong to carry him to more hos- 
 pitable regions — was a consideration which 
 naturally occurred to my mind, but which I 
 forbore to give voice to, as savouring too 
 strongly of the inquisitive. Again, there- 
 fore, I was obliged to turn to other possibi- 
 lities of the case. 
 
 " Then, there remains nothing for it but 
 to pass the night on the heath ?" 
 
 "It is not come to that with a Feather- 
 stone yet. There is another course — but on 
 conditions." 
 
 " And what may those conditions be ? " 
 
 "That you use not your eyes now — nor 
 your tongue hereafter ! Are these terms
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. IO5 
 
 less inviting than a supperless bed, and the 
 mountain mist for your blanket?" 
 
 I confess the allusion to supper (my break- 
 fast had been a very early one), however 
 vague and indirect it might be accounted, 
 went a very considerable way toward mode- 
 rating the startling nature of this proposal. 
 Yet, as his conditions were couched in some- 
 what enigmatical language (I had already 
 observed that, whether from habit or incli- 
 nation, the stranger seemed to encourage a 
 certain abruptness, and even sententiousness, 
 of style in his ordinary address), I was not 
 disinclined to learn his meaning more fully. 
 
 "As to my silence, I can have no objec- 
 tion to make promise of that — so long as I 
 am not made a participator in any illegal act. 
 How to prevent my eyes from seeing, I con- 
 fess I cannot so clearly understand — unless 
 I blindfold them?" 
 
 The stranger made a slight inclination of 
 his head — the first I had yet observed — as 
 if in acknowledgment of my readiness of 
 apprehension — and then added — " I have 
 trusted my life, young man, on the word of
 
 106 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 a Featherstone ere now, and am willing to 
 do so again. But I am not at equal liberty 
 to expose the lives and secrets of others, 
 however small I may account the risk. Fol- 
 low me blindfolded, or follow not at all." 
 
 These words were said not without an air 
 of rough, native dignity ; whatever hesitation 
 I might have previously had to trust myself 
 so implicitly into the hands of a stranger, 
 they went far, at least, by the air of sincerity 
 and truth which they carried with them, to 
 remove any impression of personal danger 
 to myself. It was, therefore, in all proba- 
 bility with a view to tone down any appear- 
 ance of a too ready acceptance, that I found 
 myself making reply — it may be, too, in 
 somewhat of his own style — so infectious is 
 mannerism. 
 
 " You may account your affairs as still in 
 your own keeping, so far as tongue of mine 
 is concerned. The falling night appears to 
 me about to place a like restraint upon 
 my eyesight, without resort to other 
 means." 
 
 "There are two good hours to night yet,"
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. 107 
 
 said the stranger. " The Keeper stands be- 
 tween us and daylight ; on the other side of 
 the mountain, the sun is yet high in the 
 heavens. But use your eyes" (doubtless, 
 from long habit, as well, perhaps, as natural 
 penetration, he had already perceived that it 
 was my intention to accept his terms,) " as 
 long as you may — the way here is rough, and 
 you will have to traverse it alone in the 
 morning. When we approach our destina- 
 tion, I will speak — after that, I hold a 
 Featherstone's word." 
 
 So saying, he turned from the spot, and led 
 the way, for some time, in a southern direc- 
 tion, so I was able to learn from the position 
 of the sun ; w T hich, as soon as we had ad- 
 vanced out of the shadow of the huge moun- 
 tain mass, did indeed appear still high in 
 the sky. 
 
 Half an hour's brisk walking brought us 
 to the entrance of a valley, between two 
 neighbouring hills, up which my companion 
 proceeded; and, on our arrival at its termi- 
 ation, or rather gradual opening out into a 
 heath-covered plain, informed me that I must
 
 108 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 now enter upon the conditions proposed by 
 him. I bound a handkerchief tightly around 
 my temples, and we again proceeded at a 
 somewhat slower pace. 
 
 An indistinct noise, which had been gradu- 
 ally gaining in strength as we continued our 
 progress, was now sufficiently audible to in- 
 form me that it proceeded from a body of 
 falling water; and, in a short time, it became 
 evident that we were bearing down upon it. 
 Indeed, at a sudden turn of the path, the 
 sound struck upon my ear with redoubled 
 force, and I conjectured that we could not be 
 many paces from one of those cascades, which 
 tumbling from a great height, and almost 
 perpendicularly, furnish so frequent a feature 
 of this portion of the country ; deriving their 
 thunders more from the high precipitous 
 nature of their fall, than the comparatively 
 small volume of water they possess — at least, 
 in the summer season. At this point, my 
 companion took me by the arm ; but, so far 
 from diverging from the direction of the 
 waterfall, we appeared to me to be actually 
 advancing into it.
 
 THE MOUNTAIN MIST. IO9 
 
 "If," said the stranger, " he were not a 
 Featherstone I held, I would say, fear not. 
 Your forefathers feared neither man nor 
 devil." 
 
 Whether assured by his words, or desirous 
 of upholding the honour of the family name — 
 now unexpectedly intrusted to my keeping — 
 I spoke not, and endeavoured to direct my 
 advance with as little appearance of hesita- 
 tion as possible. I could have little doubt 
 now that we were actually passing, or about 
 to pass, behind the body of falling water — 
 that is, between the cascade and the high rock 
 or ledge to which it owed its origin. The 
 thunder resounded in my ears, a light 
 spray plentifully bedewed my cheek, a sharp 
 turn seemed to cut off the wild din of waters 
 behind us ; and my companion informed me 
 that I was again at liberty to use my eyes.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. 
 
 THE permission did not seem likely to be 
 of much avail to me at first. I could 
 barely perceive that I stood in the middle of 
 a large cavern or grotto, formed, apparently 
 by nature, in the solid rock ; but the very 
 small amount of light at my disposal was 
 insufficient to enable me to distinguish 
 clearly any of the objects which it contained. 
 A light, however, there was, and I had little 
 difficulty in tracing its source (assisted, as I 
 was, by my olfactory nerves, which assured 
 me of the presence of peat smoke) to a few 
 sods of turf which smouldered in a portion 
 of the cave — doubtless used as a fireplace. 
 I could further perceive the dim outline 
 of my companion, bending over this fireplace,
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. I I I 
 
 or, rather, hearth — for the embers rested on 
 the solid rock flooring of the cavern — and 
 endeavouring, by help of one of the burning 
 sods, to ignite a strip of wood — which my 
 Irish lore led me at once to conjecture to be 
 the native " bog-deal," so generally used by 
 the peasantry of the more retired districts as 
 a substitute for candles, And truly, had I 
 much of an eye for picturesque effect at the 
 time, the scene at this portion of the cham- 
 ber was not unworthy of a glance. In one 
 hand, the stranger held the partially burning 
 sod, in the other the strip of bog-deal ; and 
 blew the former (no ordinary bellows, I am 
 sure, ever emitted so long, so continuous, 
 and so steady a blast), until he had raised a 
 red glow, and eventually a flame ; while his 
 bending form, with its half-sportsman, half- 
 lawless appearance — the glare thrown full on 
 his face in its close proximity to the burning 
 peat, and reflecting a set of features (his head 
 was now uncovered), neither unprepossessing 
 nor unintellectual — and the various other 
 portions of the cavern exhibiting each its 
 distinct hue of impenetrable darkness,
 
 112 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 gloom, and partial light, — all went to the 
 formation of a picture which might have 
 well merited the attention of a painter seek- 
 ing suggestions in the mysteries of light and 
 shade. Presently, he had succeeded in his 
 efforts, and attaching the flaming strip to a 
 very primitive-looking candlestick (to wit, a 
 moveable upright post, or pillar, of wood, 
 standing about a yard high, and placed in 
 the middle of the floor), he next proceeded 
 to divest himself of his game-bag, pouch, etc. 
 
 The whole chamber was now fully lit up, 
 and as my host appeared to place no restraint 
 whatever on my observation (indeed, having 
 once obtained my promise, or implication of 
 a promise, he seemed to give himself no 
 further concern about the matter), I threw a 
 glance around it. 
 
 Means of egress I saw none, and was at 
 some loss to understand how we had effected 
 an entrance. A pot, or vessel, hung sus- 
 pended over the smouldering sods, attached 
 by a short and very smoke-begrimed chain, 
 to a staple driven into the solid rock. And 
 as my companion, moving about the apart-
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. I 13 
 
 ment, approached from time to time the 
 fireplace, and raised the lid, an odour, not 
 altogether uninviting, diffused itself through 
 the chamber, and contended for a moment 
 with the pungency of the peat smoke : 
 chimney or flue I saw none, and this latter, 
 after disporting itself around the upper walls 
 and roof, converting the natural colour of 
 the rock into a deep black, went — I knew 
 not how, or whither. In one corner lay a 
 pile, or "stack," of peat-sods, from which, 
 among his other offices, my companion had 
 already replenished the fire ; while, in an- 
 other corner, was an equally large pile of 
 dry heath. A few volumes of books, on a 
 stone ledge, also attracted my attention (the 
 more so, as the rudimentary art of reading 
 was by no means so widespread among the 
 lower ranks at the period of my tale as at 
 present), throwing, as they did, some light 
 on the general propriety of language which 
 was not altogether to be expected from the 
 appearance of the stranger. A rude table, 
 and an equally rude pair of stools pretty 
 nearly completed the contents of the 
 vol. 1. 8
 
 114 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 chamber. It held no other occupant ; 
 though, from one or two smaller articles 
 scattered about — of a less home-made, and, 
 indeed, superior manufacture — it was open 
 to conjecture whether such was always the 
 case. 
 
 Having completed these preliminary ar- 
 rangements, the duties of hospitality ap- 
 peared now to recur to the mind of my 
 conductor. He addressed me in a manner 
 less constrained ; though his words and 
 bearing never entirely lost that air — whether 
 of distance or reserve — which had first 
 arrested my attention. This air I am unable 
 better to describe than as a compound of 
 independence and that deference which per- 
 sons in the more humble classes of life 
 usually render (and more markedly in Ire- 
 land) to those whom they consider above 
 them in social station ; tinged, certainly, 
 with a dash of cynicism, which might be 
 natural, or the acquirement by such habits 
 of isolation as all around me bore testimony 
 of. 
 
 " There are roasted potatoes in the ashes/'
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. I I 5 
 
 said he, " if your mountain wanderings will 
 permit no longer delay" — and suiting the 
 action to the word, he disclosed, by disturb- 
 ing the half-red peat embers, a number of 
 those tubers — "but, if you can parry with 
 your appetite for some half-hour longer, you 
 may have a dish more fitting to stay a gentle 
 stomach." 
 
 My pangs of hunger certainly caused 
 themselves to be sufficiently felt. But 
 whether desirous to still uphold in my 
 person the endurance of a Featherstone, or 
 that the pot continued to exhale so savoury 
 a vapour, as my companion added from time 
 to time to its contents the hare, a wild duck, 
 and some smaller wild-fowl, I expressed my 
 ability to await the half-hour and its results, 
 at the same time, taking a seat on one of the 
 stools. 
 
 The stranger, having now completed his 
 arrangements, and piled a large pyramid of 
 turf around the boiling cauldron, retired for 
 a moment to a recess of the cavern, and 
 straightway reappeared again with a small 
 wooden vessel — a " noggin," I understood
 
 Il6 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 him to call it — the contents of which, when 
 brought more immediately under my nose, I 
 had no hesitation in pronouncing as similar 
 to that which I had already discussed, for 
 the first time, on the preceding evening, by 
 the invitation, and with the assistance, of 
 Captain Ogleby. 
 
 " It will take the cold mist out of your 
 stomach," said my companion, "and put 
 heat into your limbs again." 
 
 I would have pleaded for the addition of 
 a little water ; but ignorant how far in this 
 matter I might be transgressing the tradi- 
 tional usages of my family, I made essay to 
 gulp down a portion of the contents, though 
 as a consequence my eyes swam, and 
 for some moments the contest between 
 wind and windpipe was acute, if not even 
 alarming. 
 
 "It's good — it's not to be denied," said 
 my companion, who seemed to view these 
 symptoms as unqualified approval of the 
 excellence of the liquid — " Paudeen Gow 
 never deceived me yet;" and he drained 
 the contents of the vessel, though without
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. 117 
 
 any similar results manifesting themselves — 
 "I'll be bound you feel the heat rising in 
 you?" 
 
 I certainly did — more especially about the 
 throat and air passages — but these favour- 
 able effects were more than counterbalanced 
 by the pangs of hunger which now attacked 
 me with redoubled force ; nor was it with- 
 out something very like a sigh of relief that 
 I saw the stranger place a portion of the 
 contents of the cauldron on the table before 
 me, flanked by a goodly array of the roasted 
 tubers. Having made these arrangements 
 on my behalf, he provided himself with a 
 similar portion, and retiring with the re- 
 maining stool to a distant portion of the 
 chamber, prepared to do justice to the 
 results of his own gastronomic skill. 
 
 This separation of our small forces took, I 
 confess, somewhat from the ardour of my 
 hrst attack. The stranger could, it is true, 
 in no ordinary acceptation of the term, be 
 taken as belonging to the same social rank 
 in life as myself — and the fact had been 
 sufficiently and spontaneously indicated by
 
 I I 8 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 himself, even in his more independent and 
 reserved moments. Nevertheless, I had 
 expected that the peculiar circumstances 
 under which we met would have somewhat 
 levelled this distinction for the time being. 
 I went the length of remarking that the board 
 was large enough for us two — but his only 
 reply was, — 
 
 "Eat on — it is your right; better than I 
 have sat below the salt of the Featherstones, 
 ere now. In this country, it is not the 
 custom for gentleman and peasant to play 
 table companions together." 
 
 " In my country," said I, unwilling to 
 detect any aspersion on my native land 
 which his words might, or might not, be 
 intended to convey — " the peasantry are but 
 little given to such pursuits" — and I pointed 
 to the row of books already alluded to by me. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I am a peasant, the son of 
 a peasant — though my father, poor man, 
 endeavoured to give me some advantages — 
 and a book has, at times, proved a needful 
 companion here. Caves and dens are for 
 the wild beasts of the earth ; perhaps, but
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. I 19 
 
 for such help, I might have become more of 
 the wild beast than I am." 
 
 After this speech — a somewhat long, less 
 abrupt, and unusually confidential one for 
 him — he again resumed his meal ; and, whe- 
 ther this allusion to family matters, or that 
 to his isolated life, had called up unpleasant 
 reminiscences, he made no attempt to renew 
 the conversation for some time. 
 
 Whatever scruples, however, my compa- 
 nion might entertain on the score of eating 
 in my immediate company, he seemed to 
 have more slight ones on the head of drink- 
 ing. On the conclusion of the meal, he 
 drew his stool close to the fire, filled a very 
 short and very black pipe with tobacco, and 
 having ignited it by crushing the bowl down 
 on a red ember which he drew forward on 
 the hearth from the burning pile for that 
 purpose, he replenished his "noggin," and, 
 from time to time, had recourse to its con- 
 tents with apparent relish, and some air of 
 relaxation, between the pauses of his smoking. 
 Nor, in the meantime, was he unmindful of 
 his guest.
 
 1 20 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " Up at the Big House" (intimating, as I 
 conjectured by the motion of his hand, my 
 uncle's residence) "you'll be sitting down to 
 French claret after your meal — the quality 
 must have their fancies ; for myself, both 
 taste and colour too closely remind me of 
 bog- water, and there's small scarcity of that 
 hereabouts. Now, if you would try this, 
 warmed up with a taste of boiling water 
 (maybe, Paudeen Gow did make it a trifle 
 over-proof this time — the gauger does not 
 often pay him a visit, and he has no more 
 liking for bog-water than myself) you'll sleep 
 the sounder for it, and may defy cramps and 
 agues." 
 
 But my recollection of the effects of Mr. 
 Gow's fire-water were as yet too fresh, and 
 I resolutely refused further trial under any 
 form. During the remaining time I sat by 
 the hearth, we spoke little, the stranger 
 being, to all appearances, busied with his 
 own thoughts. Without, the night threat- 
 ened to be a rough one ; already the wind 
 came moaning up the surrounding glens, 
 mingling its cadences with the dull and
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. 121 
 
 diminished plashings of the waterfall. Occa- 
 sionally, a more shrill and piercing blast 
 found its way to the very entrance — as my 
 conjectures led me to place it — of our strange 
 abode, drowning for the moment all other 
 sound, and then retired to wail piteously in 
 the distance. 
 
 "Hear to it! — hear to it!" more than 
 once broke from my companion at such 
 periods, apparently in reference to the wind 
 itself—" that's great grief." 
 
 The words were evidently spoken without 
 intention to produce rejoinder, and, indeed, 
 seemed the mere utterance of his own 
 thoughts and meditations. Once, I was so 
 far tempted as to reply that " the sounds did 
 indeed, at times, seem almost those of a 
 human being." But he shook his head — 
 said " No, no, — there's no human voice 
 there," and relapsed into his former silence. 
 
 Presently, I intimated my wish to retire 
 for the night, urging as plea my weary day's 
 wanderings, and the necessity for an early 
 start in the morning. My host placed a 
 strip of lighted bog-deal in my hand ; and,
 
 I 2 2 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 having conducted me to an inner recess of 
 the cave, which had hitherto escaped my 
 notice, and pointed to a quantity of heath 
 which lay there, and which he now proceeded 
 to shake out in the form of a couch, informed 
 me that it was to be my bed for the night. 
 
 "It's fresh gathered arid dry — you can at 
 least say that for one night you have had 
 the heather for your bed." 
 
 I turned for a moment to survey my apart- 
 ment, if it might be so called — door there 
 was none, and, indeed, the recess was but a 
 further natural enlargement in the cavern, 
 but an enlargement in such a direction as to 
 interrupt the view between itself and the 
 outer portion. It contained no furniture 
 whatever, and a glance sufficed to inform me 
 that my couch, and a pair of pistols, which 
 were suspended by a leathern thong from 
 the wall, or side, of the cavern, were the sole 
 contents of the chamber. Under a somewhat 
 liberal rendering of the terms imposed upon 
 me by the strange occupant of this abode, I 
 approached these latter for the purpose of a 
 nearer inspection. They were small and of
 
 UNEXPECTED QUARTERS. 123 
 
 most elegant workmanship, evidently French, 
 and wholly differing-, in style and quality, 
 from anything else I had seen in the cave, 
 with the exception of one or two articles 
 already alluded to. They were loaded, and 
 the priming appeared quite fresh. The 
 silver mounting extended round the whole 
 stock, and on the butt end of each were 
 inscribed the letters " R. E." The initials 
 were wholly unfamiliar to me, and conjecture 
 failed to suggest for what name they stood. 
 Little could I dream how familiar that name 
 was yet to become, or how intimately asso- 
 ciated with my future narrative its owner was 
 to be. 
 
 But my pine-strip burned low. There was 
 actually nothing else in the small chamber 
 for me to examine ; and, throwing myself on 
 my heath-couch, I was soon, thanks to a long 
 and weary day's wanderings, buried in deep 
 sleep.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 
 
 I AWOKE with a bright light playing full 
 on my face ; nor could I have the least 
 doubt that it was that of the sun, though I 
 was, as yet, unconscious how it could gain 
 access to my small chamber. In truth, it 
 needed some moments' reflection to bring 
 before my mind where I really was. Little 
 more than eight-and-forty hours ago in Eng- 
 land, yesterday in Dublin, and now sleeping 
 securely in a real cavern, in the midst of a 
 real Irish bog, and the guest of a man who 
 could certainly be on no very favourable 
 terms of intimacy with the legal authorities of 
 the island ! How would my thoroughly re- 
 spectable father — hoAV would my English - 
 minded mother regard such proceedings ?
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 1 25 
 
 Or was it any wonder that I should question 
 myself whether this moving panorama of 
 events was not a mere dream ? A dream ! 
 (so ran the current of my thoughts) — surely 
 I had a dream last night ; or was it, too, one 
 of those actual and real events which I was 
 now trying to arrange in order, in my some- 
 what confused brain, with a view to become 
 more clear as to my present position ? Yes ; 
 a dream, or an actual occurrence, I could 
 certainly call to mind, between my lying 
 down last night and my waking with this 
 burst of sun-light playing on my face. Me- 
 thought [ lay in a half-sleeping, half-waking 
 state, as it were on my present heather- 
 couch. The light was much less strong; 
 but there was some light. Presently, a young 
 man — so, at least, the slight and agile figure 
 would lead me to infer — entered my chamber, 
 with a quick and active step ; and, passing 
 lightly by my bed (it might be to escape 
 observation, or from an unwillingness to 
 break in on my slumbers) approached the 
 opposite wall. After a few moments, he 
 re- passed by the same way, and the chamber
 
 126 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 was again empty ; nor could I call to mind 
 anything further until I now found myself 
 awake, and sitting up on my heather-bed. 
 
 On further reflecting over the night's 
 experience, I was the more inclined to set 
 this incident down as no mere coinage of the 
 brain, but an actual and real occurrence ; 
 though other proof than that 1 have already 
 mentioned for such a supposition, I found 
 none. The lights — both the light which I 
 saw now, and the fainter light which I had 
 seen, or supposed myself to have seen, during 
 the night — I was still unable to account for, 
 though my further researches after rising — 
 presently to be recounted — appeared to offer 
 some explanation of these latter pheno- 
 mena. 
 
 On leaving my novel resting-place, and 
 proceeding into the outward chamber, I found 
 my companion of the preceding day employed 
 in the preparation of the morning meal. He 
 informed me that the hour was somewhat 
 late ; but that, as I had appeared to sleep 
 soundly, he had, in consideration of my 
 fatigue of yesterday, refrained from waking
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 127 
 
 me — "A couple of hours' fair walking ought 
 to bring you and Glen-na-Fiac more nearly 
 acquainted ; and you must have no fears for 
 the mountain-mist to-day. If you would feel 
 the fresher for a bath, you may have one 
 at hand,"— and, at the same time, he 
 pointed to the back portion of the cave, 
 where the light appeared to gain ingress. 
 Proceeding in the direction (I had little 
 doubt in concluding that it was not the 
 way by which we had entered), I found the 
 cave to gradually retire, until, losing its roof, 
 it resolved itself into a deep gorge, or cleft, 
 between two perfectly precipitous, and nearly 
 meeting, sides. A small stream trickled at 
 the bottom of this fissure, making its exit by 
 a still more subterraneous passage by the side 
 of the cavern, instead of entering it. As I 
 looked up the long and narrow vista — a thin 
 thread of blue sky merely disclosing itself 
 overhead — I felt more certain still that there 
 could be no exit by that way. A border, or 
 fringe, of pine-trees, moreover, clung along 
 the topmost ridge of each side, adding still 
 further to the apparent height of the cleft ;
 
 128 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 and the peat- smoke from the cavern, partly 
 lost along the walls of the gorge, was further 
 wholly dispersed among the foliage of the 
 latter, none appearing to reach the upper air. 
 I had passed some similar gorges during my 
 wanderings of the previous day; and, whether 
 caused by a sudden disruption, or (the more 
 usual explanation) by the slow action, through 
 aees, of the small streams which trickle 
 through them, they are, I believe, a generally 
 diffused feature of the district. 
 
 I was now able to obtain some clue as to 
 the lighting of the cave. The sun, in the 
 morning, shining down this cleft, would send 
 a portion of his beams into the cavern ; and, 
 during all periods of the day, a smaller 
 quantity of his light, reflected from the sides 
 of the gorge, would find similar entrance. 
 The sun rose, at this season of the year, a 
 little after three o'clock ; and there would be 
 some twilight even before that hour. I could 
 not, therefore, have been many hours in bed 
 before some portion of the dawning light had 
 gained access to my chamber ; and it was, in 
 all probability, this light which had disturbed
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 120, 
 
 my slumbers (I was now quite convinced that 
 it was no dream I had experienced), and 
 temporarily roused me to a half-conscious, 
 half- waking state ; after which, I must have 
 slept to a later period of the morning. 
 
 I refreshed myself in the cool running 
 stream, as it brawled and fretted down its 
 rocky channel ; and, having made what toilet 
 circumstances permitted, rejoined my com- 
 panion. We ate our meal in comparative 
 silence; nor was allusion made to the occur- 
 rences of the night — and but slight to those of 
 the preceding day. 
 
 In a short time, the stranger informed me 
 that he was ready to accompany me on a 
 portion of the way ; and, taking his gun and 
 game-bag, he preceded me toward a part 
 of the cavern where I could perceive no visible 
 outlet. Not so, however, my companion ; 
 for, displacing an ingeniously-fitted compart- 
 ment or panel, formed of the native turf 
 (" scraw," I have since heard it called by the 
 peasantry, who use it for roofing their cabins), 
 he disclosed an aperture sufficiently wide to 
 permit our egress. Of my own accord, I 
 
 vol. i. 9
 
 130 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 again bound the handkerchief across my 
 eyes ; nor did I remove it until my companion 
 informed me I was at liberty to do so. 
 
 I have already lost so much time about 
 those dreary wastes that — fortunately for the 
 reader's patience — I need say little further 
 of my journey through them to-day. The 
 solitary incident worth recording occurred as 
 — after wending our way through a long and 
 very lonely glen, and in complete silence — 
 we came out on its termination in an equally 
 deserted patch of moorland. Here, and as 
 it were to guard the entrance of the glen, a 
 pile of buildings had at some period — to all 
 appearances not a remote one — been con- 
 structed. Nothing now remained standing, 
 however, save a solitary gable here and 
 there ; while portions of the main walls, 
 broken into blocks of masonry, and scattered 
 — many to a considerable distance — sug- 
 gested that some great and sudden force had 
 been applied, instead of the more slow hand 
 of Time. Hitherto, our journey had been 
 conducted under so little conversation that I 
 might, in all probability, have passed this scene
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. I3I 
 
 of desolation — highly suggestive, indeed, in 
 itself of silence — did it not appear to me that 
 a smile of some peculiar meaning flitted 
 across the features of my companion, as his 
 eye rested for a moment on these blackened 
 ruins. 
 
 " A lonely spot for a house," I exclaimed. 
 
 " Ay — too lonely: so the man thought that 
 knocked it down." 
 
 "Indeed!" said I; " apparently, it is a 
 modern structure. Was the owner, then, 
 dissatisfied with his plan ? " 
 
 "No — his neighbours were; one of them, 
 at least." 
 
 •' Ah ! ' ' said I, in lieu of better exclamation. 
 " And yet this one dissatisfied individual 
 must have had others to assist him ? These 
 blocks of masonry were formed for strength 
 — here are the remains of loopholes for 
 musketry." 
 
 "Not a man — not a finger but his own," 
 said the stranger, with some energy. 
 
 " Or equally powerful appliances, then ? " 
 
 "Ay — that is nearer to the mark. Put a 
 couple of kegs of gunpowder under that tall
 
 132 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 rock that rises before you, and you may see 
 something of the same effect." After which 
 words, the stranger again relapsed into 
 silence ; nor did I make any further effort to 
 interrupt the train of his thoughts. 
 
 After a couple of hours' smart walking, the 
 whole surface of the country began to assume 
 an entire change of appearance. Our pro- 
 gress was now down-hill, and the slopes and 
 flanks of the high plateau we were quitting 
 afforded some highly picturesque views. 
 Occasionally, I found myself turning to catch 
 a look of some new combination of mountain, 
 streamlet, and glen. Nor was the country 
 we were descending into less refreshing, of 
 its kind, to the eye. Below us lay an exten- 
 sive lowland, fertile, cultivated, and thickly 
 interspersed with habitations. Here, a 
 country seat appeared in the midst of a 
 thickly-wooded vale ; there, a peaceful 
 hamlet sent up its smoke on high; while, 
 beyond all, lay the Irish Channel, bearing a 
 goodly array of sail on its surface. 
 
 "Yes," said my companion, in answer 
 to some exclamation of mine, " you now
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 1 33 
 
 behold the garden of Wicklow. You know 
 what the Dean" (the Dean, I found — and 
 he is no infrequent authority among the 
 peasantry — invariably meant Dean Swift) 
 " says of our county — ' a frieze mantle, 
 fringed with gold.' The frieze is for such as 
 I — and here I must leave you to complete 
 your journey alone. Carry your eye along 
 yonder strip of pine plantation, and you will 
 see, a little beyond it, a large square house, 
 with lawn in front intersected by a sheet of 
 water. That is the Big House of Glen-na-fiac, 
 the Valley of the Ravens — or Ravensdale, as 
 later fashion has it." 
 
 My guide, I had already observed, always 
 used the native appellation in referring to my 
 uncle's residence, or, at least, some strictly 
 literal interpretation of it, and seldom heard 
 the more modern title without betraying 
 signs of disapproval. 
 
 I had no difficulty in following his direc- 
 tions with my eye, and saw that, by availing 
 myself of the pine plantation referred to, I 
 would stand almost over the house. A more 
 considerable difficulty in my mind was, in
 
 134 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 what manner to part with my companion. 
 Pecuniary recompense, I plainly saw, was 
 out of the question. Nothing, it is true, 
 that I had yet seen could lead me to infer 
 that he was over-burdened with this world's 
 riches. Nevertheless, his independent man- 
 ner, his reserve on his own affairs, and a 
 general air of distance which, at no time, had 
 he entirely laid aside — all induced me to 
 believe that such a return for his services 
 would be displeasing to him, and would 
 stand in danger of rejection. It appeared, 
 therefore, to be my most advisable course to 
 simply thank him for the assistance he had 
 rendered me, accompanying my thanks with 
 a hope (Heaven forgive the slight dissimula- 
 tion ! — I had my doubts whether he could 
 descend into those more peaceful-looking 
 lowlands) that I would shortly see him at my 
 uncle's residence. I turned from my con- 
 templation of Ravensdale House, for the 
 purpose of carrying out this intention, but 
 the stranger was already scaling a neigh- 
 bouring acclivity, down which we had just 
 descended. He must have seen my move-
 
 GLEX-XA-FIAC. 135 
 
 ment — his quick glance, I had more than 
 once observed, marked much less conspicuous 
 objects in the course of our journey. But he 
 made no corresponding gesture; and, in 
 another moment, the overhanging foliage 
 had completely hidden him. 
 
 Left thus to mvself, I had time to take a 
 more leisurely survey of the object of my . 
 late wanderings, as also to satisfy some 
 natural curiosity. I could have no doubt 
 that I gazed on one of those extensive 
 structures, raised by the Irish country gen- 
 tleman of the preceding century, when, it is 
 to be inferred, the times were more in accord 
 with his largeness of heart. Howbeit, evi- 
 dence was not wanting that these better 
 times had already passed away, as regarded 
 the Valley of the Ravens. 
 
 The house stood in the midst of a district 
 partly woodland, and partly agricultural. 
 The coach-road ran in front of the structure, 
 on the opposite side of the lawn already 
 mentioned — if a somewhat extensive en- 
 closure, now consisting of waving meadow, 
 might merit that appellation. The piece of
 
 I36 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ornamental water, to which my late com- 
 panion had directed my attention, was an 
 artificial extension of one of the many small 
 streams which trickled down the flanks of the 
 mountain range, from which I had descended. 
 It ran for some time along the side of the 
 road farthest from the house — I could even 
 trace it back, through some, smaller meadow- 
 flats, until, beside a rustic summer-house, 
 now fallen into much decay, it issued, in its 
 natural form, from the pine plantation. 
 Following the forward course of this artificial 
 cutting, I found that, after wending its way 
 through these meadow-flats, it crossed the 
 road by means of a single low arch ; and, 
 continuing its course through the larger 
 meadow, or lawn, finally terminated, after 
 sending off a couple of branches, within a 
 few yards of the house. It was constructed 
 sufficiently wide for boating purposes, but 
 the whole of its surface was now covered 
 with duck-weed and wild aquatic plants. 
 Duck-weed, bulrushes, flaggers, and reeds 
 do not perhaps enhance the appearance 
 of ornamental water-courses in country
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 1 3 7 
 
 gentlemen's pleasure-grounds ; but, in the 
 present instance, they certainly took away 
 from the one before me all air of newness, 
 and thus made it to accord more nearly with 
 the house and its surroundings. The lawn 
 itself was diversified by hill and dale — con- 
 siderably assisted by art, too, if I might 
 judge from the configuration of the district 
 immediately adjoining; and a glorious 
 avenue of beech, with two or three clumps 
 of enormous copper-coloured beech scattered 
 here and there, considerably added to its 
 picturesque effect. More minute details, 
 however, and a nearer inspection (I found 
 that I could keep the house under my eye in 
 proceeding along the pine plantation, and 
 was now doing so) told wofully against this 
 somewhat imposing outline. The lawn had 
 evidently been laid out, at some by-gone 
 period, with a view to floricultural as well 
 as arboricultural effect ; and, amid the wild 
 foxglove and lady's-slipper of the meadow, 
 were still to be seen — here, a tender nar- 
 cissus, there a solitary moss-rose, and, anon, 
 the gorgeous cup of a tulip (looking more
 
 1 3 8 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 red for very indignation) — contending with 
 their more hardy brethren of the field and 
 woodland. Some attempt, it is true, was 
 still maintained in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood of the house to preserve the appearance 
 of a former state of things ; but it would 
 seem as if the task were somewhat beyond 
 the strength of the hand which had under- 
 taken it — was it a woman's? — and a flower- 
 bed or two hardly maintained its ground 
 against the encroaching mead. An avenue, 
 destitute of trees, — the beech avenue lay 
 on the opposite side of the house, and was 
 evidently intended merely as a walk for 
 pedestrians — conducted to the entrance, de- 
 positing the traveller on a gravel-sweep in 
 front of some stone steps. The house itself 
 was a plain square building, remarkable only 
 for its size. Traces of age were by no means 
 wanting ; and, sooth to say, they appeared, 
 of late years, to have met no corresponding 
 effort to hide them. Yet the whole struc- 
 ture, it was evident to be seen, had been 
 originally built strongly and substantially, 
 and might be pronounced serviceable yet,
 
 GLEX-XA-FIAC. 139 
 
 for many a year to come, with a little outlay 
 and care. A semicircle of offices, enclosing 
 an enormous court-yard, lay at the rear of 
 the building ; and some ricks of hay and 
 stacks of corn there attested that farming 
 operations were still carried on ; while the 
 usual huge rick of turf was also con- 
 spicuous. 
 
 But the great orchard was, perhaps, the 
 sight which most attracted my eye. There, 
 age had only added a thicker coating of 
 moss to the forest of fruit-trees, enhancing 
 their appearance in my eyes ; while neglect 
 had but made the hazel-paths more shady, 
 the immense walnut-trees more towering, 
 and the thickets — I could call them nought 
 else — of currant, gooseberry, and raspberry- 
 bushes, still more impenetrable. The apple 
 and pear-trees now presented vast mounds 
 of pink and white blossoms, and the tangled 
 strawberry-beds gave similar promise of 
 fruit in their season. 
 
 My peripatetic examination had brought 
 me to the extremity of the upland pine 
 plantation, which ceased at the commence-
 
 I40 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ment of the meadow-flats just mentioned. 
 Crossing over the little brawling streamlet, 
 which issued from its cool retreat, I entered 
 the summer-house. The pines had here, in 
 a measure, given place to a hazel-copse, and, 
 amid its redundancy of foliage and silver- 
 barked boughs, the small building stood. It 
 had evidently been constructed after the 
 pagoda fashion ; though — all pieces of mere 
 ornamentation, with, here and there, a more 
 necessary board or two, having been long 
 since removed (doubtless by the neighbouring 
 peasantry, in "a bad turf season," for the 
 purposes of fuel) — there might be some dif- 
 ficulty in determining this, on a first inspec- 
 tion. A still more neglected boat-house 
 stood adjacent ; in which (I was about to 
 write, under the protection of which) a small 
 boat lay, moored by a rusty chain. A row 
 of seating ran round the inside of the sum- 
 mer house ; and, being formed of thicker 
 slabs, more securely fastened, had better 
 withstood time and spoliation, though the 
 door had long since disappeared, and some 
 boughs of an adjacent hazel-tree had in-
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 141 
 
 truded themselves through the window. The 
 seats — indeed, almost all portions of the 
 woodwork were indented with a great num- 
 ber of initials (some rudely cut, some more 
 artistically carved ; some bearing traces — I 
 might almost say of antiquity, and others of 
 comparatively recent formation), in which the 
 letter " F" — intended, I could not doubt, for 
 our family name — entered into combination 
 with almost every other letter of the alphabet. 
 A venerable "P. F." I had no difficulty in 
 attributing to the Sir Percy Featherstone 
 already mentioned by my late companion, 
 Captain Ogleby, as an old holder of the title. 
 A " D. F." was, doubtless, the work of 
 Sir Digges, the present baronet — though 
 evidently executed many years ago ; and, if 
 I might judge from the attempt, at a some- 
 what juvenile period of his life. Another, 
 and a quite differently executed " D. F." I 
 at once set down as my father's — a conclu- 
 sion which the date (the self-same year in 
 which he had obtained his commission, and 
 departed from Ireland), appended to one of 
 these latter inscriptions, further confirmed;
 
 142 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and an "A. F." I apportioned to my uncle, 
 the Allen Featherstone whom I was now 
 about to behold for the first time : nay, in 
 the course of my researches, I came across 
 these three lost names, or initials of names, 
 forming a sort of Round Robin ; within 
 which I could trace " July, 1768," executed, 
 doubtless, during some school vacation. 
 Nor could I pass without a pause of reflec- 
 tion on this brief memorial of the three 
 brothers, recorded ere Fortune had so widely 
 separated their lots. The one was now a 
 lonely old man, tabooed, as I understood, by 
 society ; another, from some cause yet un- 
 known to me, had stopped short in the 
 midst of a high and most successful profes- 
 sional career, and had allowed inferior com- 
 panions to distance him in the race, — nay, as 
 it appeared to me, had fallen out of the lists 
 altogether; while my father, to whom the 
 paths of ease and respectability seemed 
 most congenial, was a quiet English farmer, 
 or squire, should that term be more accept- 
 able to his ears. An "S. F." (indeed, a tiny 
 " S. F." had endeavoured to insert itself
 
 GLEX-XA-FIAC. 1 43 
 
 amid the aforementioned Round Robin, as it 
 were to complete the family group) I assumed 
 to be the work of my aunt, Sophia Feather- 
 stone, already referred to in my father's 
 letter, laid before the reader in a previous 
 chapter, though evidently done before her 
 marriage with Captain De Vere ; and, accord- 
 ingly, farther on I discovered an "S. F." and 
 an "A. De V." enclosed within a true lover's 
 knot, executed, doubtless, during that period 
 of courtship which was about to lead to but 
 a few short years of married life. Under- 
 neath this, I found inscribed (unmistakeably 
 at a very much later period) a " C. De V." 
 — the work, I could not doubt, of their only 
 child, my cousin Constance, now an inmate 
 of Ravensdale House — and executed as a 
 slight filial tribute. An "M.F." I was 
 unable to attribute to any member of our 
 family known by name to me — unless, indeed, 
 it appertained to a son of Sir Digges, who, 
 I was given to understand, had followed in 
 the evil courses of his father, but whom, of 
 late, I had lost all trace ; and all I could 
 connect with a certain "L. F." which figured
 
 144 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 not seldom on the walls, was that my uncle 
 Allen Featherstone had a son named Leslie 
 — his only one now ; but, at present, and for 
 some years past (so far my information 
 reached), absent from the paternal roof. 
 Both of these latter initials were, from their 
 appearance, comparatively recent inscrip- 
 tions. 
 
 I was the more piqued to learn something 
 more explicit of this last name, inasmuch as 
 I discovered it in close, and, apparently, in- 
 tentional, proximity with that of my cousin 
 Constance ; and was endeavouring to draw 
 some clue from a comparison of workman- 
 ship, style, etc., when my attention was 
 called off by a still more startling discovery; 
 namely, this signature, " L. F." in evident 
 connection with the initials "R. E." observed 
 by me on the brace of pocket-pistols in the 
 cave of my strange host of the preceding 
 night. But here all conjecture was at present 
 vain. 
 
 The sun, too,, informed me that day was 
 speeding, while thus I endeavoured,, from 
 these slight data, to put together the family
 
 GLEN-NA-FIAC. 1 45 
 
 history ; and, tearing myself away from their 
 contemplation, I resumed my way toward 
 the house. 
 
 Pursuing my course through the meadow- 
 flats, I came out on the road ; and, presently, 
 found myself opposite a pair of tall iron 
 leaves of a gate — both open, and attached to 
 two granite columns serving as gate-posts. 
 The avenue into which this gateway led had 
 little to recommend it, and the reader may 
 be spared its description. Enough, that it 
 conducted me in time to the gravel-sweep 
 before the house already mentioned, without 
 my meeting any human being to give me in- 
 formation, or oppose my progress. 
 
 vol. 1. 10
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 RELATIVES. 
 
 THE hall-door was ajar, and, in the open 
 doorway, stood the only living creature 
 which I had yet met — if not to give me in- 
 formation, apparently to bar my entrance. 
 This was a raven, of unusually large size, 
 and, sooth to say, of seemingly unusually 
 morose and unfriendly disposition. The 
 creature eyed me for a moment with looks of 
 rising hostility, and evinced a strong inclina- 
 tion to do battle : eventually, however, he 
 appeared to think better of it ; and, turning 
 tail, limped — literally limped, for it was 
 slightly lame — into the house, though not 
 without a show of some dignity. I was 
 about to raise the knocker, when my ear 
 caught the sound of approaching footsteps,
 
 RELATIVES. 
 
 147 
 
 and, in another moment, a tall, though 
 slightly stooping figure — that of the owner, I 
 could have no doubt, of Ravensdale House — 
 stood before me. 
 
 My first impression, in gazing on this 
 figure, was, that I had rarely before stood in 
 the presence of a more remarkable-looking 
 person. He was considerably over six feet 
 in stature, and, notwithstanding his stoop, still 
 looked a singularly tall man — moulded with 
 considerable symmetry, and even grace of 
 limb. Certain indications there were — remi- 
 niscences, I might say, of my father — to be 
 traced both in form and feature, but I could 
 scarcely refrain from a smile (certainly not 
 directed against the individual before me) as 
 my eye took them in. Were it possible to 
 suppose that the almost dapper figure of my 
 parent, and his comely indolent face (not un- 
 suggestive of good living), could elevate, or 
 improve, themselves into more grand — I had 
 well-nigh written more heroic — proportions, 
 I might, in such case, believe that I was now 
 gazing on the form which they would take. 
 My parent — Heaven forgive the filial impiety !
 
 148 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 was as unlike a warrior as any pale sub or 
 dumpy major in the King's commission. The 
 figure before me would have made no mean 
 model for a Cincinnatus retired to his farm, 
 or a Coriolanus, suppliant in Volscian halls. 
 True, again, my parent still wore his hya- 
 cinthine locks untinged by time, or what 
 remained of them, for the topmost crown 
 already gave indications of baldness. My 
 uncle's hair, on the contrary, while betraying 
 no such signs of deserting its owner, had 
 become of a uniform grey, verging almost 
 on whiteness. Yet, notwithstanding such 
 and sundry other differences, I could not 
 doubt that these were the Featherstone 
 features I gazed upon, even as I had made 
 their acquaintance beneath the paternal roof, 
 though, in the instance before me, they 
 seemed ennobled by natural talent, by a more 
 severe course of mental training, and, I could 
 not help also inferring, by suffering. 
 
 On the whole, it was difficult to help feeling 
 a certain predisposition in favour of the 
 person who now stood before me. From 
 first appearances, it was not so evident that
 
 RELATIVES. 1 49 
 
 this feeling was reciprocated towards myself. 
 No hand was put forth to grasp mine — no 
 welcome sounded in my ears. Indeed, the 
 first words I heard were : — 
 
 " So ! — a Featherstone. Your father — if he 
 had little else— was wont to possess punctu- 
 ality, young man. Are we to charge the 
 tide or a town frolic with your detention ? " 
 
 The period, certainly, was one in which 
 the intercourse between elders and juniors 
 was conducted on principles, more severe on 
 one part, and deferential on the other, than 
 those which now obtain. Yet this reception 
 I could not help regarding as somewhat in 
 extreme of the mode — and, in scoth, trying 
 my powers of countenance to their fullest 
 extent. However, I endeavoured to put the 
 best face on it I could, as I replied : — 
 
 " Neither tide nor town, uncle, is in fault. 
 Our vessel, it is true, was a few minutes late 
 for the coach, but you must blame the 
 mountain mist for my delay of a day and a 
 night." 
 
 I had now entered the doorway, and my 
 uncle preceded me into a small room on the
 
 I5O RAVENSDALE. 
 
 right hand of the hall, which might be either 
 a breakfast-parlour or a study. Here, a 
 young girl — perhaps I should say a young 
 woman — who had been employed in sewing, 
 advanced to meet me with great cordiality, 
 and apparent pleasure, and placed both her 
 hands in mine. Our near relationship was, 
 doubtless, sufficient explanation — if the 
 movement needed explanation — for this 
 frankness of manner; but it appeared to 
 me that it was done partly also as an 
 amende, or counterbalance to the absence 
 of warmth evinced in my uncle's reception. 
 
 This young person — my cousin Constance, 
 I could have little doubt, though our common 
 uncle made no attempt to enact master of 
 the ceremonies — was tall, and slightly made. 
 Notwithstanding the prominent part which 
 she had taken — and continued to take — in 
 my reception, her manner appeared naturally 
 retiring, almost shy. When speaking, 
 indeed, her features became lit up with ani- 
 mation and intelligence ; though, in repose, 
 they had a tendency to assume a more 
 serious, I might almost say a 5 ad, expression ;
 
 RELATIVES. 
 
 151 
 
 relieved, however, from all insipidity by an 
 air of kindliness which they still preserved 
 under all circumstances. The colour of her 
 hair and eyes must have been borrowed from 
 the De Vere, or paternal side ; for the fine 
 chestnut of the one, and the hazel of the 
 other, seemed to possess little in common 
 with the darker hues which predominated in 
 our family. Similarly, too, that markedness 
 of feature so characteristic of our side, and 
 which, sooth to say, was scarcely sufficiently 
 toned down even among the female portion 
 (so I judged, at least, from some family 
 portraits quietly slumbering in a lumber- 
 room at Woodlands), was here replaced by a 
 more feminine softness. 
 
 " I think you mentioned, Constance," said 
 my uncle, " that your cousin's travelling- 
 bag had been brought from the village ? ' ' 
 
 " Sent for, uncle : truth compels me to say 
 that it has not yet made its appearance — 
 though Dan has been absent some hours 
 now. However, we know that it had arrived 
 there in safety yesterday evening." 
 
 "We dine at six," proceeded my uncle.
 
 152 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " Your cousin will give you something to 
 stay your appetite until then. In the mean- 
 time, I will leave you to grow better ac- 
 quainted over it. Doubtless, after your 
 journey, you would prefer to keep the house 
 for the remainder of the day ; Dan and the 
 travelling-bag shall be my care." And so 
 saying, my uncle stalked from the room, and 
 I was left with my cousin. 
 
 " Did I not hear you speak of the 
 mountain mist ? " said the latter, as, in con- 
 junction with a neat-handed Phillis, in the 
 shape of a young country girl, pretty and 
 demure-looking, and, doubtless, supplying 
 the place of the dilatory Dan — she placed 
 some refreshments before me. 
 
 "Yes, Miss De Vere ; you heard, I am 
 ashamed to say, a true confession of my first 
 and awkward attempt to explore your 
 country." 
 
 " Indeed — Mr. Featherstone" (with a 
 strong stress on the Mr. — and a sweet smile : 
 my cousin, I found, could smile sweetly). 
 
 " Well — Constance — Cousin Constance, 
 then."
 
 RELATIVES. 1 53 
 
 " Better — very much better, Cousin Frank: 
 I am determined, you see, that we shall be- 
 come old acquaintances, all at once. And 
 now, when you have helped yourself — we 
 lunched an hour ago — let me hear about the 
 mist. Our uncle may appear a little cold 
 at first, but that will wear away ; I doubt not 
 he will offer you some explanation on Fea- 
 therstone matters; besides, at present, Dan's 
 protracted absence has somewhat put him 
 out. But now for your travels." 
 
 "In a word, then — I lost my way in 
 endeavouring to reach Ravensdale House 
 yesterday, and, but for a very extraordinary 
 character whom I met in my wanderings, 
 would have had to pass the night on the 
 heath." And I attempted a slight sketch of 
 my late host. 
 
 "Why, cousin, you have really met the 
 Wicklow Outlaw." 
 
 "And who, pray, may this Wicklow Out- 
 law be?" 
 
 " His name, I can inform you, is Michael 
 Dwyer — scarcely, I fear me, sufficiently ro- 
 mance-sounding to grace the pages of a
 
 154 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 sentimental novel; and — like our patron 
 saint — 'he comes of decent people : ' though 
 neither numbering any 'gentlemen' among 
 them, nor are their patrimonial lands to be 
 surveyed from any steeple I am aware of." 
 
 " He boasts himself a peasant, and the son 
 of a peasant." 
 
 " And with truth, I believe. His father, 
 I have heard, was a small farmer ; and, in 
 this country — so great is the desire for the 
 possession of land — it is not very easy to 
 distinguish such a person from a mere pea- 
 sant, or vice-versa. However, it is beyond 
 all doubt that he was a quiet, peaceably dis- 
 posed subject of his Majesty, and reared — 
 with the exception of Michael — a loyal, in- 
 dustrious family. Indeed, one of his sons, I 
 believe, now follows the deplorably common- 
 place occupation of a car-driver in Dublin ; 
 so that any expectations you may have enter- 
 tained of making a hero of the Wicklow 
 Outlaw" (with a certain malicious twinkle 
 of the eye : had my fair cousin heard aught 
 of my literary propensities?) "are, I fear, 
 doomed to disappointment."
 
 RELATIVES. I 5 15 
 
 " Nevertheless — and notwithstanding this 
 death of my hopes — I still desire to know- 
 something more of my strange entertainer." 
 
 " And shall, if you will attend on your- 
 self: even when Dan returns, I may not, with 
 certainty, promise you the benefit of his 
 professional services — we sometimes find 
 Ballybay inconveniently near, and its houses 
 of entertainment possess further the repu- 
 tation of being supplied by a certain Mr. 
 Paudeen Gow, supposed to be unequalled in 
 these parts for his deep insight into the 
 mysteries of mountain-dew distillation." 
 
 " I have heard of the gentleman," I re- 
 marked, as my eye involuntarily watered at 
 the recollection of the superior potency of 
 his manufacture. 
 
 " And," (with another malicious twinkle) 
 " if I am to judge by the neglect of my white- 
 currant liqueur, cousin, you have fallen into 
 the popular opinion. To begin, then, at the 
 beginning. You are, of course, aware of 
 the unhappy insurrection, or rebellion, which 
 broke out in this country about five years 
 ago. We then had a town-house in Dublin,
 
 156 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and lived almost entirely there, since our 
 uncle was obliged to be in daily professional 
 attendance at the Law Courts : so that we 
 were spared the worst scenes of that short 
 but lamentable period. Michael Dwyer, 
 however, was one of those who were ' out' at 
 that time; and when, in the autumn of '98, 
 all the peasantry implicated surrendered 
 their arms, and were generally allowed to 
 return to their ordinary avocations, this man 
 — whether his acts had been of a more marked 
 character, or he distrusted the expectation 
 of obtaining pardon — refused to surrender, 
 and took to the mountains ; where he has 
 since remained." 
 
 " Drawing his chief revenues, doubtless, 
 from plunder ? ' ' 
 
 " No ; report speaks to the contrary. 
 The peasantry (and in this country, you 
 must know, the mere fact of incurring Go 
 vernment enmity is quite sufficient to enlist 
 sympathy on your side) contribute liberally 
 to his support, though his skill as a fowler 
 renders him in great measure independent of 
 aid."
 
 RELATIVES. 
 
 157 
 
 " Of that, I can bear testimony myself. 
 When I met him yesterday evening, his 
 game-bag was quite full ; and, during the 
 short journey he took with me this morning 
 to put me on the right track, he managed to 
 fill it again. Indeed, gratitude, if not a sense 
 of justice, demands I should state that, nei- 
 ther in manner nor conversation, did he give 
 me the idea of a mere robber : I cannot even 
 exalt my hero into a Rob Roy, or a Dick 
 Turpin." 
 
 " Such also has been the impression pro- 
 duced on others who have had interviews 
 with this strange man. At the same time, 
 many lawless acts are laid to his charge — 
 committed chiefly, I believe, with a view of 
 keeping the whole of this mountainous ranq-e 
 of country in his possession. Some time ago, 
 the Government were desirous of placing 
 these regions more under military protection, 
 and, for that purpose, caused a barrack to be 
 built at the opening of a peculiarly wild 
 valley, some miles from Ravensdale. The 
 contractor had completed the building, and, 
 I believe, transferred it to the proper autho-
 
 I58 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 rities ; but, on the night before the forces 
 were to take possession, it was blown up by 
 gunpowder, and remains a blackened ruin to 
 the present time. This act has been univer- 
 sally attributed to the Outlaw." 
 
 "These very ruins we passed this morn- 
 ing — and his manner, certainly, afforded no 
 disavowal of the act. I am almost inclined 
 to dispute your verdict of the non-romance- 
 giving qualities of my hero. What say you 
 to an effective chapter describing the blow- 
 ing-up ? of course we should make it a castle, 
 or, at least, the baronial residence of some 
 ruthless minion of the Government — and if 
 we roasted a few Sassenach followers in the 
 flames, success would be all the more certain. 
 My only fear is that our Public would annex 
 the fatal verdict * improbable ' to the state- 
 ment that a veritable Outlaw, in this nine- 
 teenth century, continued, for five years, to 
 set the Government at defiance, within actual 
 sight of the second city of the empire." 
 
 "That, doubtless, would require to be 
 modified in the narrative — yet the scene of 
 your plot, you must allow, is altogether in
 
 RELATIVES. 1 59 
 
 your favour, where improbability is to be 
 dealt with. There are few things, I have 
 been told, which your countrymen are not 
 prepared to believe of us — confess, cousin, 
 that you yourself are somewhat disappointed 
 — two whole days in Ireland — and not a 
 broken head (after your Scalp adventure, I 
 may not say a wounded heart) to show for it 
 yet!" 
 
 " A poor result, certainly," was my reply, 
 in answer to the young lady's raillery — 
 " more especially to a literary knight-errant 
 in search of incident — after making up his 
 mind to be challenged to mortal combat, or, 
 at the very least, to be invited to tread on 
 the tail of somebody's coat. Is this person 
 (in the dearth of material, you see how 
 entirely I am driven back on my Outlaw) 
 supposed to be alone, then ?" 
 
 " Such is the belief — at present. Up to 
 some time ago, he had a companion, one 
 Douglas by name — the Dark Douglas, I have 
 heard him called — a Presbyterian from our 
 Black North, and a deserter from one of the 
 royal regiments at the period of the Rebellion.
 
 l6o RAVENSDALE, 
 
 Our north and south seldom blend together ; 
 and, moreover, this Douglas, I have heard, 
 was a peculiarly morose and gloomy person. 
 Nevertheless (and it is regarded as proof of 
 the influence which this man has obtained 
 over his followers), even in the extremity of 
 danger, as was the case in this instance, his 
 last effort, one as dreadful as it was striking, 
 was put forth to preserve the life of his leader. 
 If Dan were here, you should have the tale 
 with all the embellishments which Irish elo- 
 quence — under the further inspiration of Mr. 
 Paudeen Gow — can throw into it; for this man 
 is indeed regarded in the light of a hero by 
 the peasantry of the district. But if you have 
 patience to listen to a more plain version — 
 unless, indeed, you would prefer to survey 
 
 our limited domains " 
 
 "The Outlaw, by all means. In the interim, 
 I shall be recruiting strength for our royal 
 procession. There is a glorious old orchard, 
 which I must entreat a half hour for — you have 
 not sat for two years on a high stool in a 
 cobweb-hung office in Chancery Lane, and, 
 perhaps, know not my anticipations of ' the
 
 RELATIVES. l6l 
 
 country' and all that appertains thereto. 
 And, if the boat I saw may be trusted to, we 
 might take the water, while I append my 
 humble and degenerate name to the purely 
 Celtic family-scroll which I passed on my 
 way here." 
 
 " The boat is better than it looks. But — if 
 I might venture to suggest — a quiet tete-d-tete 
 with our uncle would be more suitable 
 for this evening after your late fatigue. 
 On the morrow you can show how you can 
 pull an oar ; and, if you can handle a spade, 
 so much the better — doubtless, you have 
 also observed how vainly I have endeavoured 
 to contend with the encroaching inroads of 
 clover, trefoil, and the too indigenous sham- 
 rock, on my own peculiar principality. But 
 now for the Dark Douglas and my short 
 sketch — story you must not expect. The 
 account runs that this Dwyer and his com- 
 panion or follower, which I know not, being 
 belated, had asked a night's lodging at the 
 house of a peasant or small farmer, ignorant 
 of their persons. A neighbouring detach- 
 ment of military, which had for some period 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 1 62 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 been in pursuit of them, received intelligence 
 of this by some means or other, and by day- 
 break the house was completely surrounded 
 by a Scotch regiment under a Colonel Mac- 
 donald. This being successfully accomplished, 
 the Colonel, or one of his officers, advanced 
 to the door, and commanded their surrender. 
 In a few moments he was answered by the 
 Outlaw himself from within. His words, as I 
 have heard them, were — ' Unknown to this 
 family, we asked of them shelter for the night. 
 Until they are beyond the reach of danger, 
 we cannot discuss any terms of surrender.' 
 Perhaps I should here tell you (as these 
 words of the Outlaw, it has been alleged, 
 bore reference to the circumstance), that on 
 the occasion of this man's refusal to throw 
 himself on the clemency of the Government, 
 with the other insurgents, on the termination 
 of the Rebellion, his father and his whole 
 family were placed in gaol, on the plea of 
 harbouring Dwyer, and their few acres, 
 uncropped and unable to yield any rent, 
 passed from their hands. (These were terrible 
 times, cousin ; and the long-suffering of our
 
 RELATIVES. 1 63 
 
 peasantry, and all sense of justice on the 
 part of the Royalists, seemed alike to have 
 deserted the land.) However this may be, 
 the declaration now made by Dwyer was not 
 unacceptable to the military leader, since the 
 probability of sacrificing - innocent life in an 
 attack on the house had been his chief 
 difficulty. It was therefore answered from 
 without, that the family would be allowed to 
 depart unmolested to the nearest place of 
 shelter ; w T hich permission was at once acted 
 upon. When the peasant and his family had 
 left the house, the Outlaw appeared for a 
 moment in the open doorway, and addressed 
 the commander of the troops in these words — 
 ' Colonel, you asked us what we intended to 
 do. JVozv we are prepared to tell you. We 
 intend to light until we die.' And im- 
 mediately the door was closed again. A 
 regular siege was now laid to the house, and 
 a fire of musketry maintained on either side, 
 whenever a combatant become visible. After 
 a contest of this nature, protracted far into 
 the morning, the soldiers succeeded in setting 
 fire to a pile of turf within the building ;
 
 1 64 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and soon after the whole house was wrapped 
 in flames. The door — so the soldiers report 
 the occurrence — was now flung open to its 
 widest extent from within, and the figure of 
 the Dark Douglas appeared in the open 
 doorway, as it were with the purpose of 
 making a sally. Immediately all the soldiers 
 stationed on that side of the house, wholly 
 unsuspicious of the desperate trick, levelled 
 their muskets and fired, some shots evi- 
 dently taking effect ; and Douglas falling 
 prostrate on the floor, in front of the 
 rising flames. Dwyer was defending the 
 opposite side of the house ; but his com- 
 panion was now seen by those soldiers who 
 had just discharged their firearms to raise 
 himself again on his arm, and to address the 
 Outlaw in these words — ' Run for it now, 
 Dwyer, before the red coats reload, if you 
 would not die like a singed rat ; ' and again 
 he measured his length on the floor. At- 
 tracted by the voice, or by the discharge of 
 musketry, or perhaps by both, the Outlaw 
 was now seen to come forward to where his 
 companion lay ; and a glance seemed to
 
 RELATIVES. 1 65 
 
 place him in possession of the exact condition 
 of affairs. For a moment he stood irresolute, 
 gazing on the soldiery, some of whom were 
 reloading, while others were hastening round 
 to the other side of the building to acquaint 
 their companions, whose muskets were still 
 undischarged. Then he seized Douglas in 
 his arms ; and, with a single bound, he 
 sprung through the open doorway, while 
 the whole burning pile fell in with a loud 
 crash. He slipped, and fell with his burden 
 on some ice before the door (it was winter- 
 time) ; but no soldier had his gun ready, and 
 he was up again in a moment, and continued 
 on his flight. A tall Highlander, I have 
 heard, whose heels moved more quickly than 
 his head, started in pursuit of him ; and it 
 was partly owing to this circumstance that 
 the Outlaw effected his escape, thus heavily 
 weighted ; for he permitted his pursuer to 
 come so near him as to actually cover, and 
 protect him, by his person ; and, though the 
 military who were in the rear of the building 
 had time to come in front, they saw that they 
 could aim at the Outlaw only through their
 
 I 66 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 comrade. Dwyer's only memento of this 
 occurrence was a severe wound in the hand, 
 marks of which, I am told, he bears to the 
 present day. His companion was never again 
 seen in these mountain regions ; though 
 whether he was quite dead ere the Outlaw 
 carried him from the building, or he subse- 
 quently expired under his care, or, indeed, 
 recovered sufficiently to be removed from the 
 country, is known only to himself. The 
 peasantry who tell the tale add that he 
 breathed his last in the Outlaw's mountain 
 retreat, and that he was buried by his own 
 hands in one of the neighbouring glens, 
 where his ghost may be seen, on occasions, to 
 the present day ; but, as no one will affirm 
 that he himself has seen it, or any appearance 
 bearing resemblance to the Dark Douglas, 
 since that morning, I will not ask you to 
 credit this portion. So ends my tale. — And 
 here comes old Sable," said Miss De Vere, 
 as she concluded her narrative, and the raven, 
 which I had previously observed, stalked into 
 the room, " to warn us that the dinner-hour 
 draws nierh."
 
 RELATIVES. 1 67 
 
 "What a singular janitor!" I remarked. 
 " He stood in the open doorway, as I 
 approached the house, and appeared 
 strongly inclined to contest my entrance — Is 
 he, then, old?" 
 
 " Not old for a raven, I believe — in fact, a 
 mere youth ; though I have heard our uncle 
 say that he himself was little more than a 
 school-boy when he and his brothers domes- 
 ticated — or, rather, attempted to domesticate 
 — the creature. This district, or townland 
 — perhaps you are not aware — originally 
 rejoiced in the name of Glen-na-Fiac, of 
 which Ravensdale, I am told (I am no Celtic 
 scholar), is an English translation ; and was 
 greatly infested by these birds. Our uncle 
 and his brothers, in some boyish freak, 
 entered on a campaign to destroy these 
 creatures ; which they carried out, with the 
 single exception of your unamiable opponent 
 — then, I believe, a mere fledgling, and 
 which still bears traces, as you may perceive, 
 of this war of extermination. Whether it is 
 owing to an originally morose disposition, 
 or a recollection of these family wrongs, he
 
 1 68 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 has ever since been remarkable for the same 
 unsocial, silent (he has not even the recom- 
 mendation of talking) qualities which he has 
 evinced toward you. Indeed, I think, his 
 especial animosity is directed against the 
 Featherstone race — not even excepting 
 myself, who have striven hard to atone for 
 the cruel vicissitudes of himself and his 
 relatives. But there goes Dan's first bell — 
 rung with a more steady hand than I could 
 have expected ; and, save on company days 
 (somewhat rare ones at Ravensdale : you, 
 you know, are a Featherstone), our uncle 
 allows but a quarter of an hour till dinner.' '
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 ON descending to the dining-room, 
 where the inmates were already seated, 
 — the formal drawing-room ten minutes 
 having either expired, or being on this 
 occasion dispensed with, — I was formally 
 introduced to Miss Macklewaine, an elderly 
 maiden relative of Miss De Vere's deceased 
 father, and who completed the company at 
 Ravensdale House. The dilatory Dan (I 
 had already found my travelling-bag safe in 
 my room) was at his post ; and (bating an 
 irrepressible loquacity, and one or two 
 gaucheries, chiefly directed — if I may so say 
 — against Miss Macklewaine) " got through 
 the dinner," as, I was told, he afterwards 
 expressed himself, "in flyin' colours." My
 
 1 70 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 uncle was somewhat more communicative (a 
 fact which seemed to restore no little con- 
 fidence and an accession of cheerfulness to 
 the mind of my cousin), and, with an occa- 
 sional absence of manner, played the part of 
 host with ease and dignity. 
 
 " It afforded me much pleasure," said Miss 
 De Vere, as I rejoined her in the drawing- 
 room, after a sparing after-dinner libation, 
 under the equally sparing direction of my 
 host, " to behold my guardian much of his 
 old self, this evening. You are to love our 
 uncle, cousin, as he deserves to be loved — 
 that is, much." 
 
 "To hear — is to obey," was my reply; 
 " at least (pardon the ungallant condition) 
 until your commands assume much more 
 formidable proportions ; for, I will confess 
 to you, notwithstanding some apparent cold- 
 ness of manner, I felt almost strangely drawn 
 toward my uncle from our first interview." 
 I had taken a seat beside my cousin — Miss 
 Macklewaine, in a distant portion of the 
 room, having wholly resigned herself to the 
 influence of the drowsy god. After a pause,
 
 CONFIDENCES. 17 1 
 
 and some reflection with myself, I continued: 
 "And now, fair cousin, that we have 
 touched upon the subject by this chance 
 allusion, forgive me if I dwell for one moment 
 longer upon it — my pardon will be all the 
 more generous act of yours, inasmuch as I 
 see that I already alarm you. Once and for 
 all, then — my uncle — was it at his request 
 that I am an inmate of Ravensdale House ? 
 One or two trifling circumstances — the some- 
 what ambiguous wording of my father's 
 letter to me, our first interview just mentioned, 
 and a chance allusion or two which have 
 since dropped — have led me to the frame of 
 mind which propounds this question. Reply, 
 or not, cousin, as you please; only, do not 
 suppose me so degenerate a Featherstone as 
 to be possessed of that littleness of mind 
 which seeks to assert its position by rendering 
 its owner ridiculous ; you, I understand, 
 were the writer of the letter which brought 
 me to Ravensdale House ; and here I shall 
 remain as long as I am permitted, and as 
 long as you and my father, for your own 
 sufficient reasons, deem advisable/'
 
 172 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 I found myself embarked on a longer 
 speech than I had originally intended — nay, 
 intention I had none, until my cousin's words 
 suggested an opportunity which might never 
 again occur — or, occurring at a later period 
 of my stay, might be taken advantage of 
 with even a less grace than at present. And 
 I had proceeded, partly with a view of cover- 
 ing this ungracious position in which I was 
 now placing myself — that of a guest who 
 doubts his welcome; and, partly, in order to 
 allow Miss De Vere time for reply. 
 
 Alarm I certainly had caused her. Her 
 lip slightly trembled, and she kept her eyes 
 fixed for a moment on the carpet at her foot. 
 Presently, she summoned courage to speak — 
 
 "If I said 'yes,' Cousin Frank, 'it was 
 by his request,' I would say truly. But so 
 explicit a demand as yours needs an equally 
 explicit explanation ; which you shall have. 
 There are circumstances" (and here the 
 mouth quivered again) " which I am unable, 
 and dare not, enter upon : their explanation 
 I must leave for clearer heads and stouter 
 hearts than mine : I trust — indeed, I expect
 
 COXFIDEXCES. 173 
 
 — that you shall not have to wait long. But, 
 on your present question, I am willing to 
 throw all the light that I possess. Most 
 strange and unmerited misfortunes" (and 
 here my cousin's fine eyes filled with tears) 
 " have now — your father writes that you are 
 but slightly acquainted with the family 
 history of late " 
 
 " Say — not at all, cousin." 
 
 "Be it, not at all. Such, indeed, is the 
 tenor of his letter. Most strange and un- 
 merited misfortunes have now, for some 
 years, made sport of my dear uncle's happi- 
 ness. You do not — few ever can — know the 
 true nobility which he has exhibited under 
 them. But we all understand the tendency 
 of one fixed idea, preying uninterruptedly on 
 mind and intellect — I am alone, or almost 
 alone, with him (Aunt Ursula is old — indeed, 
 she is my grand-aunt) — with no one to apply 
 to for advice or assistance, should any 
 
 emergency ' ' 
 
 ' Gracious Heavens ! Miss De Vere — you 
 have not — you surely do not entertain any 
 fears on the score of my uncle's reason ! "
 
 174 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 "No — oh, scarcely that — and, yet, what 
 inexpressible consolation would it afford me 
 to behold his thoughts turned into some new 
 channel ; or, even, obtaining some help in 
 the one in which they now move ! To unravel 
 each thread of that tangled web (which I 
 must leave himself to lay before you) seems 
 now to have become the one purpose of 
 his life. Need I tell you with what risks this 
 is accompanied, under the lonely life which 
 we lead here, with so little to tempt the mind 
 to other occupations ? And, accordingly — 
 or it may have been my own fears — I have 
 remarked, of late, an increase of eccentricity 
 — we are, Frank ' ' (with a faint attempt at a 
 smile), "accounted an eccentric family; and 
 a certain irritability — a new feature in his 
 case — causing me such serious alarm that, 
 after much thought with myself, I asked his 
 permission to write to your father, and invite 
 him to Ravensdale. At first, he refused ; 
 chiefly on the score that your father had 
 once disapproved of certain acts of his, and 
 that little sympathy was to be expected 
 between them in consequence. On a second,
 
 CONFIDENCES. 175 
 
 and more successful, attempt of mine, he 
 gave his permission — partly perhaps to 
 relieve my anxiety ; partly, I almost feared 
 (though no allusion to the subject was made 
 by either of us), from forebodings of the 
 same nature as my own. I worded my letter 
 with great caution, so great — it is now plain 
 from your father's deputing you, Master 
 Frank — that I failed to convey any adequate 
 conception of the feelings under which I 
 wrote: but, indeed, my only object was to 
 bring a near relative to our uncle's side, 
 leaving him to dispose of the rest as he 
 might think proper. On receiving your 
 father's reply, announcing your near arrival, 
 1 at once laid it before him, and could not 
 fail to see that the change of visitors afforded 
 him pleasure — I might almost say relief. 
 Doubtless, the disapproval of the course of 
 conduct which our uncle had pursued still 
 rankled in his mind — and your own pro- 
 fessional studies will render you a more 
 congenial companion : to say nothing of the 
 legal knowledge which you have obtained, 
 and which cannot fail to be of assistance."
 
 176 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 I endeavoured to receive this last intima- 
 tion with becoming gravity : my legal 
 knowledge, save the mark ! would find ample 
 room in the silver thimble which my cousin 
 had again resumed, having laid aside her 
 sewing on hearing the question which had 
 brought about this conversation. The further 
 to preserve my judicial dignity, I added, 
 " But is — or was not — my uncle an eminent 
 barrister, himself?" 
 
 " Assuredly. But — not to say that two 
 legal heads should be better than one — 
 professional men, I have heard, like other 
 opinion than their own, or, at least, with 
 their own, in matters deeply personal to 
 themselves. 
 
 4 'And now, my dear Frank," said my 
 cousin, holding out her hand to me — " now 
 that I have solved your difficulty as to your 
 position in Ravensdale House in a manner 
 which ought fairly to be satisfactory to your 
 feelings, let me express the great — the very 
 great gratification which it affords me to see 
 you an inmate here. To night I will have to 
 thank you — nay, let me now thank you— for a
 
 CONFIDENCES. 1 77 
 
 repose to which I have been for some time a 
 stranger. But Aunt Ursula has opened her 
 eyes, which is a sign that she expects her 
 tea ; while here comes uncle to challenge 
 you to an encounter at chess." 
 
 After some games of chess (by great good 
 fortune, I managed to come off conqueror in 
 one or two : though I had made but few 
 moves until I found myself in the hands of a 
 master), my uncle asked me a few questions 
 concerning his brother, my father, and our 
 Gloucestershire life ; after which, the conver- 
 sation reverted to my own university and law 
 studies. He put to me one or two legal 
 queries — incidentally, and, as I judged, 
 without any present intention of following 
 them up : and, sooth to say, here the jade 
 Fortune deserted me altogether — for, answer- 
 ing at random, I found, by subsequent 
 reflection, that my answers had been wholly 
 incorrect. 
 
 On the whole, on reviewing my day's 
 experience, I found it a somewhat strange 
 medley of disappointment and pleasure : of 
 disappointment, at not acquitting myself 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 I78 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 better in the presence of my uncle — possibly, 
 too, at sight of the scene of neglect, I might 
 almost say of desolation, which reigned 
 around : of pleasure, in the society of Miss 
 De Vere, and in the counterbalancing footing 
 — of coadjutor and protector — on which I 
 seemed to be received by her. And, in such 
 a frame of mind, I sought my room for the 
 night. 
 
 But whatever repose I might be instru- 
 mental in giving to other inhabitants of 
 Ravensdale House, I was certainly sparing 
 in reserving a sufficient stock of that article 
 for myself; for, spite of my wanderings, it 
 was some hours after I had retired before 
 I could succeed in banishing the waking 
 thoughts of the day from my mind — in which 
 the tall, picturesque form of my uncle (already 
 invested with an air of mystery) — and the 
 deep, truthful eyes of my cousin played con- 
 spicuous parts. Nay, when, at length, I 
 passed into the world of dreams, like visions 
 still pursued me — mingled, indeed, with the 
 more sharp ferrety orbs of Miss Macklewaine, 
 and the rich Milesian accents — the richest I
 
 CONFIDENCES. 1 79 
 
 had yet heard — of the bibulous Dan. Nor, 
 when the veritable Dan himself announced, 
 in the same accents, that it was time for me 
 to arise, and deposited the hot water for 
 shaving at my bedside, was it without 
 difficulty I succeeded in persuading myself 
 that he was not again offering his apologies 
 for the soup which he had deposited on the 
 ancient brocade of the latter lady.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. 
 
 " r I ^HE orchard, I think you said, was to be 
 -L your first introduction to the Ravens- 
 dale territories? " was Miss De Vere's inquiry, 
 as, some hours after breakfast — spent by 
 her, I was given to understand, in household 
 duties, and by me in the library — we issued 
 together from the house. 
 
 " The orchard first, by all means — though 
 the boat, the summer-house, and these much- 
 enduring flower-beds (if you have sufficient 
 faith in my qualifications as a landscape- 
 gardener) have all their special attractions." 
 "You are forgetting Old Martha — anew 
 Featherstone at the Big House, and not 
 making his first visit to Martha ! I think we 
 had better be content with the orchard to-
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. 151 
 
 day, as through it lies our way to the cottage 
 — and be sure you say you came straight 
 through it." 
 
 "And who is Martha?" 
 
 " Martha has rocked the cradles of — I 
 dare not say how many generations of Fea- 
 therstones. Prepare your filial ears to hear 
 your father spoken of as ' Masther Dominick' 
 — and, under the title of 'the Colleen,' be 
 pleased to understand that reference is in- 
 tended to your humble servant. Nay, even 
 the awful Sir Digges, the great head of our 
 house, does not escape being classed as one 
 of 'the young gentlemen.' " 
 
 " Colleen means, I believe, little girl ?" 
 
 "Precisely; and I, who am, or ought to 
 be, a discreet, elderly person, was once that 
 little girl. I should not wonder to find you 
 pass in her eyes as a mere gossoon (you know, 
 cousin, I have the advantage of you in point 
 of years) — in fact, unless you can succeed in 
 throwing something venerable into your face 
 and manner, a merely promising baby." 
 
 " If this old woman," said I — perhaps, not 
 over well-pleased at the allusion to a really
 
 I 82 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 nominal disparity between the ages of my- 
 self and the fair girl who walked by my side 
 — " is an old retainer of the family, why (I 
 ask that I may not appear a complete igno- 
 ramus before such a depository of family 
 lore) has she not followed the fortunes of the 
 great Sir Digges himself?" 
 
 " Partly because, for sundry crimes and 
 misdemeanours, she has, in her own parlance, 
 1 given the back of her hand to him' (which, 
 rendered into your London vernacular, would 
 stand, I suppose, that she has 'cut' him) — 
 and partly because old Martha — whom, I 
 perceive, you are already prepared to dis- 
 like — clings, like the cats (though indeed 
 honest Rover" — addressing a large New- 
 foundland dog which gambolled by her side 
 — "would more nearly represent her family 
 attachments) to the soil. Doubtless, you 
 are aware that Ravensdale House was the 
 seat, before the Featherstones boasted a 
 Baronet at their head — though, perhaps, 
 more broad acres than Sir Digges and our 
 uncle here can now muster between them at 
 present. When Castle Coote brought with
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. 1 83 
 
 it this title into the family, Ravensdale 
 House was made the patrimony of the se- 
 cond son." 
 
 " Then, Sir Digges once held Ravensdale 
 House?" 
 
 "No; not exactly. That is, he never 
 came into actual seizure and possession, — 
 which is, I believe, the proper phrase among 
 you gentlemen of the long robe. Norman 
 Featherstone, his father — and our grand- 
 father — then lived ; and was, of course, the 
 holder of Ravensdale House. Him, our 
 uncle Digges would in the ordinary course 
 of nature (am I correct, again ?) — succeed ; 
 while our uncle Allen here — to whom neither 
 house nor lands appertained, nor appeared 
 likely to appertain, only a slender second 
 son's portion — embraced the profession of 
 the law. On the death, however, of old Sir 
 Percy (a distant relative) it was found by his 
 will that the eldest son of Norman Feather- 
 stone could choose between Castle Coote 
 and Ravensdale House — the rejected estate 
 reverting to the second son ; and uncle 
 Digges accepted Castle Coote, as the better
 
 184 RAVE NSD ALE. 
 
 of the two — I have heard our uncles say that 
 Norman Featherstone somewhat 'dipped' the 
 family acres. In accordance with these con- 
 ditions, and by a process of ' cutting off' 
 somebody or something — which, I confess, 
 takes me a little out of my legal depths — our 
 uncle Allen succeeded to the Valley of the 
 Ravens on the death of his father." 
 
 " The whole matter was, then, an amicable 
 arrangement? " 
 
 "Perfectly so, Mr. Cross-questioner. I 
 have frequently heard all the brothers speak of 
 it as a sound and equitable distribution of 
 the family property, made in strict accordance 
 with the wishes of the testator ; and they 
 continued to meet on most cordial terms for 
 many years afterwards — so that I fear your 
 hopes are small of founding a legal reputa • 
 tion on any re-opening of it. — But here we 
 are at Martha's door." 
 
 After passing through the orchard, and 
 making our exit by a postern door, our 
 course had lain, during the preceding con- 
 versation, through, or beneath, " the melan- 
 choly shade of boughs," formed by a lower
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. 1 85 
 
 forest of pines, which here made a consider- 
 able turn toward the rear of the Big House ; 
 and, beyond this, lay the cottage or cabin, to 
 which we had been directing our steps. It 
 stood on the outskirts of the present Ravens- 
 dale bounds (truth to state, of no very 
 extended proportions); and, but for its 
 greater neatness, differed little from the 
 ordinary peasants' cabins of the district. It 
 must, however, in fairness, be stated that 
 these cabins presented a marked contrast to 
 the wretched hovels which I had met in the 
 course of my wanderings of the two previous 
 days — habitations, if they deserved the name, 
 which had too closely corresponded with the 
 scene around them. Here, however, the 
 very cabins or cottages might be said to 
 smile with the surrounding landscape. 
 
 The half-open door (that is, a door con- 
 sisting of an upper and lower compartment, 
 one ordinarily open, the other closed) con- 
 ducted on to a hard earthen floor, swept 
 and scrupulously clean. At one end of the 
 apartment lay a large nook or recess, used 
 as the hearth, and on which the usual peat
 
 1 86 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 sods smouldered. Reared against the wall, 
 and glistening- white by lavish application of 
 freestone, was " the dresser," an essential 
 ornament of the reception-room of every 
 Irish cabin, whose owner can command it. 
 On the shelves of this was arranged, and 
 conspicuously displayed for further ornamen- 
 tation, the entire service of delf, tinware, 
 glass (a limited supply — a broken piece or 
 two of looking-glass included), and cheap 
 chimney-piece baubles, which the establish- 
 ment boasted of, flanked, on either side, by a 
 mug or tin porringer, containing a nosegay 
 of fresh-gathered woodland flowers. Some 
 wooden stools and a small table — all bearing 
 similar evidences of freestone — were arranged 
 about ; and a wooden stand — similar to the 
 huge candlestick I had observed in the cave 
 of the Outlaw — stood by the wall, ready for 
 evening use ; though, instead of the bog- 
 deal there used, I remarked that it bore a 
 rush-light, which then, and for years after, 
 supplied the place of the ordinary " dip," 
 even in the kitchens of the gentry of the 
 more remote country districts. A few highly-
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. 1 87 
 
 coloured prints with scriptural subjects, and 
 a ballad setting forth the loves and misfor- 
 tunes of Willie Reilly and his dear Colleen 
 Bawn, were affixed to the walls, and com- 
 pleted the entire equipment of the apartment. 
 Ceiling there was none, and the bare rafters 
 and thatch of the roof — both now dyed a deep 
 ebony by the turf smoke — were the sole 
 covering between the inmates and the sky. 
 A pot, filled with potatoes, and suspended 
 over the hearth by means similar to those 
 observed by me on the previous occasion just 
 referred to, was now bubbling, and pro- 
 claimed the noon-day dinner near at hand, if, 
 indeed, the extreme anxiety of a fine fat pig 
 outside the half-door as we entered, and his 
 piteous tones of expostulation at the slow 
 movement of time, had not already apprised 
 us of that fact. On one of the white and 
 well-scoured stools, sat old Martha herself — 
 solacing her delay with a short black pipe — 
 her only indulgence, I was given to under- 
 stand. A snow-white cap set off a face 
 which must have been comely in its time, and 
 was still intelligent ; and an equally clean
 
 I 00 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 apron imparted an air of neatness and 
 tidiness — not, I grieve to say, to be found 
 generally among the peasantry of other dis- 
 tricts of the island : for Martha, I could per- 
 ceive, was essentially a peasant woman, and 
 not by any means so old as I had been led to 
 expect. Indeed — as I afterwards learned — 
 she was a contemporary, or very little more, 
 and foster-sister of my father and uncles ; 
 and her phrases of " Masther Dominick," 
 " Masther Allen," and "the young ladies 
 and gentlemen " in general at the Big 
 House, did not so much mark any superiority 
 of years on her part as traces of the tone of 
 conversation which prevailed around her 
 during her residence there. Taken from the 
 peasant's cabin to be an humble companion 
 and assistant to these aforementioned young 
 ladies, she had straightway relapsed into her 
 former state and status as soon as family 
 changes and arrangements made her services 
 no longer necessary within the walls of the 
 Big House. While, therefore, it was but 
 reasonable to suppose that she had derived 
 benefits, in habits and training, during her
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. iSg 
 
 sojourn with " the family," she might, on 
 the other hand, in many respects be accepted 
 as a specimen — a favourable one, doubtless 
 — of the better-ordered and more intelligent 
 members of the class inhabiting the happier 
 portion of Ireland, and raised beyond the 
 pressure of immediate want. With the paid 
 professional domestic she had nothing what- 
 ever in common, while she afforded repeated 
 indication that no association with "the 
 quality" had, in the least, subverted those 
 national characteristics common to the Irish 
 peasantry. 
 
 " I have brought you a visitor, Martha," 
 said Miss De Vere, as we now found our way 
 into the cottage — having, with some in- 
 genuity, evaded the entrance of the fat pig 
 with us — " I suppose, I need not add — a 
 Featherstone." 
 
 " Eh ! Miss Constance — an' isn't it good 
 for sore eyes to see a young gentleman about 
 the place, as it used to be in the old times. 
 It's well I remember the Captain (he'll be his 
 father) — the fine young jintleman that camj 
 down to see the lone woman, in his goold
 
 I gO RAVENSDALE. 
 
 lace, and cocked hat, and ilegant regimentals, 
 before he went to the wars. I'll go bail you 
 often heard Masther Dominick tell of ould 
 Martha ? " 
 
 My memory was, I confess, somewhat 
 treacherous on the subject ; but, providen- 
 tially, I could call to mind — or did call to 
 mind, Heaven help me ! — a certain pound of 
 tobacco, with which I represented myself as 
 entrusted (so, at least, I made effort to say, 
 though a roguish look in my fair cousin's 
 eyes somewhat marred the effect) for her sole 
 and separate use. 
 
 "Ah! there now," said the highly-pleased 
 old lady, " that's more than ever I got from 
 Castle Coote ; misfortune came with it into 
 the family." 
 
 "Oh! Martha," broke in Miss De Vere, 
 " you are unjust ; Sir Digges never omitted 
 his inquiries for you, whenever he came to 
 Ravensdale ; and even visited you." 
 
 "Ay — ay," said Martha, in that indescri- 
 bable tone with which alone the Irish pea- 
 santry permit themselves to express a doubt, 
 or rather difference of opinion, with their
 
 AN OLD IRISH RETAINER. igi 
 
 superiors in station. "It's little he thought 
 of the lone woman after his back was turned. 
 That wasn't the way with the poor ould 
 Masther up at the House, that stuck to ould 
 Martha through sorra an' throuble — oh wirra 
 strue ! that ever they came upon the house 
 an' dacent family." 
 
 "But, you know, Martha, you were asked 
 to live at Castle Coote." 
 
 " Me to live at Castle Coote ! " exclaimed 
 the highly-incensed old woman, — " me to 
 live with flauntin' hussies an' tinselled 
 draggletails — me that was reared up with 
 the young ladies themselves, and among 
 respectable women." 
 
 "Well, well," said Miss De Vere, now 
 truly pained, and anxious, if possible, to 
 check the tide of eloquence which was 
 plainly rising to the lips of Martha, " all 
 that is changed now." 
 
 But Martha's eloquence was not to be 
 checked ; or, at all events, it merely trans- 
 ferred its current into the new channel thus 
 suggested. 
 
 "Changed! ay, ay, sorra on it for change!
 
 192 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 it was never good for the family — changed ! 
 thrue for you, alanna, a change it was to 
 see such a Lady Featherstone. Lady Fea- 
 therstone ! " (with a strong accent expres- 
 sive of scorn), " one of them same draggle- 
 tails, only oulder and deeper — a housekeeper, 
 she called herself." 
 
 " I must ask you to cease this subject, 
 Martha," now interposed Miss De Vere, 
 with some severity in look and tone, " I did 
 not bring my cousin to see you for such a 
 purpose. It is very well known that the 
 present Lady Featherstone was a housekeeper 
 at Castle Coote (and a respectable person 
 for her position) — that is all that can be 
 alleged against her, if, indeed, it is a crime. 
 On the other hand, it is, I believe, allowed 
 that she has effected an entire alteration in 
 the domestic regulations of the Castle." 
 
 " The divil a doubt of it ! " broke from 
 the incorrigible Martha. " ' Bundle and go/ 
 was the tune, when Nancy Bell found herself 
 one of the quality." 
 
 The words and manner, however, of my 
 cousin had, in reality, brought the old
 
 AX OLD IRISH RETAINER. I 93 
 
 woman to a stricter sense of propriety, her 
 last remark being the farewell shot of the 
 vanquished. Not but, at intervals, a drop- 
 ping fire — certain mutterings, which, to alter 
 the metaphor, bore no very distant resem- 
 blance to those of a dog which had been 
 checked for flying at " a suspicious character, ? ' 
 were still to be heard, in which " changed!" 
 and "Lady Featherstone " were alone dis- 
 tinguishable. 
 
 " I am sorry, Frank," said Miss De Yere, 
 turning to me with some appearance of 
 embarrassment, "that your first visit to 
 Martha has not been made more agreeable 
 to you. I trust it will not happen again." 
 
 "No, Miss — no, Miss Constance," said 
 the half-contrite Martha ; " I'd sooner bite 
 my tongue off than offend you, or the poor 
 Masther. But I get ould, alanna : and age 
 and crossness goes together. Come and see 
 the ould woman again, Masther Frank. It's 
 often the Captain, your father, and all the 
 young gentlemen used to come down, to 
 smoke their pipes, and reddy* their guns 
 
 * Ready, i.e.. put in readiness. 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 1 94 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and fishing-rods, wid, maybe, a half-bottle 
 from the dining-table for ould Larry — my 
 husband was alive then, Masther Frank ; I'm 
 a lone woman, now, and it's not long I'll 
 throuble anyone." 
 
 Somewhat mollified, my cousin promised 
 that our visit should be repeated shortly, 
 and we left the cottage — to the evident relief 
 of the fat pig, who had beheld (by standing 
 on his hind legs, like a dog, and looking 
 into the cabin) the dinner preparations 
 wholly suspended during our presence.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 RAVENSDALE HOUSE. 
 
 IT will be unnecessary for me to weary the 
 reader's patience by entering into any 
 minute details of the few succeeding weeks, 
 as passed by me at Ravensdale House. Of 
 my uncle, I saw but little ; and was thrown, 
 by consequence, more into the society of 
 Miss De Vere for company — a circumstance 
 which, perhaps, I was not disposed to find 
 fault with, at the time. As some compensa- 
 tion for his absence, excused on the plea of 
 business, he had, however, at an early 
 period, introduced me into, and made me 
 free of, the library — a large and not uncom- 
 fortable room, sufficiently removed from the 
 sitting-rooms to insure perfect quiet. As
 
 I96 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 might be naturally expected, the legal ele- 
 ment was largely represented on its shelves ; 
 though miscellaneous literature, and that of 
 a fairly recent character, was by no means 
 lost sight of. Whatever might be the nature 
 of my uncle's avocations, they seldom brought 
 him to this room. When he did enter it 
 while I was there, it was generally but to 
 take a volume from the shelf, consult it for 
 some time, replace it, and then glide from 
 the apartment again. If his manner at 
 times, on such occasions, gave me an im- 
 pression that he was about to enter on more 
 confidential terms with me, I was as fre- 
 quently doomed to disappointment. Some- 
 times, it is true, he approached the part of 
 the room where I was sitting ; inquired into 
 the nature of my studies ; and, with great 
 clearness, and a perfect grasp of the subject, 
 elucidated any difficulty which had presented 
 itself to me. This was, of course, more 
 apparent in matters connected with his 
 profession (my father had suggested to me 
 the desirableness of keeping up an acquaint- 
 ance with my legal studies), but there were
 
 RAVEN SD ALE HOUSE. IOJ 
 
 few branches of a polite education on which 
 I did not find him competent to give able 
 and enlarged views. 
 
 Smarting under a sense of the poor exhi- 
 bition of myself which I had made before 
 him on my first evening at Ravensdale 
 House, I took the earliest opportunity, really 
 from no other motive, to consult some of the 
 standard works on the luckless subject of my 
 break-down ; and it so fell out that my uncle 
 entered the library, and approached my chair, 
 as I was thus employed. Contrary, however, 
 to my expectations, a shade of displeasure 
 passed over his face as his eye glanced on 
 the open page, and, with some reference to 
 a volume he was in search of, he passed on. 
 After that, he continued as heretofore, though 
 perhaps more seldom, to assist my studies 
 by commenting on some favourite topic con- 
 nected with them ; but all subjects bearing 
 on himself or our family entered no longer 
 into our conversation. On these, my cousin's 
 words had led me to expect some important 
 explanation from him : this, I could not help 
 concluding, he had now deferred, if not wholly
 
 I98 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 abandoned ; nor was I free from a certain feel- 
 ing that I myself was the unconscious cause. 
 My out-of-door pursuits were sufficiently 
 diversified. The neighbourhood abounded 
 with game, and there was no lack of fowling- 
 pieces, wholly disused, it is true, for some 
 years, but readily brought by me into order 
 again. The surrounding streams, too, were 
 plentifully stocked with excellent trout, and 
 Dan, an enthusiast in all sports by field and 
 flood, not only made me acquainted with 
 the several flies at which these speckled 
 denizens rose, but also diligently sought, far 
 and wide, for the hare's ear; the cock, 
 grouse, and woodcock hackles; the lark's, 
 starling's, and wild duck's wing ; the wren's 
 tail, the pig's bristles, the badger's hair, the 
 hog's down ; with furs of the fox, otter, 
 marten, and water-rat — in a word, the va- 
 rious materials which go to the composition 
 of the artificial fly. I possessed some know- 
 ledge of fly-tying ; and, with a little care 
 and labour, was not long in providing my- 
 self with a "book" of these ingenious 
 little make-believes.
 
 RAVENSDALE HOUSE. 1 99 
 
 During my operation of preparing- my 
 book of artificial flies, I had opportunities of 
 beholding the mode of life at Ravensdale 
 House, passing, as it were, in review before 
 me. It is true, my occupation confined me 
 for several hours each day to my own room 
 (for a current of air, the sudden opening of 
 a door, or window, would have scattered all 
 Dan's hard-sought treasures to the winds) — 
 where Master Sable, the morose raven I have 
 already referred to, was my solitary visitor. 
 But, even from this place of seclusion, I 
 could gain a pretty accurate idea of the daily 
 routine. 
 
 It was a favourite pastime of this " gentle- 
 man in black " to climb, by slow and tedious 
 labour, a tall sapling which grew under my 
 window, and which brought him on a level 
 with my apartment — for he was unable to 
 raise himself from the ground by means of 
 his wings ; though, once on an eminence, he 
 could manage a short and safe flight back to 
 terra-firma. Nothing could well be conceived 
 less social or companion-like than our inter- 
 views on such occasions. The creature sat
 
 2 00 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 on a bough, or perched on the window-stool, 
 sometimes even on the table near me (owing 
 to the heat of the weather, I was obliged to 
 leave my window open), and contemplated 
 both me and my work with hard, indifferent- 
 seeming eye, wholly heedless of any atten- 
 tion paid to him. Indeed, I could have 
 believed him unconscious of my presence 
 altogether but for the alacrity with which he 
 took advantage of my slightest absence. 
 Once, I caught him in the act of walking off 
 with a precious packet of otter's fur — pro- 
 cured for me by the adventurous Dan at the 
 cost of some wet and sleepless nights, and 
 no small expenditure of Mr. Paudeen Gow's 
 distillation — and, with considerable difficulty, 
 regained possession of it. On another occa- 
 sion, a paper of fishing-hooks (thai, I had 
 almost a mind to leave him to satisfy his 
 curiosity upon, were it not that, setting aside 
 all considerations of humanity, my uncle 
 appeared to set considerable store by the 
 the brute) was the object of his desire. 
 When he grew tired of contemplating my 
 operations, he either descended, or, climbing
 
 RAVEXSDALE HOUSE. 201 
 
 still higher up the tree, clambered on to the 
 roof of the house, and was lost to sight for 
 that day at least — amid leads, gutters, and 
 gable-ends. 
 
 I cannot better conclude this chapter than 
 by giving a description of the internal arrange- 
 ments, as far as I came to be acquainted with 
 them, of this strange pile of building : for 
 strange it certainly was fast becoming in 
 my eyes. More especially as told they 
 must be, if I am to render the further 
 course of my narrative intelligible to the 
 reader. 
 
 From foregoing conversations, already 
 inserted in their proper places, the reader, 
 doubtless, will, by this time, be acquainted 
 with the fact that Ravensdale House was the 
 original ancestral seat of the Featherstone 
 family, under its old Celtic title of Glen-na- 
 Fiac, prior to the Castle Coote accession 
 under the will of Sir Percy. It had been built 
 at a period when the family acres extended 
 much more widely over the surrounding dis- 
 trict than at the time of which I write. Thus 
 the various relics of ornamentation (which —
 
 202 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 to compare small things with great — gave it 
 some distant resemblance to those long- 
 buried cities of Central America which the 
 traveller comes across — now in the midst of 
 the wild forest, and, anon, overrun by the 
 brake and the thicket) had all been the works 
 of generations long past; but indifferently 
 cared by later ones ; and now, latest of all, 
 left wholly to the weak hands of my cousin, 
 with such assistance as could be occasionally 
 obtained from the erratic Dan, and an aged 
 gardener named Tim, who regarded the 
 orchard as his sole and only charge. At 
 every step, therefore, it was no unusual 
 circumstance to find the carved stone-work 
 of gate-pier, parapet, or portico scattered — 
 and submerged — amid the luxuriant meadow; 
 or ignobly fulfilling the office of stop-gap to 
 some rent in hedge, or boundary wall. The 
 family acres having dwindled to their present 
 limited number, and — so it might be fairly 
 inferred — my uncle's whole revenue being 
 derived from their circumscribed area, every 
 spot was turned to purposes of utility, and 
 the merely ornamental grounds of a past era
 
 RAVEN SD ALE HOUSE. 203 
 
 were obliged to conform to the new order of 
 things as best they could. 
 
 The house, built wholly irrespective of its 
 present limited number of inhabitants, was 
 chiefly composed of two wings, extending 
 equally on either side of the main entrance. 
 The eastern, or right-hand wing, was now 
 the only inhabited portion (the arrangement 
 to concentrate the inmates might be one of 
 comfort and economy ; and the space was 
 ample) . While the western wing, lying on the 
 other side of the entrance-hall, was never 
 used — beyond the limits of a couple of stiff 
 and cold reception-rooms, most seldom 
 required — for any purpose whatever. These 
 vast solitudes lay entirely open, but were 
 never intruded upon by the inmates : as for 
 the domestics of the establishment, they were 
 seldom to be found singly, beyond their 
 proper regions, after dark. — It was rare, at 
 the period of which I write — I believe it is 
 rare still — to find a country-house in Ireland 
 (with any pretensions to age) which did not 
 possess its varied traditions of fact and 
 fiction : wherein deeds of wildness, violence,
 
 204 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and extreme prodigality alternated with tales 
 of ghost, goblin, and haunted chamber, 
 which they had left behind them. In such, 
 Ravensdale House was peculiarly rich. The 
 matters of fact were numerous, and, I believe, 
 beyond dispute — but the credibility of 
 the several ghostly or spiritual legends 
 which they had brought in their train, I must 
 leave to the taste of the reader to dispose of 
 as he may see fit. It may be that he is a 
 devout believer in ghostland, and I should 
 only incur his disapprobation by appearing 
 to treat the matter in a light and frivolous 
 manner ; or, he may scout all idea of such 
 visitations, and censure me for devoting any 
 portion of my pages to so foundationless a 
 subject. I shall, therefore, content myself by 
 stating that, while the whole of the domes- 
 tics, with Dan unmistakeably at their head — 
 who was as arrant a coward as ever it has 
 been my lot to meet — were all unanimous in 
 asserting the house to be "haunted," I 
 myself never came across anything which 
 was not explainable — eventually, at least — on 
 material and natural grounds.
 
 RAVEXSDALE HOUSE. 205 
 
 I have a clear recollection of my first 
 exploration of these silent solitudes. 
 
 I chose a bright and sunny day (not to 
 affect a fortitude with the reader greater than 
 he may be disposed to credit me with) for my 
 visit ; lest, by any means, some portion 
 hidden in deeper gloom, the wind moaning 
 down some chimney, or the slamming of 
 doors, might lend appearance to those tales 
 of the kitchen and pantry with which I was 
 already amply stored. 
 
 I had been poring over a volume in the 
 library, and, meeting with some difficulty on 
 which I was desirous to have the elucidation 
 of my uncle — at the time superintending 
 some field operations — before proceeding 
 with the subject, I had closed my book, and 
 strolled into the sitting-room. There, Miss 
 Macklewaine informed me that my cousin, 
 with her attendant maidens, was deep in the 
 progress of " a churning," and would not be 
 disengaged for some time. Miss Macklewaine 
 was not at any period a very enlivening 
 companion ; and, somewhat disappointed — 
 half hours with my cousin had come to be
 
 2C6 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 looked forward to by me not without interest 
 — I betook myself out again on the first con- 
 venient opportunity ; and now found myself 
 standing in the entrance-hall without well 
 knowing how to dispose of my time. The 
 door on the left-hand side of the hall stood 
 ajar — and I entered. 
 
 It opened, as I was already aware, on the 
 first of the large reception-rooms previously 
 mentioned — the other lying behind it, and 
 connected with it by a pair of folding-doors. 
 A few loungers were scattered through the 
 room, and a number of stiff, old-fashioned 
 chairs were arranged round the walls. Whole 
 generations of Featherstones stared at me 
 from out their equally stiff, old-fashioned 
 frames ; while a cold, empty grate added — 
 though it was summer — to the cheerless 
 appearance of the apartment. I had already 
 been in this and the adjoining room, and 
 there was little in them to further tempt 
 curiosity ; but, opposite to the door by which 
 I had entered, was another, which communi- 
 cated, I had no doubt, with the whole of the 
 unoccupied wing — and the spirit of inquiry
 
 RAVENSDALE HOUSE. 207 
 
 being strong upon me, I turned the handle, 
 and passed through. 
 
 I now found myself in a very much larger 
 room, and looking, perhaps, even larger 
 still by reason of its almost complete empti- 
 ness. A single table — now bearing nothing 
 save a thick coating of dust — ran down the 
 centre of the apartment ; and a few chairs 
 and a sideboard — all with similar covering — 
 were the only other articles of furniture. The 
 floor was uncarpeted, but consisted of dark- 
 stained oak, bearing trace — where the dust 
 permitted — of the high polish to which it had 
 been subjected. I could have little doubt 
 that this had been the banquet-room of 
 former times ; and my imagination pictured 
 to me the oceans of claret, the mounds of 
 solid food, and the correspondingly large 
 supplies of whiskey-punch which it had been 
 the means of dispensing to the inmates and 
 their friends. On the right hand, as I entered, 
 was a large window, opening on the front of 
 the house ; and, opposite to this, on the other 
 side of the room, was another door — to which 
 I now directed my steps.
 
 208 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 This door conducted me out on a landing, 
 from which one flight of stairs descended — I 
 could not doubt to the lower regions ; while 
 a similar one ascended, and led, as I conjec- 
 tured, to the remaining portion of the wing : 
 the whole, balusters, steps, and landing being 
 covered with a still deeper coating of dust 
 than that which I had observed in the ban- 
 quet-room. Choosing, in the first instance, 
 the descending flight of steps, I soon arrived 
 at their termination, and found myself — as 
 well as the very imperfect light informed 
 me — in a long arched gallery. The stone 
 flagging, the damp appearance of the walls, 
 together with the distance I had descended, 
 led me to conjecture that I had now reached 
 the ground or basement portion of the build- 
 ing ; and the nature of the various compart- 
 ments which opened off, on the right hand 
 and the left, furnished an additional reason 
 for my supposition. Most of these, indeed, 
 were pitch dark, while a few were but faintly 
 lighted by small, low windows, firmly secured 
 by iron bars from without, and thickly coated 
 with a mass of cobwebs and dust from within.
 
 RAVENSDALE HOUSE. 200, 
 
 In fact, the only light — besides that which 
 struggled to find its way down the flight of 
 stairs — came from these latter means of 
 communication with the outer world. Within 
 some of these receptacles — caverns they now 
 appeared — formed in the solid stone-work, 
 lay vast mounds of saw-dust, damp and 
 blackened by time and moisture ; and I had 
 little doubt that they once contained the 
 claret and other wines, for use in the neigh- 
 bouring banquet-hall. Others still contained 
 a few articles of coarse furniture, and, doubt- 
 less, had been set apart in past generations 
 for use by the host of domestics and humbler 
 followers which a large and sporting Irish 
 family of the period usually maintained. No 
 sound broke the stillness of these half-sub- 
 terranean regions ; and it was evident that 
 they had been wholly uninhabited for some 
 considerable time. It was with something 
 approaching to relief that I retraced my steps 
 through them, and, ascending the flight of 
 stairs, found myself again in the comparative 
 light of the landing. My curiosity, however, 
 was by no means allayed, and I now con- 
 vol. i. • 14
 
 2IO RAVENSDALE. 
 
 tinued my course upwards, by means of the 
 second or ascending flight. 
 
 These steps, in their turn, led to a corridor, 
 off which a number of sleeping-rooms 
 opened — such, at least, I conjectured them 
 to be from their size and situation, though 
 now perfectly empty. The doors of most of 
 these stood ajar ; and, finding nothing in 
 them calculated to raise or satisfy curiosity, 
 I was about to abandon my examination of 
 them when a single closed door arrested my 
 attention. Here was some difference, at 
 least ; and I turned the handle. The door, 
 however, refused to open, and further trial 
 led me to discover that it was locked. Had 
 I then at length reached the Bluebeard's 
 closet of Ravensdale House — the veritable 
 haunted chamber, which had served for the 
 nursery of so many wild legends and goblin 
 tales ? I attempted to look through the 
 keyhole, but nothing save the most pitchy 
 darkness met my gaze. I put my shoulder 
 to the door, but it refused to yield. I was 
 about to abandon the attempt and pass on, 
 when a key, depending from a hook on the
 
 RAVEXSDALE HOUSE. 211 
 
 wall, caught my attention, and I had no 
 sooner turned it in the lock than I found 
 that the door yielded to my efforts. A slight 
 rustling noise was audible, as I cautiously 
 opened the door ; but the darkness rendered 
 all alike invisible. In a moment, it had 
 ceased ; and I advanced into the chamber. 
 
 A faint streak of light (invisible, I could 
 now perceive, from the door) enabled me to 
 see in which direction the window lay, and I 
 had no difficulty in opening the shutters. 
 The apartment, I thereby found, occupied 
 an angle of the house, and looked out partly 
 into the court-yard. I now turned toward 
 the room itself. It was, like the others, a 
 sleeping-room ; but — contrary to them — still 
 contained the whole of its furniture, intact, 
 as far as I could judge. A small bedstead 
 stood opposite to the window; a chest of 
 drawers and toilet-stand took up the better 
 part of one wall ; and a round table occupied 
 the centre of the apartment. I could have 
 almost believed that the room was still in 
 use (by my uncle, when he sought more 
 complete retirement; or by one of the
 
 2 I 2 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 domestics — only, indeed, the furniture and 
 general appointments were of a superior 
 order for that latter supposition) were it not 
 for the dust and cobwebs, which must have 
 been the accumulation of some years. The 
 white counterpane on the bed bore its own 
 portion of coating ; the table and chest of 
 drawers might, in extreme emergency, have 
 supplied the place of writing-tablets ; and the 
 seats of a couple of chairs could have served 
 for the same purpose. 
 
 Without some clue, all conjectures were 
 vain on my part as to the history of this 
 chamber — for a history, I had already estab- 
 lished with myself, it possessed ; and when 
 I had gazed upon all that was to be seen, 
 and carefully closed the shutters, I retired 
 from the apartment. 
 
 At the end of the corridor, a much more 
 narrow staircase ascended yet higher. On 
 mounting it, I found myself directly under 
 the roof of the whole pile. A few skylights, 
 scattered here and there — further assisted by 
 some chinks in the roof — dimly revealed the 
 machinery of beam, rafter, and coupling, by
 
 RAVENSDALE HOUSE. 213 
 
 which the roof itself was sustained ; but, 
 saving a greater accumulation of dust and 
 cobwebs than I had yet witnessed, there was 
 nothing else visible. My object in exploring 
 to this latter extent was in close connexion 
 with a tale which had obtained more than 
 ordinary credence among the domestics of 
 the house, and had been told to me by the 
 bibulous Dan in extenuation of some absurd 
 piece of cowardice on his part. It was to 
 the effect that a former butler, under a former 
 Featherstone, had here committed suicide by 
 hanging himself to a certain beam, which — 
 in proof of the tale — I should find in a certain 
 portion of these aerial regions ; while, as a 
 further assurance, I was to discover the floor 
 under the beam stained with marks of blood. 
 What connexion there was between hanging 
 and blood-letting, I was not informed. Dan 
 — who was never to be caught in a corner — 
 suggested that the unfortunate knight of the 
 napkin might have fallen down in the act, or 
 that those who discovered him had opened a 
 vein in the hope of restoring him to life — 
 " there's many ways of accountin' for it,
 
 214 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Masther Frank " (by this time I was generally 
 recognised as Master Frank throughout the 
 household), " wance a man's willin' to give 
 in to it." The foregoing, however, was the 
 morsel of fact — if fact it was ; the fiction to 
 which it had given origin will readily suggest 
 itself to the mind of the reader, gifted with 
 ordinary powers of imagination : — as, that he 
 was still to be heard (and seen by sufficiently 
 daring eyes), walking up and down these 
 stairs — serving ghostly dinners in the ban- 
 quet hall — drawing the daily consumption of 
 claret from the empty wine-cellars — with the 
 like. Beams and cross-joists there were 
 plenty — and more than one fulfilling the 
 necessary conditions. But of stain or blood- 
 mark I saw no trace — though the imperfect 
 light and accumulated dust might sufficiently 
 explain this. 
 
 Having thus satisfied my curiosity — as far 
 as an actual inspection of these regions of 
 silence and desolation permitted — I now 
 turned my back upon them, and regained 
 the entrance-hall without any difficulty. My 
 cousin was still engaged in her household
 
 RAVENSDALE HOUSE. 215 
 
 duties ; and, as the day was now too far 
 advanced for a fishing or shooting excursion, 
 there was nothing else for it but to resume 
 my studies in the library. With which 
 intention, I had actually opened the lately 
 discarded volume in the hope that chance 
 might bring a fresh accession of light to its 
 pages, when I became, for the first time, 
 aware that a small gold pencil-case, the 
 parting gift of my mother, with which I 
 occasionally took notes in the course of my 
 reading, was no longer in my possession. 
 I had used it during the morning — indeed, 
 some notes which I had taken by help of it 
 were now before me; and I could also distinctly 
 bring to mind that I held it in my hand when 
 starting on my tour of exploration. Few 
 inducements — as well as few opportunities 
 — could arise for my laying it aside in those 
 empty rooms ; and the mysterious chamber 
 — I had already come to regard it as such — 
 at once occurred to me as the first place 
 where I was at all likely to do so. Yes ; I 
 had it all quite clear in my memory now. 
 In my efforts to unfasten the bar which held
 
 2 1 6 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 the shutters of the window in that room, I 
 had laid it — so I could perfectly call to mind 
 — on the round table — nor had I any recol- 
 lection of taking it up, when retiring. 
 
 Closing my book, I left the library, and 
 hastily retraced my way through the entrance- 
 hall, reception-room, and larger room lying 
 beyond it. They were still as silent as the 
 grave. In a few moments more, I had opened 
 the door and shutters of the chamber already 
 referred to. But the table before me was 
 perfectly empty. I examined the floor care- 
 fully, on the supposition that the missing 
 article might have rolled off the table ; but 
 with no better result. I even did so much 
 violence to my own clear recollection of the 
 matter as to prolong my search through the 
 dust-covered attics ; but no trace rewarded 
 my efforts. I had carefully locked the door 
 after my first examination of the furnished 
 room ; and I had now found it to all appear- 
 ances as I had left it. The intrusion of a 
 domestic into any portion of the wing was 
 an event, of all, to be the least expected ; 
 while I had every reason to believe that the
 
 RAVEXSDALE HOUSE. 217 
 
 various members of the family were otherwise 
 occupied. 
 
 Puzzled with myself, and with these deso- 
 late-looking, and yet seemingly not deserted 
 regions, I again turned my back upon them 
 for the last time. All idea of ghostly agency 
 I entirely scouted. But, whatever reasons 
 had previously existed for attaching a 
 mysterious character to the furnished cham- 
 ber — in my dearth of information I knew it 
 by no other name — they were by no means 
 removed by this latest occurrence.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A DECLARATION. 
 
 IT has, I make no doubt, been already 
 remarked, by some previous writer, that 
 the inevitable consequence of two persons of 
 opposite sex dwelling under the same roof — 
 young, occupied by no previous attachment, 
 not absolutely repelling in form or mind, 
 nor coming within the prohibited degrees — 
 is that one, or both, should fall into the toils 
 of the tender passion. I may, also, put 
 forward, in further extenuation of any present 
 weakness of mine which the more acute 
 reader may have detected in this direction, 
 that the terms on which I met, and enjoyed 
 the society of, Miss De Vere, were peculiarly 
 dangerous in themselves. From our first 
 interview, I had been openly regarded by her
 
 A DECLARATION. 2 1 9 
 
 as protector and guardian of the house of 
 Ravensdale, bringing repose of mind to her- 
 self, and destined, perhaps, in time (though 
 how I was yet to learn) to obtain a like 
 mental tranquillity for our common uncle — 
 a position, I need scarcely say, by no means 
 slightly flattering to a very young man. I 
 possessed, moreover, frequent opportunities 
 of beholding the amiable disposition and 
 truthful air of my relative, openly laid before 
 me in all the confidence of friendship and 
 family ties — further enhanced by good looks, 
 lady-like manners, and accomplishments 
 which might lay fair claim to being con- 
 sidered extensive, without being superficial. 
 I am sure I have only to add that all these 
 attractions were heightened by a certain 
 tinge of melancholy (apparently superinduced 
 over a naturally sprightly disposition), to 
 render any further explanation of mine need- 
 less to the more romance-loving reader. 
 I may not deny that, for some time, visions 
 of a fair creature holding out a delicately- 
 gloved hand, in lieu of words which refused 
 to come, did occasionally appear before my
 
 2 20 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 mental vision, waking and sleeping. But, 
 gradually, the lovely apparition grew fainter 
 and fainter — and, about this period of my 
 narrative, the image of my cousin began 
 wholly to supply the place of it. No one, 
 possibly, so I reasoned with myself (and 
 being employed upon a somewhat old subject, 
 it will not be expected of me to hit on any 
 very new or original views upon it) — no one 
 marries his, or her, first love ; and, the 
 emotion having found life — if I may so speak 
 — during my mountain adventure just alluded 
 to, it now seemed as if it had wholly taken 
 the direction of Miss De Vere for its object. 
 A young man of twenty may be excused if, 
 for some time, he does not perfectly know his 
 own mind ; but, now that this preparatory 
 period had passed, I could have little doubt 
 that the pleasure I found in my cousin's 
 society — the desire to convert that settled 
 sadness into a more sprightly frame of mind, 
 and the impulse to do something which would 
 write me "man" in her estimation — had, 
 one and all, their origin in that passion which 
 has furnished so inexhaustible a theme to 
 poet and romance-writer.
 
 A DECLARATION. 221 
 
 I have already mentioned that I had begun 
 by degrees to resume my legal studies — with 
 the assistance of my uncle's library, and the 
 occasional aid which he himself afforded me 
 in any passing difficulty. The opportunity, 
 indeed, was a most excellent one for bringing 
 these studies to a successful termination (had 
 my father any views of this nature in sug- 
 gesting to me to become an inmate of 
 Ravensdale House ?) — I had already eaten 
 the number of London Temple dinners which 
 the wisdom of our legal authorities has pre- 
 scribed to Irish students ; while my present 
 distance from Dublin by no means precluded 
 me from keeping the remainder of my terms 
 there. I could scarcely hope for a more able, 
 and, indeed, willing preceptor than my uncle; 
 and the retired life we were now leading 
 afforded ample opportunity for reading. 
 These thoughts — I leave the aforesaid 
 romance-loving reader to divine their origin 
 and prompting cause — having, for some 
 time, busied themselves in my mind, a more 
 steady and regular course of study had now 
 become the result.
 
 2 22 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " My father," was my remark to my cousin, 
 " cannot be expected to do much more for 
 me than to put me on the high road to a 
 profession — every young man, whose means 
 are not quite inexhaustible, ought to have a 
 profession." 
 
 " Most true, Frank," was Miss De Vere's 
 reply ; " how hard is the lot of those who 
 are obliged to turn from such a road ! Nay' ' 
 (and here something approaching to a sigh 
 escaped from my relative) — "nay, equally 
 hard is it to be debarred even entrance on 
 the path." 
 
 The latter allusion, I could have no doubt, 
 bore reference to the Leslie Featherstone 
 aforementioned (as the reference which pre- 
 ceded it was to his father, my present host), 
 who, as I had been given to understand, 
 discontinued his university studies when 
 leaving his native shores. With my mind, 
 however, more particularly dwelling on the 
 single incident — whatever might be its cause 
 — of my uncle's retirement and seclusion at 
 Ravensdale House, I had hitherto felt no 
 sufficient inducement to do violence to the
 
 A DECLARATION. 22$ 
 
 evident reluctance with which Miss De Vere 
 approached family matters, by inquiring into 
 the subject. Leslie's departure, too — I had 
 learned — had been prior to that circumstance, 
 and afforded no explanation of it whatever. 
 I saw no reason, however, why, on the 
 present occasion, a sigh should accompany 
 this reference to the matter. 
 
 "But such a lot, thank Heaven!" con- 
 tinued my cousin, after a moment's pause, 
 "is not yours, Frank. There can be little 
 doubt that our uncle will entirely approve 
 of such a course, and render it all the 
 assistance in his power." 
 
 " Will not Miss De Vere add her own 
 approval?" 
 
 "My approval, Frank! My dearest wishes, 
 would surely be the more appropriate expres- 
 sion ; which are yours, most heartily. My 
 approbation, I fear, would be as presump- 
 tuous as my assistance, were I to offer to 
 place that at your disposal." 
 
 " Fair lady's approval has incited men to 
 even higher deeds ere now, Constance." 
 
 " Oh ! surely, Frank. How dull I have
 
 2 24 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 been this morning ! Have we, then, been 
 placing to the credit of ambition — a sense of 
 duty — the desire to gratify your relatives, 
 what turns out to be but a skilfully-directed 
 shaft from the Blind Bow-boy himself? 
 But who am poor I to stand proxy for with 
 my smiles (be sure they shall be sincere ones,) 
 — the lady of the runaway horses ? — or has 
 Master Cupid been yet earlier in the field 
 with you?" 
 
 " Neither she of the runaway horses, nor 
 
 an earlier Is it, then, so improbable an 
 
 event that I should bring a whole heart to 
 Ravensdale House? " 
 
 " Perhaps not, Frank," said Miss De Vere, 
 whose manner now betrayed some slight 
 alarm — " pardon me if I have hurt you by a 
 contrary supposition, Of — of whom, then, 
 do you speak ? ' ' 
 
 " Of whom, Constance ! Is my love, then, 
 so unlooked-for that I must declare it even 
 more plainly? " 
 
 I spoke, perhaps, scarcely with the suavity 
 which the occasion demands. If I could 
 not accuse my cousin of dulness, at least I
 
 A DECLARATION. 2 25 
 
 looked sooner for some responsive sign, were 
 it but the eloquence of silence. True it is, 
 her breath now came more quickly, while her 
 face, which a deep blush had at first suffused, 
 as soon changed to more than its former 
 paleness. But the gaze which she directed 
 towards me, so far from bespeaking the coy 
 or tender maiden, was rather that of one who 
 felt (and yet hesitates to trust the senses) a 
 sharp and unexpected wound from a quarter 
 whence it was least to be looked for. Such, 
 at least, was the interpretation which, shortly 
 afterwards, under more sober reflection, I put 
 upon it. Now, however, carried away by the 
 tide of my own eloquence, once I had opened 
 the flood-gates (after the manner, I believe, 
 of very young men on such occasions), I was 
 proceeding — 
 
 " Yes, Constance — dear Constance, if I 
 may so call you — can you not believe it is 
 you of whom I speak? your image, which 
 has incited me thus to make a name and 
 position for myself, under the hope that 
 yourself may yet share them with me — ? " 
 
 " You must not," here broke in my cousin, 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 2 26 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 — "you must not, indeed, Frank, proceed 
 any longer in such strain. I did not — 
 believe me, I could not have expected this. 
 You recurred so often to your late adventure 
 — to the fair creature whom you had rescued, 
 that I imagined — indeed, we all imagined — 
 your thoughts to lie wholly in that direction. 
 Confess, cousin — relieve me by confessing — 
 that it was so ? " 
 
 "Is everything, then, to be more worthy 
 of credence than that I should learn to lift my 
 eyes to Miss De Vere ? Granted be it (since 
 so it pleases you) that I have recurred to 
 the series of incidents which accompanied 
 my journey here — granted, I dwelt more 
 particularly on my meeting with Lord Kill- 
 grove and his daughter ; I had not then met 
 Miss De Vere. You, Constance, were wholly 
 unknown to me save by name, and by a 
 description far short of mere justice. Is it 
 not as fair to suppose that my thoughts 
 were occupied by Lord Killgrove himself 
 and what has been achieved by him, 
 as by the image of his daughter, and a 
 love, which would be truly founded on first
 
 A DECLARATION. 2 27 
 
 sight ; and that a very short and confused 
 one?" 
 
 " Be it so, Frank. On me rest the charge 
 of associating my cousin with the fair Miss 
 Warden — I had, at least, the example of all 
 knight-errantry for my precedent. Yours, 
 then, was the less romantic incentive of pro- 
 fessional advancement. Must I no longer 
 suppose the union of the two permissible — 
 even in my land of day-dreams and air-built 
 castles ? Lord Killgrove was once John 
 Warden (I have heard our uncle speak of 
 him a hundred times), and climbed the ladder 
 from humbler rounds. To woman's wit all 
 appears possible, if — if " 
 
 " If I too commence my ascent of the 
 ladder with somewhat of the like applica- 
 tion — I read your thoughts, Constance." 
 
 "You do — and truly, Frank. Such words 
 do indeed give expression to hopes — dreams, 
 I have now called them, which your own 
 narrative (returned to perhaps oftener than 
 you yourself are aware) has given rise to. 
 Pardon me if, to myself, I have indulged in 
 visions of a happiness for you, Frank, which
 
 2 28 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 has been denied to your less fortunate kins- 
 folk." 
 
 "And yet, no sooner do I set about the 
 task — this ladder which I am to climb — than 
 you yourself withdraw from me the only 
 prize which is now valuable in my eyes." 
 And, so saying, I closed — somewhat melo- 
 dramatically, perhaps — the volume which 
 had hitherto lain open before me. " Am 
 I to be permitted to learn, Miss De Vere, 
 what reasons cause my addresses to appear 
 so peculiarly distasteful to you? " 
 
 "Distasteful, Frank? They come so 
 wholly unexpectedly upon me, that I can 
 scarcely analyze my feelings. Reasons there 
 are innumerable — apply what epithet to 
 them you please — what if I plead— was ever 
 my sex driven to such defence ! what if I 
 plead (since reason you demand) our dis- 
 parity of years ? " 
 
 "You jest, Constance — we are both of 
 an age ; so registry and relatives agree." 
 
 " But both should not be of an age — such 
 advantage as years render (is it not better 
 we should pass from such seriousness to
 
 A DECLARATION. 229 
 
 jest?) should be yours — the husband's pos- 
 session. Enough ! you reckon years by the 
 mere days they number — such have not been 
 mine. My years of dull repining — already 
 they count to me as ages — are not the pre- 
 paration for the cheerful and lightsome 
 companion you are to look for. Just now, 
 you spoke of reward — I must smile when 
 next my glass returns to me the faded, 
 spiritless thing which was to tempt you to 
 such forensic eminences ! May it be your 
 lot — nay, I am sure it will be — to secure a 
 more fresh, a more fortunate prize. I have 
 long since dedicated my life to our uncle's 
 service — for that alone am I now fitted." 
 
 "In a word, you have no longer a heart 
 to give, Constance ? — let me believe that, at 
 least, if you would not leave my vanity 
 without all solace ? ' ' 
 
 " Believe what you will, so it free us 
 from this most painful and embarrassing 
 position. Only tell me you are — you will 
 be again, the dear friend and companion 
 who was to aid me in restoring peace and 
 tranquillity to this house of mourning."
 
 23O RAVENSDALE. 
 
 She held out her hand. The tears, which 
 had, for some time, stood in her eyes, now 
 fairly broke their barriers, and streamed 
 down her face ; and she turned to leave the 
 room. Her hand was already on the door, 
 when she again addressed me — 
 
 " I cannot trust to this parting. Will 
 you not give me some hope — some assur- 
 ance upon which I may rely ? " 
 
 " That my thoughts shall cease to turn 
 to you, Constance ? " 
 
 " Save as a friend — as a brother should, 
 if you will. I cannot — indeed, I dare not — 
 now seek to extricate myself from the net 
 of snares and perplexities which have grown 
 around me : 
 
 'Oh, what a tangled web we weave, 
 When first we practise to deceive ! ' 
 
 But believe me, for my own sake — for all 
 our sakes — the explanation shall not be 
 deferred a moment after it is in my power.'' 
 
 I were less than the man I would have 
 written myself did I longer seek hope or 
 encouragement in the looks or language of 
 my cousin, or continue to urge a suit which,
 
 A DECLARATION. 23 I 
 
 beyond all doubt, was the occasion of pain 
 and consternation to her. The impossible 
 is the grave of hope, and such a grave I 
 must be blind indeed not to see opening 
 between myself and the love which I asked. 
 While Miss De Vere's hand was, therefore, 
 on the door, and she stood for a moment 
 irresolute, after uttering these words, I 
 advanced with the best grace 1 could, and 
 (hard task for a young man) made effort to 
 tone down the ardour of my previous words 
 — or, in other language, to fall out of my 
 love as I had fallen into it ; endeavouring, 
 in as intelligible phraseology as I could 
 employ, to reassure, and restore tranquillity 
 to, the trembling and apparently bewildered 
 figure, which received my words in silence. 
 
 " I will believe," were my concluding 
 words — and, possibly, all that were suffi- 
 ciently coherent — " since you have permitted 
 me — that I have been somewhat late in the 
 field, and that your Bow-boy has stolen a 
 march on us in this direction also. Let me 
 lay this flattering unction to my soul — and 
 honour shall dictate the rest. I will climb
 
 232 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 the ladder — though virtue is to be its own 
 reward." 
 
 She turned her face toward mine, as if 
 with a view of gaining additional confirma- 
 tion of my words from its expression, and 
 held out her hand to me. It faintly returned 
 the pressure of mine — doubtless, as a rati- 
 fication of our treaty. In another moment, 
 I was alone in the library (where our inter- 
 view had taken place), and had time to 
 ponder over the strange and unexpected 
 scene which a few chance words — for my 
 declaration of love was by no means pre- 
 meditated — had brought about. 
 
 That I had hit upon the true cause of my 
 rejection — a previous attachment — I could 
 have slight doubt, even setting aside the 
 whisperings of vanity. Not only had my 
 expressed surmises in that direction remained 
 uncontradicted by word or gesture, but such 
 allusion seemed to call forth the only maidenly 
 confusion — the only light of love in my 
 cousin's eyes, which had appeared during 
 the course of our interview : at such a mo- 
 ment, the loving heart stood revealed in all
 
 A DECLARATION. 2 33 
 
 its beauty and unapproachableness. That 
 Miss De Vere had loved — and still loved — 
 I set down, therefore, as beyond reasonable 
 doubt. But did this fact sufficiently explain 
 the expression of surprise, pain — humilia- 
 tion (for these — one and all — had appeared 
 to me to flit across the clear, truthful features 
 of my cousin) which my words, when first 
 clearly understood by her, had called forth ? 
 Was it so very surprising that a young man 
 should address a youthful unmarried woman, 
 with whom he had been some time domesti- 
 cated, in the language of love ? Were such 
 accents generally painful to female ears ? 
 Or (and to conclude my brief catechism) was 
 the position of her who heard them rendered 
 thereby humiliating ? Wholly unable to 
 evolve any further light out of this mystery, 
 I sat for some hours longer in the library 
 (under the delusion, I believe, that I was 
 "reading"), and heard the first bell ring 
 for dinner, without any clear comprehension 
 of the meaning of a single line of the volume 
 which had lain open before me. 
 
 On descending to the dining-room, I found
 
 234 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Miss De Vere's chair vacant — for the first 
 time since I had taken up my residence at 
 Ravensdale House. Some inquiry after her 
 health trembled on my tongue, but I had too 
 little confidence in my powers of self-com- 
 mand to give it utterance. 
 
 " You lose appetite, and I think your mind 
 is scarcely so clear as it was," said my uncle, 
 who, as ill luck would have it, had started a 
 law topic during the meal — "work, down- 
 right hard work, never injured any man — 
 provided one combines it with proper exer- 
 cise and recreation. We have had no fresh 
 trout these some days ? " 
 
 Promising to essay my piscatorial skill on 
 the first opportunity, I made an early escape 
 to the drawing room — half hoping, half 
 fearing to find my cousin presiding over the 
 tea-table. But Miss De Vere was not in the 
 room. A few minutes after I had taken a 
 seat in a recess formed by one of the windows, 
 Miss Macklewaine — to my great amazement 
 — came and sat down beside me. Hitherto, 
 I had looked upon this lady as associated, in 
 some mysterious manner, with meal-time —
 
 A DECLARATION. 235 
 
 and with meal-time only. On the recurrence 
 of such periodic occasions, she was called, 
 and took her place at table. But, at all other 
 times, I found her occupying a comparatively 
 isolated chair, and, whether asleep, or en- 
 gaged on a very Penelope's web of needle- 
 work — demanding, and receiving, little more 
 attention than the seat on which she sat. 
 The reader, therefore, will not deem me 
 guilty of any very violent exaggeration in ex- 
 pressing my surprise at being thus unexpect- 
 edly called upon to conduct a conversation 
 with this sleeping, sewing, eating, and ex- 
 ceedingly deaf automaton. 
 
 " Constance will have had a nice day for 
 her drive." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said I ; "I was not aware that 
 Miss De Vere had left the house to-day. 
 Has her drive fatigued her, then ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied — or, rather, said — the old 
 lady (my words had plainly gone for nothing), 
 " she had promised before you came — an old 
 schoolfellow of hers — very nice young lady 
 — lives at the Priory — the great lawyer's 
 place, you know — extraordinary man ! "
 
 236 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " Miss De Vere has, then, gone on a 
 visit?" 
 
 " Oh yes — several times. They make a 
 great deal of Constance. I suppose she told 
 you they had written ? " 
 
 " No ; my cousin did mention her former 
 school companion and the inmates of the 
 Priory ; but she spoke not of any present 
 intention of visiting them. ,, 
 
 " Ah, probably not," (I had now modulated 
 my voice to the required pitch and distinct- 
 ness) — " no doubt, she thought you would 
 be lonely — that is, until you are better 
 domesticated. You must come and talk to 
 me every day — your uncle is but poor 
 society." 
 
 " We work at the law, you know, together. 
 He gives me considerable assistance, now 
 and then." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I have no doubt. But a 
 strange man — a very strange man." And 
 Miss Macklewaine tapped her forehead in a 
 peculiarly mysterious and meaning manner. 
 
 " My uncle has had much to try him, I 
 believe ? "
 
 A DECLARATION, 237 
 
 11 Oh, no doubt, no doubt — never was the 
 same man since Leslie went. That was a 
 sad occurrence." 
 
 " Very," said I, in lack of better reply. 
 
 " But young men will be young men, 
 Master Frank." 
 
 " Too true," said I, affecting a look of 
 profound and premature wisdom. 
 
 " That they will — that they will," repeated 
 the old lady. " But here comes your uncle 
 for his tea. I have been telling Master 
 Francis, Allen, that he will miss his cousin." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! we shall all miss Constance. 
 But the run will do her good. She looked 
 pale and nervous to-day when she came to 
 bid me good-bye. She told you when she 
 would be ready to return, Frank ? " 
 
 The question was sufficiently embarrass- 
 ing. My safest course appeared to me to 
 adhere strictly to the terms of it, in making 
 my reply. 
 
 "No, indeed, Sir; she did not." 
 
 " Ah ! I also forgot to ask. But we must 
 give her fair breathing-time ; no doubt she 
 will write. In the meantime, hold yourself
 
 2.;8 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 
 
 in readiness for her escort home from the 
 Priory. I should like you much to meet 
 its owner. The man is not quite (doubtless, 
 I shall be considered somewhat hypercritical, 
 as well as contemptuous of public opinion,) 
 after my style of a forensic orator — lawyer, I 
 hold him none. But you should know, or at 
 least see, all styles. His wit (a little coarse, 
 perhaps, and not always in severe keeping, 
 but wit certainly,) and his conversational 
 powers are something wonderful." 
 
 " You speak, Sir, of the great Irish advo- 
 cate — the 'people's advocate,' I believe ? " 
 
 " Ay, advocate — declaimer, perhaps, would 
 be still nearer to the mark. His speeches 
 and addresses are mere harangues — abound- 
 ing with bad taste, coarse invective, tawdry 
 ornament, and surprising bursts of genius. 
 However, at home he acts the host and 
 entertainer of mind and body to perfection ; 
 and is particularly fond of the society of 
 young men. He has brought up an amiable 
 family. Sarah, your cousin's friend, is a 
 highly interesting young lady." 
 
 I had heard — who at the period, and since,
 
 A DECLARATION. 239 
 
 has not ? — of the great national wit, orator, 
 and genius of debate — the future custodian 
 of the Irish Rolls ; and, on any other 
 occasion, would have learned with highly- 
 pleasurable curiosity my near probability of 
 thus meeting him on a footing of domestic 
 freedom and equality. Now^, however — so 
 great a hold had other affairs taken upon 
 me — I heard the announcement with com- 
 parative indifference; or, if curiosity was 
 aroused, it was a curiosity in which my 
 cousin (and the promised means of again 
 finding myself in her presence) partook quite 
 as largely as any of the other present in- 
 mates of the great counsellor's well-known 
 suburban residence, not even excepting 
 himself. 
 
 When, at night, I made an early retreat to 
 my room, it was more with a view of think- 
 ing over the occurrences of the day than 
 of seeking rest. Among the category of 
 marked events, which propel the stripling — 
 by bounds rather than by equable motion' — 
 into the state and condition of actual man- 
 hood, his first declaration of love has, I
 
 24O RAVENSDALE. 
 
 believe, been ever allowed to hold a distin- 
 guished, if not the foremost place. This mile- 
 stone of life I had now reached ; and with it 
 had also come my first fall — another, and, I 
 believe, scarcely less marked event of the way. 
 Was it to be wondered, then, if I desired to 
 escape to the solitude of my room to examine 
 into the nature of the result ; to see, to pur- 
 sue the metaphor a little further, what bones 
 had been broken, what wounds, bruises, and 
 contusions I had really received? Such 
 proceeding, I am sufficiently aware, belongs 
 more to the heroine of Romance ; the hero 
 being supposed to find vent for his feelings 
 in a series of brilliant and impossible ad- 
 ventures, in defending the fair fame of his 
 inamorata against "allcomers," while she is 
 thus employed in her appropriate bower. For 
 such departure from established course I 
 have to plead my state of hobbledehoyhood ; 
 which, from time immemorial, being accounted 
 that of neither a man nor a boy, may absolve 
 me from the duties of either. Besides, there 
 were neither rivals nor Rosinantes at Ravens- 
 dale House.
 
 A DECLARATION. 24 1 
 
 It was the first night of moonlight since 
 my arrival ; and the round full moon was 
 just rising as I took my seat by the window. 
 Yes — so ran the current of my thoughts — I 
 still loved my cousin : I felt that it was 
 impossible to help loving that earnest, truth- 
 ful nature. But was it with the love of 
 which I spoke this morning ? I was obliged 
 to confess to myself that the words and 
 manner of Miss De Vere had done much to 
 bring about a change in its impassioned 
 character. The least exhibition of coquetry, 
 a moment's hesitation, a semblance of doubt 
 of her own heart, might have converted me 
 into a still more importunate and confirmed 
 wooer. But all such I knew to be foreign to 
 the manner of my cousin. I had been 
 offered the love of a friend — of a sister, as 
 the utmost to which I could look ; and, all 
 things considered, I was very much inclined 
 to accept it — and that, too, with the sincerity 
 with which I knew it to be proffered. It is 
 possible, such creatures of inconsistency are 
 we, that I should have required some further 
 time to arrive at this conclusion (during 
 vol. 1. 16
 
 242 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 which time I might also have affected sulki- 
 ness and a sense of injury), had the unknown 
 attachment of Miss De Vere appeared to flow 
 in a more fortunate current. But so largely 
 leaned the evidence to the contrary — so 
 little did I behold of the insolence of the 
 prosperous gale, so much of humility — 
 deprecation, if I may use so strong a term — 
 that my defeat remained almost unfelt. 
 The battle, as it were, had become a drawn 
 one. And, as the chiefs of opposing forces 
 are occasionally seen accepting the hand of 
 fellowship, in lieu of the victory which was 
 to be the lot of one or other, so it was with 
 some such feeling of alliance and amity toward 
 my cousin that I, at length, sought my 
 pillow. Indeed, it is not beyond the range 
 of possibility that my thoughts recurred to a 
 certain fair vision seated in a flying chariot, 
 though looking anything but Medea-like, ere 
 I sank into entire unconsciousness. 
 
 The night, however, was not to pass over 
 without an incident bearing on the course of 
 this narrative. But the details demand a 
 chapter for themselves.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 
 
 WHEN I awoke, I was under the im- 
 pression that it was the broad light 
 of day which filled my room. Nor was I 
 undeceived until, jumping- out of bed and 
 approaching the window, I beheld the round 
 full moon still riding in silent majesty in the 
 midst of the sky, and lighting up the land- 
 scape of woodland, and waving meadow, 
 with the Irish Channel beyond : a distant 
 view of which my room commanded. At 
 that period of my existence, with unimpaired 
 digestion, and none of the cares and per- 
 plexities which subsequent relations of life 
 bring about with them, it was unusual with 
 me to find my night's rest thus broken 
 in the middle ; and, attributing it to the
 
 244 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 disturbing events of the preceding day, I 
 was about to again address myself to slumber, 
 when a noise struck on my ear — one, too, 
 which seemed somehow to have a recent 
 and familiar sound about it. Nor could I 
 doubt — after a few moments' reflection, and 
 a recovery of the lost train of ideas which I 
 had when awaking — that it was a similar 
 sound which had interrupted my repose. 
 
 The principal staircase' lay close to my 
 room door ; and I could have no doubt that 
 footsteps were now slowly, and somewhat 
 cautiously, descending it. That such an 
 act, at such an hour, should be essayed on 
 the part of any of the domestics, was a con- 
 jecture to be wholly rejected. Nor was 
 Miss Macklewaine much more likely to avail 
 herself of the occasion for a midnight stroll. 
 The Master of Ravensdale himself, there- 
 fore, alone remained ; and I endeavoured, 
 with increasing interest, to gain, by help of 
 the sounds and the direction which they 
 took, some additional corroboration of such 
 a supposition. Now, they had reached the 
 foot of the staircase — anon, they were pro-
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 245 
 
 ceeding through the entrance-hall, and, in 
 a few moments more, the hall-door was 
 cautiously opened, and as cautiously closed 
 again. My interest — curiosity, if the reader 
 will — was, by this time, so great that I was 
 standing at the window of my room, under 
 the expectation that this midnight excur- 
 sionist might choose the direction of the 
 eastern wing of the building, and so pass 
 within view. In a few moments, this antici- 
 pation was realised. Yes — there was no 
 mistaking that tall, and yet slightly stoop- 
 ing, figure. The features were scarcely dis- 
 tinguishable by the aid of the moon, but the 
 general air and bearing admitted of no 
 doubt. It was indeed Allen Featherstone, 
 who, emerging from the border of shadow 
 cast around the house by its own pile, 
 crossed the open space, and was again* lost 
 to sight by the intervening brushwood and 
 evergreens. Previous conversation with my 
 cousin (and, more particularly, her words — 
 " This night, I will have to thank you for 
 a repose to which I have been for some 
 time a stranger") naturally reverted to my
 
 246 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 mind ; and, as naturally, it invested the 
 occurrence to which I was now a witness 
 with even greater importance in my eyes 
 than present evidence might seem to war- 
 rant. To put on some articles of clothing, 
 was the work of a very few moments ; but, 
 this accomplished, my course lay no clearer 
 before me. I could not conceal from my- 
 self — indeed, more than one circumstance 
 had already brought it more immediately 
 before me — that my uncle had stopped short 
 of his confidence with me, not alone from a 
 consideration of what little assistance I 
 promised to afford him, but, also, from a 
 suspicion that I was sent to Ravensdale 
 chiefly with a view of playing the spy upon 
 his movements. How, then, would it be, if 
 he caught me in the actual and unmistak- 
 able fact ? On the other hand, I could not 
 but attach importance to those words of my 
 cousin's which I have just repeated. She 
 was now absent ; while I had voluntarilv 
 taken upon myself the office of friend and 
 assistant to her. If any risk or entangle- 
 ment were likely to attend on such mid-
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 247 
 
 night excursions of our common relative, 
 what excuse could I offer to myself or to 
 her, for my abandonment of the post of 
 duty? These opposite considerations coursed 
 through my mind more rapidly than I am 
 now able to give expression to them. The 
 result was that I seized a bough of the 
 sapling which waved within a few inches of 
 my window and swung myself into the tree 
 itself: determined to combine them to the 
 utmost that their conflicting nature per- 
 mitted — namely, to follow my uncle suffi- 
 ciently near to ward off any danger which 
 might threaten him ; but, if possible, to 
 escape recognition by him. 
 
 Short, however, as the time was, no figure 
 was any longer visible, as, letting myself 
 down from branch to branch, I reached terra- 
 firma, and took my way through the copse, 
 or shrubbery, of laurel and arbutus into 
 which this midnight apparition had disap- 
 peared. I was not, however, left wholly 
 without clue. The shrubbery — it formed 
 little more than a narrow belt — was suc- 
 ceeded by the beech-walk, already mentioned
 
 248 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 in a former chapter of these memoirs. The 
 high wall of the domain ran, in a tolerable 
 state of preservation, parallel with one side 
 of this for its whole distance, and the open 
 domain itself stretched on the other side, 
 sufficiently lit by the broad moonlight to 
 show anyone passing across its surface. I 
 could therefore have little hesitation in con- 
 cluding that the figure I was in quest of had 
 passed down the beech-walk ; and, under 
 such impression, took that direction myself. 
 
 The walk — a pretty long one — terminated 
 at a postern door in the domain wall, open- 
 ing on the public road. It had evidently 
 been constructed for the purpose of enabling 
 foot-passengers to avoid a long detour by 
 way of the principal entrance and avenue, 
 and, as such, had been frequently used by 
 myself. On passing through it, I stood 
 upon the road-side ; and was left to mere 
 conjecture in what direction now to steer my 
 course. The person whose steps I was at- 
 tempting to follow might have turned either 
 to the right hand or to the left, and so 
 passed either up or down the public road.
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 249 
 
 Nay, rejecting both directions, he might 
 have crossed over the road, and entered the 
 plantation which there stood opposite, form- 
 ing, as it were, a continuation of the beech 
 walk. Again, however, all clue was not 
 entirely lost to me. The road ran perfectly 
 straight on either side ; and, with the excep- 
 tion of the portion exactly opposite to me, 
 had neither wood, grove, nor coppice to 
 obstruct the view, or hide the traveller. 
 For at least half a mile on either side of me 
 (and no one, unless gifted with seven-league 
 boots, could have accomplished more than 
 that distance in the time which had elapsed 
 since the disappearance of the figure as 
 noticed from my window) the way lay per- 
 fectly open to my gaze, sleeping under the 
 calm moonlight. A very much smaller 
 figure could have been at once detected, if 
 on it ; but the whole distance on either side 
 was now perfectly clear and unobstructed. 
 The weary tramp and wayfarer had long ere 
 this found shelter — it was to be hoped, tem- 
 porary oblivion from care — under brake, 
 hedge, or haycock, or in more hospitable
 
 25O RAVENSDALE. 
 
 barn. The early farmer, with his load for 
 the neighbouring- fair or market, was not 
 yet astir ; while the very beasts of burden 
 of the peasantry — turned out to snatch a 
 meal from the road-side — had either escaped 
 to more plentiful, though forbidden, pas- 
 tures, or, with a lively sense of the toil of 
 the coming day, were now taking an equally 
 hasty hour's repose. Far as the eye could 
 reach, I saw nothing save the thick coating 
 of summer dust which lay on the road ; and 
 I could arrive at one inference only — namely, 
 that had the figure indeed passed through 
 the postern door, it must have crossed over, 
 and entered the plantation. I endeavoured 
 to confirm this by an inspection of the road 
 itself — if haply the dust bore the recent 
 marks of footsteps in that direction. But so 
 many foot passengers, vehicles, and beasts 
 of burden had passed that way on the pre- 
 ceding day — it had been market-day in an 
 adjoining town — that all was alike confused 
 and indistinct. In another moment, I had 
 ascended the green and sloping bank, which 
 here formed the opposite road-side, bedecked
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 25 I 
 
 with many a primrose and dewy violet ; and 
 was beneath the leafy covert of the grove, 
 or plantation. 
 
 This grove, running at right angles to 
 the road, occupied the site of a winding 
 ridge, or slightly elevated and narrow strip 
 of land — the country, on each side of it, 
 remaining flat and untimbered. It could 
 not be more than a couple of hundred yards 
 broad (at parts, not even so much), and I 
 still felt tolerably certain that — on the sup- 
 position that the figure had indeed entered 
 it — it could not emerge into the open coun- 
 try on either side without detection. All, 
 however, now preserved the stillness of the 
 grave. The feathered inhabitants of the 
 woodland had not yet awaked to their daily 
 avocations. The young and tender boughs 
 of the fir, pine, and other kindred species 
 (with which the grove was entirely planted), 
 drooped heavy with dew, the crystal glo- 
 bules of which glittered plentifully among 
 the hair-like foliage peculiar to this class of 
 tree ; and there was not even sufficient wind 
 to vary the fantastic patterns of moonlight
 
 252 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 which were imprinted on the tangle of grass, 
 woodland flower, and brushwood at my feet. 
 At such a period of stillness, it appeared to 
 me that the distant breaking of a branch — 
 the rustling of leaves — the mere motion of 
 a person through the close underwood, 
 should be audible to attentive ears. But no 
 such sound was heard by me. 
 
 Taking the centre of the woodland, where 
 the ridge attained to its highest elevation, I 
 advanced cautiously ; pausing at intervals 
 to listen, as well as to look out on the open 
 pasture-lands lying on each side. These 
 pasture- lands contained a goodly supply of 
 cattle and sheep, all now collected into 
 groups, and taking some hours' repose be- 
 fore the coming day. Here and there, was 
 scattered a peasant's cabin, cold and smoke- 
 less in the broad flood of moonlight ; and, 
 anon, the more imposing appearance of a 
 farm-house and haggard. Motion, however, 
 of any sort I saw not. 
 
 After proceeding for some time in this 
 direction, the grove terminated. The land 
 became all of the same uniform flatness; and
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 2$$ 
 
 I found myself — as, of course, my previous 
 rambles led me to expect — within a few 
 yards of the sea-shore. The pasture-land 
 extended to within a short distance of the 
 brink : a narrow margin of rocks intervened ; 
 and, laving their base and permeating their 
 hollows and cavities, lay the ocean itself, 
 almost as still as the surrounding elements. 
 The tide, indeed, had been some time in ; 
 and the first moment of the ebb was as yet 
 scarcely distinguishable. The farmers and 
 peasantry of the neighbourhood had here 
 constructed a rude boat-haven, by a slight 
 adaptation of the facilities which the con- 
 figuration of the rocks themselves presented; 
 and a coble or two lay scattered about. On 
 the horizon, a couple of large ships rode at 
 anchor, probably becalmed, and waiting for 
 the morning's breeze to resume their course. 
 It was not without some hesitation that I 
 had thus advanced from under the shadow 
 of the woodland : from reasons already- 
 stated, I had no wish to be detected in my 
 midnight ramble. But, emboldened by my 
 previous impunity, as well as by the
 
 2 54 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 appearance of utter solitude which reigned 
 around, I now found myself on the brink 
 of the waters. The great deep heaved and 
 throbbed at the foot of the rock on which I 
 stood, nor could I doubt that the time of 
 its outward departure was just at hand; 
 but, saving this ripple along the very mar- 
 gin, all on its surface remained motionless 
 and still. It was, at least, certain that no 
 one had lately put off from the shore; for, 
 such was the flood of light poured from the 
 full moon on the whole expanse of waters, 
 that the veriest cockle-shell of a boat would 
 be subject to detection. 
 
 A short distance ahead of me, and almost 
 on the borders of the sea, lay the old parish 
 church of the district ; disused since the 
 building of a new and central one, and now 
 a mass of ivy and incipient ruins. In truth, 
 but for its churchyard — whose use was still 
 dictated by filial piety — its gates were now 
 rarely opened. I jumped over the low wall 
 which separated this enclosure from the sur- 
 rounding pasture-land ; and found myself 
 among a mass of graves and tombstones of
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 255 
 
 every imaginable size and variety, interspersed 
 between, and, at times, almost covered by, 
 tall and luxuriant crops of hemlock. A large 
 padlock secured the church door, sufficiently 
 indicating by its rust and stiffness that, of 
 late, it had not been put to much exercise. 
 A little examination now assured me that the 
 churchyard was entirely deserted, and that 
 the same universal stillness presided over it. 
 I could not, indeed, gain access to the church; 
 but all appearances warranted me in infer- 
 ring that no one had intruded recently on its 
 solitude. 
 
 My walk round the sacred edifice brought 
 me to that portion of the burial-ground set 
 apart to the Featherstone family. I had 
 already paid more than one visit, in the 
 course of my rambles, to these memorials of 
 my ancestors. With a single exception, there 
 were none of very late date — that exception 
 being in the case of a son of Sir Digges, 
 whose death was here recorded as having 
 occurred some few years before the period of 
 which I write. I sat down on this more 
 recent tombstone for the purpose of taking a
 
 256 RAVEXSDALE. 
 
 last look around me. Neither sound nor 
 motion was perceivable — if I might except a 
 faint indication from the neighbouring ocean 
 that the ebb was setting in ; and I could have 
 no doubt that I was utterly alone among the 
 dead. 
 
 That a certain family history of a myste- 
 rious nature attached to the tomb on which 
 I now sat, I was already sufficiently aware. 
 The name of its occupant was rarely men- 
 tioned — and never voluntarily : when chance 
 did bring about an allusion, signs of em- 
 barrassment and pain were seldom wanting, 
 and either complete silence ensued, or the 
 subject of conversation was at once changed; 
 nay, even the very domestics forbore all 
 reference to the matter. This latter, it is 
 true, I might have broken though : and with 
 respect to the bibulous Dan, I knew a key 
 which, I had no doubt, would resolve his 
 taciturnity even on this point, if skilfully 
 applied. Hurt, however, by my uncle's sus- 
 picions, I had determined to make no move 
 in such direction, and consequently I knew 
 little more than the stone on which I was now
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 257 
 
 sitting recorded. Hitherto, in the course of 
 these memoirs, it has been my object to lay 
 fact and circumstance — affecting my tale — 
 before the reader in the actual order in which 
 they became known to myself — as the most 
 natural to the autobiographical form of narra- 
 tive, and in accordance with every one's own 
 personal experience. Nor (though, in truth, 
 the remains which now slumbered beneath 
 me, and the history which was associated 
 with them, were still to exercise great and 
 vital influence on the progress of events) is it 
 necessary that I should, at present, make any 
 departure from the rule which I have laid 
 down for my own guidance. I was now on 
 the eve of becoming acquainted with these 
 facts — as far, at least, as lay in the power of 
 my informant — and thus, they may take the 
 place proper to them in the general order of 
 my narrative. On the present occasion, it 
 will be sufficient, therefore, to mention that 
 the memorial slab on which I sat stated that 
 the enclosed remains were those of Marley 
 Featherstone, son of Sir Digges Featherstone 
 (and consequently my cousin) — that he had 
 vol. 1. 17
 
 258 RAYENSDALE. 
 
 been 26 years of age at the time of his 
 decease — and that his death had taken place 
 just four years prior to the period of which I 
 now write. My previous conjectures (I had 
 the ill fame of Sir Digges — the complete 
 silence of my father on the point, to suggest 
 them) were that he had been the black sheep 
 — the disgrace of the family, and that he had 
 here buried his disgrace : and the reader will 
 learn a few pages farther on that my conjec- 
 tures were correct. To infer such a son from 
 such a father needed no great strain of rea- 
 soning, even if the silence of my own respect- 
 able parent permitted any other solution. 
 Under what peculiar circumstances his career 
 was thus cut short I was at the same time to 
 discover, and the narrative fully cleared up 
 the taciturnity of the remaining branches of 
 the family. 
 
 Again jumping over the low parapet, and 
 retracing my way by the sea-shore, I entered 
 the wood — under the impression (as strong 
 as the circumstances at my disposal would 
 permit) that the figure I had seen pass by my 
 window was either still in the plantation, or
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 259 
 
 had not entered it at all. . Time, however, 
 now pressed. In my hurry, I had left my 
 watch behind me ; but I could not doubt that 
 the arrival of the dawn was not very far dis - 
 tant : under which, the chances of my de- 
 tection in returning to the house would 
 momentarily increase. Abandoning, there- 
 fore, all intentions of more protracted search, 
 and keeping to the lower parts of the wood- 
 land, I made the best of my way towards 
 home, observing, however, a sharp look-out 
 around me, and making as little noise in my 
 progress as the nature of the ground and 
 brushwood permitted. 
 
 I had accomplished about half the journey 
 in this manner, when my steps were suddenly 
 brought to a stand-still. I had now reached 
 perhaps the broadest part of the woodland 
 strip, as also the lowest — a depression, in the 
 nature of a valley, or dale, descending from 
 the main ridge at this point. The space 
 before me was partially clear ; and a green 
 sward supplied the place of the rank and 
 tangled herbage found in the more thickly- 
 wooded portions of the plantation. This
 
 26o RAVENSDALE. 
 
 clearing was now empty; but, on its margin, 
 a large tree had fallen — and, seated on the 
 trunk, with his back turned towards me, was, 
 I could not doubt, the object of my search. 
 A few paces more would have brought me 
 quite into the clearing, and a mutual recog- 
 nition must, of necessity, have followed ; but 
 my eye, by chance, had caught a slight 
 movement of the figure, and I now stepped 
 back into the more dense shade. Scarcely 
 had I done so, when my uncle — for no doubt 
 remained on my mind that it was he — arose 
 irom his seat, and stood on the borders of 
 the open space. For a moment, he cast a 
 keen and searching look around ; and then 
 retired with slow, and indeed, as it appeared 
 to me, lingering step, toward the more thickly- 
 wooded portion. In another moment, his tall 
 figure had disappeared within the foliage in 
 the direction of the house, and I found myself 
 alone. 
 
 I allowed sufficient time to elapse after 
 my uncle's departure to guard against any 
 risk of our meeting ; during which, I made a 
 hasty examination around me. The clear-
 
 A MOONLIGHT ADVENTURE. 26 1 
 
 ing, I found, was not far from the boundary 
 wall of the woodland enclosure, with which 
 it was connected by a narrow but well- 
 defined footpath. This boundary wall — 
 built, doubtless, to preserve the young trees 
 from the incursions of the neighbouring cattle 
 — was crossed by a stile; after which, the 
 footpath pursued its course through the 
 pasture-lands outside, and, to all appearance, 
 in the direction of the small boat-haven I 
 had just visited. Indeed, I now saw, from 
 the lie of the land, that there was some gain, 
 in the matter of distance, by entering the 
 woodland at this point from the sea-shore, 
 instead of at its termination ; and I could 
 not doubt that the path had been used for 
 that purpose. Within the stile, it wended 
 its course through the clearing ; and, arriv- 
 ing at its opposite side, proceeded through 
 the wood in the direction of Ravensdale 
 House. On the whole, it appeared to me 
 that it was available for persons passing 
 from the boat-haven to the public road, as 
 also to the Big House. Striking into it, I 
 soon discovered that my conjectures were
 
 262 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 correct. In due time, I crossed the road, 
 and entered the lawn of Ravensdale. For- 
 tunately, the first early streaks of dawn had 
 not yet made their appearance in the sky, as 
 I cautiously raised the sash of the window, 
 and as cautiously closed it again. Dressed 
 as I was, I threw myself upon my bed; and, 
 busied in vain conjectures as to the cause 
 of the unexpected incident of which I had 
 just been a witness, I felt not the approach 
 of sleep until it had gained dominion over 
 me.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 ON descending to the breakfast-table — 
 after a plentiful ablution of cool and 
 refreshing water, with a view to obliterate 
 all traces of my nocturnal excursion — I 
 found Miss Macklewaine deep in the pe- 
 rusal of a letter, which, she informed me, 
 Miss De Vere's escort of the previous even- 
 ing had brought from her, to notify her safe 
 arrival. 
 
 "Constance and Sarah have the Priory 
 nearly to themselves. She arrived quite 
 safely; and has enclosed a note for you." 
 
 My cousin's note did little more than 
 repeat to me, in other words, the substance 
 of Miss Macklewaine's communication. It 
 contained no reference to our interview of 
 the preceding day, unless one or two pass-
 
 264 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 ing allusions to the prosecution of my legal 
 studies, in playful connexion with my emer- 
 gence from the ranks of hobbledehoyhood 
 (an event which, in my own estimation, had 
 already taken place) might be so interpreted. 
 Her letter concluded with the following 
 words : — 
 
 " As I thought of our uncle, my courage 
 nearly failed me in taking this trip. Should 
 any accident befall him during my absence, 
 I must never hope to forgive myself. In- 
 deed, I almost fear to urge ambition on 
 others, when I behold how completely pro- 
 fessional life and professional fame take the 
 part of a second nature." 
 
 My poor cousin ! / was certainly not that 
 willing steed which the spur is said to be 
 inapplicable to. However, her letter afforded 
 me considerable satisfaction, I might almost 
 say relief. It was an indirect approval of 
 the course which I had taken on the pre- 
 ceding night. 
 
 Nevertheless — so arrant a coward is con-
 
 LETTERS. 265 
 
 science — I scarcely dared to lift my eyes to 
 where my uncle was seated across the break- 
 fast-table ; and lost myself in endless conjec- 
 tures as to whether he knew, or suspected, 
 aught of my midnight watch. Of the actual 
 purity of my motives, I entertained some 
 doubts myself. A desire to be of service to 
 my uncle, should danger or difficulty de- 
 mand it, and, more especially, to enter on 
 my office of fellow-labourer and worker with 
 my cousin, was, I could honestly avouch, 
 my primary inducement. But I might not 
 deny that curiosity — a strong wish to learn 
 the object of these nocturnal excursions (I 
 had not, I felt assured, witnessed the first of 
 them), possessed some little share in the 
 course which I had pursued. On the whole, 
 I was not sorry when the meal was concluded, 
 and the several members separated, each to 
 his or her usual and peculiar avocations of 
 the morning. 
 
 My epistolary correspondence, however, 
 was fated to be an unusually long one for 
 the day. On the arrival of Dan, with the 
 regular morning's post-bag, I found that it
 
 266 RAVEN SD ALE. 
 
 contained a letter for me from my fellow- 
 traveller, Captain Ogleby, and a somewhat 
 bulky one too. On opening it, some legal 
 documents, a couple of old newspaper slips, 
 and the like dropped out. Heedless of these 
 in the first instance, I had more immediate re- 
 course to the letter which accompanied them. 
 After reminding me of my promised visit 
 to Tinnaheely Lodge, and the coming season 
 big with the fate of partridge and grouse, 
 the Captain entered upon a subject which at 
 once arrested all my attention, promising as 
 it did to clear up a portion of the mystery in 
 which I now found myself involved — namely, 
 that referring to my cousin Leslie, and his 
 enforced absence from his native land. But 
 I must give the worthy ex-journalist and ex- 
 Captain's own words; premising, however, 
 (lest, having just stated, a few pages back, 
 that I was on the eve of learning the circum- 
 stances connected with my cousin Marley's 
 decease, I might unwittingly disappoint the 
 reader's expectations) that no explanation of 
 that event will be found in the following 
 epistle. I have already laid before him my
 
 LETTERS. 267 
 
 reasons for not pushing my inquiries on that 
 point to any extreme extent — and nothing 
 short of that was at all likely to meet re- 
 sponse ; but with those reasons Captain 
 Ogleby was unacquainted, and it was but 
 natural for him to suppose that I was already 
 in possession of the facts — as, indeed, I was 
 soon to be. His letter, then, will be found 
 to refer mainly to my other cousin Leslie, 
 the son of my present host, Allen Fetherstone 
 — the particulars affecting whom are also 
 essential to the due understanding of my 
 narrative. This premised, the Captain's 
 letter ran as follows, skipping the few intro- 
 ductory lines just alluded to : — 
 
 " Do I forfeit all pretensions to the tradi- 
 tionary hospitality of my country by con- 
 fessing that such has not been my primary 
 motive in sitting down to write to my late 
 fellow-traveller ? Plague take ceremony : 
 come when you will, you know you are at 
 all times welcome. 
 
 " The matter more immediately in hand 
 stands thus : I had not parted from you, at
 
 268 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 the Scalp, above an hour, when I met Lord 
 Killgrove (who, as John Warden, had been 
 a fellow-student of mine at our Irish Alma 
 Mater: I dare not, with my sister's sharp 
 eyes upon me, say how many years ago) 
 driving into town with his daughter — a very 
 charming young lady, by the way. Recog- 
 nition was mutual, and I was not allowed to 
 proceed until I had promised an early visit 
 to St. Kevin's. Yesterday, I put my gun 
 on my shoulder and strolled across the 
 Yellow Mountain, and had a bit of dinner 
 with him (neither of us forgets when we 
 eked out the meal with a sixpenny snack 
 and a pint of beer). To my surprise — 
 rather, to my pleasure : I knew you were a 
 likely young fellow for it — he recounted what 
 a service a certain young gentleman of our 
 acquaintance had lately done him : by-the- 
 bye, I thought Miss Lucy's eyes — of course, 
 you know her name is Lucy — grew brighter 
 as the tale proceeded. ' I wish I could be 
 even with the young fellow,' said his lord- 
 ship, ' and perhaps I see my way to cry 
 quits.' Now, the way requires explanation,
 
 LETTERS. 269 
 
 and, between ourselves, some very delicate 
 handling. 
 
 " And first, by way of preface, let me 
 apologise for one or two awkward questions 
 which I, in my partial ignorance, put to you 
 at the ' Rose.' I had not then succeeded in 
 connecting your family name with the vague 
 and disjointed rumours which reached me 
 abroad in reference to the events which have 
 deprived the country, I trust for a time only, 
 of your uncle's valuable legal abilities. My 
 head was somewhat clearer by morning, but 
 I judged it the better course to make no 
 further allusion to the subject, nor is there 
 any necessity that I should now enter upon 
 those details, with which you have doubtless 
 by this time made yourself acquainted. Let 
 me rather confine myself to the matter which 
 more immediately presses, viz., the enforced 
 absence of your cousin Leslie, which we both 
 think the present time affords a desirable 
 opportunity to make an effort to bring to a 
 conclusion. As some return for his debt to 
 you, Lord Killgrove professes his desire to 
 move in this matter, should it be placed in
 
 27O RAVENSDALE. 
 
 proper training ; and I need scarcely tell you 
 that his position at the Privy Council renders 
 his assistance of great value. At the same 
 time, he is but one of many having voices 
 there, whereby it becomes necessary that his 
 hands should be further strengthened by put- 
 ting as fair a case into them as the nature of 
 the circumstances will permit. He seems in 
 favour of proceeding by Petition, which he 
 would back up at the proper time, when it 
 comes before the Board. But this is a sub- 
 ject for after-consideration; we must first get 
 up our case. I have no doubt that the 
 presence of his son would afford much con- 
 solation to your uncle under his present 
 trials ; and who knows but a more equable 
 frame of mind might suggest some mode of 
 extrication from them also ? But now for 
 the facts which are to be dressed up in the 
 most presentable form possible. I am, of 
 course, unaware what conversation has 
 passed between yourself and your relatives 
 on this subject ; but I readily infer that it 
 would be painful to your uncle to enter into 
 those minute details which you may need in
 
 LETTERS. 271 
 
 moving in the matter, and that he would 
 prefer you should learn them from other lips. 
 It is with this view — a harmless one at least, if 
 it does not meet your approval — that I have 
 been careful to secure all the leading par- 
 ticulars of the affair — chiefly from Lord 
 Killgrove himself; and these I now enclose. 
 Their sum total, which I may as well here 
 collect for you, runs pretty much as follows. 
 " I think I told you that the Irish branches 
 of your family had been known in my time, 
 and before it, for their strict loyalty and 
 allegiance to the Crown. The fact is indis- 
 putable, and we ought to be able to make 
 something of it ; your uncle's claims should 
 be strong on that head. I was able to 
 assert nothing, however, of the later genera- 
 tion ; and it was as well I did not make the 
 attempt, as after information teaches me. 
 When your cousin Leslie entered the Irish 
 University, a strong revolutionary spirit had 
 already taken hold of a portion of its under- 
 graduates. From all I can hear, I do not 
 believe there was much of the rebel in his 
 constitution ; but, in perilous times, the
 
 272 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 boundary between Progress and Revolution 
 is apt to become ill-defined. Not only are 
 the followers, and more especially the youth- 
 ful followers, of moral persuasion occasionally 
 seen hurried on to physical force ; but also, 
 at such periods, the more stable and con- 
 sistent advocates of the former are suspected 
 of secret sympathies with the latter. Not, 
 however, to detain you with a theory, when 
 time presses — your cousin attached himself 
 to a band of fellow-collegians, who had 
 already attracted the notice of the university 
 authorities by their somewhat imprudent 
 efforts at oratory and a suspected con- 
 nexion with the secret movement taking 
 place outside the walls of the building. 
 
 " A few months before that movement 
 came to a head, a royal Commission held 
 its sittings in the University, under Lord- 
 Chancellor Clare (one possessing somewhat 
 more of the suaviter in vwdo might have 
 suited the occasion better), to inquire into 
 these matters; and the expulsion of a number 
 of students was the result. Robert Emmet, 
 whose brother had already suffered exile
 
 LETTERS. 273 
 
 upon political grounds, was one of the first 
 whose answers before the members of the 
 Commission were deemed unsatisfactory ; 
 and the purity of this young man's life, and 
 his amiable disposition — facts, I believe, uni- 
 versally acknowledged on all hands — had 
 begotten so strong a feeling in his favour, 
 that his rejection was reckoned to have pro- 
 duced an inimical state of mind among his 
 class fellows toward the Commission, as 
 evinced by the subsequent responses. Young 
 Moore, whose poetry is now delighting all 
 ears (I am just getting through his Ana- 
 crton) was the next called up for questioning, 
 and, with him, it was all but touch and go. 
 On rejoining his fellow-collegians in the 
 body of the Hall, who had been attentive 
 listeners of Clare's browbeating and the 
 spirited replies of the youthful bard, he was 
 received with little short of an ovation ; and 
 your cousin's name was called. Whether 
 it was in consequence of feelings evoked by 
 Emmet's rejection and the bold front of 
 Moore, or that Leslie Featherstone was 
 really unable to offer a satisfactory explana- 
 vol. 1. 1 8
 
 2 74 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 tion, certain it is his replies were judged 
 wholly inadequate, and public expulsion 
 was the result. Young Emmet and your 
 cousin quitted the University walls together ; 
 and acts in connexion with the incipient 
 Rebellion being traced, shortly after, to 
 them, sentence of banishment followed. I 
 believe there would be little difficulty — now 
 that the confusion and excitement of the 
 movement itself is past — in bringing home 
 those acts more particularly to young 
 Emmet, the action of your relative being 
 chiefly the promptings of friendship ; and, 
 for this purpose (should such a course be 
 entered on), I send you the chief documents 
 bearing upon them. It is a method, how- 
 ever, which I am inclined to think the high 
 spirit of your cousin would protest against, 
 and, possibly, overturn by a counter state- 
 ment* more especially as there is reason to 
 suppose that the intimacy is still maintained 
 between himself and Robert Emmet. At all 
 events, our safest plan would appear to be 
 to lean mainly on the natural and pardon- 
 able emotions called into being by the dis-
 
 LETTERS. 275 
 
 grace — and, I think we may now assert, the 
 injustice — of a public expulsion, under all 
 the circumstances of the case. 
 
 " Consider these matters over with your- 
 self, and, to what extent you think proper, 
 with your relatives. Time is more pressing 
 than might, at first sight, appear to be the 
 case. I cannot disguise from myself — how- 
 ever the Government may pooh-pooh it — 
 that the elements of disaffection are again 
 at work in this country. I have been, of 
 late, thrown among large masses of the 
 peasantry, and their reticence on certain 
 political subjects strongly reminds me of the 
 state of affairs immediately preceding some 
 of our past outbreaks, and convinces me 
 that there is a secret undercurrent at work 
 through the land. If we wait until this 
 arrives at a head, there is little doubt that 
 our matter would come before the Govern- 
 ment at an inopportune and unfriendly 
 time. With fire and sword raging through 
 the country, our petition might pray to deaf 
 ears, or receive an unfavourable, and final, 
 answer."
 
 276 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 If this epistle did not clear up all that was 
 dark and mysterious about the House of 
 Ravensdale, as previously intimated by me, 
 it at least lifted a portion of the curtain. I 
 could now account for the absence of my 
 cousin Leslie from the country; and I could 
 also interpret the regret with which Miss 
 De Vere spoke of blighted prospects and an 
 interrupted professional career. The letter, 
 it is true, threw no light on the retirement 
 of my uncle from his profession ; and I re- 
 gretted the more that it stopped short of 
 this, inasmuch as, in laying Captain Ogleby's 
 communication before him, which I judged 
 the most proper course to be pursued, I 
 must needs tread on ground, the nature of 
 which I was but imperfectly acquainted with. 
 However, there appeared to be no help for 
 it ; and, provided with the Captain's letter 
 and documents, I left my room in quest of 
 him. Had my cousin Constance been at 
 home, I should have preferred to lay my 
 present difficulty before her, and, at the 
 risk of some pain to her, beseech a clue to 
 the labyrinth on which I was entering ; but
 
 LETTERS. 277 
 
 Miss Macklewaine, the only other present 
 inhabitant of Ravensdale House, appeared 
 to me scarcely a desirable person in my 
 emergency, and I chose to come before my 
 uncle unaided, instead. 
 
 In truth, I found myself entering on my 
 duties as fellow-worker and adopted brother 
 of Miss De Vere with somewhat of a ven- 
 geance, and with very scant breathing-time 
 after my late declaration and its conse- 
 quence. However, setting aside the sincerity 
 of my resolves on that head, honour and 
 family ties appeared to leave no other course 
 open. Moreover, I could not but regard 
 Lord Killgrove's action in the matter — no 
 very enticing one, where the judicial func- 
 tions were to be laid aside for those of the 
 advocate, in a cause then anything but 
 popular among his compeers — as a most 
 graceful return for a service which the mere 
 impulses of humanity would have dictated. 
 The least I could do in requital of such 
 attention was to give the present proposal 
 all the prompt and vigorous aid which lay 
 in my power.
 
 278 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Filled with these somewhat conflicting con- 
 siderations, it was with a near approach to 
 relief I discovered that I was allowed some 
 further time for reflection, on learning that 
 my uncle had left the house soon after the 
 morning's meal, and was not expected home 
 until nightfall. Such short absences were 
 by no means unusual with him ; and, in 
 common with all done by him, were made 
 without explanation, or previous warning. 
 My relief, I need scarcely say, had no refer- 
 ence to any change of mind in placing my 
 uncle in possession of the communication I 
 had just received. Rather, it was occa- 
 sioned by this ignorance of much affecting 
 the position and circumstances of the person 
 I was about to consult, and by a vague hope 
 that something might arise in the meantime 
 to render me better prepared. It was while 
 considering this view of the matter that old 
 Martha recurred to my mind. From her, I 
 might collect much practical information 
 bearing on the subject of my cousin Leslie's 
 affairs, and, if she occasionally diverged 
 into those of my uncle, was there any impro-
 
 LETTERS. 279 
 
 priety in my lending an ear to her discourse? 
 Martha, an old and faithful retainer of the 
 family, was not to be classed with an or- 
 dinary domestic ; and, as I had already re- 
 peated my visit several times to her cottage, 
 we were now on pretty near terms of in- 
 timacy. In fine, I determined to see Martha 
 in the course of the day ; and, with regard 
 to the rest, to be guided very much by cir- 
 cumstances, as they might fall out. 
 
 My reading, I fear, for that day, did not 
 add much to my stores of legal knowledge. 
 Martha was not likely to be in a confidential 
 — possibly, an amiable — frame of mind 
 during the bustle of the noon-day, and our 
 interview was further liable to interruption 
 from the intrusion of neighbours. I had set 
 apart, therefore, the shades of evening for 
 my visit — and it was not without relief that 
 I, at length, saw their approach. Our 
 dinner-table had presented a comparatively 
 dreary waste, and not even the friendly 
 assistance of Dan was able to impart liveli- 
 ness to the conversation which I and Miss 
 Macklewaine endeavoured to maintain over
 
 2 SO RAVENSDALE. 
 
 it. On the occasions of a day's absence 
 from home, my uncle usually returned at a 
 late hour, and then retired to his room ; 
 from which he did not issue until the follow- 
 ing- morning. I could not call to mind any 
 instance in which his seclusion, at such 
 periods, had been broken in on ; and it was 
 a question with me whether my present 
 business with him was of so urgent a nature 
 as to absolve me in breaking through what 
 appeared to me to be an understood rule of 
 the house. After some reflection with my- 
 self, I decided in the negative ; and deter- 
 mined to await the morning for my interview 
 with him. 
 
 This decided, I sat down to acknowledge 
 the receipt of Captain Ogleby's letter — 
 thanking him for his communication, in- 
 forming him of the temporary absence of 
 my uncle from home, and of my intention 
 of placing the matter before him on the 
 following morning. At the present juncture, 
 it was, I feared, impossible for me to leave 
 Ravensdale House ; but I hoped to have a 
 day at the partridges before the season ter- 
 minated.
 
 LETTERS. 251 
 
 By the time I had sealed my letter and 
 deposited it in the post-bag on the hall- 
 table, I was surprised to find that the hours 
 had slipped by more hastily than I had ven- 
 tured to hope ; and not only had the shades 
 of evening, but even nightfall itself, made 
 its appearance, as I issued from the 
 house. 
 
 A bright and warm day had been suc- 
 ceeded by a sultry, lowering evening. Black 
 clouds sailed slowly into the hitherto blue 
 sky, and took up their positions in dense 
 packed masses. Large drops of rain pat- 
 tered at intervals among the superabundant 
 foliage ; and all the signs of a coming sum- 
 mer thunderstorm became visible around. 
 Indeed, I had not proceeded far when the 
 distant crepitus informed me that Heaven's 
 artillery was already getting into preparation ; 
 and, every now and again, a stray flash of 
 lightning illumined the thickly-overshadowed 
 path which led to the cottage. 
 
 " Hurry in, Masther Frank, out of the 
 rain," was the exclamation of Martha, as, 
 standing at her door, in apparent contem-
 
 282 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 plation of the contending elements, she 
 perceived my approach. 
 
 Deeming it best to be perfectly above- 
 board with the old lady, I gave her a rapid 
 sketch of the unexpected communication I 
 had received from Captain Ogleby, — explain- 
 ing, as reasons for my ignorance of past 
 family matters, my absence from Ireland, 
 and, for several years, from the paternal 
 roof. 
 
 " Dear knows," was the reply of Martha, 
 " it would do my old heart good to see the 
 boy back in his father's house, where he 
 ought to be. And why wouldn't he stand 
 up for his country, if he saw her badly used ? 
 — anyhow, there's many of his way of 
 thinking." 
 
 Unwilling to bring on a political discus- 
 sion, with matters more pressing in hand, I 
 suggested (such appearing to me to be my 
 most powerful line of argument with the old 
 retainer) the traditionary loyalty of the 
 family. 
 
 "Ay; the Featherstones were ever for 
 king and country — see the reward they met."
 
 LETTERS. 283 
 
 Finding it improbable that I should be 
 able to hold my own on this topic, I now 
 sought to divert the patriotic mind of 
 Martha to the more immediate object of 
 my visit — with somewhat better effect. 
 
 " True for you, Masther Frank," was her 
 remark, in reply to an attempt of mine in 
 this direction, " there's been sorrow and 
 throuble enough already. It's like * of you 
 to think of the poor exile. I only hope the 
 Masther will agree to it." 
 
 "Agree ! Martha. Surely my uncle 
 would place no impediment in the way of 
 his son's return ? " 
 
 " I dunna — he's not the man he was. No 
 one knows what's in his mind now." 
 
 "Yet, Martha, you must have some 
 reason for speaking as you do. Surely his 
 loyalty would not go to the lengths of ren- 
 dering him more inexorable than the laws 
 which his son has offended ! " 
 
 " No ; I have heard him talk of the boy's 
 act as a freak of youth. But speak to him- 
 self, Masther Frank — speak to himself. 
 
 * Like the natural disposition of your family.
 
 284 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Maybe he'll let out' his mind to you. Time 
 was when he'd tell ould Martha whatever 
 troubled him." 
 
 " These matters," I resumed — giving ex- 
 pression, indeed, to the thoughts which sug- 
 gested themselves to my mind, rather than 
 addressing Martha — " these matters oc- 
 curred prior to the event which caused my 
 uncle to abandon his profession ?" 
 
 " Thrue, Masther Frank — the Masther 
 was cheerful enough for many a day after, 
 and told us he'd have his son back with him 
 as soon as the country was settled." 
 
 " I will speak to my uncle, Martha — of 
 course it is my intention to lay this whole 
 matter before him in the morning. But the 
 doubts you now seem to throw upon his 
 willingness to co-operate with us, take me 
 wholly by surprise — and, insufficiently ac- 
 quainted with the circumstances which 
 affect him, I possess few means of com- 
 bating them." 
 
 Under a national suavity — which has long 
 obtained for itself the title of " blarney " — 
 the Irish peasant conceals a very consider-
 
 LETTERS. 285 
 
 able portion of cunning — as a protection, 
 doubtless, against any risks which over- 
 politeness might lead into. I now saw that 
 Martha — spite of her compliments and pro- 
 testations — was revolving in her own mind 
 to what extent I might be taken with safety 
 into the domestic confidence, and whether 
 my visit and the conversation which had 
 arisen out of it were not all a clever ruse on 
 my part to arrive at the family history. 
 Apparently, the matter was eventually de- 
 cided in my favour — though, whether in 
 consideration of the disinterestedness of my 
 motives, or the powerful inducement of 
 having a perfectly new ear to tell her tale 
 to, I had no means of judging. 
 
 " Biddy, alanna" (this was addressed to a 
 young girl, a granddaughter of hers, who 
 lived with her), " say your prayers, astore, 
 and go to bed — it's in your second sleep you 
 ought to be by this time." 
 
 And as the child, in obedience to the 
 command, retired within the inner room, the 
 dame added to me — 
 
 " Them children, Masther Frank, have
 
 286 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 sharp ears, and, if Biddy overheard us, it's 
 little she'd sleep to-night." 
 
 Having so far cleared the course, Martha 
 re-arranged the burning embers on the 
 hearth, drew forth her short pipe, and, 
 having fully ignited it by a few preliminary 
 whiffs, placed her elbows on her knees, and, 
 bending over the hearth in the true Irish 
 crone fashion, commenced the strange tale 
 which the reader will find in the following 
 chapter. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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 THE 
 
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