THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 From the collection of 
 James Collins, 
 Drxwncondra, Ireland. 
 Purchased, 1918, 
 
 • &Z5 
 
 Ob'S) It 
 

Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/leixlipcastleromOOobyr 
 
ymlip 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE 
 
 ^ ^0ma:«a 0f % Hags of 1690 
 
 EMOLIBIE DE OELTIS 
 
 AUTHOR or ‘*THB PALE AND THE SEPTS.” 
 
 Upon those heights Olympian 
 Amid the train I stand 
 To rescue from oblivion 
 The traditions of the land ; 
 In page of faithful story 
 To record leme’s woes, 
 
 And the downfall of her glory, 
 And the triumph of her foes. 
 
 DUBLIN 
 
 M. H. GILL AND SON 
 
 50 UPPER SACKVILLE STREET 
 
 BY 
 
 1883 
 
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 I m: h. gill and son, peintbrs, Dublin. 
 viflAl' ‘ 
 
91 ^li 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 When the princely O’Neill, terminating the long stern 
 contest which, in defence of faith and fatherland, and to 
 guard the ancient honours of his high Milesian line, he 
 had so gallantly waged against the best military power of 
 Britain, and had furled the banner that for a thousand 
 years had waved triumphant over Dane and Norman, 
 and sheathed the sword that had followed the equally 
 glorious O’Donnell and O’Sullivan to the same sunny 
 clime, from whence, in the beginning, their enterprising 
 forefathers had migrated in quest of their land of promise, 
 ‘^Inisfail” — ‘‘the Isle of Destiny” — the ultimate reward 
 of their bold adventure — the magnificent dynasty of native 
 sovereignty inaugurated by them became extinct, and the 
 splendour which their exalted chivalry and advanced civi- 
 lisation had shed round the Celtic throne — arts, science, 
 and learning of old renown and world- wide fame, with the 
 later more venerable and sublime ceremonial of Roman Ca- 
 tholic worship, which, for twelve centuries, had superseded 
 the glamour of Druid rite — disappeared or became a tra- 
 dition of the past ; and the land that had once basked in 
 the light radiating from the college, the temple, and the 
 cloister, was plunged in darkness of midnight and blotted 
 from the page of history in blood. From the hour in 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 which the first James of England had wielded the British 
 sceptre over the destiny of the Irish nation till the close of 
 the reign of the second Charles, hostile of race and alien 
 in sympathy, the policy of each succeeding monarch 
 seemed directed to effect the total extermination of the 
 aboriginal inhabitants; and horde following horde of 
 rapacious foreigners swarmed to seize upon the millions 
 of confiscated acres offered to their acceptance by the king, 
 and to colonise whole provinces and districts ravaged and 
 laid desolate by the merciless and fanatical wreckers of 
 Cromwell’s legions. Persecuted, plundered, outlawed, 
 then commenced the exodus of such remnant of the native 
 nobility as had escaped the penal inflictions of Elizabeth 
 and the two succeeding monarchs, or the murderous sword 
 of the regicide invader. Dispersing to Spain, France, 
 Austria, Italy, and Poland, the illustrious exiles enrolled 
 themselves beneath the banners of various sovereigns ; 
 yet, cherishing persistently the memory of their ancient 
 prestige, never did they relinquish the fond hope and firm 
 purpose of returning in more auspicious times to tread 
 again the former beloved haunts, consecrated by a thou- 
 sand endearing reminiscences of illustrious ancestry, and 
 commingle their dust with that of beloved kindred rest- 
 ing in the bosom of the deplored motherland, bedewed 
 with their parting tears. Hence, in the year 1685, upon 
 the demise of Charles II. and the accession of James, his 
 Catholic brother, it seemed as though these long-nursed 
 aspirations were to be realised. True, banished nobles 
 might return and behold their ancient inheritance in 
 possession of Scotch planters, English trade guilds, and 
 Cromwellian spoliators, but there were no penal laws to 
 grind and afflict the conscientious adherent to his creed, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Vll 
 
 no high-handed ascendency to strike down and crush the 
 worshipper at the shrine of his faith ; and those who, 
 favoured by fortune in the lands of their late sojourn, had 
 amassed wealth, and had risen to fame, should, as freemen 
 and co-equal in all civil rights, tread once more in peace 
 and honour the land of their fathers. Thus scarcely 
 twelve months had elapsed from the period of James’ 
 accession to the throne when, in the streets of the metro- 
 polis might be seen, commingled in grotesque assemblage, 
 stalwart forms clad in frieze from the wilds and wastes of 
 Connaught, with bold free step and gallant bearing, and 
 noble knights and squires, whose unmistakably Celtic traits 
 belied their foreign garb — Spanish, French, or Eoman — 
 and denoted returned fugitives from afar. Handsome cha- 
 riots, finely caparisoned steeds, and well-appointed retinues, 
 enlivened the hitherto unattractive thoroughfares, and en- 
 gaged the attention and comments of the rude rabble, the 
 rough burghers, the ill-disciplined soldiery, and the imper- 
 tinent and pretentious officials who, for the most part, re- 
 presented British aristocracy in the city. Catholic churches 
 again fiung wide their sacred portals, altars blazed, and 
 renovated shrines were thronged once more as in the 
 palmiest days of Ireland’s Catholicity, when a St. Lau- 
 rence O’Toole officiated in holy pomp in the archiepiscopal 
 see of Dublin, and gave benediction to a prostrate multi- 
 tude, whose long trodden-down posterity, like a giant 
 aroused, resuscitated in strength, with energy and vigour 
 fiung off the fetters of bondage, and, true to the instinct 
 of blood, to the passionate yearning and loud cry of the 
 ethereal spark within each bosom, sought for the bread of 
 supernatural life, revealed to eyes of faith by the instinct 
 of divine grace within the soul. 
 
viii 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Looking on, with folded arms and lowering brow, the 
 masses of Protestant intolerance who had so long tyran- 
 nised in power over the oppressed, mourned with jealous 
 alarm the untoward revolution whereby the emancipated 
 slave had passed from under the yoke. No more privilege 
 had they now to amerce and trample in the dust, or to 
 plunder, murder, and root out the Catholic families of the 
 land. The halcyon days of the State Church were for the 
 present at an end. The despised children of Rome, more 
 despised for their Celtic nationality, were to be restored to 
 the embraces of their triumphant mother. Pandora’s box, 
 laden with every evil, real and imaginary, gaping wide, 
 poured forth calamities unspeakable on afflicted Protest- 
 antism. Faithful to tradition, hope alone remained to 
 comfort them that mourned the idolatrous James — the 
 popish king. The self-willed, stubborn bigot, who had 
 wrought all this disastrous change, was not likely, it was 
 believed, to be succeeded by a son ; his daughters were 
 staunch Protestants ; and so with this crumb of consola- 
 tion in perspective, they would bide their time in antici- 
 pation of better days. Yet was the fond hope nipped in 
 the bud, a little while and a son was born to King James. 
 Frustrated, disappointed, the most sanguine stood paralysed 
 by the magnitude of the misfortune. By-and-by clouds 
 gathered, the horizon darkened, ill-omened prognostics 
 began to appear, and people gifted with prophetic instinct 
 set themselves to cast the horoscope of the future. They 
 said the signs of the times boded no good. Some averred 
 elements were culminating which would soon, like an over- 
 charged battery, explode in thunder and rain down fresh 
 torrents of blood upon the land; others, with startled eye and 
 bated breath, whispered of low, muttering sounds of solemn 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 IX 
 
 import foretelling the shock of an earthquake ; and more, 
 in hissing murmurs, hinted at vials of wrath, and scourge, 
 and plague, brooding destruction. Every ear caught the 
 signal of alarm wafted on the breeze of heaven, and all took 
 warning to stand to their posts in the attitude chosen by 
 each in the cause to be asserted, whether of principle or 
 choice. Four distinct parties, all opposed on score of in- 
 terest, religion, nationality, and politics, threatened to 
 inaugurate a swiftly approaching crisis, and to infuse 
 elements of discord into the seething caldron of the 
 nation, most unlikely to eliminate order out of chaos, 
 or build up that unity of mind and purpose in the ma- 
 jority which should, with paramount force, bear down all 
 opposition and elevate its oriflamme for victory when 
 called upon by the assailed majesty of Britain’s monarch 
 to vindicate his right against the Prince of Orange. 
 Dominant in Ireland at this critical juncture, when Eng- 
 land opened her arms to receive the usurper, and all who 
 adhered to the fortunes of the exiled sovereign found 
 safety in flight, were the Cromwellian settlers, closely 
 allied in sympathy and interest with the Plantation 
 colonists of the flrst James. These, for the most part, 
 were ill-conditioned men of ferocious instincts, rendered 
 more terrible by their cruel Calvinistie tenets, and inflated 
 with savage pride of valour that had shed much blood, 
 and won much spoil. Self-righteous in judgment, and 
 decreeing, in the name of the Lord, to pitiless doom all 
 who walked not with them, they eschewed the popish 
 king, espoused the cause of William, and vowed, when 
 favoured by opportunity, to renew the good work and 
 drench the land again in popish blood. Next came the 
 Anglo-Saxon, the Episcopalian Protestants, who, loyally 
 
X 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 attached to the crown, had, upon the disturbance between 
 Charles I. and his Parliament, ranked themselves on the 
 royal side, and now, with cold and grudging spirit, scarcely 
 tendered quiescent allegiance to the bigot James, as they 
 so designated him. Their passive show of loyalty was 
 chiefly based upon the foundation of hereditary pride of 
 descent, which animated the breasts of the patrician 
 cavaliers against the upstart Roundheads, the embodi- 
 ment, in their eyes, of all that was vile, base, and 
 ill-begotten. Side by side with these appeared the Anglo- 
 Norman lords and gentry of the Pale, mostly all profess- 
 ing the ancient faith, yet claiming kindred origin with 
 and manifesting a strong leaning to the Anglo-Norman 
 stock. The said stock, more newly imported from the 
 parent soil, showed a tendency to meet with scornful as- 
 sumption of superiority their kinsfolk, and to consider them 
 as a degenerate class, scarcely removed by a shade from 
 the mere Irish, among whom they had herded so long ; 
 and it is not less strange than true that upon every avail- 
 able occasion England acted towards these her colonists 
 as if they had been aliens, and treated them with an in- 
 tensity of persecution not a whit less unrelenting than that 
 with which she pursued her native-born antagonists of the 
 island. Apart from all these factions, separate in race, in 
 blood, interests, and traditions, stood boldly prominent, 
 the target of every shaft launched against them by super- 
 cilious Anglo-Irish contempt, or Scotch and Cromwellian 
 malignancy, the great preponderating Celtic element re- 
 presented by their chieftains and old noblesse, all united 
 heart and soul in one principle of absorbing patriotism, 
 loyalty to their now accepted sovereign, hatred of the 
 new settlers, distrust of the Saxon pedigree, and disdain 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XI 
 
 of the pusillanimous, vacillating, half-hearted Anglo- 
 Norman lords of the Pale, whose factious feuds had so 
 often embroiled the country ; whose unreliable faith had 
 so frequently deceived their too-confiding trust, and whose 
 predilections were all more or less directed towards Britain 
 than in favour of the fostering land of their adoption, 
 whose honour they had never guarded, and with whose 
 interests they had never identified their own, save where 
 in some rare and solitary exceptions an off-shoot detaching 
 from the tree, or some seedling chance wafted, branched off, 
 or took root in the hot-bed of the clans, there to fiourish 
 and become more Irish than the Irish themselves/^ more 
 thoroughly imbued with spirit of patriotism, and more 
 uncompromisingly hostile to alien rule. Thus stood the 
 position of affairs in Ireland during the brief respite she 
 enjoyed from religious persecution and national strife ere 
 she was again summoned to the arena of conflict to rally 
 all her energies and put forth all the remnant of her 
 wasted strength for throne and altar against a fresh in- 
 road of invasion and the military prowess of belligerents, 
 not less formidable than the terrible Dane, whose galleys 
 swept her shores of old, or the mailclad warriors of Nor- 
 mandy, whose trumpet-blast once had waked the echoes of 
 her ancient hills. 
 

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CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. Luttrell and Galmoy . , . . .1 
 
 II. Comars Court ; Glen Ullin . . . .6 
 
 III. Major Clotworthy Grub : his family and friends . 20 
 
 IV. The Fitz Adelms . . . . . .35 
 
 V. Sir Ulic de Burgh . . . . . .46 
 
 VI. Lady de Rivers renews matrimonial angling for her sons 66 
 
 VII. The De Courcys’ dinner-party • . . .79 
 
 VIII. The Grubs plan an alliance . , . .104 
 
 IX. The Misses Grub visit Lady de Courcy . . .119 
 
 X. Lady Tudor de Rivers’ assembly . . . .137 
 
 XI. The Grubs propose ...... 154 
 
 XII. Adorine O’Byrne and Harvey de Rivers . . . 173 
 
 XIII. King James in Dublin ..... 195 
 
 XIV. The Review at Finglas . . . . .219 
 
 XV. Sir Harvey de Rivers and Major Grub hold conference . 234 
 
 XVI. A critical adventure and its results . . . 248 
 
 XVII. The Letter 265 
 
 XVII. The Battle of the Boyne . . , . .278 
 
 XIX. The scattering ...... 293 
 
 XX. The Flight at Midnight ..... 306 
 
 XXI. The Fugitives of Dunmore ..... 319 
 
 XXII. Leixlip Castle — the ruins of Sleibhtach . . . 333 
 
 XXIII. The Fugitives of Sleibhtach .... 347 
 
 XXIV. Athlone : — Sir Ulic and Sir Harold seek friends . . 364 
 
 XXV. Faithful unto death . . . . .378 
 
 XXVI. The defence of Limerick ..... 399 
 XXVIT. The Queen City of the Shannon . . . .413 
 
 XXVIII. Tidings of weal and woe ..... 434 
 XXIX. Athlone’s laurels bloom again .... 448 
 
Xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXX. The Fall of Athlone and Battle of Aughrim . . 466 
 
 XXXI. The Treaty of Limerick • . . . .476 
 
 XXXII. The brunt of trial— a terrible sequel . . . 493 
 
 XXXIII. Lady de Rivers’ treasures. — She makes a convert . 510 
 XXXIV. The Bishop of Meath denounces Papists , . 523 
 
 XXXV. The shadows fall darker ..... 534 
 XXXVI. The Conclave in convention .... 557 
 XXXVII. The Corrig-an-Affrion ; or, the Mass Rock . . 669 
 
 XXXVIII. The ruined Priory of Kells . . . . 584 
 
 XXXIX. Priests’ heads in the Market .... 594 
 XL. The bridal. — The Maniac’s revenge . . . 605 
 
 XLI. The Gathering 624 
 
 XLIl. The Sequel 638 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 

LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LUTTRELL AND GALMOY. 
 
 “ Thou know’st not whom we deal with ; knightly faith 
 And chivalrous honour are but things whereon 
 They cast disdainful pity.” — 
 
 “Vespers of Palermo ” — Hemans. 
 
 It was a sharp, frosty evening, in the month of February, 
 1689. The old tavern — The Cock’' — situated in Cook- 
 street, at this period the most celebrated house of enter- 
 tainment in the metropolis of Dublin, the ancient Eblana 
 of Ptolemy, the classicul^A-c//a^A, whose pre-historic archives 
 are lost in the tide of time, was the favourite rendezvous 
 of persons of all classes and conditions without distinction. 
 Courtiers, officials, merchants, and travellers from all parts 
 of the country were wont to muster at the table d'hote^ and 
 discuss savoury viands, washed down with goblets of good 
 wine, or tankards of ale, as taste or their finances dictated, 
 and blend in convivial mirth, not always trammelled by 
 decorum, but seasoned with many a bon-mot or anecdote 
 rendered in the dialect of the Anglo-Irish of the day. 
 The boxes or compartments ranged around the dining-hall 
 also claimed their quota of more select occupants intent ou 
 business that brooks no intrusion of prying eyes and ears, 
 or parties conservative of privacy that declined to mingle 
 
2 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 in the banquet or the revels of the general and less ex- 
 clusive guests. Among those private stalls was one in 
 possession of a solitary individual, whose rich and fashion- 
 able habiliments seemed to afford an index to the social 
 status of the wearer, which neither his aspect nor his bear- 
 ing conveyed, as, immersed in thought, he lounged over the 
 remnants of a roast capon, with a goblet of claret beside 
 him, and probed his teeth with an ivory pick, but suspended 
 the operation as a spare figure, wrapped in military cloak, 
 entered the hall, and with jaunty step and mien that cor- 
 responded ill with the martial plume that nodded on his 
 casque, approached and proceeded to take a seat in the 
 same compartment, saying with cool placidity, as he re- 
 moved his helmet and displayed a flat, low brow, beneath 
 which twinkled a pair of vigilant feline eyes, alert and 
 speculative, hard and disagreeable in expression : — 
 
 ‘‘So ho! How fares it with the stout GalmoyP 
 Methought amigo thou wert en route for Kilkenny 
 
 “ Start to-morrow,^^ drawled the noble personage ad- 
 dressed, eyeing the other with questioning glance. “ Tar- 
 ried for the play to-niglit — ^ Galanthe,^ you know — and 
 promised Harvey de Eivers to take a turn into the cock- 
 pit. But thou, merry wag, methought by this time 
 closeted with Sarsfield and the warlike conclave debating 
 the destiny of kingdoms, and weaving toils to take the 
 tawny lion that assails us by the beard, and here thou 
 art!^' 
 
 “’Tis time I were away; Sarsfield expects me, I trow ; 
 but certain matter pertaining to my own commodity inter- 
 vened the while ; — to-morrow, at cock-crow, Ifil set off ; — 
 has’t any news 
 
 “ News, Luttrell! Why, friend mine, what a pox seek 
 you? News ! it is the surfeit of the time ; every day the 
 columns of the Flying Post are gorged. 
 
 “ Pooh, stale news. Derry, stubborn ; England's dis- 
 crowned monarch coming over to assume, for lack of 
 ]lritisli, an Irish crown — and happy man be his dole for 
 the same; — and the nation picking up heart at the prospect 
 of the revival of the glories of Tara ; and a king of nine- 
 pins perpetuating the regal djmasty of Ileremon, and 
 
LUTTRELL AND GALMOY. 
 
 3 
 
 shining in majesty of hoary crown and robe among the 
 younger nations, bedecked in gewgaw tinsel. But what of 
 any that more nearly concerns our individual interest ? 
 By my troth, the world has spun round pretty fast within 
 these few years, and many hold but a slippery footing that 
 were well propped on Fortune's pedestal, thyself among 
 them/’ 
 
 Lord Galmoy frowned till his heavy brows were knitted 
 together, and formed a line of furrows over his sullen, gleam- 
 ing eyes. ^‘Beshrewmy soul ! it boots not to complain, Lut- 
 trell ; but the hurly-burly wrought by the pranks of potentates 
 and their dictum do more harm, and more upset peace in 
 a state, than the wildest garboil of menaced or actual 
 invasion ; for, in the latter, men’s minds are all welded 
 into the one mould, whereas in the former the most com- 
 pact social union or order is shattered to adverse atoms. 
 Here was I, a few years since, a staunch Puritan from 
 necessity, later, a true Episcopalian for the fashion, lauded 
 as a zealous enemy of popery, active in the suppression ot 
 monks, J esuits, and papists, in a word, extolled as a shining 
 light of the Eeformation, suddenly quenched by a breath 
 of this popish king, whose upas blight has fallen upon us, 
 and, to maintain a footing in the State, compelled in 
 obedience to his mighty nod, to disavow my principle, and 
 to run the gauntlet of men’s jeers by tacking round, and 
 under cloak of a penitent convert making show of zeal as 
 violent in the cause of popery as I had heretofore displayed 
 against it ; and yet, with all my subservient homage, I 
 can see I make but small way in the favour of those 
 minions of fortune — those rampant bigots of Eome. 
 ^ Skiff how I hate them — hov/ 1 hate myself for the hy- 
 pocrisy I must perforce stoop to act to commend myself to 
 grace.’' 
 
 “ Pooh ! laugh in your sleeve at them, man ; this is no 
 world in which to play with quibbles, but rather a stage, 
 whereon the players must dolf and change to suit the play, 
 and play well the part they act ; — vessels, say, wo are, 
 freighted and chartered to certain ports ; — must our sails 
 not be trimmed to veer with the winds and tides that 
 buffet us; and, if boarded by pirate or privateer, must we 
 
4 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 not needs cede to the requirements of the new hands that 
 have taken us in tow ? Myself, was I not an adherent of 
 the regicide as stout as any ? When the wind veered, was 
 I not first to waft me upon the gale to Charley ; but, unlike 
 you, doubtful of the point in which it might set, with a 
 popish brother heir presumptive to the throne, I held 
 neutral ground, alike eschewing the knaves that courted 
 my aid in the concoction of popish plots, and standing 
 aloof from demonstration of any bias save to cards and 
 dicing. Hence, behold me now, unblemished by ill 
 prestige, yet not a whit the more to be counted on for my 
 innocency; engratiated in favour with the ascendant party, 
 and bent on pushing my fortune, like the bean-stalk, to 
 the clouds ; — cheerily then, my lord, take pattern by me ; 
 bear you well in this new strait ; higgle not with con- 
 science when you sport with fortune or cajole fools, but 
 heave the ballast that lumbers your craft overboard for the 
 nonce, remembering a new cargo may be shipped any time 
 more convenient ; — and be not chary of bait to the Church; 
 rain down a golden shower upon it, thump your bosom 
 before prelates, and edify the laity hy some visible signs 
 of repentance ; walk barefoot in a street, holding a lighted 
 taper, or any other manifestion. I wot, if to-morrow the 
 tide of war made wreck of James, and floated William to 
 the throne, we would not lack argument for tacking round, 
 nor landrakes and starvelings to back us on.” 
 
 Galmoy smiled grimly. Slight affection bear I to this 
 popish king ; withal, infected with the loyal instincts of 
 my blood, loath I were to see the succession broken by the 
 Dutchman ; it revolts one’s spirit.” 
 
 Pish ! school thy spirit to wisdom. What boots to’us 
 who reigns, so our fortunes blossom beneath the gardener’s 
 hand ? When have you seen De Eivers 
 
 He comes with me to-night, to the play, along with 
 that rough chum of his, Cromwell’s younger babe of grace, 
 J onas Grrub. I marvel how he can stomach such a brood 
 of hedgehogs.” 
 
 ‘'Smitten with one of the nymphs, maybe; — huge 
 golden ingots 
 
 “Can’t say. Harvey is a fastidious connoisseur in 
 
LUTTRELL AND GALMOY. 
 
 5 
 
 beauty, and, moreover, somewhat vain of ancestry. I can 
 understand why the parvenues attach themselves to him, 
 whose favour sets them off ; but why he should patronise 
 them from whose auspices he can derive no honour is 
 puzzling.^' 
 
 ‘^Psha!^^ said Luttrell, know De Eivers better than 
 you. They are matched well enough withal ; and a groat 
 to a penny, the wily rogue takes his dealing trick out of 
 them. Have you lately seen Fitz Adelm 
 
 No ; since my conversion l\e been read out of meet- 
 ting. Harold Sigurd says the girls have nicknamed me 
 ^ the chameleon.^ I think Iff! withdraw from the stage and 
 retire into private life : 'tis not pleasant to be flouted as a 
 renegade by one's own set, and to feel oneself an object of 
 mistrust or obloquy to them whose party you have joined.^' 
 Alack, poor heart, is it so low with thee? Well, if thou 
 must needs hie to the covert of leafy bowers, from the eye 
 of kites and the chatter of apes, kind Flora make thy 
 bower of myrtle, and strew thy bed with poppies. I, being 
 not minded to follow in thy track, shall betake me to Lucan 
 and sue the deputy god of war to appoint me a post among 
 the belligerents, and* if I climb not, the fault rests not 
 with me. Adieu ! I understand that a parliament is to 
 be convened soon after the arrival of J ames ; — canvass for 
 a seat.^’ 
 
 “ With whom, among whom ? I may not count on 
 popish favour ; and Protestant interest is at discount. Mark 
 my words, the dirge of reformation is sounded; none but 
 Eomanists will find countenance or be eligible to place or 
 post. Heavens, how the times are changed 
 
 ‘‘ So they are. I met Hopping the other day, looking 
 very rueful ; he said it was one of the signs of Antichrist. 
 The Eev. Alexius Stafford has been appointed Dean of 
 Christ Church, and they are fitting it up for the accomo- 
 dation of the king. — Waiter, a cup of Bordeaux. 
 
 Stay and come with us to the theatre ; we can go and 
 sup after at ^ The Crown,’ or the ‘ London Tavern.’ ” 
 
 “ I don’t mind if I do ; we can talk over the state of 
 affairs. Meantime, a word more : had I a bell to my fool’s 
 cap as thou, i’ faith, I’d make music out of it would set 
 
6 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 folk a-gaping, and enforce me the servile worship of vulgar 
 plebian and vauntful peer. ^Sleif! it marvels me what poor 
 advantage some men draw of the fortune within their pos- 
 session ; with good cards in their hand they yet play but a 
 losing game, for want of tact to win.^^ 
 
 “ Well, well, come along ; I’ll con over the lesson, and 
 may prove yet an apt pupil.’’ 
 
 Arm-in-arm the two friends quitted the coffee-room, dis- 
 pensing sundry nods of recognition to acquaintances 
 mingled among the guests up and down, and proceeded 
 on their way. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 cornal’s court, glen ullin 
 
 “ Deep waving fields and pastures green, 
 
 With gentle slopes and groves between: 
 
 These fertile plains, that soften’d vale, 
 
 Were once the birthright of the Gael ; 
 
 The stranger came with iron hand 
 
 And from our fathers reft the land.’’ — Scott. 
 
 Perierunt etiam nnncB !'* The ruins of it have perished, 
 yet at the period of our story, amid fair sweeping lawns, 
 terraced slopes, and waving woodlands, the old castle rose 
 grim and solemn, its gray walls mantled with the ivy of 
 centuries, the wild wall-flower crowning its airy turrets, 
 and the brier-rose trailing through broken loopholes, 
 lighting what once were chambers ; and brambles, choking 
 archways and passages that once had echoed the warrior’s 
 stately tread, or the lighter step of noble dame, or the 
 swift pattering foot of childhood. The owl murmured at 
 midnight, and the wind wailed and whistled through halls 
 and recesses, where once was heard the din of banquet 
 revelry, or the harp strings’ wild thrill to the bardic song, 
 the shout of joyous youth, theprattleof infancy, or perchance, 
 betimes, the conqueror’s yell of triumph, and the victim’s 
 shriek of despair, cries of terror, or death groans of anguish. 
 All was hushed and silent now. Yet was there one tower 
 
cornel's court, glen ullin. 
 
 7 
 
 of the pile lately repaired and inhabited. The evening 
 lamps were lighted, and in a small turret chamber, facing 
 the south, comfortably, not to say luxuriously furnished, 
 the walls hung with tapestry, the floor covered with 
 soft riigs, while easy-chairs, cushions, lounges, books, 
 paintings, mirrors, filled up available space, a table, neatly 
 laid for supper, occupied a central position, and between it, 
 and the silken curtained lattice window, sat, in the flicker- 
 ing light of a cheerful wood Are, a lady, who appeared like 
 a fair picture well suited to the frame in which it was set, 
 of apparently about twenty years. Her slight, symme- 
 trical figure was arrayed in a robe of rich black velvet, set 
 off with frill“and cuffs of fine' Vandyke lace; her hair, of 
 lustrous golden brown, was braided in form of a coronet 
 round a small, well-shaped head ; her complexion was pale, 
 but not delicately so ; every moulded feature reposed in 
 serene calm of tranquil thought ; no shadow ruflled her fair- 
 turned brow, or dimmed the summer-like expression of her 
 countenance. Presently she raised her half-bent head, and 
 looked towards the door in listening attitude, giving to 
 view an eye of sunny azure, beaming with mirthful 
 intelligence, and chiseled lips impressed with habitual 
 smile of winning sweetness. The door opened, and in 
 rushed a pair of boisterous, frolicksome girls, in the 
 chrysalis state, not yet quite emerged from childhood and 
 its privileges of white frocks, blue sashes, coral necklace, 
 long yellow tresses, floating wildly over bare shoulders, 
 and bold freedom of look, word, and action. A moment 
 they stared in blank silence around them, then the fore- 
 most — we can scarcely say eldest ; for they were twins, in 
 whose span of twelve years the difference of flve minutes 
 alone assigned priority — addressed the previous occupant 
 of the chamber. 
 
 No one come yet ; I protest I thought we’d have been 
 late. Isn’t uncle come yet ? 
 
 He’s late to night. May,” responded the lady, in accent 
 decidedly foreign, yet most pleasing to the ear. “I 
 wonder what can detain him, he is usually so punctual.’’ 
 
 Where are your father and mother ? ” 
 
 “ Father’s seeing about the travelling carriage, and 
 
8 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 mother ’s busy with the housekeeper, settling accounts, I 
 believe. Aren’t you glad we're going up to Dublin, 
 Adorine?’' returned the junior twin, leisurely advancing, 
 and accommodating herself with a seat on the lap of 
 the lady in question, who, stroking her locks with soft, 
 kind hand, made answer : 
 
 Not very glad, Bella. You know I like the fields and the 
 woods ; and we have had such fun gathering the primroses 
 and violets, and in the summer chasing the butterfiies. 
 But, I daresay, I shall like Dublin very well ; and I shall be 
 glad to make acquaintance with our cousin, Maud Fitz 
 Kustace ; I’m sorry Aunt De Courcy did not bring her here 
 with you.” 
 
 ‘‘ You see, the Fitz Adelm’s got round mother to let her 
 go on a visit to them,’’ said May De Courcy. 
 
 As she was yet speaking the door again opened, and entered 
 a tall, handsome-looking man of about five-and-forty, whose 
 commanding mien, and free and courteous bearing indi- 
 cated at once the master of the house. Extending a hand to 
 the lady, who rose and came forward to greet him with a 
 smile, the reflex of his own, and a close though softened 
 resemblance in every lineament and gesture that bespoke 
 a near relationship, he made excuse for his late return. 
 
 ‘‘ Sorry, dear child, to have kept you and my friends 
 w aiting — fact is, I met with an adventure.” 
 
 An adventure, Uncle Cornal ! Oh, tell us, do ! ” simul- 
 taneously cried the twin nieces, swinging their arms round 
 his athletic form, while their cousin stood expectant by. 
 
 “ You’ll not be glad to hear it, perhaps, you pair of 
 hoidens. I’ve found another niece to love, another cousin 
 for Adorine to pet and spoil.” 
 
 No, uncle ; — have you, though ? Who is it ? Maud 
 Fitz Eustace ? ” were the questions rained down in rapid 
 rotation. But, without heeding them. Colonel O’Byrne 
 addressed his daughter : — 
 
 Tis quite true. You remember hearing me speak in 
 France of my lost elder brother, Hugh ? Well, I found him 
 to-day. It happened thus : Having met Father Catholicus 
 O’Cuin in Dame-street, I stopped for a chat. While we 
 were speaking, a fellow sauntering by used an insulting 
 
cornal’s court, glen ullin. 
 
 9 
 
 expression to my reverend friend, which I shall not oflPend 
 your ears to repeat. Turning swiftly, I struck the varlet 
 right across the teeth. Pest upon this fiery spirit of mine ! 
 When up, it oozes out of every pore, and raises the whirl- 
 wind. Que wulez-vom ? We were soon in the thick of a 
 row ; but two to twenty was unequal odds, for the canaille 
 of Dublin sided with the ruffian. Four or five cavaliers 
 opportunely arrived, and when they saw how matters were, 
 joined forces with us ; but Ciel ! lions as they were, every- 
 one dealing out his strokes like Jupiter, we still were at a 
 disadvantage, till luckily came by one, a frieze- coated 
 Connaught man, a very Hercules for size and strength, who, 
 when he pitched into the mJle'e^ used his arms like thrashing 
 flails, and felled like an ox every man that stood before 
 him. He was accompanied by a stripling, who did no 
 bad service with his fists and heels. Aided by such 
 auxiliaries, we soon cleared the ring, and took ourselves off 
 victorious. My cavalier champions went their way ; but 
 the frieze coat and myself adjourned to a tavern to refresh, 
 as the man's face arrested my attention. It seemed as one 
 not unknown to me. We got into conversation over a cup 
 of wine, talked of old times, old families, and so the upshot. 
 Hugh and I, separated for forty years, parted in our 
 boyhood — he to the wilds of Connaught, I to the Court of 
 Versailles — recognised our relationship. He will be here 
 presently with his son and daughter, whom I bade him 
 fetch. I left him renewing acquaintance with your uncle 
 and aunt De Courcy, whom I encountered in the vestibule ; 
 — dproposy here they come.” 
 
 The astonishment of Adorine and her cousins was legible 
 in their eyes, as the unfolding portal gave admission to 
 three strangers, whose garb and appearance jarred upon 
 sensitive perceptions, trained and habituated to the very 
 quintessence of fastidious taste and elegance in toilet and 
 deportment. Emerging half-stifled from the overpowering 
 caress of her stalwart uncle, Adorine stood a moment in 
 bewildered contemplation of a bright, sharp-looking youth 
 of about fourteen, dressed in a suit of woollen frieze, out 
 of which had sprouted, by a couple of inches, his legs and 
 arms, his hands and wrists, hard, brawny, and red, and 
 
10 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 his feet, cased in hob-nailed brogues and woollen socks, 
 scarcely reaching to his bare ankles. From the boy, who 
 did not seem at all abashed by his situation, she turned to 
 look at the young girl, a year his junior, yet whose flushed 
 face, half-hidden beneath the folds of the hood, out of which 
 she peeped with shrinking diffidence, seemed to indicate 
 that she at least was not insensible to the strange incon- 
 gruity of circumstance in which she found herself placed. 
 With a glance almost comical in the piteousness of its 
 expressive appeal for sympathy to her aunt, Lady de Oourcy, 
 who along with her husband, Sir Eeginald, had ushered 
 in the visitors, Adorine approached to embrace and welcome 
 her uncouth relatives. With the inimitable tact of high- 
 breeding, allied to native goodness of disposition, recovering 
 her wonted demeanour of courtly grace, she saluted the 
 youth, then turning addressed his sister, while offering to 
 disengage her from the cumbrous folds of her gray woollen 
 mantle, and said, in accents at once kindly and reassuring : 
 Pray, what is my cousin’s name ? 
 
 Divested of her rugged outward muffling, the young 
 girl, attired in a neat fitting but coarse gown of blue 
 serge, without any decoration save a yellow silk handker- 
 chief tied loosely around her neck, and her feet cased in 
 yarn stockings and brogues minm the nails, lifted a proud 
 face through whose complexion, sunburned to the hue of 
 bronze, glowed the crimson bloom of health, and riveting 
 a deep-set, penetrating dark-gray eye alternately upon 
 Adorine and May and Bella de Courcy, who had drawn 
 close, with intense curiosity, briefly replied in tone strongly 
 characteristic of the far West : Eveleen’s my name.” 
 
 Adorine winced, not at the name, but at the accent in 
 which it was entoned ; yet, feeling very hurt at the ill- 
 suppressed smile and titter that passed between May and 
 Bella, she turned with stately air to her foster sister and 
 maid, Anne Hennessy, who had entered to wait upon her 
 lady, directed her to remove mistress Eveleen O'Byrne’s 
 mantle, and, taking the young girl by the hand, led her to 
 the table, on which supper had just been laid by the 
 waiters, her father, with the others of the family having 
 already taken their places, and busy helping and carving. 
 
CORNAL S COURT, GLEN ULLIN. 
 
 11 
 
 Seated opposite her newly-found uncle, and graciously 
 returning his pleased, observant smile, Adorine^s equally 
 observing glance did not fail, before many seconds had 
 elapsed, to discern more than at first sight appeared to 
 distinguish her kinsman from the plebeians among whom 
 his lot seemed cast. His frame, set in mould beyond the 
 average proportion of men — for he was considerably over 
 six feet in height, and though somewhat stooping in the 
 shoulders, was lithe, symmetrical, and marked with an 
 easy deportment more natural than acquired ; his features, 
 large and massive, though not refined, were well de- 
 veloped ; mirth and genius blended in the sparkle of 
 his light-gray eye, and intellect and character were 
 stamped on his broad, determined brow. In feature 
 he bore a striking resemblance to her father : the same 
 slightly aquiline nose, the same firm-set lips; the expres- 
 sion of countenance alone varied. As they conversed over 
 former times and events of their boyhood, the mild sweet- 
 ness of Cornars aspect gave place to a tone of harsh and 
 stern power, shifting alternately to cold, cutting bitterness. 
 His cheek grew pale with force of concentrated passion, 
 and a physiognomist looking on at such a moment, would 
 have given interpretation to his judgment in the simple 
 caution — ^‘Beware, a vindictive spirit [that can brood, 
 and, unfiinching to its purpose, bide its time.’^ 
 
 Hugh, on the contrary, as his mind^s eye^^ reverted to 
 the page of the past, evinced a spirit that stung to ire at 
 the retrospect of so much wrong inflicted, and so much 
 suffering endured, sprung at once, like an armed champion 
 into the arena, with stormy impetuosity, eager to grapple 
 with its foe, and his reddening brow, hashing eye, and wrath- 
 ful word too well betokened the feverish thirst that chafed 
 at the tardy progress of time and opportunity for redress. 
 
 “ Tell you what it is, Oornal,’^ exclaimed this modern 
 Cyclops ; — for it was at the labour of the forge that Hugh 
 O’Byrne had hitherto maintained his family ; and, like his 
 compeer of the craft in the story of Acadia, emphasising 
 his speech by a vigorous application of his clenched fist to 
 the table, which, more effective than spirit-rapping, caused 
 the glasses on the board to ring — “ what we Irish lack is 
 
12 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Bternness of purpose, an inflexibility of character, that unfits 
 us to cope with the ferocity of savage foes ; we are too soft- 
 hearted, scrupulous of bloodshed — call it what you will — 
 and I lay that to the account of half the calamity of the 
 nation. Why, look ye, I cite one instance out of one 
 hundred. When Castlehaven took Naas, what did he do ? 
 He spared the lives of the English garrison, seven hundred 
 strong ; sent them off to Cromwell, every man of them, 
 whole and sound, hoping, forsooth, the Eoundhead would 
 act as humanely by him in turn. Well did he ? And there 
 were seven hundred devils let loose upon the land to 
 destroy the innocent, and task the mettle of our men who 
 should have been employed thinning the ranks of their 
 fellows. There were a hundred thousand men transported, 
 sold slaves, into the Barbadoes. With half that amount 
 empires have been lost and won. Why didn’t every man 
 of them catch up, if no better weapon at hand, a clog, 
 alpeen, and mingle his blood with that of his assailant. 
 Lonersha ! it bothers comprehension.” 
 
 ‘‘ You remember the siege of Drogheda, Hugh?” said 
 Cornal, looking very pale and stern. 
 
 Eemember it! 1 should think I do. I was fifteen. 
 I stood beside my father and uncles on the ramparts from 
 the beginning to the end, till I saw them down — till the 
 town was taken. May I never live to see such another 
 scene of butchery I Our fellows fought well ; but fact is, 
 men are no match for demons. I may say I did my duty ; 
 for I was wild with excitement. While powder and shot 
 lasted I gave it out unstinting, picking down my men like 
 crows. I saw five fall. Then came the sword work. I was 
 not so good there. I cut and hacked at random ; got my- 
 self cut down by the sabre stroke of the very ruffian with 
 whom you grappled today — Clotworthy Grub — and remem- 
 bered no more till, long afterwards, I found myself lying 
 on a sick-bed in a cabin in Connemara, tended by old 
 Nora Dogherty, our nurse, who had somehow contrived to 
 carry off both herself and me. My mother, she told me, 
 was killed ; but she could give no account of what became 
 of you ; so I had supposed you shared her fate. How did 
 you escape, can you remember ?” 
 
CORNAL’s court, glen ULLIN. 13 
 
 Child though I was, scarcely six years old, could I 
 forget such a scene replied Cornal, drawing a long 
 quivering breath. “ From the commencement of the firing 
 my mother had called in the female servants, and all were 
 on their knees. I stood beside her, looking into her face with 
 wondering eyes, conscious that some terrible danger, which I 
 could not realise was impending. I knew, of course, it was 
 war, and men were fighting — my father among them, for he 
 had come in with the sword in his hand and kissed us. I also 
 heard my mother say, ‘ Don’t expose yourself rashly to 
 danger, and take care of our wild Hugh/ The firing went 
 on ; the house shook ; the women began to cry ; I got 
 frightened and set to whimper ; my poor mother stood up, 
 put her rosary into my hand, saying that would take care of 
 me. I believed her and was comforted, for I had great 
 faith in the power of the Blessed Virgin, and I went to 
 play on the hearth with my little companion, Cathleen 
 Fitz Eustace, two years younger than myself, and our 
 great staghound.” 
 
 ‘‘Yes, poor Luath; I remember: a noble animal he was,’' 
 said Hugh. 
 
 “I have no clear recollection of what followed; the 
 firing went on, and in the streets the uproar was terrific; 
 but I got used to it and fell asleep. I was awakened sud- 
 denly by shrieks and screams around me, doors bursting, 
 tramping feet rushing to and fro. I sat upon the hearth, 
 where I had been lying, rubbing my eyes in drowsy be- 
 wilderment. The saloon was full of armed men. Cath- 
 leen, who, like myself, had just awakened from sleep, 
 was crying beside me, and the dog, savagely growling, lay 
 couched in act to spring between us and the strangers. In a 
 little while the soldiers suddenly quitted the room. I called to 
 my mother, and ran over to where I saw her lying against 
 the window. I thought she had fallen and strove to raise 
 her up in my arms. To my horror I found my white pin- 
 afore and hands all stained with blood, fiowing from a 
 wound in her breast. I think she was dead; and the last 
 recollection I have was being dragged away, in the midst 
 of my shrieking, by our kinsman, Gerald Fitz Eustace, 
 who, having escaped the slaughter, had come to look for 
 
14 
 
 LEIXUP CASTLE. 
 
 his child, whom he had left in my mother’s care. Thus 
 rescued, I ultimately went with him and his family to 
 France. Cathleen, in course of time, became my wife ; 
 her sister wedded my friend De Courcy here. But dear 
 Cathleen left me to go to a better world when Adorine was 
 yet a child, and Lady de Courcy has ever since nobly ful- 
 filled a mother’s place to my daughter. Ah ! truly, brother, 
 we have seen evil days.” 
 
 Eequiescant in 2^ace, since we have fallen on better,” said 
 Sir Reginald de Courcy, a stout pleasant-looking man, 
 with broad, good-humoured, fiorid countenance, in whicli 
 more of the Saxon than the Celt predominated, and his 
 light blue eye complacently twinkled on each of the circle 
 round him. For my part,” he added, I think peace is 
 such a blessing. I wonder people are ever silly enough to 
 embroil themselves in strife. Now, if there were question 
 of war to-morrow, I’d certainly pack up and get off to 
 England; — wouldn’t it be well done, Nell?” addressing his 
 wife. 
 
 “ I don’t know, dear,” answered Lady de Courcy, a fat, 
 motherly little woman, whose great charm consisted in a 
 soft, benevolent countenance, like her husband’s, more in- 
 dicative of good sense than brightness of intellect, and in 
 the simple grace of her gentle and unaffected manner. 
 “ Sometimes,” she added, after a pause of reflection, one 
 can’t well run away. May and Bella, I’m afraid you’re 
 teasing your cousin Eveleen.” 
 
 May and Bella had got the stranger between them ; 
 one was tying her handkerchief into a more fashionable 
 bow-knot ; the other was remodelling the position of the 
 bodkins that pinned the plaits of her glossy black hair. 
 
 “ Not so easy ; my children will stand fire, I warrant,” 
 exclaimed Hugh, his attention drawn to the group. 
 ‘‘ Eveleen is as brave as a Spartan ; and as for my boy 
 Raymond, methinks he gave a specimen to-day of the 
 mettle that’s in him.” 
 
 “ My nephew will not belie the blood of our great- 
 grandsire, Fiech MacHugh,” smiled Cornal, extending a 
 hand to the youth, whose brown cheek glowed, and whose 
 keen eye lighted up with sudden enthusiasm, as he nodded 
 
cornal's court, glen ullin. 
 
 15 
 
 liis sliaggy head, appreciative of the commendation, and 
 for the first time spoke, enunciating his sentiments in 
 accents that needed no emphasising : 
 
 “ Mousha ! I did leave the print o’ my knuckles on 
 Parson Smash-Idol; and as for Bradly’s boys, I licked 
 them blue. Lonersha!^^ 
 
 Cornal smiled, as, sipping his wine, and contemplating 
 the fine but untrained youth to whom his heart warmed, 
 sundry ideas coursed through his mind, the most pro- 
 minent of which was : “ This rough diamond must be 
 submitted to the hand of the polisher, that he may prove 
 in all respects worthy of my pride/’ 
 
 “Have you been long in Dublin, Hugh he asked, 
 turning to his brother. 
 
 “ Just one week, the first time I set foot in it since I 
 was carried down, as I tell you, with the remnant of our 
 people, driven by Orom well's orders to choose between 
 hell and Connaught ; nor then, lail o Dia duibh!^ but for 
 my wife’s brother, Grod rest her soul ! She was one of the 
 old Catholic De Burghs of Connaught, and a saint, if ever 
 one was. Well, this brother of hers, whom I often heard 
 her speak of, but never saw^, by reason he had been sent in 
 his youth to study in Spain, wrote to me to say he wished, 
 now that he had returned to settle in Ireland, to make 
 acquaintance with his sister’s husband and children, and 
 that, if agreeable to me, he would, for Ina’s sake, charge 
 himself with advancing the interests of her children. At 
 first I took the matter easy, wrote to thank him, said I 
 had no further ambition now than to live and die at peace 
 in my humble but happy home among the hundred lakes 
 of Urrismore, its wild mountains, and mouldering ruins of 
 shrines and temples. This answer did not please Sir Ulic. 
 He wrote again and again, the last time remitting a sum 
 of money, which I have not even looked at to know the 
 amount ; but conjuring me — in a tone somewhat peremp- 
 tory, too, methouglit — to permit him to gratify his wish, 
 the dearest wish of his heart, to share with me the respon- 
 sibility of bringing up and extending a paternal interest 
 
 * God’s blessing on you. 
 
16 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 to the children of a sister so dear to his memory. What 
 could I do ? Reluctantly enough, I yielded ; came up to 
 Dublin, took rooms in Whitefriar-street, and set out next 
 day to call on Sir Ulic in his apartments at the Castle. 
 He is aide-de-camp to Tirconnel, you know. He was not 
 there, but had left a letter, thanking me for my compliance 
 with his request, and enclosing another sum of money — he 
 must be as rich as a Jew — saying he had been unex- 
 pectedly obliged, on some business of his Excellency, to 
 leave town for a few days, but he would lose no time in 
 meeting me on his return, and he doubted not we should 
 enter upon an understanding that would ensure friendly 
 relationship and beneficial results to all.^' 
 
 While Hugh thus spoke, he could not fail to notice the 
 cloud of thoughtful gloom that lowered upon the brow of 
 the silently- attentive Oornal, who, whatever might have 
 been his previous vagrant, half-defined plans concerning 
 his nephew’s future, now, fired with sudden jealousy at 
 the idea of a maternal relative’s patronage interfering with 
 his, haughtily lifting his head, he fixed upon the boy a 
 kindled eye, at once irascible and determined, and said : 
 
 ‘‘ A brother’s claim, methinks, must be paramount to 
 any ; wherefore, I say nay to Sir XJlic de Burgh’s demand^ 
 My nephew shall not be the Norman’s squire. What 
 sayest thou, Raymond?” 
 
 Anagh! uncle, achorra^^^ responded the object of 
 threatened contention, looking very perplexed. I’m 
 fairly bothered to choose between. I like yerself well; — 
 but, then, if Sir Ulic be like my mother — the light of 
 heaven to her ! — why I’d like -him, too ; if he ain’t, why, 
 there’s an end of it. Anyhow,” he added, with a sudden 
 burst of logical acumen that seemed to reconcile difficulties 
 and show the clue out of the labyrinth, ‘‘ can’t I get on 
 with both my uncles ?” 
 
 Raymond’s embarrassed father looked wonderfully re- 
 lieved at this suggestion of amicable arrangement, but 
 Cornal shrugged his shoulders : the idea of partnership in 
 the concern did not fit comfortably into his mind. 
 
 “ What sort of man is this De Burgh ?” he asked, with 
 a discontented look ; ^4s he married ?” 
 
CORNAl’s court, glen ULLIN. 17 
 
 ^‘He is not married/' returned Hugh. don’t know 
 his appearance ; but if like his sister, I should say he must 
 be good-looking. She was lovely.” 
 
 “Well, he shall not have my nephew — that’s settled,” 
 exclaimed Cornal, imperiously, and he turned to Eveleen : 
 “Will you go to your Uncle de Burgh, and keep peace 
 amongst us all?” 
 
 Eveleen made no reply, but fixed a thoughtful, dreamy 
 eye upon his [face. Adorine, with beaming smile, made 
 answer : 
 
 “ Oh, no, father ! Eveleen is to stay and be my sister. 
 Sir Ulio de Burgh must look out for a wife ; that will 
 suit him much better.” 
 
 Cornal laughed, with a cleared brow. Hugh chimed 
 in, although pained ; somehow he felt a magnetic influence 
 drawing him with strong attraction towards the brother 
 of the wife he had adored. On the other hand, his im- 
 perative brother claimed prior consideration, and would, 
 he perceived, be obeyed. The voice of Cornal again ad- 
 dressing Eveleen engaged his attention. 
 
 “ Have you seen much of Dublin, my little friend?” 
 
 “ Yes ; father took me out every day to see the streets 
 and the shops.” 
 
 “Isn’t it a nice place? — aren’t you glad to be in Dublin?” 
 put in Bella de Courcy, who, retaining pleasant recollection 
 of juvenile parties in which she had been feted, and toy- 
 shops which she had ransacked at Christmas, thought this 
 same Dublin was the very Elysium of earth. Unqualified, 
 therefore, was her surprise when Eveleen, thawing in the 
 genial atmosphere which she breathed, found her tongue 
 all at once loosened, and made response more curt than 
 courteous, looking grave and serious the while : — 
 
 “ No, indeed, I am not ; I liked home twice as well.” 
 
 Bella drew back, disconcerted, and gazed at May. 
 Adorine came to the rescue. 
 
 “ Tell me all about it ; for I, too, love the hills, and the 
 fields, and the lakes.” 
 
 Eveleen glanced with a puzzled look at her father, as if 
 uncertain what to say. 
 
 . “ Just describe it as it is,” he answered, with a proud, 
 
 3 
 
18 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 encouraging look. It was my hands built it ; — three 
 good rooms, spacious, but not lofty ; mud-baked walls, 
 whitewashed within, without hidden in a mass of wood- 
 bine, wild roses, and such heath and flowers as you^d 
 scarcely match elsewhere. The roof was of thatch ; one 
 glazed pane fitted into each chamber, furnished with 
 every convenience, and dresser, chairs, and tables, clumsy 
 perhaps, cut of solid polished oak and beech. Our garden 
 was well supplied with vegetables ; and then for flsh and 
 meat, we had but to go out and fetch in a hare or a wild 
 fowl from the hills, or a trout from the lakes. Our little 
 mountain cattle, tame as lambs, supplied us with milk and 
 butter galore ; eggs were as plenty as blackberries in 
 autumn ; and firing was unstinted at our door. Then for 
 company, we had the best — lots of neighbours ; some of 
 them like ourselves, who had outlived the hardships of 
 the outset and taken root in the wild, of better con- 
 dition ; and plenty of Franciscan and Dominican brothers 
 to give us Mass, teach the children, and keep the life in 
 us warm and hearty. We had some of the flne old 
 minstrels, too, with their harps ; and many a pleasant 
 gathering we had, at wedding, wake, or christening. 
 Bail 0 Dia ort ! ours was a happy home, where no shadow 
 ever darkened the sunlight on the threshold, save that 
 three times cast by death, and even that the moonlight 
 and the starlight shone upon. I never hope, now I’ve 
 left it all behind, to know happier days.’’ 
 
 “But we’re not going to stay in Dublin, father,” here 
 broke in Eveleen, abruptly, and with a flashing eye. 
 “ You said we’d go back, and I told Elphin MacOarthy 
 
 I’d come back to her soon to mind the chickens, and ” 
 
 “ Wait till we hear what Uncle de Burgh will say,’’ 
 said her father, calculatingly. 
 
 Eveleen frowned darkly. It was Adorine’s turn now 
 to feel a pang of jealousy. Grradually, insensibly, this 
 silent, sombre child had been growing upon her interest, 
 developing traits that did not at first sight appear to the 
 notice. Pretty — yes, decidedly pretty — nay, more, with 
 a promise of beauty dawning in that oval, bronze-coloured 
 physiognomy. True, indeed, the inflexible curve of her 
 
cornal’s court, glen ullin. 
 
 19 
 
 mouth seldom relaxed in a smile ; but when it did, what 
 between the lurking humour that danced in her eye, and 
 played like a gush of light over all her features, the effect 
 was simply magical in its power of fascination. Then, 
 underlying the warm, tranquil surface of mien and aspect, 
 there shone out, betimes, such a radiance of mind, such a 
 precocity of character, Adorine intuitively conceived that 
 here was a kindred spirit answering to her own — one 
 with whom her thoughts could hold communion, her ideas 
 associate ; whose heart, mind, and feelings could respond 
 in mutual sympathy ; a friend she had often sighed 
 for. May and Bella de Oourcy were as yet children in 
 every sense of the word ; and though bright, clever, 
 talented, she could not find, and never hoped to find, in 
 their more frivolous natures the companionable qualities 
 her more matured years and understanding craved. But 
 Eveleen — yes, if Eveleen were once a friend, she could be 
 a pleasing companion and a safe confidante. With a feeling 
 of annoyance, she turned and asked : Who is Elphin 
 
 MacCarthy ? Another cousin, I suppose 
 
 No ; she’s nothing to me, only a great friend. She 
 and I went to school together to the Franciscan nuns. 
 We used to dress the altar in the little chapel — we two ; 
 Father Bermingham would have only us — and we sang 
 in the choir at Mass, and I liked her better than anyone.” 
 
 “ If Uncle de Burgh will not let you go down any more 
 to Connemara, with your Uncle Oornal’s kind permission 
 we shall get Elphin MacCarthy up to us,” said Adorine, 
 with a diplomatic finesse of policy that would have done 
 credit to the most subtle statesman ; and by this masterly 
 stroke of concession she at once won the heart of Eveleen, 
 and attached it to her forever. Of this she felt assured 
 by the grateful smile that demonstrated a world of silent 
 gratitude. She followed up her conquest with the super- 
 fluous appeal : And you will not leave me to go to Uncle 
 
 de Burgh ? ” 
 
 I will not, Adorine — catch me!” was the energetic 
 and firm response, uttered with a triumphant glance at 
 Comal O’Byrne and her father. 
 
 For the rest of the evening, while the seniors discussed 
 
20 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 politics, and the De Courcy children romped and played 
 with Raymond, she and Adorine, seated in a quiet nook, 
 chatted together, and weaved each one brilliant pictures 
 of the future. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB ; HIS FAMILY AND FRIENDS. 
 
 One of that saintly, murderous brood, 
 
 To carnage and the Koran given, 
 
 Who think through unbelievers’ blood 
 Lies their directest path to heaven.” — 
 
 The Fire-worshippers. 
 
 Shift we the scene from Comal’s Court sylvan plains, 
 sweeping in soft, verdant undulations of slope and terrace 
 from ancient Carrickmines to wooded Stillorgan, Killinagh’s 
 adjacent heath-clad hills, the shrubby environs of bush- 
 tangled Glenageary, and the. old Kill o’ the Grange, where 
 at early dawn huntsmen loved to sound the echoing horn, 
 and urge fleet steeds with baying hounds in pursuit of 
 fox or deer ; where sportsmen intent on feathered game, 
 trudged moor and upland ; or fair ramblers wandered to 
 chase the butterflies, and spoil the valleys of their wealth 
 of violets, daffodils and primroses, gold-caps and cowslips. 
 Ailing the wild with the tuneful echoes of silvery voices, full 
 often commingled in concert of merry laughter, or snatches 
 of warbled song. And from the domestic flreside, graced 
 by the happy reunion of long-parted kindred, met in 
 harmony and love, each brimful of sad story of the vanished 
 past, so teeming with incident and reminiscence of mourn- 
 ful interest, we betake ourselves to the contemplation of 
 another picture in locality more remote. 
 
 Bounded by the chain of Eathfarnham hills, on the 
 Dublin side, a vast demesne, whose circumference was still 
 mapped out by the remnant of mouldering walls, and 
 worn-out hedge-rows, extended its umbrageous groves and 
 enamelled lawns to east and west. Yet was it a desolate- 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB. 
 
 21 
 
 looking wilderness in the unpruned and neglected aspect 
 it presented to the eye. The walls of some ancient fabric 
 that once rose with imposing majesty through an amphi- 
 theatre of lordly oaks and forest timber, now bare and 
 leafless, showed as though some defacing hand of recent 
 barbarism had broken down battlement and tower, and 
 lopped the aspiring structure to a stump ; while, as if in 
 bitter mockery of bygone majesty, and torturing deflance 
 of the beauty of taste and harmony that charms the eye, 
 side by side, rose a plain, square built, high-gabled mansion 
 of three stories, whose eight formal front windows, white- 
 washed walls, and green hall-door, painfully obtruded its 
 glaring, vulgar contrast on the proud site, amid the 
 solemn surroundings of vanished baronial pride. The 
 spacious avenue and walks were overrun with weeds ; 
 cattle roamed at large through the ground ; a few hovels, 
 conspicuous only for their extreme fllth and wretchedness, 
 clustered in a by-lane diverging sideways from the principal 
 gate entrance, over which was hung a sign-board, on which 
 large white letters, painted on a black ground, informed 
 the wayfarer, or the visitor, that the noble demesne was 
 
 Posy Park,’' the residence of Major Clotworthy Grub. 
 Major Clotworthy Grub ! Yes, so it was. Neither last 
 nor least looming upon the wide arena, where so many 
 actors are met to play their part, stands the gaunt and 
 once terrible[presence of Clotworthy Sword-o’- Wrath Grub, 
 whilom ostler of an inn contiguous to Whitehall, much 
 patronised by members of the Eoundhead Parliament, 
 pbsequently soldier of fortune under Cromwell, and now 
 in the fruition of that fortune, owner of thousands of acres 
 of Irish soil and a castle,* whose expelled inheritor, having 
 seen his family scattered, some in the slave-gangs to the 
 Barbadoes, some to perish by divers fate on the bosom of 
 their motherland, had wandered himself a demented being 
 through the country unheard of more. But what then ? 
 I)e Cogan, an Irish papist, a faithful adherent of royalty, 
 a bold rebel to the Commonwealth and a regicide usurper, 
 had well merited his penalty ; and Major Clotworthy,. 
 
 * Rathfarnham Castle, blown up by gunpowder during the Civil VVar. 
 
22 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 exultiug in the work of the Lord, the righteous judgment 
 which had cast out the heathen, and transferred his sub- 
 stance to himself, chosen vessel of election, smiled com- 
 placently — as his lurid eyes, and coarse features could 
 betimes relax to smile — upon his own thriving brood, four 
 ^daughters and a son, gathered round him at the early 
 dinner-table where it was his wont to preside, and where 
 now he was busy carving a hugh sirloin of roast beef, and 
 dispensing and helping to consume the same, garnished with 
 a great suet dumpling, and liquified with flagons of ale and 
 usquebaugh with sundry accompaniments. After some time 
 assiduously devoted to gastronomic operations, the Major 
 at length drew breath, folded his capacious arms, yawned 
 vigorously, and, leaning forward on the table, devoted a 
 few moments to the survey of his oflFspring. 
 
 It has been said the human body bears impressed upon its 
 form legible marks of antecedent generations — types in which 
 one may read whole histories of lives long gone by, their 
 habitudes and characters — and the Grub family certainly 
 exemplified the triteness of the theory in every particular. 
 
 Jonas Babe o’ Grace,” who as son and heir of the 
 Major, claims first attention of his proud sire, was a short, 
 thick-set man of about thirty, whose large jolter head, 
 resting upon a hull-made neck, rising between a pair of 
 square, high shoulders, alone would have designated his 
 condition, without the adjunct of a physiognomy in whoso 
 every vulgar feature, and expression, harsh, disagreeable 
 and repelling, could not be traced one redeeming trait of 
 gentle grace, or ennobling attribute of mind or spirit, 
 inherited or acquired, to atone for its shortcoming, or 
 inspire the most far-fetched hope of something better lurk- 
 ing unrevealed beneath exterior so repulsive. Uncouth in 
 manner, and ungainly in figure, as unprepossessing of 
 aspect, and to these disadvantages uniting a tone of voice 
 that grated on the ear, and jarred upon the nerves, Jonas 
 nevertheless cultivated a large amount of self-esteem, and 
 entertained a good opinion of himself, which was not 
 diminished by the vanity of his friends, especially of his 
 father, who in the tout ensemble of his diminutive counter^] 
 part saw no defect, as jocosely he turned to contemplate 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRITB. 
 
 23 
 
 his feminine duplicates, none of whom belied the family 
 tradition of gaunt, clumsy figures, broad, tallowy cheeks, 
 thick lips, double chins, thumb noses, light-blue gogglo 
 eyes, and straw-coloured hair, besides smaller items 
 individualising each ; one being freckled, another possessed 
 of a slight squint, and so on. 
 
 Lor,^ gals,’^ at length cried the Major, venting the 
 ideas that had been brewing in his mind ; It’s ’igh toime 
 I think about doin^ suthin’ to get yer off my ’ands ; special 
 that I ’ave a hobject in view for Jonas, as ’as a mind his- 
 self to the same party, wot is, I may say, unexceptional — 
 good fortune, ’igh connexions — not as* that weighs with a 
 fellar as ’as cut his way to the top o’ the ’ill — but she’s a 
 tip-topper — an a woif bent loike to run smooth in ’arness ; 
 with other women folk in the same stall, she’d be for boltiu 
 and smashin’ the yoke to suthin’ at every start, an’ it’ud be 
 ’ard work to ’old the rein — so I must see to it. Now 
 there’s Ludlow, Smash- Idol Knight, and Umfrey Flay- 
 Papist Sharkey, an’ that godly man, Ilungerwell Love-the- 
 Lord Maw ; I’ve bidden 'em all to sup to-night. Let's 
 ’ave roast weal and winagre pickles, as is a dish I relish, 
 with a leg of boiled mutton and oisters. Til see about 
 the drink ; — a ’am wont come amiss ; an’ Maw is partial, I 
 know, to a pork- pasty ; — rig out in your gauds, an’ I 
 warrant, ye’ll catch a ’usband, Jael.” Here Jael tossed 
 her head with a jerk that set in motion sundry skeins of 
 limp, corkscrew ringlets, and turning up a very short, 
 broad nose, looked contemptuous scorn, while Judith, ihe 
 second eldest daughter of the Major, whose resemblance to 
 her sister was very striking, also glanced daggers at the 
 sire whom neither dared contradict. 
 
 Jonas, who perceived the indications of disturbed temper 
 rufiling the circle, chimed in with creaking accent and 
 covert sneer: — 
 
 “ These ’ere chaps won’t be no go. Jael an' Judith 'ave 
 set their 'arts on ’igher game, or I’m a coon.’' 
 
 “Lor' confound yer ; I vont ’ear out,” exclaimed Major 
 Grub, fiercely, and looking furiously at his daughters ; 
 “ Knight, an' Sharkey, an’ Maw is after my own ’art, an’ 
 I’ll favour none but ’em ; so look sharp, ye idiots.” 
 
24 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTT.E. 
 
 ‘‘ I won’t never marry no one but a gentleman/’ muttered 
 Jael/with bated breath but determined aspect. 
 
 “ An’ aint they gentlemen good enough for ye, hussy ? ” 
 demanded the Major, with much surprise. 
 
 “ They aint the same as Sir Harold Sigurd,” returned 
 Jael. He’s a pitch beyond ’em.” 
 
 Harold Sigurd ! What ! that cove as looks down on 
 us all ? No ; I be blowed an’ I give my consent to ’im.” 
 And the Major glowered wrathfully at his aspiring issue, 
 who having nothing to wish for on the score of wealth, had 
 now become emulous of the privileges of rank, and 
 ambitious of honour and station, founded upon dignity, 
 which could only be achieved by a more exalted alliance 
 than that which he proposed. Keen of perception, they 
 had observed, at their first appearance'in a public assembly, 
 the essentially superior attributes that distinguished the 
 hereditary noblesse from the aggrandised parvenues ; and 
 from the fatal moment in which their eyes, first exercising 
 the power of discrimination, had contrasted Sir Harold 
 Sigurd, so lofty, bright and courteous,, the ideal of all 
 that was noble in form and feature, with the general 
 type of the class with whom they were associated, so far 
 beneath the standard of excellence, the unfavourable com- 
 parison, at once raised a barrier between their father and 
 his cherished anticipation of a son-in-law after his ownheart. 
 Foaming with anger, the Major resumed: 
 
 “ Ye won’t marry no one that aint a gentleman, won’t 
 yer? Well, with all my ’art, and if Sir Harold thinks 
 he’ll get a grot o’ my money with yer, an’ be made a rich 
 man of. I’ll see it sunk in the pit first. Cuss the feller, 
 with his grand look and proud step ; I ’ate ’im ; an’ if you 
 two turn stag an’ won’t, why, there’s them maybe will. 
 Wot d’ye say, Joan and Jenny, my gals ? ” 
 
 Johanna and Jenny, pert, fiippant scions of sixteen, 
 wdio had not yet seen the world, and whose unsophisti- 
 cated minds were therefore unperplexed by tantalising 
 comparisons, giggled ; and said Johanna, infiated with 
 the suddenly conceived notion of beiug set free from 
 home trammels and mistress of a house of her own : — 
 “Lawk, father, I’d ’ave the first as asked me, I would.” 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB. 
 
 25 
 
 “ And, LorV’ chimed in Jenny, fired with ambition as 
 high, if I wor married now I’d be as ’appy as a queen. 
 Wouldn’t I ’ave lots o’ fine cloths an’ jim-cracks, wouldn’t 
 I ; — an’ keep a coach, an’ a grand ’ouse o’ my own an’ 
 ’old my ’ead ’igh over all the neighbours, so I would ! 
 
 “ That thou would, my lass, an’ a crow ower those old 
 maids into the bargain,” said the Major spitefully. ‘‘An’ 
 a good dower a piece I’ll” ; 
 
 The intentions of Clotworthy died unexpressed; for while 
 he was yet speaking, a cumbrous coach, drawn by four 
 horses, and crowded to excess, lumbered up to the door. 
 
 “Why, if it ain’t my brother-in-law, Spear-Priest Knight, 
 and Gideon Search-Eebel Bradly, with their families !” 
 cried Major Grub, starting up to meet and welcome his 
 infiux of friends. 
 
 “Well, may I never! I warn’t hexpecting yer, but 
 I’m as glad all the same. Stir, gals, and have in more 
 wictuals.” 
 
 “ Never heed, never heed, Clot, my man, them as cooms 
 late must take the bones,” cried Bradly, a bluff, florid-faced 
 man, with bald, knotty forehead, light hard-gray eyes, 
 hanging lips, pimpled snub-nose, and thick-set figure ; — 
 “ here, you just let these five chaps o’ mine grub the best 
 way they can on short notice.” 
 
 “ Why didn’t ye send word, Mrs. Knight, ma’am, ye was 
 fetching all the young uns? But never mind, we’ll make 
 out the rations — ha, ha, ha ! Sit down, Bedloe ; I’m 
 glad the maggot bit ye to come. I’ve asked over Maw 
 and Sharkey and yer good brother to sup, an’ we’ll have a 
 night of it.” And Major Clot worthy bustled to and fro 
 among his self-invited guests, while Jonas went to give 
 orders for the coach to be put up and the horses stabled. 
 
 Mrs. Spear-Priest Knight, a thin, scorbutic-faced woman, 
 with pinched nose and mouth, and unpleasantly green 
 eyes, was about replying in a shrill voice, when her lord 
 and master, a lank, wire-haired man, with pale, splenetic 
 eyes, a bilious complexion, and countenance fully as indi- 
 cative of ill-temper, as that of his better-half, abruptly 
 interposed in cockney dialect, not less indicative, than that 
 of his brother-in-law, of his origin : 
 
26 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 ^Ave a notion, when ye 'ears it, ye’ll say it’s huncommon 
 noose, the noose as has fetched us along in sech tarnation 
 “"urry ” 
 
 ‘‘ Well, ’old on a spell, hold fellar, till I set these 
 ’ere young ’osses to grind their corn,” cried Major 
 Grub, glancing paternally at five bulky boys, ranging 
 in age from twelve to seventeen, who stood in a 
 line taking notes of the premises. Lor’ bless me, 
 Bradly,” he continued, growing piously sentimental, 
 and laying his large turbot-shaped hand on the head 
 of the third, a bullet-headed youth with an unkempt 
 mop of sandy-coloured hair, and swivel eyes that looked 
 simultaneously north and south, mayn’t we be proud 
 of ourselves? I remembers the day, though it’s nigh 
 cum forty year ago, when I groomed the ’osses in Bill 
 Burdock’s stables, an’ you was the ’prentice-boy of a pork 
 butcher in Cheapside; an’ Smash-Idol an’ Spear-Priest 
 wor dry salters in Essex ; little it cum into our ’eads to 
 think then as ’ow we’d be ’igh gentry, equal to lords : me 
 the owner of a big estate, an’ yerselves in this ’ere land 
 o’ promise, as that godly man, the new Joshua, Oliver 
 Cromwell, portioned out among the helect ; not but wot as 
 I earned it more ’ardly as took my luck when the bullets 
 pelted like ’ail from the walls of that other Jericho, 
 Drogheda, where, I must say, the Philistines fought stout ; 
 an’ then at Wexford an’ Clonmel, an’ the other strong- 
 holds of the ’eathen; an’ I may say as I wor no backslider 
 in doin’ the work o’ the Lord, for I spared no man, woman, 
 or child ; I cut ’em all down like stubble, aye, as many as 
 I’ve ’airs on my ’ead ; but yer two stuck to yer trade in 
 Lunon, an’ in the hend drew yer share o’ the spoil out o’ 
 the lottery for the few gold pieces yer lent to parliament 
 to ’elp the good cause ; an’ there, yer children be as well 
 hofF as mine, that ’ave, as I may say, borne the ’eat o’ the 
 day.” 
 
 It’s all in luck ; there’s where it is, yer see,” replied 
 Gideon Bradly, with a husky laugh and a broad expansion 
 of the muscles of his very red face, which was also deeply 
 pitted with small-pox. ‘‘I’d ha coom ; but my woife, she 
 wor a Snooks ; an’ ’er father, wealthy in the undertaking line, 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB. 
 
 27 
 
 wouldn't ’ear on’t. She wor loth for me to go in danger^s 
 way, a-saying ’em as went, the Scripture said, perished 
 therein. So, yer see, in memory of them words of hern, 
 I call my demesne in Eathgar, Mount Scripture ; an’ I 
 teach my boys to 'old by the Lord, as has purwided us a 
 'ome in the promised land, and for to be allays ready to 
 root out the 'eathen and demolish their hidols and places 
 o' worship ; woe’s the day the goodly work hath perforce 
 come to a standstill by reason of an hidolatrous king ! but 
 praise the Lord, Sword-o’-Wrath, the dark hour will 
 brighten for the children of Sion.” 
 
 ^‘That’s just the noose we bring now that a’most shared 
 me o’ my wits,’' chimed in Bedloe Knight, sententiously, 
 and seating himself at table, while Major Grrub drew 
 closer, agape with curiosity. Bedloe Knight, affronted at 
 the outset by the intelligence he was bursting to deliver, 
 having been waved off so slightingly — till the young ’osses 
 should be attended to — avenged himself by taking his time 
 to give out his budget. Snappishly he called to his wife 
 to look at that child for ever sucking her thumb ; and 
 Mistress Knight, who never ventured to exercise her chronic 
 temper on her irascible spouse, called out in accents of 
 sharp rebuke to a sour, sulky little girl of ten, who, with 
 bent head and furtive eyes, stood beside her sister, pretty 
 similarly employed: — 
 
 I say, Susannah, do ye want me to slap ye ; drop it 
 this instant. Eebecca, I'll box yer ears if ye don’t leave 
 off biting yer nails. Ye won’t— now; take that — an' 
 that — there !" 
 
 The small lightning conductors thus roughly manipu- 
 lated set up a howl of mingled rage and pain, and in the 
 midst of the tornado the reverend parsons who had been 
 invited to sup bustled in big with tidings of import which 
 they tendered in apology for their coming so early. 
 
 “ Sit down, sit down, my good fellars ; a morsel won’t 
 choke yer, I reckon,” cried Major Grub, half-crazed 
 between the screaming of the children, the scolding of the 
 mother, the confusion occasioned by the inopportune ar- 
 rival of so many guests, the speculations addling his brain, 
 and the anticipation of news which had assumed dimen- 
 
28 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sions of magnitude sufScient to arrest his hitherto ramb- 
 ling attention. Bedloe Knight meanwhile chilled and grew 
 stiff and morose at the sight of the visitors who came to 
 take the cards out of his hands and deal out the noose he 
 was so chary of retailing. He frowned at his brother Smash- 
 Idol, who had betaken himself to comfort the juvenile 
 mourners with scripture quotations, and smiled jeeringly 
 at the lank, cadaverous-visaged parson, Sharkey, of Bliss- 
 Ville, and the corpulent, carbuncled minister, Hungerwell 
 Maw, of Grospel Hall, whose orbs of vision seldom cast 
 their roving light save in oblique rays, never rising to 
 encounter on proud level the optics of others; while, 
 contrariwise, those of Flay Papist, who in his extreme 
 humility seemed rather to crawl than walk the earth in 
 the dignity of manhood, were so rapt in heavenly con- 
 templation they scarcely ever deigned to descend from their 
 contemplative study to bend more than betimes a furtive 
 glance upon things sublunary and sinful. But time paced 
 onward, and the congregated elements having adjusted 
 themselves, and peace and order being restored, Bedloe 
 Knight maintaining a stubborn silence for brief interlude, 
 at length fired with resolution not to be shuffled aside, and 
 his importance as early conveyer of startling intelligence 
 transferred, noted the auspicious moment for exploding his 
 rocket, and, with the tact of an expert, grasping his advan- 
 tage, he abruptly exclaimed, addressing the new-comers : — 
 
 Ye've 'eerd the noose ; 'ow the ^son of Antichrist, the 
 Popish J ames, is cornin’ over to Hireland ’ere ?” 
 
 Yes, ’tis even so,’’ said Parson Maw, in melancholy 
 drawling tone, in keeping with his lugubrious physiognomy. 
 
 And woe unto the elect ; the time of their tribulation is 
 nigh.’’ 
 
 “ Good lack, yer doant say it !” exclaimed Major Grub, 
 with blazing eyes. 
 
 ^‘Fact,” cried Ludlow Knight, coming forward; ^Hhe 
 son of Beelzebub comes to make war upon the saints, and 
 to cast out the children of grace from the inheritance.” 
 
 “ An’ the watchword will be again, ‘ to your tents, 0 
 Israel ! ’ ” put in Gideon Bradly ; for now that what 
 was but rumour is confirmed by the authentic dispatches : 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB. 
 
 29 
 
 the Philistines are arming on all sides for our destruc- 
 tion.” 
 
 “ Beshrew thy heart, man, an' we gird not on our 
 swords to smite them in that day,” returned Major Gruh 
 excitedly ; “ ours i» the cause of the Lord.” 
 
 “ An’ I wot,” said Gideon, “the Bahes o’ Grace will 
 not be slow to answer to the braying trumpet, and follow 
 the sword of Gideon that I shall lift in defence of our por- 
 tion in the land flowing with milk and honey, the recom- 
 pense of our toil.” 
 
 “ An ’ well be first among ’em to cut an’ slay the 
 heathen,” shouted the three elder sons of Gideon, within- 
 flamed brows, and noisy demonstration, crowding round 
 their approving sire, who with a chuckle ofself gratulation 
 thus proceeded : — 
 
 “ Well, now, there’s wot trainin’ does for yer ; these lads 
 he all on foire with zeal, showin' as ’ow their edication was 
 the fust o’ my thots. I say you, Sam,” apostrophising the 
 eldest, “ wot did your namesake do for the Lord ? ” 
 
 “ He slewed a thousand Philistines with the jaw-bone of 
 a bass.” 
 
 “ Then thou bass, whoy need ye be a worrittin’ me for 
 a soord, when ye see wot Sampson could do ’ithout un, on- 
 less ye mean for to slay twoice as many as he did ? Son 
 Moses — ye see I ’ave ’em all scripture names. ’Ow did 
 t’other Moses sarve the Gyptians ? ” 
 
 “ He robbed an’ decoyed ’em all an’ drownded ’em stock 
 an crop in the Bed Sea,” answered the pupil smartly. 
 
 “ And wot did the red sea betoken ? ” 
 
 “ An ocean o’ blood, feyther.” 
 
 “Worry good. Now, Davy, my cock, wot did the 
 prophet king do that moved the Lord to pardon his 
 sins ? ” 
 
 “ He cut off the ’ead o’ Goliah, an slewd the Hammon- 
 ites, an’ slaughtered the henemy everywhere.” 
 
 “ Bight you are ; an’ Machabeus, an’ Ezechias — wot did 
 your namesakes do for the glory o’ the Lord ? ” 
 
 “ Spilled the blood of the evil and the pagan like water ; 
 they did,” responded the junior Bradlys, exultingly. 
 
 “ Ay, an’ was it the godly man Jonas, or Jeremiah, I 
 
30 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 disremember, sbed tears of rage and affliction, when 
 Ninivy was spared from destruction, an’ reproached the 
 Lord for a back slidin’ and a breakin' of his word to 
 destroy ’em ? 
 
 Jeremiah,” shouted Machabeus. 
 
 ‘‘No ; it wor Jonas,” bawled Ezechias. 
 
 “Well, ’taint no matter, only look in yer bible to make 
 sure. There now, that’s the way as I give ’em practical 
 short lessons, an’ teach ’em their dooty,’* cried the happy 
 father, rubbing his hands, while Major Grub, tired of the 
 catechism and intent upon matter more grave, again 
 begged his guests to forego ceremony, and compared him- 
 self to Abraham in his good fortune to be honoured by 
 entertaining three H angels, to wit, Knight, Maw, and 
 Sharkey, who, as in humility bound, disclaimed such high 
 compliment, and expressed a hope that the Major had 
 recovered quite the effects of the bruises he had received 
 the week before, in scuffle with the cavaliers in Dame- 
 street. Gnashing his teeth, Olotworthy returned, “ May 
 I never thrive, an’ I doant requite 'em.” While Jonas, in 
 his unpleasant voice growled, “ Let these papists get but 
 never so little law an’ they're owdacious to a caution ; an’ 
 now with a King o’ their own a cornin', ’ow 'ill we be 
 sitivated, if we doant let ’em see from the start as we means 
 to ’old our own agen 'em.’' 
 
 “ And wot’s to hender us, Jo ? ” exclaimed his bosom- 
 friend, Sam Bradly, with animation. “ See if I doant 
 cudgel that fellar, the son of the big Connaught man ; Lor’, 
 won’t I cripple the beggar, fust time as I lays ’old on ’im.” 
 
 “ Wot stomached me wor to see Fitz Adelm, a cove as 
 is no papist, take part agin us, as is of his own stamp,” 
 said Clotworthy, with pondering brow. “ But cuss ’em 
 all ; loike goes to loike, and coves wot prides ’em on hold 
 blood, an' such ’umbug, will be for up’oldin of each other, 
 ’an creed wont ’ave nothin’ to say to it. For all their 
 ciwility, I’m not so foggy, but wot I can see them : Fitz 
 Adelms thinks a deal o’ theirselves, more nor of us, tho’ it 
 be we up’old the cause.” 
 
 “ What made the row ? ” demanded Maw, looking up 
 at the ceiling. 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB. 
 
 31 
 
 I an^ Bradly’s boys, Sam an’ Moses, wor stanin’ in 
 Dame-street,’’ replied Grrub ; just goin’ to cross to the 
 river to take the wherry, when comes along Cap’n Cornal 
 O’Byrne, of Comal’s Court, a fellar as I can’t abide. On 
 the hinstant hoflf goes his ’at to a priest wot comes up, an’ 
 stops to shake ’andswith’im,an’ seein’ the cove as wouldn’t 
 condescend to notice me, as he seed me often enough, to 
 know well, in places, all smiles, an’ cap in ’and to the 
 friar, it riz my dander, an’ I says to the priest — a igh 
 lookin’ sort o’ fellar — ‘ I seed the day such walkin’ man- 
 traps would ’ave to clear hout o’ the way smart, along 
 with their cobwebs for catchin’ flies.’ With that, the Cap’n 
 turns, an’ without no more provocation, ’its me a blow 
 would fell a box. I’d ’ave paid ’im quits ; but while we’re 
 at it, up comes Fitz Adelm, an’ Plantaganet Tudor, and 
 De Eivers, a pair of dratted weathercocks for changing, 
 an’ not in partiklar good repute, an’ that tarnation 
 conceited fellar, Harold Sigurd, a greater don in his way 
 than his everlasting chum, Sir Ulic de Burgh, an’ that 
 popinjay, Lionel Aylmer ; so yer may guess we wor at it, 
 for we gathered our own ’elps — Bill Baxter, an’ DickHoey, 
 Jem Thompson, an’ Bob an’ Sandy Hog, an’ a lot more — 
 an’ sure as cockles, wed’ ’ave drubbed ’em gents, as ’ad only 
 cane swords, but for the galoot in the frieze coat wot comes 
 along with that wicious young colt of hisn ; an’ ven they 
 pitched in with bludgeons, it wor at a hend — least-ways for 
 the toime ; for I ’ave it in my nose to ’em, an’ ’opes to show 
 as ’ow I can do wot I loike with my own, to Sir Harold, 
 who ups one day an’ asks me before the ’aughty Sir Ulic, 
 an’ Sir Gregory O’Byrne, an’ Fitz Adelm, a smirkin’ loike 
 a fool, if it wornt a pity to ’ave dismantled the foine 
 hold Castle, to build this onsoightly ’ouse of stones, an’ 
 war’nt it a pity to change the name to Posy Park.” 
 But I made ’im ’pologise ; for when he said, as none but a 
 vandal would ’ave done it — 
 
 ^Wot’s a vandal,’ says I, lookin’ menacin’ at ’im. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘A barbarian,’ says he. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘An’ do yer mean for to go say as I’m one o’ the sort ? ’ 
 says I, ready to knock ’im down. 
 
 “ ‘ Pardon me,’ says he, quoite grand, and in spoite of the 
 
32 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 smile on his lips, there wor a angry flash in his 
 eye. 
 
 should not loike,’ says he, ^ to make unjust compara- 
 sons/ With that, Fitz Adelm, the idiot, laughed outright; 
 and Sir XJlic, an' Sir Gregory gave a scornful smile : they 
 wor mad with spoite ; an' now comes this same Sir Harold, 
 a-hankering after one o' my gals, an' my money, five 
 hunderd a piece, as I indends for 'em now, an' five hunderd 
 more by-an'-by. Ugh ! " 
 
 At this announcement all eyes were concentrated upon 
 the four Miss Grubs, who, having made a hasty exit upon 
 the arrival of the coach-load, had fresh-ironed their hair 
 into crisp ringlets, fresh-washed their complexions in some 
 approved cosmetics, and exchanged their home apparel for 
 stiff, rustling silk, very costly, but ill-assorted, Jael’s 
 bright scarlet quite killing Judith’s rose pink, and 
 Jenny's lively green not harmonising well with Johanna's 
 sky blue. However, so equipped, and bedecked with 
 jewellery, they had returned, and now glossy, shining, and 
 awkward, beneath the accumulated burden of finery, they 
 sat prim and stiff, until Parson Maw, breaking the ice of 
 reserve, addressed himself to Jael, with accents dropping 
 honey and sidelong glance taking stock of the concern : 
 
 “ Oh ! — ah ! indeed ! — hum ! Fine young women ! — 
 splendid family ! Mistress Grub, don’t be a fool, my dear^ 
 to encourage vain spendthrifts, who would soon squander 
 your money." — (Maw was closing on half-a-century). — ■ 
 ‘‘ Be amenable to your respectable parent, and don’t throw 
 yourself away, but reserve yourself to bless some sensible 
 man of mature years with your precious hand." 
 
 That’s exactly what Aunt Mac-Swiggan said to me 
 before I married Bedloe ; 'taint all goold as glitters, my 
 dear," cried Mrs. Knight, in tone of asperity, and bending 
 upon her saucy nieces, whose indocile pretensions to 
 superiority and cordial dislike she repaid with usury, an 
 eye of envious and jealous criticism ; “ an' many a young 
 gal as has flaunted in fine duds, an’ set her face agen' 
 advice, strivin' to overreach her betters, an’ play the fine 
 madam, has come to the stool o' repentance. "j 
 
 In high dudgeon at the officious speech of the unappreci- 
 
MAJOR CLOTWORTHY GRUB. 
 
 33 
 
 ated parson, and the meddling aunt, JaeFs disdaining reply, 
 assumed anoiffended air, and essayed, as did also her sisters, 
 a dignified deportment, which should overawe impertinence 
 and command admiration and respect ; but somehow they 
 could not catch the trick of that charming grace which, 
 as they had seen it displayed by others, combined the 
 suaviter in modo with the fortiter in re — that blending of 
 affability and sweetness, with reserve and serene mildness 
 of imperturbable self-possession. Hence, their attempts at 
 acting superbly only degenerated into irksome constraint, 
 and supercilious afiectation, that little served their purpose, 
 and rendered them odious, when they merely designed to 
 be esteemed superior. 
 
 To the envenomed words and look of her acrid kins- 
 woman, Abigail Knight, Jael having, therefore, as she 
 deemed, made the best response in contemptuous silence, 
 and with an insolent gesture, put a padlock on the lips of 
 the parson, registered a mental vow in favour of Sir 
 Harold Sigurd. Yes, on him alone she would bestow her 
 hand; and then, ‘‘Lady Harold Sigurd,'’ how nice it 
 sounded. Her ear had become of late attuned to euphony: — 
 would she not uphold high state, and be the magnate of 
 envious eyes ? In the confidence of hope, she even began 
 to indulge incipient survey of her bridal trousseau equipage, 
 S,nd all the entourage of her altered condition. A doubt of 
 Sir Harold’s acquiescence in the arrangement never crossed 
 her mind, for all the world knew he was limited in means, 
 and she had faith in the magic of gold, and her own blandish- 
 ments to win the noble prize she deemed well worth the cost. 
 
 Fraught with spirit somewhat cognate, Judith, also 
 ambitious, deep, and silent, sat pondering the while, trac- 
 ing out a programme, not dissimilar. She, too, would 
 emerge from the caterpillar state, and sport in butterfly 
 glory in an upper sphere ; — she, too, admired Sir Harold ; — 
 but as Jael had beforehand disclosed her views about him, 
 she could not pursue that quarry, so she minutely reviewed 
 the roll of the most elegible parties within the scope of her 
 knowledge. There was Sir Ulic de Burgh ; — for a momeut 
 only she thought of him. There was in his physiognomy 
 and demeanour something that awed her. He was not 
 
 4 
 
34 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 buoyant and sunny-like Sir Harold, whose laugh gushed 
 from his lips like a rivulet from a spring, sparkling and 
 musical. Sir Ulic seldom even smiled ; then the genial, 
 pleasant urbanity of the one, the condescending affability 
 of the other. Sir Ulic was consigned to banishment. 
 Then there were Plantagenet Tudor, Harvey de Eivers, 
 Fitz Rufus, and— she paused — Sir Athelstane Fitz 
 Adelm, of Santry. Yes, she did not like his sisters ; — but 
 what of that ? She w^as recalled from her reverie by hear- 
 ing her father s voice again leading the conversation. 
 Major Grub, having cast his stone into the water and seen 
 the ripples circling and widening out, wisely forebore a 
 second cast. He did not wish to appear anxious to dispose 
 of his daughters, lest advantage might be taken of it by the 
 three sordid angels to extort more money. He had signified 
 his intention ; that was enough. Five hundred a-piece 
 now, and five hundred a-piece more in abeyance, and he 
 was not by any means sorry or displeased that Jael had 
 shown, what he called, ^‘an uppish face'^ about it. It would 
 enhance her value, he deemed, in their estimation. So, 
 quite content with noting the manifest agitation wrought 
 among the parsons by his announcement, he reverted to 
 the former subject of the noose and said : — 
 
 Lor’ now, but it’s ill tidings about this abdercated 
 king, as couldn’t ’old his grip of the crown, nor stay to 
 foight it out in tussel loike a man, cornin’ over to set up in 
 this ’ere country, where, sure enough, he’ll ’ave lots to back 
 ’im up — them that was confiscated by Cromwell, an* them 
 Papists that’ll grow insubordinate now, an’ be for settin* 
 up of idols in every corner. Ugh ! I never seed the loike ; — 
 cut *em down an’ down, lop *em an’ chop ’em, an* burn ’em, 
 an’ uproot *em, up they fiourishes again, loike witchcraft ; 
 the ’air an’ the soil must *ave suthin’ to say to it, loike 
 some plants as we know is hindiginus to places, is popery ; — 
 for, cuss me, an’ I thought there wor a seedlin’ left, after 
 we ’ad run the ploughshare thro’ the land.*’ 
 
 ‘‘We should ’ave made a hend of ’em all,” said Jonas, 
 sagaciously solving the problem. “ Letting some escape 
 to foreign parts, an’ sending more to Connaught; — in course 
 they come back, first chance they got ; it wor a great 
 
THE FITZ ADEtMg. 
 
 35 
 
 terror ; an^ now see the end ’out ; as sure as nuts is nuts 
 they’ll be a crowin’ over us, and with a king at their side, 
 schemin’ to get back their land : I’ve a notion as we may 
 cut an’ run.’' 
 
 ^^Umph! loike to see 'em try it on,” growled Major 
 Grub. Aint we got our soords in our belts the same as 
 before; coom, fill up yer cups an’ drink success to King 
 William, an' confusion to Popish James an’ his abettors.*”^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FITZ ADEEMS. 
 
 “ Wealth, and the high estate of pride, 
 
 With what untimely speed they glide, 
 
 How soon depart ! 
 
 Bid not the shadowy phantoms stay, 
 
 The vassals of a mistress they, 
 
 Of fickle heart.” — 
 
 COPLAS DE MaNRIQUE. 
 
 Priding more in their Saxon descent, through the mater- 
 nal line, from the Heptarchy, than in their Norman 
 paternal derivation from the Counts of Anjou, the haughty 
 Fitz Adelms, born in Ireland, but educated in England, 
 had now settled, not indeed on the old territorial property 
 won by their ancestry when they first crossed swords with 
 the native Celt, but on a fair estate in the vicinity of 
 Santry, obtained by their father in purchase from a Crom- 
 wellian officer, to whose share of the confiscation it had 
 fallen ; and inhabiting a commodious and elegant man- 
 sion of more modern architecture, situated in the centre of 
 a spacious and well-trimmed demesne, adorned with noble 
 timber, and intersected with broad gravelled walks, and 
 fioral bowers, with urns and statues interspersed with good 
 effect, attesting at once the taste and opulence of the owner. 
 
 Sir Athelstane Fitz Adelm, with his sisters Eleanor and 
 Adela — their parents being lately deceased — maintained 
 their wonted state and friendly intercourse with the neigh- 
 
 * In King James’s time. Pierce Butler, Viscount Galmoy, was for some 
 ill-deed ordered to do penance in St, Werburgh’s Church, but remitted 
 the same for a mulct to be given to the poor of the parish. — Gilbert's 
 HisU Dublin, 
 
36 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 bouring gentry, for the most part old Anglo-Norman 
 families like themselves, with many of whom they also, 
 through a long course of generations, were more or less 
 connected. It is true that their induction, with that of 
 their father and grandfather before them, into the tenets 
 and prejudices of the State Church had greatly marred 
 the cordiality of sentiment that might otherwise have sub- 
 sisted between them and their friends, who were chiefly of 
 Eoman Catholic persuasion, and whom, consequently, they 
 regarded in a light less favourable than had their opinions 
 coincided on this most important topic. Moreover, though 
 handsome in appearance, fair-haired, blue-eyed, with clear, 
 bright complexion, and moulded lineaments, there was a 
 cold stolidity of expression in each countenance, and in 
 their mien an air of proud reserve, that rather repelled at 
 first sight. Their bearing, more condescending than cour- 
 teous, did not invite to intimacy, but, on the contrary, 
 chilled advance. Nevertheless, they were elegant, if not 
 fascinating, and challenged admiration, if they did notwin 
 affection. Sir Athelstane, in his thirtieth year, was not 
 tall in figure, but stoutly made, active, and muscular. 
 Eleanor, in her twenty-fifth year, and Adela, in her 
 twenty- third, were also short in figure, and slightly in- 
 clining to embonpoint. 
 
 It was a bright, sunny day, clear and fresh, in the be- 
 ginning of March ; and many friends, invited to spend the 
 golden-winged hours of the afternoon, have assembled at 
 ‘‘ San try Yilla,’' the name of their residence, to partake of 
 the elegant hospitality of the noble owners, and amuse 
 themselves, according to each one’s bias, sauntering through 
 the spacious pleasure-grounds and garden, or grouped in 
 social converse in the saloon* Dispensing gracious atten- 
 tion to each guest, Adela, the younger sister, habited in 
 robe of dark-blue moire antique j set off with Vandyke lace 
 and a few well-chosen ornaments, moves from place to 
 place, bestowing smiles and pleasant greeting with impar- 
 tial favour round the circle ; while Eleanor, arrayed in 
 crimson velvet and pearls, stands the centre of a bevy of 
 ladies ranging in years of all date, listening with earnest 
 interest to the theme which they are discussing with 
 
THE FTTZ ADEEMS. 
 
 37 
 
 animation. A thin, sallow- visaged lady of about fifty, 
 attired in black silk gown and cap of Spanish lace, sur- 
 mounting a chevelure of little brown curls fringing a mild 
 aristocratic forehead, was saying to a vis-a-vis^ about her 
 own age, dressed in brown satin and coif tire of point 
 d' Alengon : — 
 
 “ You may rely upon it. Mistress Flemming, my dear, 
 we shall have troubled times. Your party — the Catholic 
 party — will naturally espouse the cause of King James ; 
 but, I fear, any attempt to win over the Protestant interest 
 will be futile : a Popish monarch and the restoration of 
 Popery is, you see, so obnoxious to their principles.’^ 
 
 “Indeed, I apprehend as much, Mistress Lambert,” 
 returned the other, with a subdued tone and look that 
 contrasted forcibly with the lively black eyes and vivacious 
 manner of her friend. “ The king, I fear, must have 
 been ill-advised.” 
 
 “Why, aunt,” cried a fair, bright girl of seventeen, 
 “you would not have King James make the Prince of 
 Orange a present of his kingdom. War there will be, of 
 course ; but, as I heard Sir Gregory O’Byrne say to Henry 
 Luttrill, with the French king’s promised aid, we’ll be sure 
 to drive the usurper from the field, and roll back the war 
 into England.” 
 
 “ In which case, Maud Plunkett,” responded a lady of 
 middle age, sharp-featured, and freckled, with peering, 
 blue eyes that glanced reproachfully on the young girl, 
 “ it is we Protestants who are in danger.” 
 
 “ How so, for heaven’s sake ?” cried the impetuous Maud, 
 twirling her gold chain. “ That’s the perpetual Protestant 
 cry — They’re in danger ! If they got half what they 
 deserve, they might have reason to quake ; but they ought 
 to know well by experience we do not retaliate — never 
 may retaliate evil for evil. So be easy in your mind, 
 Elizabeth Fitz Rufus, and don’t let the shade of Oliver 
 Plunkett* come between you and your rest. ’Tis we who 
 have reason to beware another Oliver Cromwell in the 
 event of the Prince of Orange wresting the crown from 
 his father-in-law.” 
 
 * The martyred R.C. Bishop, her relative. 
 
38 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Flushed and angry, Maud Plunkett resumed her seat ; 
 while Elizabeth Fitz Eufus gazed in speechless wrath upon 
 her bold antagonist, and with that concentrated expression 
 in her quivering, white lip and hard eye that told of a 
 resentful spirit. 
 
 Hastily interposing to check the ignited spark of con- 
 tention from being fanned to a blaze, Eleanor Fitz Adelm 
 said, in accents sweet and clear, Church of England or 
 Church of Rome, we are all of one mind on the point that 
 an invasion of an army composed of such freebooters as 
 Cromwell brought over and settled in the country, could 
 bring only calamity to all parties.^^ 
 
 How now, fair politicians — settling the affairs of the 
 nation, are you exclaimed a gentleman, coming in, and 
 joining the coterie. 
 
 Yes, Harvey, said Eleanor ; are you coming to 
 help us ? Where’s Plantagenet ?” 
 
 I left him and Athelstane in amicable argument with 
 Harold Sigurd, debating the respective merits of the 
 Churches of Rome and England; and fearinglest they should 
 come to friction and strike fire, I sloped away,” replied 
 Harvey de Rivers, a tall, handsome man of about four-and- 
 thirty, with a profusion of silky, chestnut hair and beard 
 Iraming a broad, smooth-complexioned countenance. My 
 lady mother,” he added, ^4s coming with Maud Fitz 
 Eustace, Adela, Clutterbuck, and the bishop. I’m famish- 
 ing ! What time are we to dine ?” 
 
 Immediately,” said Eleanor. I wish we could gather 
 in all the stragglers ; I am sure dinner will soon be an- 
 nounced.” 
 
 Leave that to me ; I’ll muster the ranks,” cried 
 De Rivers, with alacrity ; and forthwith commenced a 
 series of whoops, whistles, and shouts, which had the 
 desired effect. In groups of four, and three, and five, the 
 rallied guests came converging homeward, and the last 
 batch had just arrived as the portly butler shook the pon- 
 derous dinner-bell ; and the company filed along into the 
 dining-hall, taking their places at the board, resplendent 
 with plate, and furnished with every rarity of the season. 
 Casting her eye up and down the gay assemblage, Adela, 
 
THE FlTZ ADEEMS. 
 
 39 
 
 the last to seat herself, addressed a young man, whose 
 tawny hair and beard, rich, glossy, and curling, set off to 
 advantage a fair, noble brow and fine set of features, 
 lighted up by an intellectual blue eye and an expression 
 of mirthfulness. 
 
 “ Harold, whereas your familiar ? I do not see him 
 here ; — and you know you promised to bring him.” 
 
 Whom do you mean ?” replied Sir Harold, with saucy 
 smile. 
 
 ^‘Why, of course, our mutual kinsman, Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh,’' said Eleanor. Athelstane likes him, rather.'’ 
 Methinks Sir Ulic won’t follow suit at second-hand,'’ 
 smiled a lofty personage, with the eye of a vulture and 
 aquiline physiognomy, severe, yet sinister. 
 
 Why not, Plantagenet ?” hastily returned Adela. 
 Why ? Because his solemnity is too exalted to be 
 invoked by an envoy. I’m glad he had the discretion to 
 waive his introduction to a more opportune season. The 
 weight of his presence would have crushed us like a mill- 
 stone. How he tolerates you, Harold, is a mystery. I 
 should as soon expect to see Jove on easy footing with 
 Momus. I shall trouble you for some ragout/^ 
 
 If our dilatory relative be as you describe,” laughed 
 Eleanor, we shall’ not lament his tardy acquaintance ; 
 yet I am curious to form my own opinion of one of whom 
 I hear so much. You do not find him such an ogre, 
 Athelstane ?” 
 
 ‘‘No,” returned Sir Athelstane, helping Maud Fitz 
 Eustace to some chicken. “ I get on with Wm very well, 
 upon a short acquaintance.” 
 
 « It is yet a greater enigma how Harold brooks the 
 overbearing hauteur of De Burgh,” slided in the squeaky 
 treble of a liliputian man, with pink eyes, red hair and 
 whiskers. “ There’s no accounting for eccentricities.” 
 
 “ Or natural phenomena,” laughed Sir Harold, with 
 dancing eyes. “ Impute it to what you may, Ulic and I 
 are sworn friends, albeit we contrast, I own, in physical 
 points, and jar betines tremendously on points of opinion.” 
 
 “Yes,’' smiled Maud Plunkett, merrily; “when you 
 launch out in ecBtasies about your beloved Danish 
 
40 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ancestry, and wound his amour-propre with invidious reflec- 
 tions upon his Norman pedigree ; then you raise the spirit 
 of the defunct race in Sir Ulic.’^ 
 
 He does not like me to flout him with the ravens,’’ 
 gleefully rejoined Sir Harold. It has much the same 
 effect upon him, as the red rag flaunted by the Spanish 
 matadores in the face of Monsieur Taureau sets him wild.” 
 ‘‘ I should be pleased to see his sublimity dethroned, 
 and reduced to a level in the undignified position of anger,” 
 said Harvey de Eivers. 
 
 That you will never,” returned Sir Harold. Ulic 
 can be irate — terribly so ; yet not lose his self-command.” 
 ‘‘But you have said, now, the flap of the raven sets him 
 wild,” said Elizabeth Fitz Eufus, with a curl of her lip, 
 and a glance at her pink-eyed brother. “ You are Irish 
 enough now to have learned to exaggerate, it seems.” ‘ 
 
 “ I stand corrected,” bowed Sir Harold, apologetically \ 
 ‘‘ but let me give you an instance ; Ulic and I got into 
 argument the other day. Unwittingly, I began to extol 
 the glories of my Viking progenitors. He heard me in 
 silence belauding the merits of Sitric, Brodar, Eric, and 
 Olaff. I began to pride myself on his conversion to my 
 creed in the demi-gods, when, quite calmly^ he turns and 
 emphatically denounces the heroes of my i idolatry as a 
 drove of pirates and brigands, to whom /it would have 
 pleased him to stand in the relation of Jieadsman for a 
 month. Now, I appeal to you, if that ^ere not giving 
 scope to a cool ebullition of wild wrath quite characteristic 
 of my sedate friend ?” 
 
 “But you haven’t told us all the while/why he did not 
 come with you to-day,” said Eleanor./ “Is it really 
 because we did not send a more formal /invitation under 
 sign manual, or by an ambassador ? Amelstane was, not 
 at home, and we thought he would have! waived ceremony 
 at your desire.” I 
 
 “So he would, Eleanor,” replied Sir /Harold; “but he 
 had to take despatches from Tirconr^l to Sarsfleld, at 
 Lucan, and stay to negociate some business with him. 
 I say, Athelstane, we’re likely to have work on our hands 
 before long.” / 
 
THE FITZ ADEEMS 
 
 41 
 
 Sir Athelstane, who was paying most marked attention 
 to Mand Fitz Eustace, a very beautiful girl, who sat next 
 to him, made answer: — I fear so, Harold ; this move of 
 King James is likely to involve the country in civil war. 
 Where so many divers interests are at stake, and so many 
 conflicting parties at variance, methinks he has launched 
 his barque upon a stormy ocean/^ 
 
 An ocean wherein he will founder,’’ exclaimed, in 
 selemn tone, a pompous personage habited in the garb of 
 a prelate of the Eeformed Church, who sat opposite to 
 him ; — ^^yea, the hand of the Lord will make manifest his 
 judgment.” Every eye turned upon Dr. Dopping, Bishop 
 of Meath, who proceeded : — And, my brethren, when 
 you see these things come to pass rejoice ; for it is the day 
 of the Lord’s visitation to his elect, whom He shall All with 
 good things, while the sinner he shall send away hungry !” 
 
 The effect of this impromptu harangue displayed itself 
 in different fashion upon the audience. The Flemmings 
 and those Catholics who had lived through the former 
 penal days, and knew by old experience what these pious 
 texts on the lips of churchmen boded looked scared and 
 humble. Elizabeth Fitz Eufus observing that: — Derry 
 was a notable instance of Protestant determination not to 
 submit to a popish yoke,” glanced sternly at Maud 
 Plunkett, who gave back a scornful look. Fitz Eufus, her 
 brother, Plantagenet Tudor, and Harvey de Eivers, cast 
 sly, furtive eyes upon Sir Harold, whose high spirit 
 they perceived flashing out in sanguine hue upon brow and 
 cheek. The Fitz Adelms, annoyed, simultaneously bent 
 their regard upon Maud Fitz Eustace, whose drooped head 
 and pallid face showed intense emotion. 
 
 The awkward pause of silence was broken by Fitz Adelm 
 saying Be that as it may, till the fate of war arbitrate 
 the question, merging creed, every loyal man’s place is 
 under the royal banner ; and William shall have a stiff bout 
 of it to annex, if he strive, the Irish to the British crown.” 
 Then you don’t sympathise with the brave citizens of 
 Derry in their struggle for freedom ?” queried the bishop, 
 pathetically. 
 
 Fitz Adelm was silent, Lady de Eivers filling up the 
 
42 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 interregnum by turning to a jolly, rakish-looking indivi- 
 dual seated above her, said : — 
 
 Dear Parson Clutterbuck, what a charming discourse 
 you gave us last Sunday — quite moving, I assure you. I 
 daresay it made some conversions.'^ 
 
 Egad ! madam, I’m glad you liked it,” returned the 
 spruce parson, who was chaplain to his Grace the Bishop, 
 I do my best to preach the word ; and if the sinners that 
 hear me won’t be reclaimed, I can’t help it.” 
 
 Alack, for the sword of the spirit, and the burning 
 coal wherewith the angel touched the lips of the prophet, 
 to move those hardened hearts, and garner them from the 
 paths of iniquity into the pasture of the Lord!” ejaculated 
 the bishop, eyeing Sir Harold, who was on thorns, bridling 
 his tongue and his temper — a sense of decorum admonishing 
 him not to convert the circle of gentle courtesy and social 
 reunion into an arena of controversy and unseemly brawl. 
 
 Inwardly chafing, he accosted Maud Fitz Eustace: — ‘^I 
 had not hoped for the pleasure of meeting you to-day, 
 fair lady, being given to understand you were to have 
 returned to your friends the De Courcys.” 
 
 ‘^The De Courcys only arrived in town yesterday, with 
 Captain O’Byrne,” replied the ward of Sir Eeginald ; 
 — to-morrow I go home.” 
 
 Dear, dear I” the bishop was heard soliloquising, as if 
 in pain. 
 
 What is it, your Grace ?” kindly inquired Adela. 
 
 The land is overrun with those returned exiles, carry- 
 ing back tenfold an accumulation of idolatry. Verily, if 
 the popish King be not put away, and the reign of popery 
 brought to an end, we shall have the auto-da-fe^ and the 
 Inquisition ere long.” 
 
 Sir Harold Sigurd rose ; he could stand it no more. Sud- 
 denly he remembered an engagement that claimed his pre- 
 sence in Dublin begged his friends would excuse him, and 
 bowed himself out. His departure made a void in the circle 
 that was felt by all. The remainder of the guests, constrained 
 by etiquette, lingered awhile ; but conversation flagged and 
 grew heavy and dull. By-and-by chariots came rolling 
 up, and returned with their freight. Maud Plunkett, 
 
THE FITZ ADEEMS. 
 
 43 
 
 while her friends, resisting the Fitz Adelms’ pleadings for 
 pleasure prolonged, returned courteous thanks for a de- 
 lightful day, approached to take leave of Elizabeth Fitz 
 Rufus. She extended her hand ; the latter drew back with 
 gesture of amazement. 
 
 What! am I beyond the pale of forgiveness?” asked 
 Maud, surprised. You surely did not construe a few words 
 
 hastily spoken into a design to give you pain or offence ?” 
 ‘^You Irish are good dissemblers. Thank heaven, I 
 am neither Irish enough, nor popish enough, to be 
 Jesuitical,” retorted Elizabeth, very bluntly. ‘‘Plain, 
 matter-of-fact dealing is our way ; we never could under- 
 stand each other ; — so any question of hurt or forgiveness 
 doesn^t much matter between us. Good-bye.” 
 
 Maud, with a courtesy, tripped away to her carriage, and 
 Elizabeth Fitz Rufus, with much aggrieved mien, addressed 
 Eleanor Fitz Adelm : — 
 
 “ When you invite me again, Eleanor, don^t have her 
 to meet me, I beg as a favour.” Adela and her sister 
 looked conWnded. 
 
 Lady de Rivers, who stood by a witness of the scene, 
 smiled, and said, blandly sentimental: — “La! dear; we 
 must not be unreasonable. If the Lord has cast our lot in 
 circumstance more favourable, it behoves us to compas- 
 sionate the failings of a people so much below par in all 
 respects. I daresay the young lady did not mean to 
 offend, but her understanding being obtuse, she did not 
 perceive her error. If the fiery inhabitants of this rude 
 country had culture, you know it would lesson them to 
 restrain their effervescing temper.” 
 
 “ I really am sorry. Lady de Rivers,” here interposed 
 Eleanor, looking cold displeasure, while Adela glided away 
 to join the circle gathered round the hearth, whom the 
 bishop and Clutterbuck were entertaining. “ I am really 
 sorry you should hold opinion so disparaging of my country 
 and of us its inhabitants.” 
 
 My sweet girl, don^t misinterpret me,” rejoined Lady 
 de Rivers, with extreme empressement. “ Far, indeed, from 
 my thought it were to compare you, or the colonists of our 
 own enlightened time, with the uncivilised aborigines, or 
 
44 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 the old Anglo-Norman race grafted upon them, who, by 
 long association, have become as barbarous as themselves. 
 By education, and good, sound, orthodox, evangelical train- 
 ing, you are more identified with ourselves. Tell me, dear, 
 why don’t you and Adela look about you to get married ? 
 You really have no time to lose ; you will be on the shelf 
 if you take it so easy.” She looked scrutinisingly into the 
 calm, open eyes of Eleanor. ‘‘ What a nice girl Maud 
 Fitz Eustace is ? Now, there are my two big sons — ‘ Sans- 
 terre, and Lackland,’ I call them ; I wonder would either 
 of them have a chance with her ? Would you not give me 
 a hint ? You know how a mother must be anxious for the 
 welfare of her children.” 
 
 And the intriguing lady, who was quite aware of the 
 undisguised admiration which Athelstane Fitz Adelm 
 professed for Maud, looked keenly at Eleanor, whom she 
 would more gladly have chosen for a daughter-in-law, to see 
 if she could detect a symptom of awakened jealousy or 
 emotion that might afford ground for hope ; but in the 
 imperturbable face, she deciphered nothing, as tranquilly 
 the girl replied : 
 
 do not know that they would have any chance. 
 Athelstane is, I think, paying attention to Maud ; — he 
 likes her.” 
 
 ‘‘And are you and Adela satisfied with that?” 
 
 “ Yes; we see no objection.” 
 
 But Maud is a papist. How would you agree ?” 
 
 “ We had rather it were otherwise ; but we shall not 
 nterfere with her.” 
 
 “ But the children ; — will you be satisfied to see them 
 brought up in their mother’s dreadful religion ; — to go to 
 Mass, and all that?” 
 
 “I don’t know; I suppose Athelstane and she would 
 arrange about that. Of course we should not be satisfied 
 to see them go to chapel.” 
 
 “ So it is quite a settled thing. Dear me, how sudden ! 
 I wish you joy, dear. I must call on the De Courcys. 
 Captain O’Byrne has a daughter, has he not ? and a good 
 fortune, I believe ? ” 
 
 “Yes; Ihearso. Let’s draw near the fire ; Tis rather cold,” 
 
THE FITZ ADEEMS. 
 
 45 
 
 This was an intimation the dialogue was ended ; and 
 Lady de Eivers, having signally failed in her essay at 
 matrimonial manoeuvring for her sons, with crestfallen air 
 suffered herself to be led along, till, happening to espy Dr. 
 Dopping and Elizabeth Fitz Eufus holding tete-d-tete at a 
 little distance, her flagging spirits revived, and she has- 
 tened to make a third in their conference. 
 
 Thus into every society the spirit of national an- 
 tagonism and religious animosity, not less virulent for 
 being cloaked in flne drapery and couched in reflned 
 phrase, casts the apple of discord. Of her class Lady de 
 Eivers was also a fair sample. English by birth and allied 
 by marriage with many good families of Great Britain, 
 Her flrst husband, Lord Plantagenet Tudor, descended, 
 as his name implied, from each of those historic and royal 
 families, the inheritor of many of their vices, which he 
 bequeathed to his two sons, with but little of their wealth ; 
 and her second being Sir Gilbert de Eivers, a spendthrift 
 scion of the Anglo-Norman pioneers that soon after the 
 conquest transported themselves to the luxuriant soil of 
 Erin, where they took deep root and flourished, nurtured 
 by blood and spoil. Sir Gilbert, having run a reckless 
 course, survived his marriage but one year ; and Lady de 
 Eivers, again a widow, with another son and not very 
 affluent jointure, lived a kind of Bohemian existence, sub- 
 sisting on visits among her friends, of whom she had 
 many ; for, in addition to the advantages of her birth and 
 station, which conferred honour upon those whom she 
 privileged with her acquaintance, she was fashionable, ac- 
 complished, and diplomatic, in which latter qualiflcation 
 she so excelled as to be often feared and guarded against 
 as a wily tactician. To her sons, of whom she was very 
 proud, she had imparted a good education. They were 
 men of highly cultivated intellect and accomplished man- 
 ner. Their hearts and minds alone had been unwisely 
 consigned to the tutelage of that capricious nurse. Dame 
 Nature, who indulgently humoured, pampered, and spoiled 
 dispositions which from the cradle had needed a curbing 
 hand to govern their wild tendencies. 
 
 Upon the accession of James II., Lady de Eivers, finding 
 
46 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 court patronage at discount, leaving her eldest son to enjoy 
 his small estate in Derbyshire, betook herself, with the 
 other two, on a visit to some of her late husband^s kinsfolk 
 in Ireland, where we see her now busy manoeuvring to 
 secure for them a wealthy alliance among the despised 
 race, subservient to the hard necessity that dictated such 
 means for recruiting their fortune. 
 
 As to the Fitz Eufuses, her cousins, of whom there were 
 two sisters and a brother, in the straightforward rudeness 
 with which they claimed the precedence of free-born 
 Britons in the country it was their pleasure or convenience 
 to inhabit, they founded a pretension which was not dis- 
 puted by any, and commended them to little favour among 
 the circles of the native gentry with whom they mixed. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SIR ULIC DE BURGH. 
 
 “ Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings 
 Of that mysterious instrument — the soul — 
 
 And play the prelude of our fate. ” — 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 In a plainly-furnished apartment, situate within the cir- 
 cumvallation of the Upper Castle Yard, and facing the 
 principal entrance from Cork^hill, an oflGlcer in the uniform 
 of an aide-de-camp of the Duke of Tyrconnel was seated at 
 a desk writing. The morning was one of those bright, 
 blustery, and fresh, which often occur in the month of 
 March ; and perhaps feeling a little chilled, though a fine 
 fire burned on the hearth, he had drawn his mantle around 
 him, and hanging in the graceful folds of the Roman toga, 
 it loosely draped, half-revealing the outlines of a muscular, 
 well-proportioned frame, somewhat above the average 
 height, though now slightly bent, as he inclined forward 
 over his pen. His lank hair of jetty hue was smoothly 
 brushed down over a broad, massive brow, whose expression 
 of habitual thought imparted an air of sadness and reserve 
 to his whole countenance. His well-chiseled nose and 
 
SIR tJLlC DE BURGH. 
 
 47 
 
 firmly-moulded lip seemed to denote resolution of cha- 
 racter. His complexion was brown, the contour of his 
 physiognomy sharp, and when for a moment he lifted his 
 eyes in refiective pause over his paper, they were dark, 
 dreamy, and mournful, acute withal, and penetrative. 
 His tout ensemble indicated mental power of high calibre, 
 but appeared at first sight more formed to command than 
 to attract ; and from abstract premises deducing premature 
 conclusion, one might well find matter for speculation in 
 the eccentric vagaries of fancy which had united in bonds 
 of friendship two so dissimilar in outward appearance as 
 Sir TJlic de Burgh and Sir Harold Sigurd. 
 
 For a time no sound was heard save the quick scratching 
 of the pen upon the paper ; and though the morning was 
 far advanced, the table at a little distance, covered with a 
 white damask cloth, and neatly laid with tasteful china, 
 fresh rolls, eggs, butter, and coffee, showed that Sir Ulic 
 had not breakfasted ; and so abstracted was his mien, that 
 in all probability he would have continued his alternate 
 occupation of writing and musing, had not his attention 
 been diverted at length by the sonorous tones of a well- 
 tuned masculine voice breaking upon his reverie, singing 
 in the lobby without : 
 
 “We launched our keels from the Baltic shore, 
 
 A bold and roving band ; 
 
 Aloft the Runic flag we bore, 
 
 And steered for the Western land. 
 
 “ The sturdy stroke of each sweeping oar 
 Dashed the foaming brine to snow ; 
 
 Our wassail shout drowned the tempest’s roar, 
 
 The Scald sang high on the prow. 
 
 “For Erin, ho ! The Ravens three* 
 
 Shook their pinions to the gale ; 
 
 Each axe gleamed bright, and wild cheers gave we. 
 
 As we sighted green Innisfail.” 
 
 With a flourish of the flnal stanza, the door was flung 
 open, and Sir Harold, with a great wolf-dog at his heels, 
 found himself in presence of Be Burgh. He started, 
 
 * The standard of Denmark. 
 
48 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 threw up his hands, and drew back a step, with well- 
 affected surprise. 
 
 ^^You incorrigible Dane/^ smiled Sir Ulic, extending 
 his hand^ while his features relaxed with a beaming 
 humour that singularly transformed the austere expression 
 of his countenance to sparkling animation, irresistibly 
 pleasing. ‘^Did you not know I had arrived? I sent 
 O’ Daly to let you know.’^ 
 
 “ Missed him, but partly guessed it. When did you 
 come — you were due last night?’’ 
 
 “ Yes ; I was delayed at Leixlip, waiting for despatches 
 to the Castle ; so I got away early this morning,” said Sir 
 Ulic, rising and putting away his writing materials. 
 “ What time of day is it ? Have you breakfasted ? ” 
 
 At eight o’clock, as is my wont.” 
 
 ‘^’Tis now eleven,” observed Sir Ulic, looking at his 
 time-piece. A cup of coffee won’t hurt you. Will you 
 pull the bell ? Take a chair. I arrived at eight this 
 morning, and have been employed since writing, answer- 
 ing letters I found awaiting me. Another cup and saucer, 
 Daly,” to the waiter. And you, Harold^ what have you 
 been doing with yourself?” 
 
 \ ‘‘ Taking antidotes against idleness : going to plays, 
 assemblies, routs, and dinner-parties. I was yesterday 
 at the De Oourcys, and a couple of days before at the 
 Fitz Adelms, where I tendered excuse for your non- 
 appearance. When do you mean to get off your stilts, 
 and call upon them ? I warn they won’t condescend 
 twice, and Athelstane conceives, methinks, his visit worth 
 a return.” 
 
 ‘‘It is my intention to make their acquaintance,” re- 
 turned Sir Ulic, “ when present emergent business shall 
 grant me respite and leisure. What are they like, those 
 girls?” 
 
 “ Two primroses, short, fair, and pretty, minus all variety. 
 What you see them once, you see them perennially,” 
 replied Sir Harold. 
 
 “ I don’t admire your graphic sketch. I should like 
 better even ordinary lineaments, endowed with the charm 
 of diversity and play of genius.’^ 
 
SIR ULIC DE BURGH. 
 
 49 
 
 ^^Somehow, the Fitz Adelms please, ’’returned Sir Harold; 
 
 I suppose, owing to the absence of insipidity, which is 
 my aversion, and the predominance of character which 
 marks every trait. They can make themselves agreeable, 
 too.” 
 
 ‘‘ Did you enjoy yourself?” demanded Sir TJlic. 
 
 Well, yes ; — that is, I should say, not much. The 
 saints were there — Dopping, and Clutterbuck, and Lady 
 de Rivers ; — and such elements, like thunder in the air, 
 were sure to convert sweet into sour. With most execrable 
 taste they turned to their old trade of bedeviling us 
 Papists to our faces. My wild Viking blood couldn’t 
 stand it ; — so to spare them the reaping of the whirlwind, 
 I came away directly the cloth was removed and the 
 dessert brought in. This advent of the king has thrown 
 the whole hive into an alarming state of excitement ; and 
 Dopping, while putting on the pharisaical mask, turning 
 his eyes up and casting them down, and putting every 
 feature out of joint in effort to look sanctified, and bam- 
 boozle knaves as great as himself, can no more conceal the 
 chagrin of his soul at the state of affairs, than I can hide 
 this quarter of a yard of beard. — Why don't you let your 
 beard and mustache grow ?” 
 
 Vanity, dear boy. I do not ambition the style of an 
 Othello or a Bluebeard. Tell me — were Tudor and De 
 Rivers at the Fitz Adelms ?” 
 
 They were, to be sure.” 
 
 “ These are two with whom I would not care to be 
 much associated,” returned Sir Ulic, with a gesture of sig- 
 nificance. 
 
 “ Do you suppose I had not fathomed that secret ?” 
 replied the sharp-witted Harold, with sagacious nod. 
 
 “You might not ; — they are very plausible, insinuating, 
 and all that.” 
 
 “ Add to it deep, unprincipled villains, and you fill up 
 the picture,” said Sir Harold. “ But, tell me, how did 
 you get on with Sarsfield? — and what’s the latest news ?” 
 
 “Well, the king is expected to arrive in a few days 
 at Bantry ; and it is certain we shall have to take the 
 field ; for the Prince of Orange is active, making prepara- 
 
50 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 tions ; and manifestoes are being issued on both sides. It 
 is evident that there is a very strong party in the country 
 for the usurper. Sarsfield is busy striving to consoli- 
 date a force to bulwark the Irish dominion of the second 
 James against the hostility of the Scotch Planters, the 
 very men to whom his grandfather, the first James, con- 
 fiscated all the North, and against the Cromwellian 
 colonists who dethroned his father, Charles. Leixlip Castle 
 was like a camp, or a garrisoned fortress, with the numbers 
 seeking to be enrolled. Sir Gregory O' Byrne has been 
 gazetted to a captaincy in the King’s Own Company, and 
 Luttrell has been appointed to the command of a regi- 
 ment. — By-the-way, I don’t like that man.’' 
 
 “ No ! — why?” demanded Harold ; and the young man’s 
 frank, unclouded visage, sobered by the theme into which 
 they had digressed, assumed a gravity almost beyond the 
 prerogative of twenty-eight years to confer, and assimilated 
 him nearer to his more matured companion of eight-and- 
 thirty. 
 
 Too fawning and obsequious, to my mind,” said Sir 
 Ulic, and with an eye whose shifting light never stands 
 the test of scrutiny. The eye is a feature in deciphering, 
 in whose character I am never mistaken ; and Luttrell’s 
 would not win my confidence. It were to be desired King 
 James had stood his ground, and made England the arena 
 of battle, instead of carrying the strife into a country so 
 unprepared for confiict for many reasons, of which not 
 least are the clash of opinions, and the uncertainty of faith 
 in many who shall go to the lists.” And sipping his 
 coflPee, with meditative look, he relapsed into silence. 
 
 I don’t know,” said Sir Harold, breaking an egg ; 
 “James had experience enough that loyalty was not a 
 fixed principle in the minds of Englishmen. Hence, 
 though we be split into factions here, methinks he deemed 
 it better lean on the faith of a loyal minority than risk his 
 head as well as his crown in unequal contest with rebellious 
 subjects, backed up by hordes of foreign mercenaries.” 
 
 “ See the phalanx with which he will have to contend 
 here,” resumed De Burgh. “ Tyrconnel has been vainly 
 seeking to call in the Government arms in the hands of 
 
SIR ULIC DE BURGH. 
 
 51 
 
 those whom he too surely apprehends will prove disaffected. 
 He has commissioned the Catholic nobility and gentry 
 also to muster levies ; but we are destitute of War equip- 
 ments to supply the undisciplined recruits. In sooth, if it 
 come to the question of arms, nothing doubting the valour 
 of our men, yet fearing the worst from our defenceless 
 condition, it is like, in sooth, to be a rehearsal of the Danish 
 times. 
 
 Should such a crisis as the invasion of the country by 
 the Prince of Orange come to pass /^responded Sir Harold — 
 ^^and it is the only thing we have to dread — I^d barter my 
 birthright to a kingdom, to bear the scroll of doom, 
 Sigurd’s battle-flag, and fly the ravens at the head of 
 my gallant Ostmen against the Dutchmen.” 
 
 Sir Ulic looked severe, and retorted : Well, we’ll be 
 
 spared your marauding pagans.” 
 
 Pagans !” reiterated Harold, loftily. What time 
 the thrilling blast of the Norman’s trumpet woke war’s 
 wild echoes through the hills and valleys of the isle, I 
 question if the native found much to choose between 
 them.” 
 
 The Danes devastated the land, consumed the temples, 
 and destroyed its civilisation,” objected De Burgh, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 ‘‘ By my troth,” laughed Harold, derisively, by the 
 time the Norman and Saxon had fully expounded their 
 views, and demonstrated to the perception of wondering 
 Milesians their peculiar interpretation of the precepts of 
 Christian doctrine, perpetuated to the present hour, I 
 think you must admit there was more to understand in the 
 honest pagan making a bonfire of churches and sacking 
 monasteries in honour of Woden and Thor. I don’t feel 
 at all so much ashamed of my ancestors as I would had 
 they been good Lutherans or pious Cromwellians, shedding 
 Christian blood, and Ailing their coffers with the plunder 
 of Christian temples, for the love of God.” 
 
 Sir Ulic smiled, stroking with gentle hand the head of 
 the great shaggy dog that stood at his knee, looking 
 lovingly up to his face. There was a pause, and then, 
 rising, he walked over to the window, stood a few moments 
 
52 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 looking out, then called to his friend : Come hither, 
 
 Harold, if you would see a boxing match ; — look at those 
 two lads how they scuffle.^’ 
 
 Sir Harold went over, and for a brief space they stood 
 gazing with much interest upon the pugilistic encounter 
 between the belligerents— one a youth of about sixteen, 
 the other a couple years his junior — who were doing their 
 possible utmost to extinguish each other’s immature exist- 
 ence in a series of kicks, blows, and buffets. 
 
 Let's go out,'’ said Sir Ulic, and see fair play, lest 
 they hurt themselves. They are both strong, but the 
 bigger boy will have the advantage.” 
 
 They soon gained the arena of combat in the castle yard, 
 where the sentries and some soldiers apart were looking 
 on amused. The quarrel had been so suddenly improvised, 
 there were no other spectators. 
 
 Sir Ulic came leisurely up. What’s the question at 
 issue, boys ?” His eye glanced from the younger, who was 
 habited in a well-fitting suit of fine cloth, that displayed 
 his symmetrical figure, to the elder youth, whose garb of 
 good texture, but slovenly fit, showed to disadvantage 
 clumsy limbs and robust frame. 
 
 The interruption, for an instant, suspended hostility. 
 Whisking round, the senior fixed a pair of erratic eyes 
 upon the intruder, and with an insolent gesture made 
 answer, “ Wot’s that to yer ; — get on out o’ this, an’ mind 
 yer own jaw.” 
 
 Sir Ulic advanced calmly ; his questioning eye rested 
 upon the second boy, who, more amenable to its command- 
 ing power, lifted an excited, passionate face to his, and 
 boldly exclaimed: ‘^He set at me first. I was quietly 
 walking on, waiting for my father to overtake me, 
 when he comes up, and calls me a whelp of Antichrist, 
 
 nhe woman-worshipper,’ and my mother a . Let 
 
 me go ; I’ll break every bone in the goggle-eyed, pig- 
 faced roundhead’s skin. Let me go — I will.’' And 
 Raymond O’Byrne, metamorphosed exteriorly by the 
 buckmaster’s skilful wand, but inwardly the same as ever, 
 with defiant look, made a fierce plunge to escape from 
 the strong hand of Sir Ulic, w’ho, quick as lightning, 
 grappling him by the arm, frustrated his aim. 
 
SIR ULlC DE BUEGH. 
 
 53 
 
 ^‘Let me go/' again vociferated the boy, indignant, yet 
 subsiding beneath the grave, stern gaze of the stranger, 
 while his opponent, who appeared now, also, to have 
 arrived at the conclusion that the imperturbable, resolute 
 man, who had reared himself between like a barrier, was 
 not to be bullied, gave a pull to the red-and-yellow neck- 
 tie, whose ends dangled over the gilt buttons of his buff 
 waistcoat, and sloped away, railing and bawling out : 
 “ Handle him gently ; he was reared a pet. Put a little 
 plaster on his bruises, and coddle him with physic.’' 
 Wrestling with the grasp that restrained him, and not 
 to be outdone, Eaymond shouted after his retreating foe, 
 ‘‘ Maisead^ fionog* how much gold a measure did your 
 father get for the blood of the women and babies he mas- 
 sacred at Wexford? —and was it with that you bought 
 your blue coat and red wig ?” 
 
 A stone was flung full tilt at Eaymond’s head, and 
 rebounded from Sir IJlic’s shoulder. Sir Harold, who had 
 stood hitherto quiescent, pursued the flying delinquent, 
 whose nimble heels scarcely, with advantage of good odds, 
 saved him from a sound drubbing ; and just then Hugh 
 O'Byrne, who had gone with Eveleen to a shop to flt on a 
 pair of gloves, came up. 
 
 Bachal Essu!'\ son, what’s amiss?” demanded the 
 father, whose person had also been subjected to a process 
 of amelioration at the instance of Cornal and in deference 
 to his friend ; while Eveleen, also prettily but simply 
 attired in blue cashmere pelisse, trimmed with minever, 
 and rustic hat, tied with peach-coloured ribbon, stood 
 w^onderingly by. ‘‘Why soil your hands with such a 
 ‘Vehonee?”X continued Hugh, chidingly. What would 
 your Uncles Cornal O’Byrne or Sir Ulic say if they 
 found you in such broil ?” 
 
 Athah\% I don’t care a gosh-ra-hence for a kishful of 
 uncles ; I’ll throunce that son of a murdering^ hangman, 
 Sam Bradley !” cried Eaymond, impetuously throwing off 
 his beaver, and with reckless fingers suddenly inserted 
 
 * Well, scarecrow. 
 I Blackguard. 
 
 t Staff of St. Patrick. 
 § Father. 
 
54 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 into the locks of his sable hair, at once fatally obliterating 
 all vestige of the hairdresser’s artistic skill. 
 
 Eist do beal^ aviCy'^ returned his father, gravely, while 
 he lifted his hat ceremoniously to Sir Ulic, who, much 
 amused and interested, silently contemplated the group, 
 whom his discerning mind had recognised before the cor- 
 roborative words of Hugh had proclaimed their identity. 
 Not wishing, however, in public, to introduce himself to 
 his relatives, whose visit he was expecting, having that 
 morning sent a letter by an orderly to let his brother-in- 
 law know of his return, and conjecturing that they were 
 coming straight to his quarters, he addressed the boy, 
 while wondering to himself who was the other uncle of 
 whom he had never heard — not surely O’Byrne of Cornaks 
 Court. 
 
 Truly, Sir Ulic would not approve, methinks, of his 
 nephew condescending to vulgar broil with every ignoble 
 clown. 
 
 Then Sir Ulic must be a mnesthay^'\ contemptuously 
 retorted Eaymond, grimly smiling at the uncomplimentary 
 opinion so freely enunciated. 
 
 De Burgh addressed Hugh : ‘‘ Perhaps you are going 
 to Sir Ulic’s quarters ? 1 am going myself in the direc- 
 tion, and, if you permit, shall marshal the way.^^ 
 
 Thanks, friend,’^ responded Hugh, wistfully observing 
 the stranger, in whom, perhaps, he traced some resem- 
 blance to his deceased wife. “ I have to call on Sir Ulic ; 
 but I opine Tis rather early yet to intrude on his con- 
 venience. I shall first take these children to show them 
 the Bermingham tower and whatever is worth notice ; by 
 that time, I daresay, Sir Ulic will be at leisure. 
 
 He bowed and withdrew. The arrangement fortunately 
 answered ; for while De Burgh stood gazing after the 
 retreating party, an aide-de-camp rode up to say his pre- 
 sence was required at the Castle. Sir Ulic followed, and 
 meeting Harold on the way, in conversation with Dean 
 Stafford, he commissioned him, if his friends should call 
 in his absence, to retain them till his return. 
 
 * Be silent, my son. 
 
 t An old woman. 
 
SIR ULIO DE EURGH. 
 
 55 
 
 The business, however, on which the Duke of Tyrconnel 
 had commanded his attendance, being principally in re- 
 ference to his mission to Greneral Sarsfield at Leixlip, was 
 soon despatched ; and after some brief conversation with 
 his (jrrace, he withdrew, repairing to his apartment^ 
 where, having parted with Harold, he threw himself into 
 an arm-chair, drew forward his desk, and taking a volume 
 from the book-case behind him, he gave himself up to its 
 perusal in an attitude of easy repose, and with a concen- 
 tration of aspect that indicated how completely he had 
 become at once absorbed in the interest of the subject, to 
 the exclusion, seemingly, of every other. By-and-by, from 
 reading he lapsed insensibly into reverie, and was deep in 
 profound rumination, when his valet opened the door and 
 formally announced the visitors. On the threshold dallied 
 Hugh O’Byrne and the children, with amazed counte- 
 nances, scanning half-dubiously the object of their pre- 
 vious encounter. 
 
 With stately but courteous salutation, and a smile 
 whose ineffable grace banished hauteur from his brow 
 and the gloom of taciturnity from his aspect, Sir TJlic 
 came forward, wrung the hand of Hugh in friendly grasp, 
 paternally embraced the children, touched a bell and 
 ordered the responsive menial to stir the fire and bring 
 cake, wine, and fruit ; then, turning his attention from 
 the utterly confounded Raymond and the perplexed Eve- 
 leen, shyly investigating his physiognomy with shrewd, 
 analysing dark eyes, he accosted Hugh, without reverting 
 to their morning's adventure. 
 
 “ In sooth, much am I beholden to you, brother, for 
 this pleasure, so long desired.” Again he shook the 
 brawny hand of his sorely-embarrassed kinsman. “ And 
 which,” he proceeded, ‘‘ can only be estimated in its ful- 
 ness by one who, circumstanced like myself, associated 
 with but few objects of interest, and bereft of all close 
 kindred ties, is condemned to an isolated existence, and to 
 whose heart, a stranger to domestic sympathies, the world 
 is a very desert. In those children, the nearest links that 
 bind me to the memory of the dear ones passed away, 
 shall be revived olden affections, and motives created of 
 
56 
 
 LElXLir CASTLE. 
 
 interest, to engage all my best energies on their behalf. 
 Life henceforth will not be a monotonous wheel of rota- 
 tion, and I may not adequately express my sense of the 
 obligation in which I stand indebted for your concession 
 to my wishes/' 
 
 Intensely pained, distressed, and awkward, Hugh 
 O'Byrne heard Sir Ulic to the end. Any prepossession 
 he had conceived in favour of his kinsman was confirmed 
 upon this their first meeting. How shall he decide be- 
 tween the rival claims of Cornal — generous, fraternal, hot- 
 tempered, and self-willed — and Sir Ulic, whose winning 
 deportment and gentle appeal touched his heart. How 
 disoblige Cornal? How disappoint Sir Ulic? As re- 
 garded the interests of the children, he felt small concern ; 
 he knew that with either patron their fortune was assured 
 in the present and future equally. His own feelings in- 
 clined him in favour of De Burgh, but the shadow of the 
 unyielding Cornal rose in opposition. De Burgh noticed 
 the mental disquietude of the victim, and looked grave. 
 At length, finding he must speak, Hugh said, in tone of 
 deep pathos : 
 
 Now, beshrew my soul if I be not in grievous strait, 
 my honoured kinsman ! When, at your solicitation, I 
 fetched the children up to Dublin, no second thought had 
 I but to commit them to your disposal. Little I dreamed 
 of meeting myself a brother, long mourned as lost or dead ; 
 and, as perverse fate will have it, he asserts a prior claim 
 to charge himself with the welfare of his nephew. What 
 can I say?’' 
 
 Sir Ulic’s brow resumed its wonted sombre expression ; 
 his lips slightly parted, and his calm eye and unruffled 
 mien led Hugh to infer that his kinsman was tranquilly 
 resigning himself and his pretension to arbitrary circum- 
 stance. He did not yet know the inflexible spirit whichj 
 akin to Comal’s in tenacity of purpose, was yet a master 
 mind in firmness of character. 
 
 ‘‘ Who is your brother?” he mildly interrogated, with 
 eyes inquisitorially fixed upon the boy, whom he fancied, 
 and resolved to patronise and train to his own liking. 
 
 Captain O’Byrne of Cornal’s Court,'’ replied Hugh. 
 
SIR tJLIC t)E BtTRGH 
 
 57 
 
 Sir Ulic s eyes dilated with momentary surprise. After 
 a reflective pause, he said : It is not unreasonable that 
 
 Captain O’Byrne should wish to adopt his brother’s son. 
 Nevertheless, I flatter myself he will not deny the claim 
 of the boy’s maternal relative to share in the responsibility 
 of his education ; and when he shall learn that I am his 
 godfather, and that he has been named after my deceased 
 elder brother, it will strengthen my argument.” 
 
 Hugh held another opinion ; he knew enough of Cornabs 
 jealous nature, that would have all or none in the transac- 
 tion. Judiciously, however, he maintained silence; and 
 Sir Ulic, seating himself, drew Eveleen beside him, and 
 addressed himself to Eaymond, whose embrowned cheek 
 glowed with a livelier hue at the recollection of the 
 morning’s adventure with his relative. 
 
 ‘‘ What say you, my young Mars, to the proposal ; — will 
 you love your Uncle Ulic as well as your Uncle Oornal ?” 
 Eaymond, whose independent spirit had, with rude shock 
 that day been disturbed from its equilibrium, by a good 
 shaking bestowed upon him by his Uncle Oornal for 
 coming to breakfast with slippers down at heels, hair un- 
 kempt, and altogether in a happy state of unconscious 
 slovenliness, distracting to one who was a martinet in every 
 punctilio of propriety, answered without hesitation : ‘‘ I 
 think I’d like you better. Uncle Ulic.” 
 
 With gratified aspect. Sir Ulic turned to Eveleen. 
 “ And what says my niece Eveleen ? — Is not that your 
 name ? 
 
 Eveleen, who had not yet lost the shyness which, not- 
 withstanding her self-reliance, embarrassed her in presence 
 of a stranger, and who felt in addition much awe of this 
 stately Sir Ulic, who did not look as if he could be made 
 free with, like to her Uncle Oornal, cautiously replied, in 
 accent much improved by her brief intercourse with her 
 new friends, though still very prononcG : “ I’ll stay with 
 Uncle Oornal ; I won’t leave cousin Adorine.” 
 
 Sir Ulic folded his hands, and steadily contemplated 
 the child. He was not displeased at her election ; but 
 there was something in the decisive tone of the voice, and 
 resolute expression of the eye that engaged his attention. 
 
58 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Earnest, and yet a little diffident, it met his, with unquiver- 
 ing beam, as if with all its mental power condensed, 
 striving to gain an index to his character. Presently, 
 assuming an aggrieved air, while continuing his physio- 
 gnomic study, he responded, with tone modulated to 
 pathetic : Then you won’t love your Uncle Ulic?” 
 
 I didn't say that," she brusquely returned, changing 
 the play of her countenance to sympathy, and looking 
 wistful. 
 
 Then you will love me 
 Yes, if I like you." 
 
 Sir Ulic laughed ; — he did not often laugh. ‘‘ Then it 
 must be my care to win your favour. Pray, who is your 
 cousin Adorine ?" 
 
 ‘‘ She is my brother's only surviving child," said Hugh ; 
 and then he launched into an account of the circumstances 
 under which he had met Cornal, who, having in his child- 
 hood been carried to France, after the siege of Drogheda, 
 in which his father and several Irishmen had perished, 
 had only returned to Ireland within the last eight months 
 or so, and had lived since in retirement at CornaPs Court, 
 which, having belonged heretofore to the family, he had 
 purchased. 
 
 “ But he has come to town, I understand," said Sir 
 Ulic. 
 
 Yes ; he came with the De Courcys ; — we all came to- 
 gether. The De Courcys have taken a house in High- 
 street, and Cornal one in Thomas-street contiguous. I 
 have lodgings in Whitefriar-street ; but the children are 
 staying with their Uncle Cornal." 
 
 ‘‘ Then," said Sir Ulic, setting cake and wine before his 
 guests, “when my young friends have refreshed themselves, 
 I shall accompany you, if agreeable, to Captain O’Byrne’s, 
 for the twofold purpose of making his acquaintance through 
 your introduction, and to negotiate my plans with him." 
 
 To this proposal Hugh made no demur. Accordingly, 
 so soon as they had partaken of some refection, the party 
 se^ out, and speedily arrived at the residence of Cornal. 
 He was at home, and they were ushered into his presence. 
 
 With impatience, but entertaining no doubt as to the 
 
SIR XJLIC DE BURGH. 
 
 59 
 
 result of his interview with his kinsman, Cornal awaited 
 the return of Hugh, whiling away the time over some 
 journal of the day, which he flung aside on hearing ap- 
 proaching footsteps. He advanced to meet him, but halted 
 when, the portal unfolding. Sir Ulic de Burgh, with that 
 firm and easy step, affable mien, and gracious dignity, 
 which so distinguished him, approached. With rapid 
 glance at Hugh, he returned De Burgh’s salutation with 
 equal courtesy, but there was a shade of sternness on his 
 clear brow that endorsed the determination begotten of 
 the thought of his mind : Hugh has been unsuccessful. 
 
 De Burgh won’t relinquish his pretension ; neither will I.” 
 He waived his visitor to a chair with formal ceremony, that 
 contrasted coldly with the other’s genial urbanity and 
 kindly-expressed hope that an acquaintance commenced 
 under auspices so favourable might be the prelude to a 
 lasting friendship. Cornal bowed, and Sir Ulic continued : 
 “ My brother-in-law has, I understand, made you aware, 
 Captain O’Byrne, of my wish to charge myself with the 
 guardianship of my sister’s children, in conjunction with 
 you and with himself.’’ 
 
 Yes, Sir Ulic,” responded Cornal ; “ but Hugh must 
 also have informed you that I, their nearer kinsman, un- 
 willing to delegate the office to any other, have taken upon 
 myself the sole responsibility of promoting their interest. 
 I thank you, on their part, on that of my brother, and 
 myself, for your kind intention in their behalf.” 
 
 ‘‘ I may not gainsay your prior claim,” smiled Sir Ulic, 
 in his own matter-of-fact way ; nevertheless, must I 
 waive all right, must my title be set aside, to demonstrate 
 affection, or take part in advancing the offspring of a well- 
 beloved sister ? Bear in mind, I only ask to be admitted 
 as partner in the case.” 
 
 Comal’s brow darkened till a discontented gloom per- 
 vaded and marred every feature. ‘‘ What did this tor- 
 menting Sir Ulic mean ? What was his object in aspiring 
 to patronise his nephew ? What aim had he in view in 
 striving to monopolise the boy, to wean him away, and 
 weaken his sense of obligation and attachment to himself? 
 No ; he would not suffer it ; — he would have no intermed- 
 
60 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 dling of officious go-betweens in the business.^' Couching 
 such reflections in phrase balanced between negative 
 politeness and peremptory refusal, Oornal made answer : 
 “ Much it pains me, Sir IJlic, that prudential considera- 
 tions must influence me to decline assent to your proposal. 
 I cannot entertain it.'''' 
 
 ‘‘ Why so persisted Sir Ulic, with phlegmatic imper- 
 turbability, the Norman instinct of determination to van- 
 quish opposition waxing strong in his bosom. 
 
 ‘‘ Sir Ulic de Burgh,’^ replied Cornal, ignited by the 
 close friction of his colliding disputant, and drawing him- 
 self up with the air of an autocrat, “ if you compel me to 
 avow with candour sentiments which good taste and good 
 feeling would govern me to suppress, you may, perhaps, 
 regret having challenged me so far.” 
 
 “ I shall not regret to hear the truth, convey it in what 
 form you may ; I can take the consequence of my chal- 
 lenge,” returned the irrepressible De Burgh. 
 
 Cornal shrugged his shoulders, cast an irascible glance 
 at his cool, undiscomposed visitor, and gathering up all 
 his eloquence to launch out in a tide of declamation that 
 should silence him forever, began his prologue ; — 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh, what programme you would trace 
 out for the future of my nephew it boots not to inquire. 
 The traditions of all your race, your own exalted position 
 as an attache to the British Court and Government, too 
 plainly indicate the course you should pursue. My 
 nephew, one of a distinct nationality, the prestige of whose 
 glory yet hangs around its ruin, whom I have destined to 
 tread in the steps of his fathers, to perpetuate their tradi- 
 tions, to emulate their patriotism, and transmit their fame 
 to future generations, you would train up in alien preju- 
 dice, in the atmosphere of an English court, where neces- 
 sarily he should imbibe those sentiments which should 
 denationalise his character and pervert his career. You 
 would engraft upon a stock which, despite our fusion now 
 under one monarchy, we can never cease to regard as 
 hostile ; for we are not reconciled to the yoke imposed 
 upon us, nor have we forgotten the scourge that decimated 
 our people and scattered our kinsmen exiles into foreign 
 
SIR ULIC DE BURGH, 
 
 61 
 
 lands. Never, with my consent, shall one of my blood be 
 fashioned into the retainer of a British ruler or a Norman 
 noble. No ! no ! ” he continued, more as soliloquising to 
 himself, and while fixing a thoughtful eye upon Hugh, 
 leaning his stalwart form against the mantel-piece, and 
 looking absorbed in concern for the issue of the discussion, 
 
 I love not this Anglo-Norman pedigree. Five centuries’ 
 experience too well have proved we never can assimilate 
 without detriment to our own interest. We have suffered 
 much — very much — by the connection.'' 
 
 Sir Ulic heard Cornal without interruption to the 
 close ; then with impassioned gesture, and in tone sonorous 
 with emotion, he returned, a smile flitting athwart his 
 features : 
 
 Captain O’Byrne, we should be good friends, you and 
 I. Hitherto had I any doubt of our future footing I have 
 none now, perceiving that maugrey outward accidents, we 
 are kindred spirits. I have heard your objections, and I 
 honour them. But tell me, my friend, while you make this 
 just — oh, I regret to have to admit it ! — just impeachment 
 against our blameful Anglo-Norman invaders, have you no 
 reservation ? — do you allow no exception ? Have there been 
 none who, through a course of generations, became blood of 
 your blood, absorbed in common nationality, identified in 
 the same interests and sympathies ; — ay, history’s page 
 chronicles it, ‘ more Irish than yourselves.’ Have we not 
 worshipped at the same shrine ? Have we not stood 
 shoulder to shoulder with you on the battle field, as again 
 we may, and mingled our blood in vindication of the one 
 cause ? Have we not suffered in the general ruin of the 
 land what, though Lords of the Pale, I grant you, did 
 not all coalesce with us, and then but seldom ?” 
 
 They never did,” interposed Cornal. “ They wasted 
 the land with internecine feud of their own. Until driven 
 by the goading lash of their mother country, never did they 
 side with us, those Lords of the Pale, not even where policy 
 shpuld have dictated union for their own defence, and the 
 nation’s weal ; besides they capped their recreancy and sealed 
 their ruin, in the time of the swindling Charles, by break- 
 ing off from the National Confederacy, and, despite the 
 
62 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 protestations of Rinuccini, the Nuncio, making terms for 
 themselves with the sacrilegious Inchiquin, of St. Leger 
 graft, and the Ormondists, and leaguing with Preston to 
 crush Owen Roe O’Neill.^^ 
 
 “They did responded Sir Ulic, “and small guerdon 
 rewarded their delinquency. When Ormonde fled to 
 France, and the sword of the regicide waved blood-stained 
 over every hill and valley of the island ; — in those terrible 
 days, when the dragons’ teeth, planted by the first James, 
 sprung up armed men to mingle in the strife and make 
 war upon his sons, were there not found some of the line of 
 Clanricard to redeem the lost fame of many ? My father 
 and my kindred freely shed their blood in the phalanx of 
 Milesian valour arrayed on many a fleld against the foe.” 
 
 “ Well, well ! ” ejaculated the flery Cornal, who, having 
 vented himself, had been gradually cooling down and 
 tempered to more plastic mettle beneath the calm action of 
 the powerful mind, and intellectual acumen brought to 
 bear upon his. He began to feel not quite so implacable 
 in his regard. True, he had not relented an iota in his 
 purpose to insist upon the exclusive possession of his 
 nephew ; but, this point adjusted, he felt a disposition to 
 “ cotton ” amicably to Sir Ulic, whose insidious advance 
 had more than he was aware of undermined his position. 
 Gratified and disarmed, he smiled. Shrewd Sir Ulic saw 
 the ice was breaking, and with it the ground sliding from 
 beneath his feet, so suffered it to work its way. 
 
 “True, indeed,” resumed Cornal. “Many gallant soldiers 
 of your name, I am proud to number among my associates 
 and friends in the brigade in which I serve ; nor should I 
 misconstrue of your high personal claim, Sir Ulic, to honour 
 and respect, from the station you hold ; and methinks, 
 auguring from passing events, much time may not transpire 
 ere we shall be called upon to signalise our prowess upon 
 the field of war. What say you ? ” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Sir Ulic ; “ there is ground for presumption 
 that Milesian and Norman banners will again have to 
 fraternise in the cause of loyalty.” 
 
 Dieu ! ” exclaimed Cornal, pettishly. “ Were it not 
 that this English king has appealed to our chivalry, 
 
SIR ULIC DE BURGH. 
 
 63 
 
 Norman banners should this time back our company. We 
 are tired of all this protracted strife are we never to be 
 quit of it ? 
 
 What, soldier!,^ smiled De Burgh, then gravely added: 
 But this is an appeal to conscience as well as to allegiance, 
 if we would not have penal days renewed/^ 
 
 That should not concern me,’^ said Oornal ; I would 
 return to France.^' 
 
 I would deny your right to do so returned De Burgh ; 
 ‘‘ So long as you could wield sword, or cast the weight of 
 your influence into the scale, your country’s need should 
 claim your aid ; — we are not meant to live exclusively^ 
 selflshly, for ourselves. 
 
 Cornal stared at his Mentor, who had unconsciously 
 assumed a tone of authority. He was not used to be 
 lectured, and found it irksome, the more because he felt 
 the force of the sentiment. The two children, till now 
 sitting quiet auditors at the window, made a sudden diver- 
 sion in the conversation, Raymond enthusiastically ex- 
 claiming : 1 hope there’ll be war Uncle Ulic ; I’ll be a 
 
 soldier, nothing else. Uncle Oornal.” Same instant Eve- 
 leen, crying out, Here’s Adorine ! ” was off with a bound 
 to meet her cousin, before the door had opened to the 
 thundering carriage knock that shook the house. 
 
 ‘‘ Come back Eveleen I ” shouted Cornal. Eveleen 
 obeyed, crestfallen. — ‘‘ Can you not be such a hoiden ? 
 You are worse than May and Bella de Courcy. Why did 
 you keep on your pelisse ? Where are your gloves ? ” 
 “My hands got too hot, Uncle Cornal, and I took them 
 off, and lost them,” she answered, with lugubrious tone, 
 while casting a deprecating glance at her very red and 
 weather-stained hands. 
 
 “ And did you appear before your Uncle Sir Ulic like 
 a Hottentot, without gloves ? ” 
 
 Eveleen darted a rueful look at the smiling Sir Ulic, 
 who had noticed the circumstances, but made no remark. 
 Though of a stolid temperament she could be stimulated 
 to anger. This was the flrst time within the period of her 
 limited existence she had met with rebuke, and in 
 wrathful protest, two big tears stood glimmering in her eyes, 
 
64 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 but ere they had decided whether to descend or retreat, 
 Adorine, “adorned like sweet May,'^ entered bright, 
 radiant, and smiling. After due introduction, and courteous 
 greeting, she turned from her father's and her uncle^^ proud 
 gaze, and the pleased contemplation of Sir Ulic, to the 
 pouting Eveleen. Something she perceived was wrong, 
 and every feature expressed swift concern. 
 
 “ Show me,^' said her father. — “ Have you gloves on ? 
 Adorine playfully held up her hand, neatly set off with that 
 indispensable adjunct to elegant toilet. This sprung the 
 mine. 
 
 “ I say, Eaymond,^^ burst forth the sobbing Eveleen, 
 “ I’m tired of all this grandeur we’ve got into ; I’d rather 
 be at home feeding the chickens, and rowing on the lake 
 with you and Ownie, and running about the hills with 
 Elphin ; — and I’ll go back home, I will. I’ll only be sorry 
 
 to leave you Adorine, acuisle ma .” She halted, catching 
 
 Adorine’s dismayed eye. More than once she had been 
 admonished to refrain from expressions of affection in the 
 vernacular. 
 
 Sir Ulic, highly amused, interposed for the relief 
 of all the discontented parties. Waving back Hugh, 
 who advanced, with the intention of leading Eveleen from 
 the saloon, and drawing her to himself, he said: Ma ros 
 
 geal duhhy hlat na fin ! ”* I am glad to find you speak 
 your native tongue, though now unfashionable, once the 
 dialect of kings.’'— Eveleen's eye brightened. “ — I speak 
 Irish, too, aroon manima ; so we shall have many a chat to 
 ourselves, and puzzle the dunces.” 
 
 Eveleen laughed — the same quiet laugh, replete with 
 humour, that characterised Sir Ulic, and stole a peep of 
 arch malice at her Uncle Oornal, and another of sportive 
 frolic at her cousin, whose eyes, riveted upon Sir Ulic, 
 beamed with an expression of troubled conjecture. 
 
 “ You are not skilled in the ancient tongue ; so we shall 
 not fear you when we hold our tete-d-tetesfi he smiled. 
 “ You may sit by and listen ; — we may be criticising your 
 own toilet, and you will never be the wiser.” 
 
 My dark -haired rose, blossom of all that is fair. 
 
SIR ULIC I)E BURGH. 
 
 65 
 
 But, Sir Ulic,'^ she returned, with pleading look and 
 tone, “ you have not, I hope, compromised to leave Ray- 
 mond, and take Eveleen from us ; — I really could not let 
 you have her/^ 
 
 Sir TJlic, gazing very seriously at the petitioner, main- 
 tained an unsatisfactory silence. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh ! pray, Sir Ulic,^’ she entreated with kindling eye 
 and flushing cheek, ‘‘ you could not think of it.’’ 
 
 ‘‘What shall I say to this irresistible pleader ? ” said Sir 
 Ulic, looking at Eveleen, who laughed. 
 
 “ You needn’t be afraid, Adorine ; Uncle Ulic doesn’t 
 want to take me away.” » 
 
 “ Then, ma petite^ for what were you crying ? ” 
 
 “ Them horrid gloves ; — I hate gloves.” 
 
 Adorine looked mystifled. But before the subject was 
 elucidated, Lady Tudor de Rivers, with her sons, Plan- 
 tagenet and Harvey, were announced. Sir Ulie’s counten- 
 ance, which for a time had worn an expression of unclouded 
 serenity, and expanded, as it were, in the sunshine of the 
 hour, swiftly collapsed in lines of cold solemnity ; and a 
 shade of melancholy seemed to permeate his whole aspect, 
 as with a ceremonious hauteur of manner he returned their 
 equally formal salutation to himself. Presently he rose 
 to take leave ; and having again embraced the children, and 
 bestowed a parting gaze of earnest interest upon Cornal 
 O’Byrne and Adorine, he withdrew — troubled with a strange 
 presentiment of some undeflned misfortune looming in the 
 future, and haunting his soul, like a twilight shadow 
 eclipsing the sun, and darkening the recess of some deep 
 glen — then slowly wended homeward, not dissatisfied with 
 the result of his visit, though the business upon which he 
 had come, had neither been negotiated nor decided. He 
 felt the preliminary step had been accomplished. More- 
 over, with the skill of a consummate metaphysician, he had 
 analysed the character of Cornal, and pronounced it with 
 some alloy in the gold, and, though of less compact mental 
 aplomhy a counterpart of his own in high spirit, solid prin- 
 ciple, and honourable sentiment ; but captious, exigeatU, 
 egotistical, flexible to influence, and not proof against 
 flattery ; hence, once ingratiated in favour, to which he had 
 
66 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 made overture so successful, he felt little doubt of wielding 
 him to his wishes. Meantime, Eaymond was safe in such 
 tutelage ; while for Eveleen, he could wish no better 
 associate than Adorine, with whom he was charmed. 
 As for Hugh, he considered him merely in the light of 
 an amiably disposed, well-meaning man, simple, unpre- 
 tentious, endowed wdth good common sense, and weighted 
 with no superfluity of intellectual capacity likely to inspire 
 him with ambition to essay a flight beyond the safe level 
 of dull plodding mediocrity, and pretty sure to follow with 
 stolidity on a track marked out for him by the ukase 
 of circumstance. But those new-comers — De Rivers and 
 Plantagenet Tudor — like a chilling north blast, freshly 
 sprung up and penetrating the warm recess of a bright, 
 sunny, spring bower, he felt their presence cast a dark 
 shadow over his heart, and send the bounding life-tide 
 flowing cold and slow through every vein. Why was it ? 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LADY DE KIVERS RENEVS^S MATRIMONIAL ANGLING EOR 
 HER SONS. 
 
 “All houses -wherein men have lived and died 
 Are haunted houses. Through the open doors 
 The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, 
 
 With feet that make no sound upon the floors. 
 
 The stranger at my fireside cannot see 
 
 The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear.” — Longfellow. 
 
 It will be seen that the Lady de Rivers, in her maternal 
 anxiety for her sons’ interest, lost no time in being before- 
 hand with any competitors) intent upon aggrandising their 
 fortunes by the same means ; — they) the duteous ofispring, 
 quite concurring in her plans for their welfare and advan- 
 
LADY DE RIVERS, ETC. 
 
 67 
 
 tageous settlement in life. It was, therefore, an unexpected 
 surprise to all parties, and annoying as it was unexpected, 
 to encounter, on the very threshold of their enterprise. Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh, concerning whose friendly dispositions, 
 and facile character they entertained sore misgivings — for 
 reasons, perhaps, best known to themselves. However, the 
 very cordial greeting of Captain O’Byrne, who at once 
 recognised in the two gentlemen friends those who had been 
 of the party that had aided him upon the occasion of his 
 conflict with Major Grub, was some panacea to their 
 uneasiness ; and in a very few moments, with the chartered 
 freedom of social equality, making themselves quite at 
 home, the trio commenced their diplomatic tactics with a 
 finesse of skill that proved them worthy a place in the 
 cabinet of the most intricate politician, and would have 
 rendered them able auxiliaries to a statesman in the most 
 tangled and complicated web of intrigue. Plantagenet 
 and Harvey almost exclusively addressed themselves to 
 Cornal. Hugh had taken his departure shortly after Sir 
 Ulic, whom he had seen to the hall-door, while Lady de 
 Rivers entirely engrossed Adorine, whom her criticising 
 judgment at once deflned to be highly cultivated by 
 superior education, flnished in social accomplishments, 
 very unsophisticated in worldly wisdom, and delightfully 
 simple and artless — in fact, a little absurdly natural and 
 inexperienced. Her attention did not lose sight of Eveleen, 
 sitting at a little distance dangling her feet, not looking 
 abashed in the least, but obviously untrained, and un- 
 trammelled, making her own deep, silent observations on 
 all round ; and that handsome, strange-looking youth, 
 coiled up in a recess of the window, poring over a book of 
 pictures, yet evidently with greedy ear taking in the 
 conversation of everyone. She was not long till she had 
 satisfied her curiosity on this point, and then her mental 
 reflections changed into open admiration of the incon- 
 gruities, while her acute investigation, sought by ocular 
 evidence, carefully scanning every particular, to arrive at 
 some estimate of Cornal O’Byrne’s wealth. That it must 
 be considerable, the affluence of luxury apparent in his 
 entourage^ and independent bearing, assured her ; where- 
 
68 
 
 LEIXLiP CASTLE. 
 
 fore with renewed solicitude she paid court to the heiress, 
 whom she began to think more and more attractive, and 
 marked with pleasure that the face of her sons, especially 
 of Harvey, wore a satisfied expression that seemed to 
 indicate their participation in her sentiments. The conver- 
 sation, for a while localised, by-and-by became difiused and 
 general, and Lady de Rivers, turned from Adorine, whom 
 she had ere long sounded and fathomed to her heart’s 
 content, to ask Captain O’Byrne by what strange accident 
 it had come to pass they had never hitherto had the 
 pleasure of meeting, and whether he was not acquainted 
 with the Fitz Adelms ? 
 
 Cornal advanced with smiling brow. ** I have not many 
 acquaintances in the neighbourhood of Dublin, Lady de 
 Rivers, nor have I the pleasure of knowing the Fitz 
 Adelms ; though I understand from your sons that I owe 
 a debt of thanKS to Sir Athelstane, whose hardy interven- 
 tion with them in a recent afiray with one of those Round- 
 head bullies probably saved me a broken skull. No ; I 
 may say, since my return from France, save beyond the 
 intimacy of a few, who shared exile like myself, I am a 
 stranger in myt atherland, and have not sought to cultivate 
 society.” 
 
 How very sad ! ” murmured Lady de Rivers, drooping 
 her head to one side with sentimental demonstration. 
 
 And you, fair lady,'’ said Harvey to Adorine, ‘‘have 
 thus lain hidden from all human ken, a fiower pining in 
 the wilderness.” 
 
 “Oh, no. Sir Harvey!” interposed Adorine, smiling. 
 “ If you will, a wood-nymph, reigning over sylvan plains 
 and woodlands, a queen of fiowers — no insignificant plea- 
 sure, I assure you.” 
 
 Harvey bowed low. “ Will it not better suit your 
 ambition to reign queen of hearts in the gay resorts of 
 fashion, the Olympus of gods and goddesses 
 
 “ I have no ambition of the kind,” she laughed. 
 
 “ No !” put in Plantagenet, with a sly twinkle in his 
 keen eye, and mocking smile on his curved lip, that seemed 
 to elongate the line of his beak-like nose till it met his 
 chin. Do you mean to insinuate you are above all such 
 
LADY DE RIVERS, ETC. 
 
 69 
 
 sublunary vanity ; some cold idol, set in shrine, inaccessible 
 to nearer approach than that of mere pilgrim worship? 
 Why not rather choose to emulate the example of your 
 charming cousin, Maud Fitz Eustace 
 
 Adorine looked inquisitive. I don’t know that Maud 
 sets me any example. I called to see her this morning, 
 but she had gone out with the De Courcys.^^ 
 
 Then do you not know she is engaged to Sir Athel- 
 stane Fitz Adelm?” said Lady de Eivers, sweetly. 
 
 A gesture of surprise passed between Adorine and her 
 father. Cornal gave a low whistle. 
 
 Maud Fitz Eustace engaged to Fitz Adelm ! Why, 
 her aunt and guardian. Lady de Oourcy, had laid it out 
 that Maud, when of age, should be allied to Sir Lionel 
 Aylmer. How’s that ? Do you know anything of it, 
 Adorine 
 
 ‘‘No, father. I only know Sir Eeginald and Aunt De 
 Courcy speak of Lionel Aylmer; — and yet I don’t know how 
 it may be. I have heard Maud does not care for Sir 
 Lionel.’^ 
 
 “ I doubt if it be more than an idle rumour. Lady de 
 Eivers, unless you have good authority to the contrary,” 
 said Cornal, after a little reflection. 
 
 Before he could conclude his sentence the portal again 
 unfolded, and a drove of visitors were ushered in, viz., 
 Elizabeth Fitz Eufus and her sister, with their brother, 
 Mr. William Fitz Eufus, all of whom Lady de Eivers 
 •greeted affectionately, because, though her maternal in- 
 stincts told her full well they had come on intent some- 
 what similar to her own, she knew Fitz Eufus could not 
 long stand in the arena of competition with showy Planta- 
 genet and handsome Harvey. Much more were her 
 apprehensions enlisted when almost immediately following 
 them, in another batch, came Sir Harold Sigurd, with old 
 Lady Fitz Stephen, a mutual kinswoman of his and Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh’s. But if Lady de Eivers and her sons felt 
 dissatisfied with this second intrusion, how much more was 
 Fitz Eufus himself disconcerted. He had said that morn- 
 ing to his sisters ; 
 
70 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Let’s call to-day, and get the start of other visitors ; 
 first impressions, you know — ha, ha, ha !” 
 
 So they called, and there he stood vis-a-vis with one of 
 all others whom he most wished to avoid, Harold Sigurd. 
 
 Fitz Eufus was a small man, in every sense of the word, 
 physically and mentally ; and as we are told that in Borne 
 of old small men had their patrons, and great men their 
 clients, so between Fitz Eufus, Plantagenet Tudor, and 
 De Eivers, there was a straight bond of sympathy and 
 union which had never slackened under any pressure ; but 
 that sense of his own littleness, to which he did not often 
 yield, forced itself upon his conviction whenever he came 
 in contact with Sir Harold. In the presence of this 
 colossus he felt himself dwindled to a pigmy, annihilated 
 to insignificance, and he disliked him for this suflS.eient 
 reason with a zealous hatred. In this same feeling his 
 patrons strongly coincided, for they also, in other parti- 
 culars, felt the superiority they could not explain, and 
 imputed it to every cause but the true or just one — a noble 
 mind, developed and brought to maturity in a masterly 
 school. As for Sir Ulic de Burgh, it may well be believed 
 he was no favourite in this coterie, but he stood aloof from 
 their jealous hatred, for one simple reason — they feared him 
 too much. It was generally a feeling of awe De Burgh 
 inspired rather than that of any other. Yet more than 
 these felt this impression. Cornal O’Byrne and Fitz Adelm 
 owned the infiuence of his supremacy, though men them- 
 selves of no despicable parts. So, thus it is, in a forest of 
 lordly timber, towering above the brambles, one tree will 
 still be found, whose stamina has lifted it to predominate 
 over all. The ceremony of greeting and introduction being 
 gone through, and everyone seated, after some digression in 
 courteous interchange of compliment, the interrupted sub- 
 ject of Maud’s engagement was renewed by Lady de 
 Eivers saying to Elizabeth Fitz Eufus : — 
 
 Of course you know that Maud Fitz Eustace is en- 
 gaged to Sir At heist ane Fitz Adelm 
 
 I did not hear the report,” returned Elizabeth, in a 
 coarse, husky tone of voice; but I guessed it would be so. 
 
LADY DE RIVERS, ETC. 
 
 71 
 
 Athelstane seemed quite infatuated, and paid her very open 
 attention upon every occasion.’’ 
 
 That surprises me, somewhat/' said Sir Harold, who 
 had contrived by some strategical manoeuvre in the shuffl- 
 ing of the cards to oust Harvey de Eivers from his position 
 and seat himself next to Adorine. 
 
 Why should it surprise you asked Anne Fitz Eufus, 
 bluntly. ‘‘|Maud Fitz Eustace is a very nice girl ; — good 
 fortune, good connections, and all that. Athelstane might 
 do worse.’' 
 
 I admit that,” replied Sir Harold, with lively eyes, 
 shifting from one to another of the party. He had a stone 
 in his sling, and was meditating his aim in fair acquit- 
 ment of many a sharp arrow discharged at himself. “Sir 
 Athelstane could not but admire one so lovely as Maud 
 Fitz Eustace ; and as to his paying her attention, the 
 courtesy exacted by all laws of chivalry must not be mis- 
 construed. No ; I know my friend Fitz Adelm and his 
 sound Protestant principles too well to credit such rumour. 
 He will never condescend to alliance with a papist, or to 
 inflict upon his sisters a connection with such pariahs, as 
 all good upholders of Eeformation and innovation hold us 
 Eoman Catholics to be.'’ 
 
 The bolt sped, but on the way split into fragments, and 
 struck upon every heart like the shock of a battery, for a 
 moment causing a torpid silence, from which Lady de 
 Eivers, trembling to her inmost depths for the success of 
 her darling scheme, made response in the tone of a spirit 
 deeply wounded, while stealing a sinister glance at Cornal 
 O’Byrne’s ignited countenance : 
 
 “ La, now, Sir Harold, what an evil opinion you harbour 
 of us Protestants, to assert so boldly we are swayed by 
 such intolerant prejudice! Oh, no ! believe'’ — in a dismal 
 quaver — “ that much as we may deplore that want of unity 
 in religious opinion which would conduce so much to the 
 happiness of all, we are actuated but by one sentiment of 
 profound love for, and interest in, our Eoman Catholic 
 fellow-subjects, who, I will further add, are quite right in 
 adhering to their convictions, if they be not given the light 
 to see their error,” 
 
72 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 You do not agree with Dr. Dopping then, who holds 
 another dogma?’' said Sir Harold, with suavity. 
 
 The Lord Bishop of Meath is highly orthodox, but his 
 opinions may be a little extreme/^ looking impalpable 
 daggers at the oflBcious, and, no doubt, self-interested 
 meddler. 
 
 At this juncture an ally rushed to her aid whose indis- 
 creet zeal all but ruined her. We have said William Fitz 
 Eufus always felt himself very small in presence of Sir 
 Harold Sigurd ; but we omitted to say that Fitz Rufus, 
 when backed up by his patrons and friends in group around 
 him, lost sight of the disparity of his forces, and felt quite 
 braced up and equal to cope with him or any other Gloliath, 
 no matter what the proportion of his intellectual calibre. 
 So with bosom fanned to combustion by the insidious 
 charge of his foe, and burning to signalise its prowess, by 
 his ignominious overthrow, he sprung armed cap-d-pie into 
 the list. His ideas being large, and his head too small to 
 contain more than one at a time, he forgot his auditory 
 composed more than one of Sir Harold^s creed, and gushed 
 forth the animus : — 
 
 Quite true, Lady de Rivers ; there’s no doubt at all 
 about it. It is we Protestants who are the aggrieved party, 
 and who have a right to complain of popish bigotry, and 
 fanaticism.” — He waxed so eloquent, he saw not the startled 
 looks, he heeded not the warning eyes of his friends and 
 of his sisters, but swept along like a torrent. — In proof 
 of it, just review the acts of popish J ames while on the 
 throne, persecuting the unhappy Protestants, giving every 
 preferment to those of his own persuasion, till it became 
 unendurable, and he got himself drummed out of the 
 country. Yes, a very wise man is Dr. Dopping, and very 
 logical his conclusion — that whenever the Catholics come 
 into patronage the Church is in danger, and the only way 
 to secure its safety is by keeping our heel on the neck of 
 Rome, and crushing down popery.” 
 
 Here Fitz Rufus paused to draw breath, to look about, 
 and note w^hat effect his speech had on the assembly. To 
 his astonishment hesaw Lady de Rivers and his sisters gazing 
 on him with looks of reproach, and Piantagenet and H^^rvey 
 
LADY DE RIVERS, ETC. 
 
 73 
 
 sour and gloomy. What did they mean ? He glanced at 
 Comal O^Byrne indignant and haughty, and at Sir Harold 
 with satirical smile animating lip and brow, while intently 
 he watched Adorine’s varying countenance, and dilated eye 
 of utter amazement. All at once the light flashed upon 
 Fitz Rufus, and he saw the irretrievable blunder into which 
 his egotism had betrayed him ; the unsteady light of 
 excitement vanished from his cheek, and left a shade 
 of yellow, sickening into green, in its stead. Elizabeth 
 Fitz Rufus, with more ready tact, came to her brother’s 
 assistance. 
 
 ‘‘ Of course no one here takes as personal the remarks 
 that are only intended to apply to the aggregate. In 
 allusion to a system, individuals must,^^ she said, ‘‘ always 
 bear exemption. 
 
 ‘^Certainly, certainly, that’s my meaning,” cried Fitz 
 Rufus, eagerly grasping at the straw flung out ; and in the 
 agony of his endeavour to amend his position, he stammered: 
 ‘‘ Don’t suppose ’tis the papists — the Catholics we complain 
 of, but — the — the — the system, the teaching. Now if 
 Rome would but alter that, and lop-off a few — just a few 
 of her superstitious practices, you know — just be a— a 
 rational, and pare down some of her dogmas to the sense — 
 to the understanding of people. Why, there’s no denying 
 some of her customs are beautiful — the Carnival, for 
 instance — and her a — a fetes^ and religious processions, and 
 all that kind of thing, quite edifying, and so forth.” He 
 paused again, uncertain what to say, for the moral horizon 
 had not cleared, 
 
 Go on, my friend,” cried Sir Harold, with ironical 
 mirth. Explain yourself fully, or I shall begin to think 
 you have designs on Rome. Stranger things have come 
 to pass. I have known Jesuits in disguise, and it may 
 perchance befall me to come on you some day trudging to 
 heaven in the penitential garb of St. Francis, or preaching 
 in the Church of the Carmelites, or hearing confessions in 
 Whitefriar-street.” 
 
 ‘‘ Never ! You’ll never see that day ! ’’ solemnly 
 exclaimed Fitz Rufus, striking his breast, to give emphasis 
 to his protest, 
 
74 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Come, nonsence ; cried Sir Harold. My motto is, 
 and ever will be, ^ Nil cUsperandum ; ' and you have 
 inaugurated your first step by that most papistical stroke 
 of your breast. You are on the high-road to Eome/' 
 Here Eveleen and Eaymond, entering into the spirit of 
 the fun, gave a shout of laughter. They drew very close 
 to Sir Harold ; for those who make merriment soon 
 ingratiate themselves with children. 
 
 You tw'o shall be the first to go to confession,’’ laughed 
 Harold, seizing Eveleen. 
 
 No ; you’ll go first,” she retorted, merrily ; Adorine 
 next, and then Uncle Cornal.” 
 
 Fitz Eufus stood up angrily muttering between his set 
 teeth what sounded like Pack o’ fools ! — confounded hum* 
 bug ! ” But the electric spark had flashed on, catching 
 from one to another, till the saloon was one scene of 
 laughter. 
 
 ‘^By the way, Harold,” said Harvey de Eivers, inhis 
 own smooth insinuating accents, ^‘there’s one thing in 
 your Church immensely excites my wonder — that a lot of 
 such manly set should club together, get on frocks and cowls, 
 shut themselves up like nuns in a cloister, and in this quaint 
 fashion masquerade among themselves. What’s the mean- 
 ing of it, in the name of common sense ? You must own 
 there be some abstruse enigmas in Catholic doctrine ? ” 
 
 So abstruse,” returned Sir Harold, his visage expanding 
 with mirth, that without the aid of microscopic glass 
 one must despair of their solution.” 
 
 ^‘Pve a notion,” said Harvey — ^‘I’ll disguise myself 
 en dame^ some day introduce myself to the Carmelites, and 
 make love to the Prior. What fun to create an uproar in 
 the sanctum sanctorum^ and behold the terrified amazement 
 of every face ! ” 
 
 ‘^Let me know when you set out on the exploit, that I 
 may enjoy the fun of seeing you exorcised through the 
 nearest door or window,” said Sir Harold. ‘‘It were a 
 spectacle to outdo harlequin.” 
 
 “ Pray, gentlemen, a truce with buffoonery,” interposed 
 Lady de Eivers, “ and return to our subject. Captain 
 O’Byrne very judiciously questions the authority upon 
 
LADY DE RIVERS, ETC. 
 
 75 
 
 which is grounded the report of Maud’s engagement. I 
 am happy to have it in my power to satisfy him, and to 
 refute the exceedingly improper aspersion wherewith Sir 
 Harold has thought fit to malign our spirit of Protestant 
 tolerance and liberality, by acquainting him that it was 
 from Sir Athelstane Fitz Adelm^s sister, Eleanor, I have 
 my information.” 
 
 It was now Sir Harold’s turn to look blank and perplexed. 
 Lady deEi vers perceived the discomfiture of her foe, and like 
 a skilful general pushed forward to the overthrow before he 
 coul d rally from the stupor which appeared to have seized him . 
 
 Neither,” she added, is this a solitary instance of our 
 willingness to acknowledge desert, and cement friendly 
 relations with all such of our Roman Catholic neighbours, 
 whose high worth has claim upon our appreciation. I could 
 adduce many more, and hope to augment my argument 
 by further proof.”— (She looked bewitching smiles at Captain 
 O’Byrne, and at Adorine.) — “When one meets with pre- 
 eminence one must pay the tribute of homage.” 
 
 “ Just so, Lady de Rivers,” returned Harold, driven to 
 his wits’ end by the cool audacity and wily address of her 
 ladyship. “Do not, I pray you, wrong me by mis- 
 interpretation. I never designed to accuse those of your 
 Church of want of good, sound, practical wisdom. I am 
 prompt to own they have excellent lucidity of judgment to 
 discriminate between what is of value and what is useless. 
 No merchant, choosing and selecting his merchandise, 
 exercises more sagacity in separating the intrinsic from the 
 rubbish than they in distinguishing the unit from the 
 mass. Hence it comes to pass that when a dowered beauty, 
 an estated heir, or any other fortune-favoured magnate, 
 attracts notice the claim is at once allowed, and the subject 
 honoured by every patronage. Is it not so ? ” 
 
 Lady de Rivers had great command of her feelings ; 
 nevertheless, the wrath she vainly strove to repress, surging 
 upward like the ocean-waked from its repose at the voice 
 of the storm, betrayed itself on the surface. Her eye 
 glowed, her cheek burned. Not deigning to respond to 
 her adversary, she dolorously sighed : — 
 
 “ ’Tis in vain to argue with prejudice. It seems we 
 
76 
 
 LEIXUP CASTLE. 
 
 Protestants must submit to obloquy, and to be reviled with 
 unjust reproach. But why complain? Is it not in 
 Scripture that the elect shall suffer persecution from their 
 brethren.'’ 
 
 Were you a mailed warrior in lieu of a fair lady I 
 would break a lance with you on this topic/' said the un- 
 relenting Harold, not moved one iota by the suggestive 
 appeal of a snowy lawn handkerchief. He was now 
 mounted on his hobby, and showed every indication of 
 riding it till he had won the race. 
 
 Plantagenet, roused by the challenge from the lethargy 
 which had hitherto spell-bound him, advanced into the 
 circus, and taking up the gauntlet said : Here I am ! ’' 
 
 Well ? ” was the laconic rejoinder. 
 
 ‘‘Far be it from me to wound the sensibilities of 
 any, or stir up bad blood, or foment quarrel,’' said 
 Plantagenet, with slow, measured intonation ; “ but 
 you will pardon me if I contradict you, Sir Harold, 
 and maintain that we Protestants are in the minority, 
 and that for the last three or four years you Catholics have 
 been in the ascendant. I do not mean to charge you 
 with using your advantage cruelly, but you have used it 
 unjustly. Youhave monopolised all government patronage, 
 lucrative employment, posts of emolument and honour ; 
 we have been treated with neglect and contumely. I 
 challenge anyone to disprove my assertion, that we have 
 been much wronged, and are to-day completely at the 
 mercy of our Catholic antagonists ; — and you must admit, 
 therefore, it is we who incur danger and suffer persecution.” 
 
 “ Sir Plantagenet,’' replied Sir Harold, gravely, “ what 
 I may admit, or you deny, boots little. There is between 
 us an umpire, whose decision must ever settle all contro- 
 versy on this question. History is the recording angel 
 whose page can never be obliterated. Eyes that have 
 wept, hearts that have bled, are now dust, and speak no 
 more ; but registered in the annals of our country, when 
 you and I are in our graves, posterity, reading of the 
 bloody enactments of Queen Elizabeth, to drag a nation 
 into apostasy, the penal laws of J ames and Charles, their 
 confiscations and murders, the wholesale butchery anfi 
 
LADY DE RIVERS, ETC. 
 
 77 
 
 massacres of Cromwell to exterminate our race — these put 
 side by side with your grievances — will give an impartial 
 verdict, and it will not be in your favour.'" 
 
 ‘‘ WhaCs the good of ripping up all those old sores now ?” 
 sighed Lady de Eivers. “You are worse, I protest, than 
 gloomy Sir Ulic, who loves to moan in the same strain.” 
 
 “Sir Ulic and I have equal reason,” retorted Harold, 
 warmly. “ I can appeal to our great aunt here, Lady 
 Fitz Stephen. She can tell you how it is we stand 
 brotherless in the world. She can tell you of our kindred 
 murdered, and shrieking children torn from mother’s 
 bosoms, and carried in slave-gangs to fill English coflFers 
 with the gold for which they w’ere bartered to servi- 
 tude, or sold to infamy — the best blood and flower of our 
 land — to foreign and ill-conditioned masters." 
 
 “ Yes, Harold, my dear,” here broke in the mild, low 
 voice of Lady Fitz Stephen ; “ it is a harrowing memory. 
 Pray, don’t renew it.” 
 
 Harold bowed his head, and was silent. 
 
 “I wonder, Harold, you never think of getting mar- 
 ried ?” exclaimed Elizabeth Fitz Eufus, in abrupt resolve 
 to give a turn to the conversation. 
 
 “ How do you know I don’t think of it ?” smiled Sir 
 Harold : “ I’m waiting for Ulic to start.” 
 
 “ Oh, if you wait for Sir Ulic, your market won’t be 
 improved,” said Lady de Eivers. “ I don’t know what 
 woman would endure for an hour his domineering manner 
 and haughty mien. A perfect tyrant is De Burgh. I 
 marvel you submit to be bored by him as you do, Sir 
 Harold." 
 
 “ When you love your tyrant for noble qualities that 
 you rarely find in others it oils the chains, and you give 
 in to it,” said Sir Harold, rising to take leave. 
 
 “ Psha ! some men are intended by nature to be slaves,” 
 soliloquised her ladyship, adjusting her veil. 
 
 Cornal O’Byrne rose simultaneously with his visitor. 
 His countenance was pale, thoughtful, and determined. 
 “ Will you confer a favour on me. Sir Harold ?” he said, 
 addressing the latter with intently earnest eye. 
 
 “ Siy Senor — if possible.” 
 
 “ I dine with the Do Couroys to-morrow,” said Cornal. 
 
7S 
 
 LElXLll* CASTLE. 
 
 Then, Senovy we shall soon meet again,” said Sir 
 Harold ; for several are invited, among whom are my 
 friend Sir Ulic, and I.” 
 
 “ Trh hien. I shall be glad to meet you again, and Sir 
 Ulic ; I did not know he was acquainted with my friends.” 
 
 Nor is he. Sir Eeginald wishes for an introduction, 
 and, waiving ceremony, has invited him through me.” 
 
 Lady de Eivers glanced at her sons. 
 
 Bien ! I shall learn the actual truth of this affair from 
 my niece, Maud Fitz Eustace herself. Meanwhile, will 
 you oblige me by contradicting this report where you have 
 opportunity ; for I undertake to say that Sir Eeginald 
 and Lady De Courcy will not give consent to their ward 
 marrying a Protestant — neither will I.” 
 
 Here were the tables turned with a vengeance. Harold’s 
 mine had been sprung to some purpose. Lady De Eivers 
 looked every way, but chiefly splenetic — all her plans 
 overthrown ! If that horrid bigot would not give his 
 niece to a Protestant, how should she presume to hope for 
 his daughter. She felt much ilLused. Yes ; Protestants had 
 a deal to complain of ; but she would see she would not 
 let herself be easily baffled ; and then a gleam of light 
 shot athwart the horizon. Should Cornal prove stubborn, 
 she would have two strings to her bow. She resolved 
 then and there to call on the Fitz Adelms, and report her 
 tale. 
 
 The FitzEufuses, quite as exasperated, showed their 
 sense of the contumely put upon them by sullen demean- 
 our. 
 
 Plantagenet and his brother, cool and sneering, merely 
 smiled. They looked so phlegmatic and amused, that not 
 one could guess what they thought. 
 
 Quite softly Harvey turned to Harold, and said : 
 
 By-the-way, I thought you were in attendance on his 
 Grrace of Tyrconnel to-day 
 
 ‘‘Sir Ulic exchanged with me,” replied Harold, off- 
 handedly. 
 
 “Ah, ha ! ” That gave the clue to these deep-minded 
 men. Sir Ulic was in the field against them ; and Sir 
 Harold, his Prime Minister, deputed to watch and foil 
 their movements. 
 
THE HE COURCY’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 79 
 
 They looked in each other’s eyes, and, though neither 
 gave utterance to a syllable, they read each other’s 
 thoughts. 
 
 “ These adversaries must be circumvented by fair means 
 or by foul. They must be out-generalled.” 
 
 To her purpose staunch, Lady de Livers called on 
 the Fitz Adelms, accompanied by the Fitz Rufuses. The 
 sequel may be inferred. The Fitz Adelms did not call on 
 the O’Byrnes. So well did these ladies act their part that, 
 when the families later on were thrown into contact, they 
 met in no friendly spirit ; and in the ban was included 
 Ulic de Burgh, their kinsman. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE DE COURCY’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 “The spirit- world around this world of sense, 
 
 • Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere 
 
 Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense 
 A vital breath of more ethereal air.” — 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 March’s surly blasts, rioting through moor and wood- 
 land, had also remorselessly swept the more sheltered 
 thoroughfares of the crowded city, impelling chilled 
 pedestrians to speed in seeking wonted homesteads, and 
 causing those who were already housed to draw more 
 closely round the genial hearth and rouse to ruddy flame 
 the enlivening blaze. In one mansion, conspicuous among 
 the fashionable residences of that then fashionable locality — 
 High-street — in the spacious drawing-room, the chan- 
 deliers were lighted, the shaded radiance of a clear fire 
 diffused a steady warmth ; reflected in its glow, the 
 polished steel shone like a mirror ; on the tall white 
 mantel-piece the figures carved in alto relievo of gods, and 
 mythological devices, stood out, undimmed by shadow, and 
 
80 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 basking in the luxurious atmosphere, scented by aromatic 
 wood and spices burning in a silver vase, and tinted with 
 the gold and rose-colour reflected from silken curtains and 
 gilded paintings, amid a wildering profusion of ottomans, 
 fancy chairs, and tables strewn with books and ornaments, 
 vases, statuary, and mirrors, harmonising in studied dis- 
 order, with that view to effect, understood only by the 
 cultured eye of taste, which knows how to combine ease 
 with elegance, and banish the conventional formality of 
 mere ostentatious display or holiday set-out, from the pre- 
 cint of home reunion and social intercourse. A central 
 group presented to the eye a charming tahleaiL It was 
 composed of a middle-aged lady, of soft and pleasing aspect, 
 habited in rich robe of laque moire^ flounced with deep lace, 
 and head-dress of white qjoint d/Alengon, set off with blue 
 rosette, drooping in Marie Stuart fashion to a point on the 
 brow, delicately shading the bands of her soft, light- 
 brown hair, and suiting well the fresh-coloured complexion 
 of her full-dimpled cheeks. She sat on a low prie-dieu 
 velvet chair at one side of the hearth. Opposite, on a 
 damask lounger, was a young girl whose pretension to 
 beauty of the highest order could not be disputed by the 
 most fastidious. Eich auburn hair, coiled in wreathy 
 tresses round a classic brow of pearl-white lustre, slender 
 nose, a little aquiline, giving character to the countenance, 
 moulded lips, pensive in expression, contour of visage 
 traced in clear delicate outline, transparent complexion, 
 and eye of dark-brown, tinted with a shadowy lustre, half 
 gold, half crimson, veiled by long dark lashes of sable hue, 
 beaming and lighting up the whole countenance with that 
 magical dreamy splendour that one has sometimes seen 
 glorifying the calm, autumnal sunset, when air, and earth, 
 and sky were all serene, and in the holy hush of purple 
 twilight the mysterious glen seemed haunted, while spirit 
 voices seemed to whisper among the listening groves. 
 Such looked Maud Fitz Eustace, a being more suited to 
 celestial than to sublunary sphere — her figure, of perfect 
 symmetry was simply arrayed in robe of embroidered 
 lawn ; neither ornament nor ribbon marred the statuesque 
 effect — seated in attitude careless, yet graceful, upon the 
 
THE DE COURCY’S DINNER PARTY. 
 
 81 
 
 Persian rug. Playing with a squirrel were two children, 
 who resembled the elder lady we have seen before; so we need 
 not describe more of May and Bella de Courcy, than to say 
 that, being in company dinner dress, they wore pearl neck- 
 laces on their fat white necks, long white gloves up to their 
 pink elbows, blue sashes and shoulder-knots, and that they 
 both seemed quiet and subdued under some unwonted 
 pressure weighing upon their spirits. For some moments 
 all in the saloon was so still a pin could have been heard to 
 fall on the polished oaken floor, and then a faint long-drawn 
 sigh fell sadly on the ear and broke the spell of silence. 
 
 Come, now, Maud, this will never do,'^ exclaimed the 
 low, steady accents of Lady de Courcy. You must put 
 all thought of Sir Athelstane out of your head. You 
 know, dear, wiser heads than yours have all come to the 
 conclusion, that though in other respects eligible, an alliance 
 with the prejudiced Fitz Adelms would not conduce in the 
 end to any of our comfort. Eecollect if we would secure our 
 happiness in the future we must provide for it by present 
 prudence.*’ 
 
 Yes, aunt,’* returned Maud, in quivering accents ; 
 yet, methinks you and Uncles Eeginald and Cornal are 
 much mistaken about the Fitz Adelms. I have not found 
 them prejudiced. Eleanor and Adela were always 
 affectionate, and Sir Athelstane so good — oh ! so good 
 After a pause she added : You did like them yourself, 
 
 aunty, or you would not have permitted my going on a 
 visit. I cannot think what has changed it all. When Sir 
 Athelstane conveyed me home yesterday morning neither 
 he nor I had the slightest doubt of your acceding to his 
 
 proposal. He was bitterly disappointed ; and I ” 
 
 Some tears fell. 
 
 “ It was a great mistake my permitting you to go on a 
 visit to Santry,” said Lady de Courcy to herself. She 
 justified what she now condemned as an act of folly, by 
 the reflection, ‘‘ I had believed them so prejudiced that I 
 ran no risk of matters taking this turn.” Aloud she 
 continued in the same soft strain : And what of poor 
 
 Lionel ? — Is he quite given up T' 
 
 Aunty, Lionel and I never once thought of each other. 
 
82 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 We are very good friends, but can never be more. Indeed,” 
 she hesitated, I have an idea — that is, I sometimes 
 fancy Lionel is making a better election.” 
 
 ‘^What do you mean?” demanded Lady de Courcy. 
 But Maud was immersed in thought, and her aunt relapsed 
 into meditation, also wondering what Lionel was about, 
 and thinking how unfortunate they had been in cultivating 
 intimacy with the Fitz Adelms, which had resulted so un- 
 pleasantly. 
 
 The acquaintance between them had not been long, and 
 was quite accidental. Upon their arrival in Ireland, after 
 many years sojourn abroad, the De Courcys had first taken 
 a house in the neighbourhood of Santry, about a mile 
 distant from the Fitz Adelms. One fine spring morning 
 the children, with Maud, then come home from her Italian 
 convent-school, set off for a walk through the beautiful 
 country. Unconscious of danger, and fearing nothing, 
 they had rambled from the roadway into the wide fields 
 and thickets, which lay unfenced on either side, gathering 
 daffodils, bluebells, and other wild fiowers. Presently 
 they came in sight of a troop of boys and a man searching 
 for birds’ nests in the trees. Their scarlet mantles and 
 white dresses fiuttering in the distance caught the notice 
 of the gang, who, by degrees, approached ; and when near 
 enough, Sampson Bradley — for he it was, who, with his 
 brothers, and a pack of other idle youths, were wont by day 
 and night to rove the country from E athfarnham to Santry 
 (on predatory excursions often), and had rendered 
 themselves the terror of the neighbourhood they 
 infested — Sampson came up, and rudely accosting Bella, 
 cried : 
 
 “ Give me those fiowers ?” 
 
 “ I won’t ; — they’re not yours ; — I gathered them in the 
 fields,” stoutly returned Bella, unwilling to part with her 
 treasure. 
 
 “ I say you must. The fields doesn’t belong to yer, an’ 
 ye’ve no business to pull the fiowers.” 
 
 Maud at once taking the fiowers from Bella and May, 
 handed them, along with her own, to the rough claimant, 
 whose menacing attitude daunted her. 
 
THE DE COURCy’s DINNER PARTY. 83 
 
 GHve me this dawg he next cried, making a grab at 
 a tiny King Charles that May carried in her arms. 
 
 May screamed and hugged her pet with resolute grasp. 
 Maud was petrified, and turned imploringly to theseniorofthe 
 party, an ill-favoured-looking man, both as regarded figure, 
 face, and garb, who leaning with folded arms against the 
 gnarled trunk of an oak, was looking on with heavy, 
 phlegmatic countenance and stolid brow. He only answered 
 her appeal by fixing upon her the hard stare of a flinty 
 eye ; and Sampson, dragging the King Charles from the 
 distracted May, flung it in wanton wickedness to his bull- 
 dog, by whom it is needless to say, the little animal was 
 speedily worried and killed. 
 
 Upon this Maud and the terrified children took rapid 
 flight, but instantly pursued and overtaken by all the 
 shouting gang, they were in imminent peril of being 
 assailed by the rudest violence, when a carriage came dash- 
 ing along the high-road. Sir Athelstane, sitting on the 
 coach-box, saw the whole proceeding. To check the horses, 
 fling the reins to the coachman, spring to the ground, 
 rush with the whip amid the troop, shoot the bull-dog, 
 which Sampson had set at him, lift the senseless Maud and 
 the sobbing children into the carriage to his sisters, regain 
 his seat on the box, and order the coachman *‘home,'^ was 
 only the work of five minutes. 
 
 Arrived at their villa, every kindness and attention was 
 lavished upon Maud and the De Courcys, while Sir Athel- 
 stane himself rode off to acquaint Sir Reginald and Lady 
 de Courcy with what had occurred, lest they should be 
 alarmed by the protracted absence of their charge, and to 
 bear his sister’s petition that they might be allowed to 
 spend the day with them, he undertaking to carry them 
 safely home in the evening. From this originated that 
 friendly intercourse between the two families which was 
 never interrupted till the present moment ; for in the Fitz 
 Adelms the De Courcys recognised all those high and 
 noble qualities which command esteem and endear affection, 
 but with their shrewd plain sense of perception. Sir 
 Reginald and Lady de Courcy had also analysed the truth, 
 that underlying their undoubted perfections there was a 
 
84 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 strong taint of sectarian prejudice, in which they all 
 equally shared. The ladies would not employ a Catholic 
 menial, while they could embrace a Catholic friend. Sir 
 Athelstane would not hesitate to strike, or venture even his 
 life in defence of a Catholic assailed unjustly in his presence, 
 while in parliament his voice would be foremost in advo- 
 cating penal laws to repress the growth of Popery, and 
 exterminate papists. Maud Fitz Eustace, by what seemed 
 one of those casual adventures that are sometimes flung 
 across one's path to test the strength of human principle, 
 and to enkindle civil conflict in the bosom, appeared 
 already to have begun her mission to shape the future 
 destiny of Sir Athelstane. Her grace, beauty, innocence, 
 and more which he could not define, though he felt its 
 sway, the holiness of spirit sublimated by faith, which in- 
 vested her as with a halo of sanctity, had completely sub- 
 jugated his stubborn pride and won his heart. It was a 
 heart worth winning — earnest, faithful, strong, unselfish. 
 Maud was not mistaken; but, then, she did not know what 
 her aunt and uncles knew, as if by intuition : — when she is 
 mine, separated from every other influence, my persuasion, 
 my love, my authority must prevail, and she shall be won 
 over to the light of Protestantism from the errors of Popery.'^ 
 
 Thus very determined were Maud's friends in the 
 cause of her future weal ; and very wrathful was Sir Athel- 
 stane that his true love and good intentions should not 
 have been suffered to take their course ; and very unhappy 
 was Maud that so much happiness within her reach had 
 been ruthlessly flung away — and amongst them all no one 
 saw the black shadow of a fiend hovering overhead, medi- 
 tating a fell swoop to bear away its victim ! 
 
 But the drawing-room portal was flung wide, and Sir Ulic 
 de Burgh and Sir Harold Sigurd were announced. Lady de 
 Courcy rose with that quiet, matronly smile so habitual to 
 her, and with that courtly elegance that distinguished the 
 ancien regime advanced a few paces to welcome the guests. 
 Maud with shy and stately grace, made her courtesy, and May 
 and Bella with broad open stare gazed upon the stranger, 
 whose lordly air not even the bland smile that softened it 
 could divest of an austerity that enforced homage. Ee- 
 
THE HE COURCY’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 85 
 
 coiling abashed from his penetrating observation, they 
 resumed their position on the rug and began to play with 
 their squirrel, while Sir Ulic took a chair near their 
 mother, whose unembarrassed and still brightening features 
 confessed that she at least was pleased with this new 
 acquaintance. Sir Harold seated himself on the lounger 
 beside Maud, whose dejection not all her eflPorts to banish 
 could yet disguise from his discerning notice ; and with in- 
 stant perception of the cause, he began in penitential spirit 
 to attribute some blame to himself ; whereas, in reality, long 
 before his visit to Cornal, at Sir XJlic’s instigation, to put 
 the stranger on his guard against the machinations of de- 
 signing craft, and initiate him by some well-timed hints in 
 the character of those who sought his friendship, the in- 
 exorable decree had been passed, and the rejected suitor 
 dismissed. Sir Ulic, made aware previously by Harold of 
 the result of his interview with Captain O’Byrne, had also 
 adopted the same idea, and felt profound sympathy for 
 Maud, whom he thought sweetly interesting. He felt like- 
 wise, as did Harold, some regret for Sir Athelstane, for 
 whom they entertained rather a kind regard, and wished 
 that Cornal had not been so precipitate in urging matters 
 to extremity ; while it so happened that Cornal, some hours 
 later, having met the He Courcys, and been informed of 
 their proceeding, had no further part to take in the matter 
 than to sanction their decision by his approval. For 
 awhile the conversation, though well sustained between Lady 
 He Courcy, Sir Ulic and Harold, failed to remove a sense 
 of constraint from the circle, and an incipient languor was 
 beginning to steal with oppressive weight over all, when 
 once more the swiftly-revolving portal gave entrance to 
 other guests, and Adorine O’Byrne, with all her wonted 
 brilliancy of life and lightsome heart, diffusing sunshine 
 like an aureola around her, glided into the saloon. Every 
 eye brightened responsive to the influence of her merry 
 laugh, as she passed in rapid transit from one to another, 
 embracing her aunt, shaking hands with Sir Ulic and Sir 
 Harold, giving May and Bella a tap of recognition with her 
 fan, and finally with pleasant badinage paying back the 
 retort courteous, to some light raillery of Lady do Courcy, 
 
86 
 
 Leixlip cAstL:^. 
 
 as she took up a position next to Maud, in whose company 
 she had passed the early part of the morning hearing her 
 confided troubles with sympathising ear, and in the high- 
 tide of her own sanguine, hopeful nature communicating 
 some ray of comfort to the desponding breast by the energy 
 of her assurance that all would yet come right, and that the 
 present contretemps was only one of those freaks of contra- 
 diction which betimes tantalised every son of Adam and 
 every daughter of Eve ; that time broke down barriers that 
 would not yield to cannon ; and that perpetual summer 
 would be unprized were there never clouds, rain, or storm 
 to vary its monotony. So Maud was somewhat tranquillised, 
 and Sir TJlic marked, with a smile, the genuine delight that 
 spoke in every awakened lineament, as with mute greeting 
 she slipped her hand into that of Adorine. He thought, too, 
 what a pretty picture the cousins would make — Adorine so 
 riante in her silken vesture of delicately tinted pink, and 
 pearl circlet in her dusky golden hair, and Maud so triste in 
 her drapery of simple white ; for he was both a painter and 
 a poet, and possessed of a high artistic genius — but further 
 contemplation was arrested. Eveleen and Eaymond made 
 their appearance, and no longer restrained by convention- 
 ality, up bounded May and Bella, and flew to meet them with 
 a joyous eagerness that showed to what a prodigious elevation 
 they had attained in their good grace. In their dark wild 
 beauty, set off by appropriate costume, Sir TJlic, much 
 pleased, was thinking how well they contrasted with their 
 blond cousins, whenEveleen’s deep-set lustrous eye met his, 
 disengaging herself from the children, as she considered the 
 De Courcy s. She was herself only a year older, but with their 
 dolls and their baby-houses, she thought them puerile yet, 
 and only enjoyed their society when there was a five-barred 
 gate, or a difficult tree to be climbed, a ditch to be leaped, 
 or a stijffrace to be run. So, without ceremony, thrusting 
 aside May, she went over to Sir Ulic, holding up her hands 
 cased in white gloves. 
 
 Mille failthe, go de me ha tu a suilish m^achree smiled 
 
 A thousand welcomes. How do yon do, light of my heart ? 
 
the de coxjrcy’s dinner party. 
 
 87 
 
 Sir Ulic, with courteous address, putting out his hand and 
 drawing her near. 
 
 Mille buehus Cathfhir Curaitlie^'^ responded Eveleen, 
 glancing significantly at his uniform, while she displayed a 
 set of teeth that would have mocked the craft of a dentist, 
 as her nearest approach to a laugh at the speechless amaze- 
 ment of May and Bella, listening to the interchange of this 
 to them unknown tongue, with so much easy confidence be- 
 tween her and the dread Sir Ulic. 
 
 Have you become reconciled to the gloves was his 
 next address, but this time in English. Eveleen made a 
 grimace, and put out her foot to attract his notice to her 
 white satin shoe. He nodded, and said, holding up the 
 ends of the scarlet sash that tied her white frock : ^‘Is it not 
 nicer to be here than running about the hills of Urrismore, 
 min cailin 
 
 The last vestige of the ice which had been for some time 
 thawing in the sunshine disappeared, and all restraint sud- 
 denly vanished, as by magic, while to the horror of May and 
 Bella, and the encouragement of Raymond, who stood now 
 with his arm round his uncle’s neck, Eveleen took Sir Ulic’s 
 face between her hands, and whispered close to his ear : 
 
 Only for Adorine I’d go back every foot of the way 
 to Urrismore.” 
 
 Sir Ulic riveted on the child a startled look. He had 
 no time for comment. Hugh O’Byrne, Cornal, and Sir 
 Reginald, who had been detained from home by some 
 business, came in. De Courcy shook hands cordially with 
 De Burgh ; Cornal, pleased to meet Sir Ulic again, ad- 
 vanced with friendly greeting; Hugh afiectionately saluted 
 his brother-in-law; no trace or vestige of aught that 
 savoured of misunderstanding was discernible among 
 them. By-and-by Sir Reginald turned to Lady de 
 Courcy : 
 
 ‘‘ Nell, can you make accommodation for three additional 
 guests at the dinner-table ? ” 
 
 “ Three more, dear ?” inquired Lady de Courcy, gazing 
 with a fond, proud expression into the open, good- 
 
 ♦ Thousand thanks, Warrior Knight. 
 
88 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 humoured countenance of her husband. I'm not afraid 
 of the commissariat department ; but the table was only 
 laid for fourteen. I fear we shall be crowded. Who are 
 the company ? 
 
 I met Dopping, Clutterbuck, and de Eivers.'^ 
 
 Lady De Courcy was stunned. ‘^You don’t mean 
 to say you have asked the Lord Bishop of Meath, 
 darling, and Father Catholicus invited?” Lady de 
 Courcy’s usual equanimity showed its disappearance in 
 the departure of her smile and the paleness of her cheek. 
 Sir Ulic pitied her. 
 
 I couldn’t help it,” returned Sir Eeginald, his blue 
 eyes glistening and his heavy lips relaxing in a humorous 
 smile, while an air of perplexity pervaded his broad, ruddy 
 face ; the rogue said, ‘ I’ll come and pick a bone with you, 
 de Courcy, if your better half won’t object.’ What could! 
 say ? And, between ourselves, ’tis better stand well with 
 the saints in the present crisis. Lovelace Clutterbuck, his 
 chaplain, whose lady, by-the-way, has lately presented 
 him with two young apostles for the Church, and De 
 Eivers were present ; I had to include them. Do the best 
 you can.” 
 
 I’ll tell you, aunty,” cried Eveleen, anxious to help in 
 the emergency; ‘^let May and Bella, and Eaymond and 
 me dine at the sideboard.” 
 
 No,” screamed Bella ; we were promised to dine at 
 the table to-day, and we will.” 
 
 Lady de Courcy rang the bell. Order the butler add 
 another leaf to the table, and lay covers for three,” she 
 said to the liveried menial who responded ; and while she 
 spoke, Father Catholicus O’Cuin and Lionel Aylmer 
 entered. No introductions were needed here : the Francis- 
 can priest and Aylmer were known to all. 
 
 Lady de Courcy directed her attention, with an amused 
 countenance, from her husband, breaking the news to Father 
 O’Cuin, that the Bishop of Meath was coming to put 
 him through his catechism, to Cornal O’Byrne, Harold, 
 and Sir IJlic’s quite unnecessary encouragement to 
 stimulate the zeal of the Franciscan, who, securely en- 
 trenched within the fortress of his theological infallibility, 
 
tHE DE COURCY’s DINNER PARTY. 89 
 
 was already forging his thunderbolts to crush the daring 
 Titan who would essay to scale the heights of his beatific 
 region. She was more interested in observing how Lionel 
 and Maud should meet, and she was disappointed. In 
 the frank and open bearing on the part of either there 
 was no symptom of tell-tale consciousness indicative of any 
 latent or lurking thought, or feeling. Maud, in the healthy 
 atmosphere of Adorine^s fresh, animating presence, had 
 regained some elasticity of spirit, and Lionel, a dark- 
 haired, pale-faced, slight young man, not yet in his 
 twentieth year, displayed all the wild, frolicsome charac- 
 teristics of a boy, whose chief delight would be to gambol 
 in every legitimate mischief. The fact was, and Maud 
 knew it, Lionel, though as yet wavering, unconfirmed in 
 purpose, was beginning seriously to think of devoting him- 
 self to the priesthood. In childhood his first thoughts had 
 been directed by his friends to matrimony ; but when he 
 became of age to think for himself the idea waxed strong 
 in his mind that Eome, and not matrimony, was his 
 vocation ; and though up to the present he had not de- 
 clared his decision, and would have enjoyed nothing more, 
 had polkas and waltzing then been in vogue, than a set-olf 
 with Maud or any other lady who would honour him, he 
 was steadily verging to the climax. Lady de Courcy 
 sighed. She doated on Lionel, whom she had from the 
 hour that his dying father bequeathed him to her care 
 destined for a nearer connexion. But, then, she gave him 
 to the Dominicans to educate, and with the perversity of 
 human nature, ever running counter to human projects, 
 Lionel chose to connect himself with his holy tutors ; and 
 she saw clearly now, what she never suspected hitherto, 
 that her darling scheme was at an end, whatever the cause, 
 and that these wayward children never would be more to 
 each other than as now they stood. Her lucubrations 
 were shattered by the announcement of Dr. Dopping, 
 Parson Clutterbuck, and Sir Harvey de Eivers. The Lord 
 Bishop of Meath advanced, with slow and portly gait. 
 Whether he gave apostolic benediction is not recorded ; but 
 if he did, no one knelt to receive it. Sir Keginald, with 
 visage round and glowing as the full moon in harvest, 
 
90 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 withal expressing a comical melange of doubt, fear, and 
 drollery, approached with Lady de Courcy, smiling in 
 deference to hospitality, yet secretly disquieted, to welcome 
 the guests. His grace was profuse of compliments and 
 polite to hyperbole. With practised eye he at the same 
 time took stock of the company. He recognised Harold 
 and Sir Ulic, acquaintances, and bowed ; his notice fell on 
 Cornal O'Byrne, looking rather Byronic and cynical ; on 
 Hugh, shaped in mould less aristocratic, yet asserting in 
 his stature and bearing that nature had not originally 
 designed him for a democrat, but that circumstance, that 
 blind unspiritual god,^^ had counteracted her plan ; then 
 upon Raymond and Eveleen, staring with open eyes and 
 mouths upon what they had never seen before, though they 
 had heard of it — the phenomenon of a Protestant Bishop — 
 whilst grim and solemn loomed up in the background, the 
 figure well-built and tall, the countenance ascetic and 
 Celtic, the mien majestic and imposing, of Father 
 Catholicus O'Ouin, the Franciscan Friar. Dr. Popping 
 perceived these were all strangers to him. At sight of the 
 priest he appeared a little taken aback; but rallying, with 
 faint, meek smile embellishing his physiognomy, he came 
 forward to exchange introduction, while Harvey de Rivers 
 made over to install himself near Adorine, and Parson 
 Clutterbuck stayed to make himself agreeable to Lady de 
 Courcy, and entertain her with an account of his twin sons 
 lately born to him, the health of Mrs. Clutterbuck, the 
 perfections of the invaluable nurse, and other subjects 
 equally interesting. 
 
 But time and tide flow on. Dinner was announced, 
 and the party, which at the commencement was meant 
 to have teen little more than a family circle, augmented 
 by a large proportion of gentlemen, descended to 
 the dining-room, where costly elegance presided with 
 luxury. Father Catholicus interrupted the bishop in 
 giving grace, and the guests sat down : De Rivers next 
 to Adorine, the bishop to Lady de Courcy, Eveleen 
 beside her Uncle Sir Ulic, Maud with Sir Harold, May 
 and Bella with Raymond and Lionel Aylmer. Two 
 waiters in livery attended ; Sir Reginald and Lady de 
 
THE PE COTJRCy’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 91 
 
 Courcy carved. Wine in choice variety circulated from 
 hand to hand, and enlivened the cheer. Ordinary topics, 
 the events of the day, local news, were started and lightly 
 discussed, seasoned with jeu esprit and bon-motSy anecdote 
 and chit-chat; — all went on harmoniously, running in 
 smooth grooves till the dessert had superseded the more 
 substantial first and second course, and then, as at the 
 stroke of a conjuror’s wand, the spirit of discord was evoked 
 from slumber by Dr. Dopping sighing deeply — he had a 
 pious habit of fetching deep sighs and murmuring half 
 aloud to himself. His soliloquy at present was distinctly 
 audible, as he quoted from the lamentations of the Prophet 
 Jeremiah: — ‘‘It is the mercy of the Lord that we are 
 not destroyed : that his commiseration has not failed ! ’’ 
 The guests looked ominously at each other ; they felt a 
 storm was brewing : for none were strangers to the bishop’s 
 maniacal detestation of Popery. 
 
 “ Yes,” put in Parson Clutterbuck, who of himself was 
 not so much a zealot, but who conceived himself ad- 
 monished by his interest to back up his patron ; “ the 
 accession of the Prince of Orange to the throne gives us a 
 well-founded hope and guarantee that the days of tribula- 
 tion have passed away, and that even as a cedar of 
 Lebanon the Church shall again be exalted.” 
 
 “ Oh ! no doubt the Church of England will ring out 
 her joy- bells, and hail with salvoes the advent of this new 
 exponent and expounder of the Protestant code that jus- 
 tifies rebellion,” said Sir Harold, sipping his claret. 
 “ Faith, I’m glad I’m not a Briton.” 
 
 “The saints shall rejoice in their glory,” exclaimed 
 Dopping, sententiously, and casting up his eyes with a 
 burst of rapture that gave a most crazed expression to his 
 visage ; “ and two-edged swords shall be in their hands, to 
 take revenge of nations, to chastise the people, to bind 
 their kings in fetters and their nobles in manacles of 
 iron !” 
 
 |i “ Let England and her saints apply that text, as it may 
 suit, to themselves,” said Sir XJlic. “ Here in Ireland 
 James is king, intact as the first day the diadem circled 
 his anointed brow and the three kingdoms bowed down 
 
92 
 
 Li:iXtlP CASTLig. 
 
 in allegiance to his sway. We cannot play fast and loose, 
 and veer about north, east, and west, by torturing texts of 
 Scripture to vindicate insubordination to lawful authority, 
 ratified |by divine ordinance. — Am I right, Father Ca- 
 tholicus 
 
 ‘^Such is Catholic doctrine,'’ responded the sedate 
 Franciscan. 
 
 “Oh, plague on your Catholic doctrine!’' cried the 
 bishop, betrayed by the warmth of his zeal into dereliction 
 of politeness, that prerogative of a gentleman. “It is 
 those of your cloth, minions of the tyrannical Church of 
 Eome, who for your own purposes uphold despotism, cling 
 to exploded traditions, brand enlightened progress as 
 heresy, and maintain, foster, and encourage an obstinate, 
 wrong-headed people in ignorance that places them on a 
 level with beasts, in superstitions that render them our 
 scorn, and in idolatries that cry to heaven for vengeance. 
 It proves how depraving is the slavery into which, by 
 some diabolical agency, you have contrived to draw the 
 people, and so usurp their minds that not all our efforts 
 can force the light upon their darkness, and wrest them 
 from your grasp." 
 
 The bishop paused, perspiring and exhausted, to wipe 
 his brow, dart a wrathful glance at Lionel Aylmer, and 
 take a draught of sparkling Burgundy. 
 
 Father O'Cuin took advantage of the lull to reply, in 
 language vigorous, yet unimpassioned : “ Had the Church 
 of Eome never been founded by Divine Architect on 
 the rock of Peter; had divinely-commissioned apostles 
 never gone forth from its bosom — the bosom of the 
 spouse of Christ — to the nations of the earth, to lead them 
 from the darkness of error into the light of Christianity, 
 and to leave them in perpetual succession to the end of 
 time pastors accredited with diploma and divinely con- 
 secrated to carry on and transmit the dogmas of faith to 
 posterity and ages yet unborn, no Bishop of Meath were 
 here to-day to insult with slander the Mother Church of 
 Christendom. Perchance he were disputing with Jewish 
 rabbins in the Sanhedrim, or, it may be officiating 
 more possibly in the pagan worship of Saxon or Scan- 
 
THE HE COUIICy’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 93 
 
 dmavian gods — for I will not accuse him of aspiring in 
 Druidic rite to adore the sun, and the moon, and stars, 
 his tributaries — the traditions, the superstitions, and the 
 idolatries, handed down from generations for sixteen hun- 
 dred years to our own time, a sacred deposit, anointed 
 with the tears, sealed with the blood of Dome’s Christian 
 martyrs, at which he takes so much umbrage, had never 
 called forth so much censure. The mysteries of heathenism, 
 the orgies of Bacchus, sacrifice to mythological deities, 
 with all the inculcated excess of vice that ever deluged 
 and cursed the earth, had prevailed in their stead ; and no 
 need had there been for the hand of fanaticism, on the 
 score of creed, of a Church tyrannically warring against 
 vice, and dauntlessly, persistently, inculcating and main- 
 taining the doctrine of salvation, and usurping to her 
 bosom the precious charge of souls delegated to her alone, 
 to be rescued from perdition ; — no need, I repeat, had 
 there been for hands hostile to her mission to expose their 
 ‘ malice in the sanctuary,' to cut down its gates with 
 axes, to pollute the tabernacle of Grod’s name and his 
 dwelling-place on earth, to say in their hearts, ^ Let us 
 make all the festivals of Grod cease in the land.’ You 
 charge us with maintaining our people in ignorance. 
 What need had you, then, to frame a penal statute to 
 proscribe education, and make it felony for a father to 
 teach his child, and to outlaw the schoolmaster ? You 
 say for our own purposes we foster and encourage a 
 wrong-headed people, and by our diabolical agency have 
 so usurped their minds, that all your efforts cannot shed 
 light on their darkness, and wrest them from our grasp. 
 Had we the loaves and fishes of this world to gain by our 
 thirst for souls, your reproach might be just ; — but what 
 is our earthly gain ? Witness a century of spoliation and 
 devastation : our ruined abbeys, our desecrated shrines, 
 our martyred brethren. No ; if you be desirous of 
 learning the secret of the bond that unites us to our 
 people, and will to the end of time, it is this : We 
 wrought by divine, not by diabolical agency ; we preached 
 the faith to the people, and they saw us testify to the 
 faith by our lives, and the ready forfeit of our lives in its 
 
94 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 "defence and testimony ; we preached charity to the people, 
 and they saw it exemplified in our acts when we mingled 
 our blood and wept our tears with theirs in the hour when 
 the scourge and the cross was laid upon them ; we preached 
 hope to the people, and by that hope, our charter to im- 
 mortality, we will not let go our people’s hand till we 
 give them up to St. Peter at the gates of heaven ! No ! 
 my lord bishop,” continued Father Catholicus, in tone yet 
 more grave and impressive ; ‘‘ wanting light yourselves, 
 ^tis in vain you would seek to shine before men ; and 
 despite the penal laws, concocted first in the demon con- 
 clave of hell’s penal recess, for the starving of the human 
 mind and intellect, as well as for the slaying of the human 
 soul, we have contrived to keep the lamp of education 
 burning, if not in the cloister, in the cave ; if not in the 
 city, in the wilderness; — and I shall venture to assert 
 that our people in the aggregate possess an amount of 
 enlightenment and knowledge far beyond the average of 
 many more favoured lands. I’ll lay a wager,” he added, 
 turning with a smile to Eaymond, his Grace could not 
 take you at a loss to answer any question of your cate- 
 chism?” 
 
 Eaymond nodded assent. 
 
 I’ll put him on his examination,” laughed De Eivers. 
 
 I say, sir, who was Ulysses ?” 
 
 Eaymond was a proud boy ; he did not like the tone, 
 half-banter, half-authoritative, in which De Eivers ad- 
 dressed him. He feared, too, the question was a prelude 
 to more serious catechising. His chafed spirit was up, 
 and sullenly dictating no response, when his eye acci- 
 dentally lighted on the attentive gaze of Sir Ulic, 
 anxiously scanning his countenance, and on the equally 
 earnest looks of his father and Uncle Cornal. Then his 
 pride and his innate love of humour coming upper- 
 most, he touched his hand to his forehead, and with 
 racy brogue, exaggerated for the occasion, reiterated : 
 
 Ulysses, yer honour ? — wasn’t be a carpenther ?” 
 
 There was a shout of laughter. Hugh looked vexed ; 
 Cornal terribly annoyed; and De Burgh, noticing the 
 sly diablery at play in Eaymond’s features, suspected the 
 
THE DE COURCY’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 95 
 
 youth was indulging in a frolic, and said : What did he 
 
 make — chairs or tables?^' 
 
 Wooden horses and conundrums/' returned the boy, 
 grinning from ear to ear. All simultaneously smiled ; the 
 father and uncles felt relieved. 
 
 What conundrums did he make asked Lionel 
 Aylmer, giving him a poke as hint to keep up the fun. 
 
 He said he'd take Troy with a wooden horse, and 
 sent one as a present to the gatekeeper.’’ 
 
 Well !” exclaimed Father Catholicus, looking round 
 with an air of triumph, what followed ? Did the gate- 
 keeper — what was his name — solve the enigma 
 
 ‘‘ He did, faith, to his sorrow. Hector was his name. 
 The horse carried a brood of sons, and they took Troy once 
 they got to the blind side of the warder.” 
 
 A clapping of hands and applause guerdoned the ready 
 wit of Raymond; and thus compensated, he was in good heart 
 to take up the next challenge advanced by the parson, who 
 thought it probable the lad had just accidentally picked 
 up so much information. The parson, distending and 
 blowing out his cheeks, and drawing up his portly person, 
 asked Raymond, in a grandiloquent manner. “Did he ever 
 hear of a king called Julius Cmsar ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, sure !” cried the ready wag. “ Wasn’t he cousin- 
 German to our Brian Boroimhe ? Brian thrashed the 
 Danes, and he thrashed the Britons. Some of my fore- 
 fathers helped him.” 
 
 “ Forward, Springald/’ muttered the bishop aside to the 
 discomfited parson, as they each cast looks of lowering 
 disapprobation upon the youth, of whose education in the 
 lore of Greece and Rome they appeared satisfied. 
 
 Harold Sigurd, seeing them about to withdraw, and not 
 caring to renew the religious controversy, caught up the 
 thread and asked Raymond “ If he did not admire the 
 Danes — think them fine soldiers.” 
 
 Raymond’s look of surprise was unfeigned. “ Arrah, is it 
 admire the Danes, the marauding sea kings !'' he cried, with 
 a disdainful energy that delighted Sir Ulic. “ Had I lived 
 in the days of Turgesius or Sitric I'd have had a shot at 
 some of them." 
 
96 
 
 LEIXLTP castle. 
 
 And had I been your contemporary you might have 
 shot me — that is with an arrow — for lack of artillery/' said 
 Sir Harold. I’m a Dane ; Sitric, King of Dublin, was 
 my ancestor. Sigurd was another, and lived in a place 
 called after him — Saggart — where I flourish to-day." 
 
 Musha, then, if you're not able to blush," cried 
 Eaymond, waxing bold from encouragement, just 
 daub the least taste of red on your cheeks." 
 
 Come, now, answer me this question," said Harold, 
 chaffing at Sir Ulic's approving smile. ‘‘ If the whole 
 thing were to be gone over again would you rather choose 
 the Christain Cromwell or the Pagan Dane to invade us 
 
 The Dane, a thousand times !" cried Raymond. 
 
 Yes," put in his father. Men crossed swords with 
 men in those days, and not as in our time with incarnate 
 fiends, calling themselves Christians." 
 
 ‘‘ What books are you fond of reading asked de 
 Rivers, who did not want the Cromwellian question to be 
 debated. It was a festering sore that ranked venomously 
 in native bosoms, and to thus consign it to Lethe was now 
 desirable. 
 
 I like ^ Jack the Griant Killer ’ and ^ The Seven Cham- 
 pions of Christendom,' " said Raymond. He never smiled, 
 
 A fine fellow was the Giant Killer ; — and what do you 
 say about St George ?" 
 
 ‘‘ Our St. Patrick was greater by a long march," re- 
 turned the boy, eagerly, his face flushing with animated 
 pride. St George only fought one dragon, while St 
 Patrick made a whole brood of serpents take themselves 
 off threenacheela^ with the touch of his staff. 
 
 There's a dragon coiling round England to-day," re- 
 marked Father Catholicus, ^‘that will, in days to come, 
 task all the weight of some future saint, or legion of saints 
 to combat and overthrow. Yes ; mark my words, the teeth 
 of the serpent sown in the earth never sprung forth more 
 armed men than this fatal heresy planted byXuther ; and 
 even now, become hydra-headed, it will overrun the world 
 with its baleful progeny." 
 
 ‘‘ Not if timely checked by the return of King James," 
 * Pellmell. 
 
THE DE COURCYS' DINNER PARTY. 
 
 97 
 
 said Sir Eeginald de Courcy, who began to think it was 
 time to take part in the debate. 
 
 “ That you’ll never see/’ returned Olutterbuck. James 
 has abdicated.’' 
 
 No such thing/’ retorted Sir XJlic. ‘‘ I can inform you ' 
 that the Duke of Tyrconnel has received intimation of the 
 king’s intention to maintain his crown and transmit it to 
 his heir.” 
 
 All England will resist him to a man/’ vociferated 
 Clutterbuck. 
 
 ‘‘ All England is not all Ireland, or Scotland,” said Sir 
 Harold. “ Here we’ll hedge round his throne with our 
 spears, cavil who may.” 
 
 “ And as Atlas bore up the globe, hoist it for a day upon 
 your shoulders,” sneered Olutterbuck. 
 
 “ Why do the Gentiles rage, and the nations meditate 
 vain things ?” sighed the bishop. The Lord is the God 
 of revenge — the God of revenge has acted freely. He 
 humbles this man and exalts that. His name is great in 
 Israel." 
 
 “ The whole country won’t join you,” exclaimed 
 Clutterbuck. Do you think the Presbyterians and 
 Episcopalians are such deuced fools as to cut a rod to 
 smite themselves ? I’ll be bound some of our liberal 
 Catholic friends won’t join you.” He turned an appealing 
 look to Cornal O’Byrne, whose hitherto taciturn demeanour 
 he interpreted favourably. “ Say I not well, Captain 
 Cornal shook his head. 
 
 ‘‘ Your pardon, sir, albeit scant hath been our cause to 
 espouse the part of kings, whose best guerdon of our loyal 
 service, our lavished blood and gold, has been hitherto 
 deceitful treachery, penal persecution, dishonest spoliation, 
 and extermination, we bear in mind that Catholic James 
 is not Protestant Charles. On the score of creed he has 
 essayed to right our wrongs, hence our hearts yield 
 homage, while duty at all times commands allegiance to 
 legitimate authority from which we are not at liberty to 
 emancipate ourselves. We Catholic Irish to a man 
 will give our adhesion to the cause of King James. 
 In sooth, I say it, in the name of Erin, let him but take 
 
 8 
 
98 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 his standpoint on the land among us, the phalanx of our 
 swords shall bulwark his dominion, and our pennons flung 
 out bid defiance to every foe/^ 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh smiled complacently. This was an 
 uncompromising declaration that suited his ardent and 
 martial spirit. He longed then and there to acquaint 
 Cornal with the news that morning, confided to him by the 
 Duke of Tyrconnel, that he had correspondence with James, 
 mooting the very question ; but prudence sealed his lips. 
 
 Nor do I doubt/’ resumed Cornal, “ but that many 
 loyal Protestants will re-enforce our ranks, sooner than 
 join hands with the murderous Cromwellian fanatics. 
 Surely, my Lord Bishop, Parson Clutterbuck, and you. 
 Sir Harvey de Eivers, whatever you may wish to the cause 
 in England, could not sully your honour by leaguing with 
 the regicide roundheads against your liege ?” 
 
 Oh ! count on me for James,” said De Eivers, and, 
 perceiving the eyes of Dr Dopping turned upon him with 
 anathema legibly written therein, he gave a sinister laugh 
 which did not escape the notice of De Burgh. 
 
 Lady de Courcy, now rising, the ladies proceeded to the 
 drawing-room, leaving the gentlemen to the full enjoyment 
 of their wine and politics, in which it seemed, however, that 
 all did not take equal pleasure ; for very soon De Eivers, 
 De Burgh, Harold, Lionel and Eaymond, followed to the 
 saloon, leaving the others to battle out their arguments 
 according to their respective positions. 
 
 ^‘Now, by St. Cupid! this is pleasanter,” said De 
 Eivers, taking a seat beside Adorine, ‘^than chafing in 
 dry discussion over the merits of rival churches and rival 
 kings.” 
 
 Who’s St. Cupid ? — I never heard of that saint,” 
 exclaimed Eveleen, rising from the low divan, where she 
 had been playing card tricks with May and Bella. Every- 
 one laughed. 
 
 ‘‘By George! did you never hear of St. Cupid?” 
 cried De Eivers. 
 
 “ No ; I never did.” 
 
 “ Nor of his mother, St. Venus ?” 
 
 “No.” 
 
tHE DE COURCYS^ DINNER PARTY. 
 
 99 
 
 Well Father Oatholicus is not here ; he'd be shocked 
 at so much ignorance/^ laughed Harvey, immoderately. 
 
 Not know St. Cupid, or St. Venus ! Oh ! I can scarce 
 imagine it.'’ 
 
 Don’t believe it, Eveleen,” shouted Eaymond, angrily. 
 They’re not saints, not a bit of them ; only humbugs.” 
 
 ‘‘Who are they, Uncle Ulic?” said Eveleen, appealing 
 in her awakened curiosity to Sir Ulic, who, smiling with 
 amusement, drew near-^ 
 
 “ Disreputable company, with whom, I hope, you will 
 never fall in,” he made answer, stroking down her dark 
 tresses. 
 
 “ Cupid's a little old chap that carries a bow and arrows, 
 and shoots them at people ; — so take care you never come 
 in his way,” said Lionel Aylmer. “ He sets them crazy/’ 
 
 Adore! does he ever kill anybody?” cried Eveleen, 
 sinking her voice with accompanying gesture to the 
 whisper of alarm. The mountain-nurtured child was 
 thinking of the wild legends of the West, the midnight 
 dance of the “ Slua-Shee^^’ the mournful sighing of the 
 “ Shee-geehiy^ the ravishing numbers of the “ coelshiy' the 
 pranks of the “ leprechaun ” and the “ eluireean^^ the 
 phoocUy^ and the wailing of the “ bansheeJ^ 
 
 “ Oh, often,” said Lionel, schooling his features into a 
 corresponding look of dread and mystery. 
 
 “ Is his mother as wicked ? — Where do they live ? ” cried 
 Eveleen, wondering at Adorine, Maud,, May, and, Bella, 
 in fits of suffocating laughter. 
 
 “They lodge up and down everywhere; — any house 
 they can get into,” said De Kivers, looking melancholy. 
 “ They're in mine now, and I expect they’ll be the death 
 of me.” 
 
 “ Adorine, we must warn the porter not to let them in. 
 One would think it was all a joke, the way you laugh ; — 
 but Adorine laughs at everything,” she added, with a 
 look of reproof, and turning to her uncle. 
 
 “ Then Adorine must be a philosopher,” smiled Sir 
 Ulic, joining in the merriment with infinite zest, and 
 bowing to the lady. 
 
100 
 
 LEIXLIF CASTLE. 
 
 ‘‘Ill go and tell Uncle Cornal,” suddenly exclaimed 
 Eveleen ; — “ I warrant, he won't make fun of it and she 
 was off to the door, in utter disregard of the voice of 
 Lady de Oourcy, who was dispensing coffee at the table. 
 
 Sir Ulic pursued and brought her back, indignant and 
 pouting. Finding all efforts at conciliation vain, while in 
 her ruffled temper, he relinquished her hand, suffering 
 her to withdraw moodily to a corner ; while, at the request 
 of Lady de Courcy, Sir Harold, ^who was gifted with a 
 fine melodious voice, ran his fingers in prelude over the 
 strings of a guitar, and commenced to sing, with covert 
 glance at De Burgh and at Raymond, who, now quite 
 established in his liking for his uncle, was leaning fami- 
 liarly on his shoulder : — 
 
 “We launched our keels from the Baltic shore, 
 
 A bold and roving band ; 
 
 Aloft the Runic flag we bore, 
 
 And steered for the Western land. 
 
 “ For Erin, ho ! The Ravens three 
 Shook their pinions to the gale ; 
 
 Our axes gleamed bright, and wild cheers gave we, 
 
 As we sighted green Innisfail. 
 
 “ The sturdy stroke of each sweeping oar 
 Dashed the foaming brine to snow ; 
 
 Our wassail shout drowned the tempest’s roar, 
 
 The Scald sang high on the prow. 
 
 “ The foe ! the foe ! to the field, lern. 
 
 Marshal each rushing clan — 
 
 Cathfhir and Curaith, Ardrigh and Kern — 
 
 ’Tis Harold leads the van ! 
 
 “ Swiftly the bale-fires blaze o’er the land. 
 
 Wildly the ’larum bells ring ere the dawn, 
 
 Redly as meteors flash out each brand. 
 
 Thrills the shrill war-blast from tromba and clarion. 
 
 “ Our galleys careering have breasted the main. 
 
 In the wild bay of Skerries our anchor is cast, 
 
 On the valleys of Erin pours down the red rain, 
 
 The arrowy shower rings fierce on the blast. 
 
THE DE COURCY’s DINNER PARTY. 
 
 101 
 
 High o’er the storm the standard of Harold, 
 
 Fenced by pale lightnings from gleaming brands flashing, 
 
 Abroad in the glory of triumph unfurled, 
 
 Bears onward the hosting to victory dashing. 
 
 Hurrah for the Ravens! the Dane and the Ostmen ! 
 
 The Celt and Milesian have laid down the shield ; 
 
 Hurrah for the sea-kings — Thor, Sigurd, and Odin ! — 
 
 Harold the dauntless is lord of the field ! ” 
 
 Nahochlish!* you had but a short holiday/^ said 
 Raymond, with a scornful toss of his head.- When 
 Malachi, Brian, and the Northern chieftains came against 
 you, you did not long hold your ground, inagh Did 
 they, Uncle Ulic?^’ 
 
 Sir Ulic, rising, whispered some words to Adorine ; she 
 smiled significant assent, and sprang to a handsome harp 
 that graced the saloon. She swept the chords with light, 
 brilliant touch ; then, toning down the vibrating melody 
 to the required measure, she accompanied him while he 
 pitched his voice, and sang : — 
 
 “ ’Twas sunset hour — soft vesper bells 
 
 Through Erin’s holy isle were ringing ; 
 
 On purple hills, in vernal dells. 
 
 The cloisteral choirs were sweetly singing. 
 
 “ In vestal fane, in temple holy. 
 
 Fair altar-lights were brightly shining ; 
 
 And bent in adoration, lowly. 
 
 Full many a suppliant head declining. 
 
 In lordly hall, on peasants’ hearth. 
 
 The warm heart-fire of love was burning, 
 
 And gentle smile and social mirth 
 Greeted the pilgrim home returning. 
 
 “ Pale broke the dawn — no matin bells 
 
 Upon the morning breeze were chiming ; — 
 
 All silent were the hills and dells. 
 
 No altar-lights were brightly shining. 
 
 “ A moan of pain, a stifled wail. 
 
 To the ear of listening stars came sighing ; 
 
 A shout — a shriek — upon the gale. 
 
 And many a heart in death was lying. 
 
 * No matter. 
 
 t Forsooth. 
 
102 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE, 
 
 ^ ‘ Denmark’s grim Eaveiis — birds of prey ! 
 
 Hushed woodland songs in Western bowers ; 
 Their bodeful pinions quenched the day, 
 
 And wafted blight to Erin’s flowers. 
 
 “ The Runic scroll in loom of sorrow, 
 
 Woven by fatal sisters three, 
 
 Wrought midnight wreck and gory morrow 
 To the Island Queen of the Western Sea.” 
 
 As the last stanza died in tuneful cadence, the remainder 
 of the gentlemen came with Sir Eeginald to the drawing- 
 room. Eveleen, lying in wait, seized the first opportunity, 
 and accosted Captain O’Byrne: 
 
 Uncle Cornal ?” 
 
 ‘‘Well, lapwing, you look ruffled. What can I do 
 for you 
 
 “ Tell the porter. Uncle Cornal, he’s not to let them in 
 on any account ; — and will you shoot them if they force 
 their way ?” 
 
 Cornal looked puzzled. “ Who, child ? — what do you 
 mean ?” 
 
 “ Cupid and his mother. Uncle Cornal. They are two 
 real wicked bad ones that go about shooting and killing 
 people, and setting them crazy.” 
 
 Cornal for a moment stared as if he thought Eveleen 
 had lost her senses ; but looking to Adorine for explanation, 
 he perceived by the universal symptoms of disturbed 
 gravity, it was some joke, so he humoured it. 
 
 “ All right, Eva, keep a sharp look out, give me timely 
 notice, and trust me to settle the intruders.’" 
 
 “But if the little leprechaun shoots you. Uncle Cornal, 
 unaware — for that’s how he does it — and maybe kills 
 you ?” 
 
 “ Come hither, Eveleen,” here intervened Sir Ulic, 
 good-naturedly pitying the evident distress of the child. 
 “ I must not suffer my niece to continue in ignorance of 
 personages so important.” And he explained to her this 
 portion of the mythology, which he had just concluded, 
 when a rather sharp argument between Dr. Dopping, 
 Parson Clutterbuck, and Hugh O'Byrne, arrested his 
 
THE DE COURCYS’ DINNER PARTY. 
 
 103 
 
 attention, and rising, he edged into the circle gathered 
 round them. 
 
 I assert, and I defy you to contradict me, for I have 
 statistics to prove what I say,^’ cried Dr. Dopping, that 
 in this, your boasted Island of Saints, there is as much vice 
 and crime as you’d meet in the world.” 
 
 And your religion, as well as your clergy’s vaunted 
 influence, does not appear to improve or ameliorate the 
 condition of the country,” put in Olutterbuck — ^‘thieving 
 lying, drunkenness, gambling, brawling, and ” 
 
 Come, now, where are you galloping ? ” interrupted 
 Hugh O’Byrne. “I speak of Ireland of the past, as she was 
 when her own children possessed the land, and the fame of 
 their schools and their temples filled the world. Where 
 are our people to-day ? — trodden down in the red grave, or 
 scattered to the four winds of heaven. Father not upon 
 the remnant left the iniquity of the ignorant, ill-begotten, 
 blood-thirsty swarm of adventurers, raised out of the 
 vilest sloughs of England and Scotland, the outscourings 
 of the most depraved of the population of these countries, 
 and poured in floods and torrents all over the land to mingle 
 their corruption with the pure stream, to graft their evil 
 branches upon the sacred soil. No ; I maintain those spu- 
 rious Irishmen of to-day do not represent the indigenous 
 inhabitants. ’Tis they who have changed the repute of the 
 nation. You might as fairly make a noble family respon- 
 sible for the misdeeds of burglars as brand our peo- 
 ple with the imported vices of aliens; and I maintain 
 that wherever you can point to a crime, point out the per- 
 petrator and I will show you a Cromwellian. Further- 
 more, age after age, the dross flung into the crucible will 
 scum to the surface, till the last drop of Cromwellian 
 blood be evaporated, or what remains be alchemised and 
 infused into the gold that abides.” 
 
 That’s as true as Gospel,” said Sir Ulic, coming for- 
 ward ; — ‘‘ no man can deny it. Indelible chronicles will 
 proclaim to futurity that injustice, fraud, cruelty, and 
 every form of vice, from the lighter shade of meanness to 
 the darker hues of atrocity, have surged hither with 
 
104 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 English invasion, and do their worst to debase our name, 
 and degrade our country.’^ 
 
 ‘‘ N'importe ! ’’ said Oornal, with a shrug, and smiling 
 at the speaker. Every tide has a turn, when the 
 river flows sweet again, free of the ocean that poisoned 
 it. Every winter brings a summer, when, the parasites 
 withered, the tree blooms out once more free from the 
 tendrils that stifled it ; and so it shall be with our sainted 
 Isle.^^ 
 
 Here Dr. Dopping’s carriage was announced, and 
 shortly after the company broke up, De Rivers whispering 
 to de Burgh, whose good grace he deemed it judicious to 
 cultivate by a show of friendly confidence : — 
 
 By George ! Cyclops has gagged the bishop, and as 
 for the friar. I’ll wager a groat to a guinea Dopping will 
 bring up his artillery to answer his fusilade. He looked 
 a very Pluto maugre his bland farewell. I own I should 
 as lief not affront his Grace. These sullen men that 
 ponder deeply, and won’t deign to strike fire in clash of 
 argument, but withdraw apparently vanquished from the 
 contest to crouch in their lair, I mark, are always 
 dangerous.” , 
 
 We’ll muzzle him,” was De Burgh’s laconic rejoinder. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. 
 
 By what strange features vice has known 
 
 To single out, and mark her own.’^ 
 
 Scott. 
 
 It is nine o’clock in the evening of March. The wild 
 blast is rushing down from the bleak Rathfarnham hills, 
 moaning and shrieking through the leafless trees, and 
 raving round the dismantled ruins of Rath-Cogan, now 
 ‘‘ Posy Park,” as though the departed spirits of the great 
 Norman barons, whose strong swords had won, and whose 
 strong hands had held with courtlier sway, the barbaric 
 pomp of their feudal reign for four centuries in the land of 
 the Gael, were lamenting in despair the downfall of their 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. 
 
 105 
 
 glory, and the site of their well-worn honour profaned by 
 ignoble strangers. In sooth, widely different was the 
 picture, and great the contrast presented between the 
 Norman noble’s banquet hall, where rude magnificence 
 presided with knightly grace, albeit illustrated in the 
 haughty pride of Grothic warriors, and the regal bearing of 
 their stately dames, and that set forth by the vulgar 
 lordlings of obscure antecedents, and illiterate minds, now 
 enthroned in ‘‘ pride of place.’’ The evening board was 
 laid for supper in the dining-room of the new house of 
 Posy Park, and nearly the same company, with one or 
 two exceptions, and one or two additions, were gathered 
 around it doing ample justice to the fare which, if not very 
 delicate, was very substantial and plentiful, consisting of cold 
 oysters, pickled pork and mutton pies, dressed crabs, cheese, 
 marrow bones and toast, broiled kidneys, ale, egg-flip, 
 Welsh rabbit, and whiskey punch. There was wine, too; — 
 nor was the luxury of tobacco omitted for those who paid 
 devotion to the only deity unknown to mythology. Set- 
 ting himself the example to his guests. Major Grrub 
 alternately varied the pastime of gastronomy by vigorously 
 puffing from a short clay pipe, firmly set between his teeth, 
 wreaths of blue smoke, which, curling from the furrow 
 between the thick massive ridges of lip closing over his 
 crater-like mouth, incensed at once both the feast and the 
 worshippers. Be it understood that in this select assem- 
 blage there was a delightful absence of ceremony. Each 
 one deported himself in speech and action with free and 
 easy abandon. No restrictive rules were imposed by good 
 breeding beyond what one’s own sense or sentiment dic- 
 tated. Hence, while Major Girub smoked, and Captain 
 Grub," junior, picked his teeth with a fork, and Bedloe 
 Knight gnawed a bone with his teeth, and sucked his 
 short, greasy fingers, and Parson Sharkey pared his nails 
 with a penknife, and Hungerwell Maw took off his boot 
 to give ease to a corn, Mrs. Abigail Knight sat with her 
 feet on the brass fender, and her dress skirt of puce silk 
 drawn up over her black quilted petticoat, maliciously 
 eyeing with supercilious sneer the two elder Misses 
 Grub, who, aspiring to fashion, were essaying to ape its 
 
106 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 attributes by deportment stiflf and prim, while her aunt, 
 Mrs. Mac Swiggan, a lady of masculine dimensions, mascu- 
 line features, and masculine character, lolled at full length 
 on a haircloth settee before the fire, and with the freedom 
 of authority, and the voice of a stentor, from time to time 
 took part in the conversation. 
 
 Major Grrub just now was in the act of speaking : — 
 
 Um! um!’^ — puff, puff ; his deep-set, lurid eyes fraught 
 with the sanguinary ferocity and eager vigilance of a 
 questing blood-hound were bent on Jonas, the deep lines 
 of his beetling brow contracted into knotty wrinkles, and 
 the callous type of his physiognomy intensified by the iron 
 rigidity of every muscle showed his thoughts were con- 
 centrated upon some subject that claimed his anxious con- 
 sideration. Nor less did the coarse, swarthy visage of his 
 son, clouded with moody pondering, his cold, hard eye, 
 fixed in stony trance, and brow of which a phrenologist 
 would not have construed favourably, louring beneath a 
 mass of crisp, coarse hair thatching a ponderous head, on 
 which were largely-developed bumps science would have 
 pronounced dangerous and grovelling, indicate that he 
 also was immersed in abstracting rumination. And in- 
 deed, it so happened the subject was one of vital import- 
 ance, and had reference to the matrimonial settlement of 
 Jonas, the h object in view heretofore alluded to by his 
 
 father, as consort meet for his heir, and with infinite good 
 taste selected by the heir himself, being no other than the 
 peerless Maud Fitz Eustace, on whom, it being settled 
 this high honour was to be conferred, it only remained to 
 acquaint her with the fact, and arrange terms with her 
 friends. 
 
 Accustomed as they had been to seize at will or patronise 
 at pleasure the prerogative of victors, the Cromwellians 
 saw nothing awkward or doubtful of achievement in such 
 transaction. But in this particular case a little dificulty 
 presented itself, to wit, the unlucky adventure in which 
 he (Jonas,) was mixed up in, when Bradly’s boys had 
 assailed Sir Reginald de Courcy’s children and instead of 
 sheltering them with manly protection from violence he 
 had abetted it by encouragement. True, he was ignorant 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. 
 
 107 
 
 then of their quality and degree, and though at the time 
 he had experienced a feeling of vexation at the interference 
 of Sir Athelstane, and the bold promptitude he had dis- 
 played in snatching the inanimate Maud from his hands, 
 the impression wore out, until when a few days afterwards 
 it was revived in full strength by his encountering the 
 identical lady at some public fHe^ in company with the 
 Fitz Adelms and the De Courcys, in all her high patrician 
 loveliness, looking like a hangel/’ as he expressed it, and 
 as inaccessible, fenced and encompassed by the brilliant 
 constellations of her sphere. For awhile he had watched 
 her himself unnoticed. Then he made inquiries, ascer- 
 tained her name, her condition in life, and, fired with 
 deeper interest, ventured a nearer approach, in the hope 
 that he might pass without recognition. But he was mis- 
 taken. There are faces and forms that to see them once, 
 whether the impression conveyed be favourable or un- 
 favourable, calculated to inspire pleasure or the reverse, 
 is to remember them for ever, and Jonas Grrub’s was one of 
 these. Maud recollected him well, but as her quietly 
 averted face and passive countenance expressed no sign, 
 his sense of uncomfortable shyness gave way to the natural 
 effrontery of his character. Addressing his friend, William 
 Fitz Eufus, he demanded to be introduced to Sir Eeginald 
 de Courcy. Fitz Eufus winced, but dare not for cogent 
 reasons disoblige. So indented were the traits of com- 
 monalty and ruffianism in the tout ensemble of Jonas, 
 which not even his handsome uniform could gloss over or 
 disguise, that even Fitz Eufus felt ashamed of his acquaint- 
 ance, and would by no means have made it public, but 
 constraint prevailed. Captain Grub obtained the required 
 introduction, which Sir Eeginald had cause to rue, for 
 Jonas, delighted with the affable condescension of De 
 Courcy ^s address, fastened upon' him for the ensuing hour. 
 Insensible to the many delicate hints and desperate wiles 
 invented by the old gentleman to shake him off, he pur- 
 sued him like his shadow, edged himself among his asso- 
 ciates, administered from time to time nauseous doses of 
 adulation, and capped the climax eventually by intro- 
 ducing his father, “ The Major.’' He had not, indeed, as 
 
108 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 yet accomplished his main object : for Maud kept out of 
 the way, and Jonas, who knew a little of Sir Athelstane, 
 and felt no inducement to improve the acquaintance, 
 attributing to him the cause, was not sparing of choice 
 maledictions upon the hinsolent Cavalier/’ whom he had 
 now fully resolved to baulk of his prize, let him do his 
 best to blow the coals, and make ill-will between the 
 hobject of his affection and him.” 
 
 Thus matters stood, while Jonas, using his elegant 
 toothpick, revolved them, until his father, whom he had 
 inoculated with the same design, discharging another 
 volcanic eruption of tobacco smoke, gave vent to his ideas 
 in speech : 
 
 Yer see, JonaS; I doan’t see why there should be any 
 hobstacle to the thing being settled instanter. The gal 
 hasn’t got so much o’ the lob as wot ’id set her on Tgher 
 stilts, an’ as for the guv’nor, tho’ well-to-do, as the sayin’ is, 
 Lor,’ he haven’t nothin’ in point o’ lucre to come up to us. 
 We have the acres. I’ll be bound he sees that without 
 spectacles; an’ if I settle on yer fifteen or sixteen thousand, 
 an’ Posy Park, arter my death, I doan’t think he’s a party 
 as ’ll shy at such a b offer. An’ as for the gal herself, cuss 
 Fitz Adlem, d’ye think the guv’nor ’ud be so spoony as to 
 let her go agin her hinterest in marryin’ a feller as can’t 
 show the same nohow ?” 
 
 Here broke in the high contralto voice of Mistress 
 Abigail Knight : 
 
 Why, then, Sword-o’ -Wrath, I wonder at yer to take up 
 this idear for Jonas, as is yer only son, an’ that yer know 
 well all yer have yer will leave to — an’ that’s betr’n thirty 
 thousand — to marry ’im to a gal wot hasn’t mor’n a couple 
 thousan’ an’ her face, an’ gettin’ into a stuck-up connexion 
 as prides ’emselves on hold blood, an’ looks down on the 
 likes of hus, as is their betters hev’ry way. Now, if ye 
 wor a wise father, it’s Roger Hog’s daughter, Sophy, that 
 has acre for acre to show, or Betsy Goggin, whose grand- 
 father, Peter Bull, can give her a lob o’ goold, ye’d be 
 lookin’ for. Sophy’s a fine comely wench, with a waist 
 like a churn, and a pair o’ brawny harms that has the 
 work in ’im. Many’s the fine flitch o’ bacon, young as she 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE, 
 
 109 
 
 is, Sophy^s cured, not to speak of the fine hale she brews 
 in Hoctober; — an' as for Betsy Groggin, tho' I own she 
 isn't good-lookin' — and wot o' that, beauty’s skin deep — 
 she’s the ’and over the churn an' the cheese; — lawk ! an’ 
 has a tongue as knows 'ow to keep the wenches to their 
 traces, I’ll be bound. Them’s the wives yer should think 
 on, an’ not on a wax doll tricked out in fine gew-gaws to 
 be hadmired.” 
 
 ‘‘See now, yer just 'old yer jaw, Abergail!” cried 
 Jonas, with a savage look at his aunt — the effect of which 
 was to render his countenance demoniac; — “I won’t throw 
 myself away on such hobjects as Sophy or Betsy, not if 
 they wor lumps o' goold ; my ’eart is set on the hobject o’ 
 me choice. Wedoan't lack the wealth, an ’ave hambition 
 to go 'igher in the world than the ’Ogs and the Bulls ; so 
 shut up, old gal.” 
 
 “ Many a one ’as climbed ’igh to fall low,” here chimed 
 in the sonorous accents of the recumbent Amazon. “ I 
 doan’t see for wot yer want to go 'igher than fortin can 
 make yer, Jonas. If yer doan't loike Sophy an’ Betsy, 
 there’s Julia Sparrow an’ Dolly Biggs, Parson Oruik- 
 shank’s nieces, as will ’ave little estates, an’ is good 
 lookin,’ only too gross ; his daughters, Fanny and Tommy, 
 are too young to think of yet.” 
 
 I thought as yer, wor asleep, Aunt Mac Swiggan,” 
 growled Jonas; “least ways, I thort as I 'eard ye snore. 
 Wall, now, I’d see the lot of ’em choked agen I'd put a 
 ring on ’em — there’s yer hanswer.” 
 
 “ Has far has it concerns me, I ’avent the notions about 
 ’igh blood an’ ’igh company as ’as got into the ’eads o’ my 
 folk,” said Major Grub; “I'd sooner ’ave ’Og’s darter or 
 Bull’s grandarter, norany of ’em. I’d feel more at'ome loike 
 with sech, an' I ’aven’t no idears that forefathers or eder- 
 cation makes the hodds of a grot betwixt one man or 
 woman an’ another, only for to sot ’em up as ’as em.” 
 
 “An’ the gal’s a Papist, besides. ’Ow will yer ’gree to 
 that.^" demanded Mistress Abigail, returning to the 
 charge with increased vigour, as she perceived the smirking 
 satisfaction with which her aspiring nieces commended 
 the laudable battle of Jonas to form an alliance in ’igh 
 
110 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 life, which should prove a stepping-stone for themselves 
 to the same pinnacle, from which they would look down 
 with disdain upon herself. 
 
 Doan’t let that trouble yer,'’ returned Jonas; she’ll 
 come to church if she wor canonised a Roman saint. I 
 wouldn’t stand no Popery, I tell yer ; — would we, Parson 
 Sharkey ? An’ if I caught soight o’ monk or priest prow- 
 ling about my premises I’d put a bullet thro’ ’im while 
 ye’d say ^ snap ;’ — no, I’d ’ave my woife one o’ the right 
 sort.” 
 
 ‘‘ She’d soon be for getting back to ’er friends,” suggested 
 Aunt Mac Swiggan. 
 
 ‘‘ See would I leave her a friend to go to. I’d soon put 
 ’em out of the way of interferin’ in my bisiness; — wouldn’t 
 I, Sharkey ?” 
 
 The individual in question gave a prodigious yawn, 
 and exhibited two rows of strong-pointed yellow teeth 
 which, harmonising with his gray complexion, broad, low 
 brow, hungry eyes, and lank jaws, gave him a most 
 wolfish aspect. 
 
 Yea, verily. ^ Thou shalt rule them with a rod of iron, 
 and like a potter’s vessel thou shalt break them in pieces.’ ” 
 
 “ That’s just it,” returned the approving Jonas. 
 
 Hungerwell Maw, not to be outdone in contributing 
 some edifying quotation, murmured piously : Turn upon 
 
 my enemies their evil, and destroy them !” 
 
 The very thing; — just suits the case,” exclaimed Jonas, 
 enraptured. An’ now let’s plan how to set about the job. 
 I say, if you two gals,” addressing his sisters, “ would rig 
 out in yer best gear, an’ go in the coach to-morrow to pay 
 a visit to the De Oourcys, that would just break the hice ; — 
 an’ then there’s Lady Tudor isgoin’ to give a great rout; — 
 I’ll get us all asked.” 
 
 Are ye mad ?” here exclaimed his father; — you’ll get 
 us asked to Lady Tudor de Rivers, one o’ the proudest 
 vixens. I’d as soon think o’ yer getting an invite to the 
 Duchess o’ Tyrconnel’s private assemblies.” 
 
 Leave that to me; I’ll do it,” said Jonas; — “you know 
 me an’ Plantagenet an’ Harvey is tolerable thick.” 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. Ill 
 
 « Why, ye coon, as I see, the sons is full as proud as 
 their dam. 
 
 They^re as proud as Lucifer an’ as mean as beggars, 
 them an’ Fitz Rufus, returned Jonas. ’ave us all in- 
 
 vited; so keep up your ’eads for’t; I reckon I’ll ’ave to 
 come down with suthin’; — but it’s just this, if we must go 
 to the operar, or get into fine company, we must pay our 
 footing.” 
 
 Now I see yer dodge,” smiled the Major, complacently; 
 not a vink on yer, Jonas; yer a chip o’ the old block.” 
 “Arter that the rest comes light,” continued Jonas, 
 ‘‘ we've only to propose, an’ you come along to satisfy the 
 hold cove that all’s right. So, gals, ye’ll step out to Lady 
 de Courcy’s to-morrow; an’ yer needn't be bashful — for 
 howsomever it is, the De Oourcys is 'umble-like in their 
 way, an’ 'asn’t no fine hairs to put yer down, like my 
 Lady de Rivers, an’ more of her stamp — not they.” 
 
 Jael and Judith needed no further argument to encour- 
 age them ; they were not timid girls — bashful ! They did 
 not know the feeling. Yes; they would call on the Lady de 
 Courcy ; do anything to promote the interest of a brother, 
 whose hand promised to open to them the gate to the Ul 
 Dorado of their own bliss, gay with visions of glory float- 
 ing before their eyes, and themselves revolving in the 
 charmed circle round the central deities of their worship. 
 Sir Harold and Sir Athelstane. In vain did Hungerwell 
 Maw sweetly simper and ogle, and purr tender effusions, 
 sanctified by scriptural texts — to the inattentive ear of 
 Jael; and Sharkey sigh, as though his heart were breaking, 
 for the cold disdain that repaid glances and amiable piety 
 working hand-in-hand to wheedle Judith's heart and 
 fortune into his better keeping. They exhaled their sighs 
 and their smiles on barren rocks; and the widowers, who 
 had found upon a former occasion, matrimony both easy 
 and profitable, were beginning to change an opinion they 
 had held, and were fond of expressing, for the benefit of 
 others, that women were idiots, and that the very best of 
 them could be wooed and won with a little sugared chaff*, 
 and would, rather than run the risk of being unmarried 
 by waiting to pick and choose, wed a broom-stick. But 
 
112 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 dispelling the illusion of their dreams, the voice of Major 
 Grub was again in the ascendant, asking Bedloe 
 Knight, how Scorch- Eebel Bradly’s son got out of the 
 business about the drowned child of Lacy’s.^' 
 
 It went to trial,’' said Knight, “ an’ brought home to 
 them that they threw the boy into the pond; but somehow 
 the jury didn’t agree. Some thought it was accidental, 
 an’ so they got off with a sharp reprimand from the 
 magistrate, Sir Begin aid de Courcy. I think myself they 
 shoved the boy in. They could have pulled him out if 
 they chose; — but Bradly’s boys is wild chaps — a harum 
 scarum lot.” 
 
 ‘‘ Who brought the charge against them ?” demanded 
 Jonas. 
 
 The child’s father and sister.” 
 
 Then, by heaven, I’d be revenged,” exclaimed Jonas 
 fiercely. It’s unbearable that we Protestants must for 
 every accident and trifle be made answerable to a Popish 
 government. What next will befall, I’d like to know ? 
 If Scorch-Eebel take my advice he’ll give the Irish cur a 
 lesson will teach him an’ the rest of his fellows to keep 
 their tongue between their teeth, and not be bringing 
 charges agen’ us.” 
 
 In this opinion the guests all coincided with much zeal, 
 and Jonas resumed : “ There’s a rumour about that Popish 
 James is soon coming over to Ireland. Won’t that be a 
 kettle of fish to cook ? He’11 be over in a few days.” 
 
 ‘‘I got some inkling of it where did yerhearit?” 
 demanded his father. 
 
 Sprag’s boys come in to the cock- pit yesterday, an’ 
 told as ’ow they ’card it from ’Umphry Booth, the man 
 wot keeps the Mews, as ’card it from Harold Sigurd’s 
 groom. He says it’s all the talk at the Castle, an’ they 
 begin to make great preparations. By-the-way, Booth is 
 goin’ to be married to the divorced woife o’ Parson 
 Cubbage o’ Snugborough.” 
 
 ‘‘ Which o’ the divorced women — Cubbage had two ?” 
 asked the Major. 
 
 . ‘‘The last one, Amby Cox’s daughter as was.” 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. 
 
 113 
 
 . ^^Then ’pon my conscience, he’ll have no bargain in 
 her!— drinks like a fish/’ returned the Major. 
 
 ‘^That’s a lie!” shrilled the high contralto voice of 
 Abigail, breaking in. 
 
 It isn’t,” vociferated her brother. 
 
 It is,” screamed the sister. Don’t I know Sal Oub- 
 bage since the time she kep’ the laundry at Tyburn, when 
 Cubbage hisself, before he got the call to the Church, was 
 shop-boy in the witualler’s close by. Many’s the fine tub 
 o’ clothes I’ve knowed Sal put from under her ban’s before 
 cock-crow of a morn’. A fine notable woman she was, an’ 
 had suthin’ put , by too ; but he’s a wile temper, is Cub- 
 bage. Didn’t he use to kick his first wife, as killed the 
 baby before it was born. An’ serve ’im right ; — she went 
 off with a sodger to the Injies, an’ left ’im.” 
 
 Ay, my missus says wot’s true,” said Bedloe, 
 ‘‘ not but wot I believe as Sal and gin is good friends. 
 Anyhow, Booth has took a notion to marry her. An’ 
 Cubbage, not to lose time, as he ses ’taint respectable for 
 a parson to be single an’ want a ’elpmate to ’elp ’im to 
 convert the people, is paying coort to Sam Pullin’s niece ; 
 him as ’as the stage-coaches in Bride’s-alley.” 
 
 ‘‘ An’ does the goat ’ave the hinnicence to think as ’ow 
 he’ll conwert these ’ere natives by psalm-singin’ and con- 
 nooble example, now that there’s no lash over them to whip 
 ’em in ?” retorted Jonas, with a sneer. There’s a 
 thousand of ’em at it, as ’as connooble ’elps to write their 
 sermons, an’ go among the people with all manner o’ 
 decoy to gain upon ’em, an’ it’s emptier the churches is 
 gettin,’ an’ thinner the congregations. Bishop Doppin’ 
 ’adn’t a hundred to preach to last Sabbath-day, nor yet 
 Clutterbuck in the evening service ; an’ there was hevery 
 Catholic church in Dublin teeming like a theatre. An’ 
 does Cubbage think he’ll conwert all that ? — special, if the 
 king comes now ; then we may shut up hours, or ’ire them 
 out for salerooms.” 
 
 Here a sonorous groan from the sofa smote each ear. 
 
 ‘‘ Mistress Mac Swiggan, marm, what ails yer ?” cried 
 Major Grub. 
 
 “Johanna, my dear, the oisters is lyin’ cold on my 
 
 9 
 
114 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 stomach. Gie me a dandy, raw ; — don’t mix it,” alter- 
 nately groaned and hiccoughed the recumbent form. 
 
 Yis, marm, a gill o’ brandy, with a dash of cayenne in 
 it, is the soverinist thing for a colic,” returned the Major, 
 while Johanna, half-filling a tumbler ; handed it to her 
 relative, who added, ‘‘Jenny, my dear, I think I*d take 
 a mouthful o’ Welsh-rabbit.” This being supplied, Mistress 
 Mac Swiggan continued: — 
 
 “ I ’ope Clotworthy, as yer don’t mean yer gal is to go 
 in the coach a visitin’ without a discreet female to ma- 
 tronise them ; — not but wot, as dear knows, there hold 
 enuf — hiccough — an’ ornary enuf to be trusted anywheres ; — 
 but then the look of it.” 
 
 “That’s just wot I was going over in my own ’ead,” 
 supplemented Abigail. 
 
 Grub looked at his son; Jonas scowled. The Misses 
 Grub felt their position secure ; and answered, superbly, 
 Jael : — 
 
 “If, ’as wot Jonas thinks is yer’ll clinch the bisness 
 better’n’ us, why ’ave the coach an’ go ; but I take it as 
 we’re mature enuf, an’ ornary enuf, we’ll ’ave no ante- 
 derluvians tacked to our ’eels, a telling of us ’ow to look 
 and wot to say, as is used to company bettern’ you ever 
 knowed.” 
 
 “ Oh, ye owdacious wixen !” burst forth Mistress Mac 
 Swiggan, and between the effects of treacherous brandy, 
 and wounded susceptibility, she began to weep, sob, and 
 hiccough : — “ye owdacious wixen’ to jibe me with sech un- 
 feeling langwidge,''an’ fling my hage in my teeth; an* tho’ 
 I’m yer great-aunt, ’asn’t seen sixty -eight, an’ for to be 
 nick-named an antederluvian, wot ever as yer means by 
 that stigmatic. Oh, mussy ! — Oo ! oo ! oo ! ” 
 
 “There, now, see wot yer ’ave been an’ done; and no 
 remorse for wringin’ tears out of yer great-aunt,” ex- 
 claimed Abigail Knight,” with reprobating tone and 
 withering eye. 
 
 “ Crockerdile’s tears,” contemptuously suggested Jonas, 
 in a low growl. 
 
 “Never ’eed; let the wenches go by theirselves ; they 
 doan’t want leading strings this many a day,” said the 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. 
 
 115 
 
 Major, who, while he ruled in his sphere with the absolute 
 sway of an Abyssinian potentate, was ruled himself by his 
 despotic son with grinding rigour. The gals ’ll come to 
 understanding soonest, an’ them’s the ones we ’ave to do 
 with.” 
 
 ‘‘I wonder yer doan’t think of takin' on yerself agen ; 
 yer young an’ spruce enough for’t,’' exclaimed Abigail, 
 suddenly inspired by the demon with perception of a 
 means whereby to humble her intolerable nieces. There’s 
 lot’s o’ fine dashing gals ’id come at the snap o’ yer finger, 
 an’ wot id ail ye to ’ave another familj^ — there’s suthin’ 
 more than enough for all 
 
 She looked round as she spoke, to note the effects of her 
 speech, and marked with triumph the startled eyes of Jael 
 and Judith turn upon the blackening brow of Jonas, and 
 the complaisant smile with which the Major received the 
 suggestion, as he scratched his enormous bushy head, and, 
 after brief preface, enunciated his mind on the subject : 
 Wall, I can’t say as ’ow I’ve never gave the thing a 
 thought, for in course w’en the gals is purwided, an’ J onas 
 settled to ’is loikin’, it would be lonesome to be without a 
 partner ; but then, yer see, ’taint aisy to get the one to 
 suit. I’m young enuf not to fancy a ’ag, an’ I’d ’ave a 
 widder no ’ow; I’ve aprejudirce agiii’ widders— too know- 
 ing by half. If I could meet a nice gal with good looks, 
 an’ some mony, suthin’ above the common sort — Law ! if 
 ’ere aint Gideon Bradly an’ the boys. Wot in the name 
 o’ the fiends ’ave yer got on ’ands, to fetch yer out o’ the 
 rookery this gusty evening, friend Scorch-Eebel ?” And 
 all Major Grub’s matrimonial notions were speedily put 
 to flight, for the time being, by the unexpected arrival 
 of his friends. 
 
 ‘‘Fetch bus a stoup o’ suthin’; I’m drouthy arter our 
 tramp,” was Gideon’s response, as he stood wiping, with a 
 not too fresh red handkerchief, the perspiration from his 
 red pock-marked face and thick bull-neck. 
 
 “Yer ’ealth, marm; my service t’ye,” as Jael handed a 
 tankard of home-brewed, which he held to his lips till he 
 had nearly drained ; then puffing and blowing, he rested 
 himself, staring with watery eyes on his sons devouring in 
 
116 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 greedy silence the plentiful repast piled on trenchers 
 before them by Johanna and Jenny. 
 
 The Major had relighted his pipe, and puffing away, 
 waited patiently for Gideon to unbosom, which he soon 
 did, while seating and helping himself without ceremony 
 to the good things before him. 
 
 “ Come over to let yer know there’s to be a dawg fight 
 on Wednesday.’’ 
 
 Where Whose dawgs ?” were the queries simul- 
 taneously put by the Major and Jonas, with an alacrity 
 that demonstrated their interest in the matter. 
 
 ^''In Dunckley’s skin-yard, off Bull-alley. There’s 
 three sets booked — Fitz Eufus' mastiff, ‘ Tiger ’ agen’ 
 Hoggins' bull-dog, ‘ Slaughter’ ; an’ Tudor’s Newfound- 
 land, ‘Hero’ agen’ Spraggby’s blood-hound, ‘Tearem;’ 
 an’ our own dawg, ‘ Battler’ agen’ Dopping’s lion-dawg, 
 ‘Thunder.’ We’ll have glorious sport ; I’ve staked fifty 
 on ‘ Rattler,’ an’ the wagers an’ bettin’ is *igh on the 
 bishop’s.” 
 
 “But the bishop won’t be there ?” demanded Jonas. 
 
 “No, yer fool, ’ow could he, in his cloth, set up for 
 patron of such diversion in public ; him that ’as to walk 
 as straight as an arrer, an’ set an example of Godly piety 
 to ederfy all as looks upon his wisage. No, a friend does it 
 for ’im on the sly. That’s wot friends is good for. I’d 
 like to know wot ’id be the good o’ friends, if not. Now 
 look ye ’ere in proof of it.” He doubled up his fist and 
 shook it at his sons indiscriminately, though the action 
 had only reference to one. “ That hass o’ mine, Sampson, 
 was as nigh to the ’angmao’s rope as I am to this platter ; 
 an’ if it ’adn’t been for friends o’ mine on the jury, that 
 wouldn’t give in to the witnesses agen ’im for the drownin’ 
 of Pierce Lacy’s child, why we’d have been drinking at 
 his wake to-night ; — but I must say as Sparrow an’ Goggin 
 an’ Hog an’ Booth, an’ the rest, all was trumps ; an’ that’s 
 the good o’ friends.” 
 
 “Yes, an’ I tell yer wot’s more,” said Jonas; “them 
 is no less friends as gives good adwice; an’ my adwice to 
 Sampson is, an’ to yer, for not to let this rascally Hirish 
 cub go unpunished for his owdacious complaint. Now, 
 
THE GRUBS PLAN AN ALLIANCE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 by Moloch! if the same 'ad 'appened to me, I wouldn’t lay 
 ’ead on my pillar to-night till I had put a lighted faggot 
 into the thatch of his shed, or into his ^ayrick ; for Lacy is 
 a snug villain, an’ owns a cow ; an' if the loikes of ’im 
 owns as much as ye’d lap round yer finger, of property, 
 there’s no stanin’ their hinsolence. Wot about deEivers — 
 isn’t he cornin’ to the game ? ” 
 
 Never fear, but he’ll come with a will,” returned 
 Bradly, “ but these skulking nobs are ashamed to be seen 
 with hus, because we aint of their own set, and won’t give 
 open countenance to it like men ; while some so scorn us 
 altogether, loike Fitz Adlem, Harold SigUrd, De Burgh, 
 O’Byrne, and such, they’d as lief go for a game with 
 Beelzebub in Styx. We must be content with 'em we 
 ’ave, an’ wink at their fastidiousness, while we pluck their 
 feathers.” 
 
 An’ wot about that splendid mare as you was 
 a-’ankerin’ arter, and thought to jocky Fitz Adlem out of 
 by bribing the groom to report ill of ’im?” demanded 
 Major Grrub. 
 
 ‘‘ Didn’t I tell yer as ’ow De Burgh got inkling of the 
 dodge through ’is groom, Darcey, an’ ’ow he gave warnin’ 
 to Fitz Adlem not to part with the hanimal, an’ got the 
 groom dismissed ?” 
 
 “ I wonder he took the trouble, seein’ as ’ow there is 
 not much friendship betwixt ’em ; an’ Harold Sigurd is 
 cut out altogether,” observed the Major. 
 
 ‘‘ There’s no accountin’ for’t, except these dons, if they 
 wor at daggers’ points, still stick up for what they calls 
 honour,” said Bradly, snuffling and picking his nose. 
 
 Jonas,” whispered Sampson, lolling back on his chair 
 and opening his waistcoat to give himself ease, for he was 
 gorged to repletion, let’s ’ave a spree, an’ go down to 
 Lacy’s on to-morrow night. We’ll make ructions among 
 ’em, roast the cow an’ the pigs, make a bonefire o’ the 
 cabin, an’ give them a chance of purgatory.” 
 
 ‘‘Ay, I’ll enjoy the frolic ; but it must be at midnight, 
 for it wouldn’nt do to be ousted. Odds-fish, ’ow tha^ 
 woman snores !” 
 
 “ Dear good soul, the blessed balmy slumber of peaceful 
 
118 
 
 LEIXLiP CASTLE. 
 
 innocence/^ sighed Parson Maw, glancing tenderly at the 
 fleshy form of Dame Mac Swiggan, wrapped in uncon- 
 scious oblivion, and then at the obdurate countenance of 
 the object of his worship. 
 
 ‘‘ Bevelling in dreams of Elysium,’^ chimed in the other 
 parson, getting on his legs, and standing unsteadily ; 
 
 warning us, sinners, by her example to practise better 
 hours. Oh, woman ! how lost we should be but for the 
 still, small voice of her preaching. Grood-night, my friends; 
 what recreation for the toil-weary mind and o’er-laden 
 spirit, an hour or two whiled away in the solace of such 
 delightful society. Ah ! for the day of rest — the day of 
 rest, when it shall be always so.'’ 
 
 Ugh ! you parson fellows are always cantinV’ snarled 
 Jonas, bracing himself up with a hitch, ^^Idoan’t see 
 anything wot's wrong ’ere, when we ’ave all we need, that 
 we should be gruntin’ for change, an' to go where we 
 know nothin’ at all about, save on hearsay. Now, I’ll be 
 sworn ye can give us not an idear of the sort o' place it is, 
 nor the rest ye groan over. All I knows is, I'll stick to 
 the good -in-hand while I can ’old a grip on’t, in spite o' 
 ten thousand parsons, an' bishops to boot. Good-night; 
 Im for hammock.'’ (Exit Jonas.) 
 
 Ah, ha, ha ! — Good night, my witty young friend,” 
 said Sharkey ; ‘‘be sure you let me see you at church next 
 Sabbath, and I’ll do my endeavours to enlighten your 
 mind concerning Zion and the glories of the elect. 
 Farewell.’' 
 
 “ He's a mass of sanctity,” murmured Abigail. “ Bedloe, 
 we must go. next Sabbath to hear ’im ’old forth on 
 such sublime text. Wake up. Aunt Mac Swiggan, it’s 
 time we be goin'; an’ think over wot I wor sayin’, Clot- 
 worthy, about a wife.” 
 
 “ An' ye’ll be for the dawgs to-morrow ?” said Bradly 
 to the Major, who assented with a grunt. “ Two o’clock, 
 sharp.” (Exit Bradlys.) 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VISIT LADY DE COUFCY. 119 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MISSES GRUB VISIT LADY DE COURCY. 
 
 ** And the strange inborn sense of coming ill 
 
 That sometimes whispers to the haunted breast 
 In a low, sighing tone that naught can still ; 
 
 ’Mid feasts and melodies a secret guest : 
 
 Whence doth that murmur come, that shadow fall ? 
 
 Why shakes the spirit thus ? ’Tis mystery all.” — 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon of the following day. Lady 
 De Courcy sat in her drawing-room, working at a hand- 
 some piece of vestment tapestry in an embroidery- frame 
 beside her. Maud Fitz Eustace and Adorine O’Byrne, 
 her constant visitors, were each occupied at a small easel 
 set with drawing materials before them on a round table 
 in the centre of the room. They were painting in oil 
 colours. All had suspended their operations, for Sir Ulic 
 de Burgh had just called to make a visit. He sat near 
 Lady de Courcy, with whom he had early ingratiated 
 himself into special favour, and for a time the conversation 
 was principally maintained between them on various topics, 
 till the subject of Lady de Eivers’ rout, which was to take 
 place that night week, was introduced; then Adorine, who 
 had resumed her painting, smiled and said : — 
 
 “ Eveleen and Raymond are so happy at the idea of 
 going to an assembly ” 
 
 “ You don’t mean to say those children are going to 
 Lady de Rivers ?” hastily interposed De Burgh, with a 
 look of some surprise. 
 
 Oh, yes, Sir Ulic— why not ? Her ladyship has 
 kindly asked them, and I anticipate great pleasure in 
 seeing what fun it will be to Eveleen.” 
 
 Are May and Bella also asked ? ” inquired Sir Ulic, 
 looking curious. 
 
 “ Oh, dear no ; we should have a children’s party,” 
 returned Lady de Courcy, with grave smile. 
 
 “ Then you don’t approve of it 
 
120 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Certainly not, Sir Ulic,’’ she replied, with look respon- 
 sive to his questioning glance. 
 
 I have an idea you are right, Lady de Courcy. Pray, 
 what does Captain O’Byrne say 
 
 Adorine looked up and laughed pleasantly. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, mon ph^e would bring a child out of the cradle to 
 wherever there was amusement. He was in Parisian 
 society himself from seven years old. But, Sir Ulic,'' she 
 continued, in tone more grave, perceiving a shade of deep 
 thought darken his features, Eveleen is not like other 
 children ; she is more precocious in her ideas, and more 
 deep of understanding than many of more advanced 
 years.” 
 
 “Yes, I grant you,” replied Sir Ulic, “ Eveleen possesses 
 by nature a solid foundation for a fine superstructure of 
 worth. Her early training, and the habit of thinking, speak- 
 ing, and acting for herself, have developed in her a pre- 
 mature strength of character and independence of mind, 
 which, properly disciplined and directed, will bear splendid 
 result ; but if left uncontrolled, or untamed, is capable of 
 direful issue as well. The same remarks may apply to 
 Eaymond. Where are they now ?” 
 
 “ Eveleen is in the school-room with May and Bella, 
 taking lessons from Maclamey the governess; I don't 
 know where Raymond is,” answered Adorine. 
 
 Sir Ulic paused in deep refiection. He had, by his own 
 consummate tact and insight into character, achieved the 
 object of his desire, Cornal O’Byrne, who would have 
 resisted to extremity haughtily-urged claim, had yielded 
 like wax to persuasion. Moreover, he had come to admire, 
 esteem, and like one whose, creed, politics, ideas, and dis- 
 positions were all so akin to his own ; and so well had De 
 Burgh studied the nature with which he had to deal, and 
 so skilfully had he contrived to blend urbanity with 
 majesty in their social intercourse, that he had begun 
 even to acquire an ascendancy most potent over the mind, 
 of his less firmly moulded friend. Hence it was that 
 Raymond was now free to share with his Uncle Cornal 
 all the patronage and interest it pleased his Uncle Ulic 
 to confer upon him, and, as it happened, was in danger of 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VlSlT LADY DE COURCY. I2l 
 
 exemplifying again the old proverb of falling to the 
 ground between two stools. Inured, like his sister, from 
 childhood to the wild independence of the hills, con- 
 straint and system were his abhorence. So long as his Uncle 
 Ulic suffered him to loiter about his chamber, or crouch 
 coiled up in a recess, poring over a volume of Shakes- 
 peare, the history of Greece, Eome, or ‘‘The Arabian 
 Nights’ Entertainment,” Raymond, who loved reading, 
 would contentedly while away hours ; but let his uncle assign 
 to him a fixed task, and in brief space Raymond was off in 
 quest of some more congenial pastime. It was pondering all 
 this, that Sir Ulic now sat in deep reverie ; when, with a 
 bound and a rush, a book under her arm, and another in 
 her hand, Eveleen sprung into the saloon, sweeping away 
 every vestige of his thoughts, and leaving not a wreck 
 behind. 
 
 “ Uncle Ulic, I didn’t know you were here, or I’d have 
 been down an hour ago.” Sir Ulic bowed. 
 
 “ May I ask what interesting volumes you have there ?” 
 
 “ Of course you may. Uncle. This is ‘ Don Quixote,’ 
 I’ve just come to the end of it ; and this is ‘The Faerie 
 Queene,’ I’m only half-way in it ; and. Uncle, I’ve got the 
 whole mythology off by heart. I know all the gods and 
 goddesses by name. Harvey de Rivers shan’t humbug 
 me any more about his St. Cupid.” 
 
 “ You have made great proficiency,” smiled Sir Ulic, 
 does your governess approve your course of studies ?” 
 
 “ Cross old cat !” returned Eveleen; “she kept me all 
 the morning at geography. I didn’t mind that, but the 
 rest of my day was lost over spelling and grammar. I’ll 
 take care to be out of the way to-morrow ; such drudgery ! 
 What good’s in spelling and grammar ? And there’s 
 poor May and Bella crying their eyes out over astronomy ; 
 all about the stars, and the sun, and the moon. Now 
 what’s the good of that ? We’re not going to take a 
 journey to to the sun, that we want to know his dis- 
 tance from us ; nor to buy land in the stars, that we 
 care whether Mercury or Mars is the bigger. She wanted 
 me to go learn another lesson in heraldry ; about coro- 
 nets with strawberry leaves, and crests with gules, and 
 
122 
 
 LEIXLIP castle. 
 
 fields, and bars, lions coucliant^ and lions rampant ; — and, 
 oh, bother ! I think Madame is in the moon herself. I 
 fiung the book to the wall, and broke away.’^ 
 
 By this time Eveleen was resting with arms folded 
 upon the shoulder of Sir Ulic, not .seeming in the least 
 disconcerted or daunted by his solemn aspect, 
 
 “ I am afraid you shall have to be sent back to TJrris- 
 more, to live among the wild hills and lakes. If you go 
 on this way, you won^t be fit to mingle in polished society,’^ 
 said Sir Ulic. Used you to be wild like this ? Tell me 
 what you did — how you passed you time when there 
 ‘‘ When matliair was alive, I went to school every day — 
 Elphin and me — to the Franciscan Nuns, and we learned 
 to read, and write, and cipher; and sew, and spin, and knit; 
 we learned our catechism, to play on the cruity and 
 sing for benediction. There was no such new-fangled 
 things as heraldry and astronomy, 1 warrant, taught there.'^ 
 Well, when poor matliair died, you were the house- 
 keeper ; — what did you do then asked Sir Ulic. 
 
 ‘‘ I did just what I liked. All day long we^d be about 
 the hills — Raymond and Ownie, and Elphin and I ; then 
 sometimes of moon-light nights, Ownie and Elphin would 
 come and tap at my pane, and Td get up and steal to 
 Raymond, and he’d get up, and we’d open the door — 
 there was only the latch and a little bolt — and off we’d be 
 miles away ; sometimes riding on hobbies, sometimes on 
 our feet. Oh! it was fun, and many a time we heard the 
 coehhie^ so sweet in the glens ; and often we saw the lepre^ 
 chauiiSf and heard them laughing in the bushes ; and once 
 I saw a phocay though Ownie would want to persuade me 
 it was a wild-goat capering about. Oh, I would like to go 
 back to Urrismore, and to Elphin and Ownie.” 
 
 ‘‘ And who, pray, is Ownie ?” demanded Sir Ulic, with 
 smile half-sad, half-tender, and altogether investigating. 
 
 Eveleen, whose face and tone of voice were now very 
 mournful, made answer : — 
 
 “Ownie Mac Carthy, Raymond’s school-fellow. His 
 maihair was foster-sister to mine, and died soon after. His 
 father died then, and no one was left but blind old Gran.” 
 * Fairy music. 
 
The misses grub visit lady de courcy. 123 
 
 ‘‘And what age may Ownie be, this hero, under whose 
 protection you made these nocturnal rambles 
 
 “ Ownie’s sixteen, and Elphin’s twelve.” 
 
 “Was your father aware of all this?” demanded Sir 
 Ulic, with a glance at Maud. 
 
 “ Catch us tell him ! Sure, he wouldn’t let us, if he 
 knew,” cried Eveleen, with genuine burst of astonishment. 
 “ Like mathaivy he’d fear we"d catch cold and die, the way 
 little Ulic and Ina did. No ; we took good care to be 
 home in time ; and then I milked the goat, and made 
 the griddle-cakes for breakfast, and boiled the eggs, and 
 had all ready when he came from the forge. But what 
 makes you look so melancholy, Uncle Ulic ? We had 
 lots o’ fun besides — ^fairs and wakes, and patterns and 
 weddings, and rowing and fishing on the lakes. There 
 was nothing wrong in all that, was there ?” 
 
 “ No, my love, nothing wrong, but ” He paused, 
 
 glanced with deprecating smile at Lady de Courcy, who 
 looked utterly shocked ; then settled his gaze on Adorine 
 and Maud, and asked them what they thought of that 
 mode of life. Maud oflPered no opinion, but Adorine said, 
 laughing: — 
 
 “ I believe I have inherited enough of the wild 
 mountain spirit of our clans, to think I should not dislike 
 it in some respects ; but if I had to milk the goat, to bake 
 the cakes, and boil the eggs, I fear I should, like Cinder- 
 ella, sit down and cry.” 
 
 “ And we played tricks, too, Eaymond and I, and made 
 two parsons that came down to live at Urrisbeg fly away 
 quicker then they came,’^ laughed Eveleen, gleefully, at 
 the reminiscence. 
 
 “ For goodness’ sake, how did you that said Sir Ulic. 
 “ Make two parsons fly !” 
 
 “ Our own Dominican, Father Bermingham, came in 
 one day to see us, and he told father how they were going 
 to build a Protestant church; and that Parson Dawe had 
 come down, with his wife and family, to live in the house 
 beside the old castle, that belonged once on a time to 
 Qrana Uaile. It was the only big house for miles round, 
 and they took it for a parsonage. Father John was very 
 
124 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sorry, he said, and feared the people would be persecuted ; 
 so when Raymond and I heard that, we whispered to- 
 gether, and said we'd hunt the parson, and so we did.’’ 
 
 But how did you contrive the exploit ?” said Sir Ulic. 
 
 One of the parson’s children was dying of water-on- 
 the-brain, got by a fall the day they came down. Old 
 Nona said it hadn’t long to live — it was only four years 
 old, and his only boy. I knew the banshee wouldn’t cry 
 for it, because it wasn’t of the old faith, nor one of our 
 race; so I got the loan of old Nona’s red cloak, and set off 
 with Raymond. We climbed into a tree, and when it 
 came to twelve, we struck a light, and I began to sing and 
 keeUy first under the window, and then all round about the 
 house. We could hear the people inside running to and 
 fro, and talking, and raising the windows to look out. 
 The next day the child died, and the day after it was 
 buried the parson left, and gave out that the place was 
 unlucky, and haunted by an old witch in a red cloak, that 
 all the people said was a hanshee. That’s how we got rid 
 of Parson Dawe.” 
 
 ‘‘And how did you rout the next parson ?” 
 
 “ Parson Rankin came next, a month after, and they 
 were to begin building the church at once, and his bailiff 
 came round among us all, saying it would be expected 
 we’d go to church, and no one would be let live there that 
 didn’t, for Parson Rankin had bought the whole place. 
 A couple of nights after that, Raymond and I set off* 
 again. Ownie couldn’t come, for his father was sick, and 
 he had to stay to mind him ; so we two went. We took a 
 long chain out of the forge and fastened a lot of horse- 
 shoes to it. I had that, and Raymond took Ohair’s bugle. 
 When we got to the place, we climbed to the turrets of the 
 old castle, and jumped from that on to the roof of the 
 parson’s house ; then we got in through a dormer window. 
 We knew the place quite well; we had often rambled 
 throught it. We knew all the trap-doors and secret 
 passages into the vaults, and up into the castle, where the 
 chieftains used to hide their treasures from the Danes and 
 escape themselves when pursued. So we got down till we 
 came to the cork-screw stairs, with a trap-door at the foot> 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VISIT LADY DE COURCY. 125 
 
 that only we knew of, that opened by pressing a spring, 
 and flew back again when let go. When we got here we 
 knew we were sure not to be caught in a hurry. So 
 Raymond set to blow the horn like mad, and I made a 
 race along, rattling the chain and horse-shoes like thunder. 
 Oh ! you may guess there was a row. Such jumping 
 about overhead ! The parson hallooing, the wife and 
 children and servants shouting and yelling. Then the 
 house-dog set to howl and yelp, and the parson flred shots 
 out of his bed-room window. Next they began to search 
 the house ; the parson with a gun, the butler with a pistol, 
 and the stable-boy with a pitch-fork, the wife coming next 
 with a poker, and holding the dog by a string, and a 
 troop of servants and children at their heels. When we 
 saw them coming by the light — they all had candles — we 
 slipped away through the trap and ran along the passages 
 to another place, where we gave out again ; and so we 
 stayed on till near day light, and then we left. Next 
 day the story was over the whole country. The parson 
 got a flt and was near dying, he was so fat ; and the wife, 
 she wouldiiT pass another night in it, not for a bishopric. 
 They left the same day, and the place has got a bad name, 
 and is lying shut up and deserted ever since.'’^ 
 
 And did your father, or the priest, know of all these 
 pranks asked Sir Ulic, in amazement. 
 
 ‘‘No, we told no one of them but Elphin and Ownie.’’ 
 
 “ Ownie ; — I think you are in love with Ownie. What 
 did Elphin and Ownie say 
 
 “Elphin and Ownie were worse themselves. A Crom- 
 wellian family came down to live at the other side of 
 Connemara, at Claddah. Oh ! they were wicked ones — if 
 you but knew all the bad things squire Gribs did to the 
 people. So what did Ownie do, but he went down — 
 it was near an old abbey that he lived, this wicked man ; 
 and Ownie went into one of the vaults, and took a skull 
 and wrote on it in Irish letters, ‘ I come for thee.’ Just 
 as he did so, he climbed to the house-roof and began to 
 moan and keen down tlie chimney of Grib’s bed room, then 
 got himself down far enough to roll tlie skull out into 
 the floor; and sure enough, two nights after that, Gibs was 
 
126 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 shot dead by Denis Daly, for trying to kidnap one of his 
 daughters. Did you ever kill anyone with this sword. 
 Uncle Ulic 
 
 But before Uncle Ulic could respond, the drawing-room 
 door was thrown open, and “The Misses Q-rub^^ were 
 announced. With a jaunty step between a hop and a slide, 
 and heads bolt upright, after the preliminary of a jerking 
 nod, Jael and Judith, so encumbered with extravance of 
 dress as to look perfect caricatures, advanced, and, without 
 preamble, introduced themselves to Lady de Couroy 
 politely standing to receive them. 
 
 “We’ve to crave pardon, yer Laa’ship,” began Jael, 
 who had been rehearsing her lesson, as dictated by Jonas, 
 ever since they left home — “ we’ve to crave pardon for 
 not before now ’aving called to pay our respects ; and our 
 father, the Major, and Captain Jonas, our brother, did so 
 worrit us about it ; but better late than never, as the sayin’ 
 is; and ’opes, Miss” (arm extended to shake hands with 
 wondering Maud) “as we may come to know more of one 
 another (a glance of curious scrutiny at Adorine and 
 Eveleenj — “ and Thank’ ee, sir.” (Sir Ulic had presented 
 chairs) “Dear me, what a sweet drawing-room; — quite the 
 thing; — so sumptuous.” Here Jael came to a stand-still. 
 She had exhausted her vocabulary, which contained no 
 superfluity of words or ideas ; and with lack lustre eyes, 
 she and Judith sat taking inventory of the apartment, 
 and wondering how it was that their’s, so decorated with 
 every article new from the upholsterer’s, and costly in 
 price, did not look the same. Then Lady de Courcy’s 
 quiet voice inquiring for their father, and hoping he con- 
 tinued to enjoy good health, and to like his residence, 
 arose to lead the conversation. 
 
 “ Well, thank yer Laa’ship ; — the Major gets robuster 
 he very day,” said Jael; and Judith followed up, for Lady 
 de Courcy had addressed herself to each with a look : — 
 
 “ The Park agrees very well with him — she was not 
 sure that “ Posy ” sounded well, so she omitted the ad- 
 junct — “ I think the hair of Hireland is wholesome, take 
 it hall-in-hall,” and she transferred a glance of self-satis- 
 fled approval from her gold-brocaded silk gown to the 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VISIT LADY DE COURCY. 127 
 
 plain morning costume of Lady de Oourcy, and the un- 
 pretending Indian Cashmeres worn by Adorine and Maud. 
 She was beginning to conceive ideas so disparaging of the 
 consequence of these mild, unostentatious ladies, that feel- 
 ing more at home she crossed her knees, and lolled back 
 on her chair, while Jael, pouncing on Eveleen, looked 
 hard into her face, and said, pertly : — 
 
 “ What may be your name, Miss ?” Eveleen vouch- 
 safed no answer to the interrogation. 
 
 Will you not reply to that lady ?” smiled Sir Ulic. 
 ‘‘ Your name is Eveleen O’Byrne say.” 
 
 darter of Captain O’ Byrne’s ?” returned Jael; — 
 ^‘but tell me, ’ow Js he. Captain?” Jonas says there’s 
 none of the name on the Harmy List but Sir Gregory.” 
 Captain O’Byrne is in the French service of King 
 Louis, or, more correctly speaking, has been, and is now 
 a retired officer, till such time as his good service may 
 again be required ; — but he is this young lady’s uncle, 
 not her father.” 
 
 ‘‘I see,” cried Jael, screwing one eye, a trick her father 
 had when he wished to indicate that a thing had been 
 rendered lucid to his understanding — I see. 
 
 Hearing a voice without say : — 
 
 “Down, ‘ Broder,’ down — lie down, sir!” all looked in 
 the direction, and Sir Harold Sigurd walked in. He 
 entered with a free grace, and was received with the 
 easy cordiality dispensed to a frequent and welcome 
 visitor. Some surprise was manifested on his countenance 
 on seeing the visitors; but as for Jael, her confusion at 
 the unexpected rencontre was so extreme, that it engaged 
 the notice oi Sir Ulic. She turned very red, then 
 perfectly yellow, then red again, and shuffled and wriggled 
 on her chair, and lost all command of speech when ad- 
 dressed in the usual phrase of compliment by Sir Harold. 
 Perceiving her embarrassment, thougli quite unconscious 
 of the cause, he turned to Adorine, and bending over her 
 easel, inquired : — 
 
 “ What is this you are doing ? A Madonna ? But why 
 have you adhered so rigidly to the copy ? Everj^one will 
 recognise your cousin the original. And you ?” He smiled 
 
128 
 
 LElXLir CASTLE. 
 
 at Maud, who sportively threw her hand over the painting. 
 But gently he drew it away, saying, Oh, nonsense ! — dark 
 golden hair, blue eyes, fair complexion, and laughing 
 face. That does not represent to our idea the Virgin- 
 daughter of Nazareth ; — does it, XJlic Sir Ulic came 
 over, looked at each painting, and said, addressing Maud, 
 with benign grace : 
 
 You will have to make selection of an original more 
 appropriate, lady ; and when you would delineate a dark- 
 eyed maid of Palestine, choose not your copy from among 
 the blithe and fair-haired sylphs of the west. Adorine 
 has been more fortunate in her model, but,” he added, 
 don’t look so disappointed. This will make a charming 
 St. Bridget, preparatory to taking the veil, and renouncing 
 for aye all the blandishments of this sublunary sphere.” 
 He looked at Adorine as he spoke; perhaps it was casually^ 
 yet he had relapsed into his mood of seriousness; and 
 Adorine, deeming it implied significance, hastened to re- 
 join, mirthfully: 
 
 Oh, no, Sir TJlic, I’m not thinking of that at all — I’ve 
 no vocation, nor has Maud. It is our intention to enjoy 
 all we can of this world, and hope for as much as we may 
 of the next. Do you approve, Sir Harold ?” 
 
 I needs must approve,” he returned. Contemplating 
 what a bear-garden we should be condemned to, were the 
 fair and better portion of the human race to withdraw, 
 like St. Bridget, to the cloister, I, for one, should not 
 advocate such vocation ; and I fear much should prove 
 unsubmissive enough to repine and murmur at our con- 
 dition were the frightful suggestion to be realised.” 
 
 As he thus expressed himself, Sir Harold turned and 
 suddenly caught sight of Jael’s eyes riveted upon them 
 with a look that did not convey an agreeable impression 
 of the human face divine. Sir Harold was not a good 
 physiognomist, or in a general way gifted with the faculty 
 of perception, to read in the hieroglyphic characters of the 
 countenance the language of the mind and the feelings ; 
 therefore, while Sir Ulic interpreted without difficulty 
 bitter envy and jealous hatred in every lineament, Harold’s 
 only thought was, what hideously plain persons !” 
 
THE MISSES GRUB tlSlT LADY DE COURCY. 129 
 
 nevertheless, smiling, he turned to Jael, while Sir Ulic 
 got into conversation with Maud, and asked if she did 
 not find the country just now rather dreary. 
 
 I am afraid,” he added, the park does not at present 
 justify its name ; — not many .flowers to be gathered now, 
 save” — he corrected himself with a bow — flowers of more 
 evanescent bloom than grace in every season our halls and 
 bowers.” 
 
 Jael giggled, not knowing what to say, cast down 
 her eyes, blushed again, and fiddled nervously with her 
 bracelet. 
 
 ‘‘You have heard his Majesty King James is expected 
 to arrive in Dublin shortly,” continued Sir Harold to 
 Judith; “that will make the neighbourhood very gay. 
 Major Grub and your brother, I make no doubt, will be 
 foremost among his friends to receive him ?” 
 
 “ I don’t know about that. The Major is no friend of 
 the king’s, nor yet is Jonas,” returned Judith, moodily. 
 
 “ I’m sorry for that,” said Sir Harold. 
 
 Jael interrupted, with empressement : “I’m sorry too, 
 Sir Harold. I’d liefer ’ave James than the hupstart 
 William ; an,’ la,’ I vow my ’eart’s in my throat when 
 I think if it goes to war — an’ the Major says its sure to — 
 wot ’ll become of us ?” 
 
 “ What will become of you reiterated Sir Ulic, bring- 
 ing himself ms-d-vis with the speaker, while his eyes 
 brightening, and visible muscles relaxing, told of the 
 latent spirit of mirth broken loose from the control of its 
 stern jailor. “ Ah, that, indeed, is a serious consideration 
 for you, ladies; who have no other weapons than the 
 artillery of your eyes to oppose the enemy. Let us 
 hope you will work your battery with so much skill, that 
 instead of being taken captive, you will vanquish their 
 best, and carry off some prisoners of war worthy of ransome 
 at your fair hands.” 
 
 “La’, now, Sir Ulic,” simpered Jael, “ I wouldn’t ’ave 
 the best of ’em. I wouldn’t give my ’and where J didn’t 
 my ’eart,” and she ogled the unconscious Harold ; while 
 Maud and Adorine, despite the chiding mien of Lady de 
 Courcy, and the grave stare of Eveleeu, were convulsed 
 
 10 
 
130 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 with laughter, which long pent up, now claimed its way, 
 as they saw Sir Ulic’s dusky cheek flush up, and Harold's 
 clear brow reflect back the sunshine. 
 
 returned SirUlic; ‘‘but have you reflected — 
 w^ar is a game of haphazard ? If, in lieu of taking a 
 prize, you should be carried off as a prize, and the ransom 
 fixed by your captor — what then 
 
 “ I’d like to see who'd make so bold with a free-born 
 Briton,” said Jael, with a toss of her head. 
 
 “ Why, if you enlist in the opposite ranks, it might fall to 
 my hap, or to Sir Harold’s, to claim you our prisoner. Do you 
 suppose an Irishman would not be bold enough to meet a 
 free-born Briton, even in panoply more formidable?” smiled 
 Sir Ulic. Jael hung her head and simpered coquettishly. 
 
 “No, no ; all the chance you ladies have is to borrow 
 Venus’ smiles and Cupid’s arrows. If by means of these, 
 you can enslave a stern warrior, then bind him fast in 
 Hymen’s chains. How now, Raymond; — where have you 
 been ? you don’t look in drawing-room trim,” continued 
 Sir Ulic, as ’his nephew, with trowsers daubed with mud, 
 tunic torn, hair dishevelled, and face scarred and bruised, 
 came in, leading “ Broder,” Sir Harold’s wolf-dog, by the 
 collar. 
 
 “ I was in a tussle, Uncle Ulic,” said the boy, who 
 seemed ready to cry ; “ but I licked him, smashed his 
 nose, and knocked out his teeth, and sent him home how- 
 ling — I did, the jackass.” 
 
 “ Who, my son ?” demanded Sir Harold. 
 
 “The roundhead cahogiie^ SamBradly,” said Raymond. 
 
 “ Why did you, sir ? Where did you get acquainted 
 with that lad?” demanded Sir Ulic, with tone and look 
 of austere reproof. 
 
 “ I was walking in the green, when he came up, and 
 without one word gave me a box on the ear,” said 
 Raymond, panting with passion; “ I closed with him on 
 the spot, and soon gave him his change — louersha, I did.” 
 
 “ Yes, having been well mauled yourself,” said Sir 
 Ulic. “ Answer my question, where did you first come 
 to meet that boy ?” 
 
 “ Father took rooms, wFen we came to town first, at his 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VISIT LADY DE COURCY. 131 
 
 aunt^s house in Kevin-street ; — ^ Mother Cod ’ was the name 
 she went by — a drunken brawl of a woman. The Bradlys 
 used to come there — and the mischief^s own lot of rap- 
 scallions they were. They used to come into our rooms 
 without ‘ by your leave/ and make too free every way ; 
 so we left in two or three days, and theyVe been spiteful 
 ever since.” 
 
 ^‘This must be put an end to,’^ said Sir TJlic. What 
 would your Uncle Cornal say to see you thus ? Where’s 
 your father 
 
 “ l^m not going to let every hodagh Sassanach and every 
 biilim sciath^ of a roundhead knock me about,” said Eay- 
 mond, doggedly. 
 
 ‘‘No, Eenno,” here put in Eveleen, with dark flashing 
 eye bent half in defiance on Sir Ulic. “ You did well to 
 throunce suil cam^f and I would have helped you. You 
 wouldnT like Eaymond to be a coward, Uncle Ulic, would 
 you 
 
 “Had Eaymond been better employed at his studies 
 with his tutor this had not been,” muttered Sir Ulic, half, 
 as it were, in soliloquy.’^ 
 
 “ Oh, bother !” ejaculated Eveleen, in supreme negation 
 of Lady de Courcy’s mild form, and the grim presence of 
 Sir Ulic. Sir Harold laughed. 
 
 “ I verily believe to this well-put argument you must 
 yield per force, gallant knight. It is unanswerable.’’ 
 
 “ Not quite,” returned Sir Ulic ; “ courage is a high 
 quality ; wherever I meet it I admire it. Icould not respect 
 a poltroon ; nevertheless, I hold that it becomes not the 
 part of a gentleman, or a Christian, to be ready to engage 
 in vulgar broil with every cowardly bully, and to earn the 
 low distinction of a pugilist in every mean wrangle. It 
 shall be more my pride and pleasure to see my nephew at 
 some future day exhibit his undoubted valour in cause 
 higher and more noble than that of handy-cuffs with 
 street bravos, who should be dealt with after another 
 fashion. Is Mademoiselle Grub of my opinion ?” 
 
 Had this question of Sir Ulic’s reference to any others 
 
 * Shield beater, 
 
 t Swivel eye* 
 
132 
 
 LElXLlP CASTLE. 
 
 than the Bradlys, Jael would have given her unequivocal 
 assent; but these were her father’s intimates. Sir Ulic did 
 not then, perhaps, know it, but he might at some future 
 time; and though she did not care a farthing for the 
 Bradlys, she did not like the idea of being compromised in 
 association so disparaged, and evidently so inferior in the 
 estimation of this proud aristocrat. Drawing herself up 
 with an air of supercilious consequence, with a jerk of her 
 head, and a green tincture obscuring the dull ray of her 
 visual orbs, she exclaimed in accents betrayed by her 
 feelings into harsh discordance : 
 
 The Bradlys is a hghly respectable family ; no one 
 need go for to cast imputations on ’em, nor to say as ’ow 
 theyhaint fit comp’ny to match with the hghest in the 
 country. They’re English to the backbone, not as some as 
 is born in this here land, and of course ’asn’t the same ad- 
 wantage. There’s no one need be ashamed to ’old with 
 the Bradlys, as ’as money an’ land to show with lords and 
 dukes, and all won in the wars over ’ere with Cromwell, 
 in the good cause ; while them as ’ad it, and looked moighty 
 ’igh, is now in want an’ rags. So it behoves none of us 
 to ’old too ’igh a ’ead, or come too strong in their crow 
 over their neighbours, leastways their own turn might 
 come to cry pecaver,^^ 
 
 Sir Ulic bowed low, with an air that seemed to indicate 
 humilitation, or a sense of pain under this retort, while 
 Eveleen glanced wonderingly at each saddened brow, and 
 then in swift transition rested upon the unwinning physi- 
 ognomies of the Misses Grrub, whom Sir Harold was now 
 in the act of addressing, resuming his comic smile : 
 
 Truce with questions of pedigree ; I hold, with Made- 
 moiselle Grrub, that all fiesh is grass, maugre the accidental 
 cropping up here and there of a fiower. Psha ! That 
 Jew Shylock tritely defined it. Hasn’t a Jew got ears, 
 eyes, nose, as well as a Christian? Doesn’t a Jew feel 
 hunger, cold, thirst, as well as a Christian ? Not but 
 what our Protestant friends in times gone by seemed to 
 impute to us Eomanists an absurd insensibility to that 
 divine ordinance of suffering, and a stupid incapability of 
 feeling the inconvenience of these same penal inflictions by 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VisiT LADY DE COURCY. 133 
 
 which they so liberally tested our powers of endurance. 
 You have read Shakespeare, I make no doubt, lady ? To 
 which of this enchanting author’s productions do you award 
 a preference ? Myself, I like ‘ Coriolanus,’ ‘ Macbeth,’ 
 and ‘ The Merchant of Venice.’ ” 
 
 The Misses Grub rose up with smiles renewed, but felt 
 they were being decoyed from terra firma^ and it was time to 
 go. Shakespeare? Sir Harold might as well have asked them 
 had they read Hebrew ; — and who knows by what other 
 awkward query he might blunder them into a confession of 
 their ignorance. 
 
 Shakespeare ? Oh, yes,” Shakespeare had written 
 some nice things ; they hadmired ’em ah ; and shaking 
 hands with laughing Adorine, and kissing shy Maud, and 
 courtesying to the gentlemen, and eulogising their hap- 
 piness in making acquaintance with Lady de Oourcy, 
 enjoining upon her their expectation of an early return 
 visit at the park, and apologising for their father, the 
 Major, and their brother, the Cap’n, not having yet called 
 to pay their devoirs to Sir Reginald, the Misses Grub, 
 escorted by Sir Harold, ambled away to their carriage. 
 He soon returned, and all in the saloon, standing in the 
 same posture, regarded each other in blank silence. No 
 one knew of the shadow that had fallen upon the heart of 
 the other, but all felt spell-bound as if in a trance. It 
 was as though some strange birds of ill-boding aspect 
 had found their way into an aviary, fluttering with doubt 
 and dread the peaceful and gentle inmates. So the trance 
 continued, till Adorine threw up her hands and eyes, with 
 an exclamation : 
 
 ‘‘Oh, del Sir Harold laughed ; but Sir Ulic, with 
 grave smile, said : 
 
 “ It is my belief, Harold, that the elder of those ladies 
 is in love with you.” 
 
 A shout, a chorus of laughter, in which even demure 
 Maud joined, ensued, upon which Sir Harold, in high 
 dudgeon, though half-amused, turned to Sir IJlic with 
 uplifted hands, and said : 
 
 “ Now, Damon, as you value the love of your Pythias, 
 taunt me no more with such dire suggestion.” 
 
134 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 I do not taunt you/’ responded Sir Ulic, calmly ; it 
 is my conviction that Miss Grrub is deeply smitten, 
 enamoured of your handsome person, tawny curls, leonine 
 
 beard, moustache, and all ” 
 
 “ Oh, be quiet ! What a concert ! worse than a kennel of 
 hounds. Maud, Mademoiselle, I did not think you could 
 laugh. Lady de Courcy, I wonder you haven’t more 
 sense. Eaymond, 111 box your ears. See now, Ulic ; — 
 will you hear me, Ulic ? Adorine, you’ll have a lockjaw, 
 and there is no cure in medical skill for that. Very well. 
 Halloo, ‘ Broder !’ Adieu, till this fit of lunacy shall have 
 expended itself for lack of fuel. And the exasperated Sir 
 Harold was taking majestic strides towards the door, when 
 Sir Ulic, calming down from the paroxysm of his mirth, 
 interrupted him. 
 
 “Come, don’t be so like a pettish child. What have 
 you got to say ? I hear you.” 
 
 “I’ve got nothing to say, only to caution you not to 
 give scope to monomania and delusions.” 
 
 “ I like your candour, but it shall not drive me from 
 my position. If I possess any skill in deciphering signs 
 and tokens of the human countenance, the senior lady, 
 Mademoiselle Grub, has honoured you with a preference.” 
 “ Come, halt now, or I’ll dub you a Jew, as I already 
 vote you a bore. Hasn’t a Christian eyes, ears, heart, 
 pulse, feelings ? In the name of common sense and un- 
 common wisdom, why would I choose a Gorgon, a Medusa, 
 when ” 
 
 “ Softly, my galloping friend ; I did not say the 
 election was yours,” smiled De Burgh. Sir Harold felt the 
 sudden counter-check, blushed, stammered, and laughed. 
 
 “ Oh, no, of course you did not say it, you only implied 
 I might be willing to accept the honour thrust upon me.” 
 “ If you prove so captious about it, I shall suspect the 
 cap fits.” 
 
 “ Oh ! confound you ! Do you want me to shave, and 
 join a monastic order, to be convinced that Made- 
 moiselle Caterpillar hasn’t the smallest chance of recruiting 
 me for Hymen. I say ; — a bright idea illuminates me. 
 I’l make a present of myself where I can concede allegi- 
 
THE MISSES GRUB VISIT LABY BE COURCY. 135 
 
 anoe, with good grace, and so escape impending danger. 
 Who'll have me on trust — that’s the question. Mademoiselle 
 Maud won’t ; I can see that without spectacles. Made- 
 moiselle Adorine ?” He made a courtly reverence, and 
 with every feature changed from serio-comic gaiety to 
 smiling earnestness, he seemed to await her answer, Lady 
 de Courcy, Maud, and Sir Ulic awakened to sudden in- 
 terest in what they at once perceived was no sally of 
 trifling badinage on the part of Harold, attended the 
 issue of the reply, with an anxiety that showed with 
 what satisfaction a favourable response would have been 
 received by each one ; but destiny was working out her 
 own end, and dictated Adorine’s half-embarrassed, half- 
 sportive reply : 
 
 In liberal gifts, such as this, Sir Knight, as custom 
 exacts corresponding return, and as I design to hold my 
 sovereignty in the fleld against Greneral Cupid, pray be not 
 offended that I cannot encourage his envoy to entertain a 
 prospect of conquest by stratagem. Aunty — she turned 
 abruptly from the subject, with face glowing between 
 confusion and fun, “what diablerie brought the visitation 
 of those Q-rubs upon you? You must have some un- 
 repented sins to atone.” 
 
 “ I cannot think what brought them,” soliloquised Lady 
 de Courcy, relapsing into thoughtful mood. “’Tis very 
 strange.” 
 
 “ The Major an’ the Cap’an worritted ’em,” suddenly 
 exclaimed Eveleen, giving vent all at once to one of her 
 most predominant talents — a power of sarcastic humour 
 that lurked deep in her nature. Every one laughed except 
 Sir TJlio, who summoned Eveleen : 
 
 “Come hither, Malapert?” She advanced and stood 
 before him, and while he maintained silence, rigidly scanning 
 her countenance, Eveleen got restless under the mute 
 surveillance. 
 
 “ Do you want me, uncle ?” 
 
 “ Yes, I wish to say I should like to see my niece deport 
 herself with the dignity of a lady, and I And it difficult to 
 harmonise aught that saves of jeering, satire, irony, ridi- 
 cule, or any slang accomplishment, with the high-toned 
 refinement of thought and expression that should distin- 
 
136 
 
 LEIXLir CASTLE. 
 
 guish a patrician daughter. I do not mean to infer that 
 every effervescence of wit or humour must he suppressed, 
 but if not delicately handled, and tipped with points of 
 gold, they are dangerous weapons that wound, and recoil 
 with venom. I should not, dear child, have said so much 
 now, but that I have noticed in you frequently a spirit of 
 raillery and sarcasm amusing enough to those who do not 
 consider future sequence. Will you promise me to conquer 
 that habit ?” 
 
 “No, Uncle, I can’t, because, you see it just comes like 
 a cough ; what I have got to say comes out before I know 
 whether it is right or wrong. So I’d always be in a quan- 
 dary, thinking what I was to say. Now, didn’t those two 
 ‘ Caterpillars’ — that’s what Harold called them — say the 
 Major and the Cap’n worritted ’em to come ?” 
 
 “ Dts, dts, dts ! What shall I do you with you ?” cried 
 Sir TJlie, in despair. 
 
 “Just do nothing at all. Uncle. It bothers me as much 
 as confession when you set to scold. I get on best my 
 own way. Oh ! I’m so glad ; here are the two convicts;” and 
 Eveleen broke away to run to May and Bella, who, just 
 then emancipated from the thraldom of the school-room, 
 made their appearance. 
 
 “My children, descended all humid from the stars,” 
 smiled Sir Ulic, kindly accosting each ; “ listen,” as he 
 drew them close in a whisper, “ we’ll get a parrot — I'll 
 find a parrot for you ; and Madame shall have something 
 more to do to teach him to gabble French like herself.’’ 
 
 “ Oh, delightful ! Sir Ulic, will you ?” cried the volatile 
 May, in present ecstasy, forgetting all the tribulations of 
 the day in connection with the celestial spheres. 
 
 “ Oh ! Sir Ulic, won’t it be fun to teach the parrot to 
 whistle at Madame, and say all sorts of ugly things,” 
 laughed Bella; — “but will you make mother promise to 
 have it left in the school-room ?” 
 
 “ 111 try and prevail on her to have it left till you grow 
 tired of it, which I calculate will be in about three days,” 
 said Sir Ulic, rising to depart. 
 
 “ Three days, indeed ! Not for our whole lives would we 
 tire of a parrot,” exclaimed May and Bella, indignantly, 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RIVERS^ ASSEMBLY. 
 
 137 
 
 With much laughing and leave-taking, he withdrew, in 
 company with Sir Harold, still feeling within himself, and 
 bending under, a weight of depression, for which he could 
 not account. Nor less did those who remained succumb 
 to the unwonted pressure upon their spirits. Lady de 
 Courcy felt sad, she knew not why. Maud’s cheeks were 
 paler than before, but then she had her own heart-sorrow 
 to explain the reason. Adorine perceived the subduing in- 
 fluence, and sought to trace the effect to the cause. Sir 
 Harold’s gesture of disappointment at the rejection of his 
 suit, so intimated, and the expressive sympathy manifested 
 by his friend. Sir Ulic, as with beseeching eyes flxed upon 
 her, he almost seemed to plead his case; — yes, this she 
 strove to believe was the cause. 
 
 CHAPTEH X. 
 
 LADY TUDOR DE RlVERS’ ASSEMBLY. 
 
 “ Fill the bright goblet, spread the festive board ! 
 
 Summon the gay, the noble, and the fair ! 
 
 Through the loud hall, in joyous concert pour’d, 
 
 Let mirth and music drown the dirge of care.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 Lady de Eivers was in her dressing-room, being arrayed 
 by her tire-women for the reception of distinguished guests 
 at her evening assembly. The last ornament, a diamond 
 necklace, had been clasped round her neck to correspond 
 with the diamond tiara on her head, and the last touch had 
 been given to complete her costume and toileite in the style 
 of the Queen of Charles I., Henrietta Maria — a style which 
 she considered became her much, as indeed it did — and she 
 was selecting a perfume of attar of roses for her handker- 
 chief, when her son, Harvey, with a little preliminary tap 
 at the door, to announce him, freely entered. Lady de 
 Eivers smiled with maternal pride, as she looked upon the 
 
138 
 
 LEIXLTP castle. 
 
 fine form of her handsome son, developed and set off to the 
 utmost advantage by the accessaries of an evening costume, 
 whose faultless elegance might have well defied the severest 
 criticism ; but perceiving in his countenance that some- 
 thing burdened his mind, which he desired to communicate 
 alone, she dismissed the attendants, seated herself on a 
 low ottoman, and addressed him in her dulcet musical 
 tones : 
 
 What is it, Harvey ? — you have something to say.’’ 
 ‘‘Yes, mother; — I fear you will be dissatisfied, but the 
 murder must out,” Harvey made reply, in his most in- 
 sinuating accents, and smiling with coaxing appeal in her 
 face, while seating himself beside her, he threw his arm 
 round her waist. 
 
 ‘‘ I’ve asked the Grrubs to your party.” 
 
 Lady de Eivers started. She did not often lose her self- 
 possession, but now she recoiled, as if struck by a blow. 
 Her cheeks fiushed, and with eyes, wrathfully blazing, fixed 
 upon her son, she exclaimed : 
 
 “ You can never mean it, Harvey ? — The Grubs ! Those 
 odious creatures. Whatever shall I do ! — But you are only 
 jesting ?” 
 
 “ No, faith, mother ; I have asked them,” returned 
 Harvey, with desperate resolution. I deprecate as much 
 as you the profanation of our saloon by such unhallowed 
 feet; — yet what could I do ? Plantagenet and I are in debt 
 for some hundreds to the beastly Captain Jonas; and when 
 he demanded an invitation, not having the means of dis- 
 charging our liabilities, and very safe to need continued 
 accommodation, what could I do ? I judged it best to 
 acquiesce.” 
 
 ‘‘ How many have you asked ?” — the Captain, and, of 
 course, his father ?” 
 
 “ Oh, the whole kit are coming, I believe.” 
 
 “ Impossible ! The ladies could not come on your in- 
 vitation ; I should think it w^ere a breach of all etiquette.” 
 
 “ Well, mother, as we cannot, in the present case, apply 
 even degrees of comparison to these soi-disant pretenders 
 to the distinction of ladies, I fear if you count on their 
 sense of decorum you will be disappointed/' 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RiVERS’ ASSEMBLY. 139 
 
 My stars! was there ever such a catastrophe moaned 
 Lady de Rivers. 0 Harvey I this is the inconvenience 
 of placing one’s self under compliment to such individuals. 
 With unblushing effrontery they will exact returns to 
 which their betters would not presume to aspire. Gracious 
 heaven ! fancy the monstrous incongruity of grooms and 
 scullions frightfully apparelled stalking among our guests 
 — six of them ! My vinaigrette , please. What a harle- 
 quinade scene ! What will be said or thought by our 
 friends?’’ 
 
 ‘‘ Pooh I mother, we’ll explain it. Let’s turh it into 
 a comedy, and enjoy the sport. I promise it will be rare 
 fun to see the baboons counterfeiting and aping high 
 patrician airs and graces. All my wonder is that it irks 
 them not to quit their own congenial hotbed to revel amid 
 the greenhouse exotics. I should have supposed they 
 would not be at ease in sphere so different.” 
 
 Oh, grubs crawl anywhere. Such a name among the 
 Fitz Adelms, and the Plunketts, and the Fitz Rufuses, 
 the Flemings, the Lamberts, and O’Byrnes. What 
 will Adorine think ? Shouldn’t wonder if it prejudiced 
 her against you. How will you explain to her that such 
 are among your intimates — that you are deeply in their 
 debt ? Why do you laugh ? — is it such a laughing 
 matter ? Mercy on me, six great Grubs 1” 
 
 ‘‘No, mother ; but I’m just thinking I’ll whisper 
 Adorine in confidence that Harold Sigurd is in love with 
 one of the demoiselles^ and beguiled us to ask them.” 
 Lady de Rivers smiled. “ That were a droll piece of 
 acting, in sooth, and not amiss, if well played out ; for I have 
 noticed that in his own independent, free and easy sort of 
 way Harold is paying court to Adorine. He likes her, it is 
 very evident. She seems pleased with him. I fear you may 
 be supplanted if you do not push the thing to a point.” 
 “What more can I do? I popped the question. 
 Diogenes won’t come out of his tub to any but a Papist. 
 Mademoiselle herself does not love me, it would appear, 
 so far as to brave paternal displeasure, or pontifical cen- 
 sure, and encourage me to propose an elopement. That, 
 indeed, is a pity ; for, not to speak of her dower — in 
 
140 
 
 LEIXUP CASTLE. 
 
 itself a vast temptation to a needy man — I adore the 
 fairy that makes music and sunshine around her; not 
 that her beauty is at all to be compared to that of Maud 
 Fitz-Eustace, or many others/^ 
 
 Then, if such be the case, I see but one alternative : 
 that, since these stubborn Papists will not concede to us, 
 we must perforce yield to them,^' said Lady de Eivers, 
 placidly. 
 
 ‘‘I understand, mother; you mean the vane should 
 veer to suit the wind that blows. Well, I hold the same 
 opinion ; and hang me if I see a shred of difference, so far 
 as outward ceremony goes, of bending the knee in one 
 church more than another. But what would Bopping say 
 to hear I had turned Eomanist, and offered incense to 
 Bomish idols 
 
 You know, dear, we should explain to his Grace your 
 nominal conversion was a mere question of expediency. 
 We cannot allow religious formalities to damage our 
 temporal interest. It will be easy when your object is 
 achieved to find plausible argument for returning to your 
 former opinions. If perverse bigots will compel us in 
 deference to their views to act the chameleon, and change 
 our colour, they must take the consequence.” 
 
 Good logic, mother. I'll clinch the businesss this 
 night with Adorine, and snap my fingers at all com- 
 petitors.” 
 
 It behoves you ; for should the rumour of this con- 
 nexion which you persist in maintaining with this cTiere- 
 amie of yours get wind, I fear it will seriously obstruct 
 your plans. I’m sure I do not know how you can be so 
 infatuated with that low person — and Plantagenet keeps 
 another, as I understand. Now, you don't hear of Sir 
 Harold, or Sir Ulic, or Sir Athelstane making such fools 
 of themselves.” 
 
 Castor and Polux — exemplary mortals,” sneered 
 Harvey. 
 
 And had they an inkling of your engagements be sure 
 they would transpire. Come, let us descend ; I hear some 
 arrival. Oh my, those gnomes !— those Grubs ! I feel 
 my face on fire at the thought of the harlequins. Keep 
 
LADY TtTDOR DE RIVERs’ ASSEMBLY. 141 
 
 near me, Harvey ; for if I shall see them sneeze, yawn, or 
 do anything outrageous, I shall get the vapours, or faint. 
 My beautiful rooms to be desecrated ! How unfortu- 
 nate ! ” 
 
 Aunty, how shall I meet the Fitz Adelms ?’’ was the 
 plaintive appeal of Maud Fitz Eustace to Lady de Courcy, 
 as they entered the vestibule of Lady de Eivers’ mansion 
 in Fishamble-street, and tarried for a moment to cast off 
 their mufflings before they were escorted by the pages in 
 attendance to the lighted saloons. 
 
 Politely, Maud, as you would any of the guests. I 
 rely on your honour to do no more, or give no encourage- 
 ment to Sir Athelstane,’^ was the calmly emphatic re- 
 joinder, as her ladyship swept by, leaning upon Sir 
 Reginald. 
 
 “ Listen, fair Lady Maud,’’ whispered Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh, while offering her his arm — he had overheard the 
 question and reply, witnessed the sorrowing look of patient 
 submission that responded, and his kindly heart was 
 touched with admiration and sympathy — do not look so 
 disconsolate. Present prohibition does not enact a per- 
 petual decree. You are very sincerely attached to Sir 
 Athelstane, as he is, I have reason to know, also to you. 
 Depend upon my friendly mediation, and endeavour to 
 remove the barrier between you. It may take a little 
 time, but energetic goodwill can effect much.’’ 
 
 Maud, hitherto very pale, now very crimson, could only 
 smile her thanks as they entered the crowded saloon, 
 where De Burgh’s keen eye soon singled out Plantagenet 
 Tudor, Maud Plunkett, Adorine O’Byrne, Harold Sigurd, 
 Harvey de Rivers, Cornal and Hugh O’Byrne, and the Rev. 
 Lovelace Clutterbuck in one group; in another Lionel Ayl- 
 mer, Raymond, and Eveleen, with the De Lacys and Lady 
 Fitz Stephen ; but towards the central group, comprising 
 Lady de Rivers, theDe Courcys, the Fitz Adelms, the Lord 
 Bishop of Meath, Sir Oliver and Lady Plunkett, the 
 Flemings,- Fitz Rufuses, Barn wells, and Lamberts, his 
 attention was chiefly attracted. He wished to meet for 
 the first time, and be introduced to Eleanor, and Adela 
 Fitz Adelm ; for, thanks to the talc-bearing of Lady do 
 
142 
 
 LEIXLiP castle. 
 
 Eivers and the Fitz Eufuses, and the rejection of his 
 suit for Maud, Sir Athelstane and his sisters had thence- 
 forth sternly closed their portals against their once 
 tolerated friends and relatives. In vain had Sir Ulic 
 called again and again at Santry, and Sir Harold striven 
 by every means to renew the old footing. It would not 
 do. The wounded Fitz Adelms were not to be appeased ; 
 and now, when it suited Lady de Eivers’ purpose to con- 
 vene all her friends in social conclave, they met as distant 
 strangers. 
 
 Uncertain of the reception that might be awarded 
 herself, Maud, leaning on Sir Ulic, hung timidly back. 
 She was not left long in suspense ; for the moment her 
 eyes and those of Eleanor and Adela met, the two girls, 
 coming forward with gracious smiles, held out their 
 hands and embraced her, Adela saying in a low tone, 
 while Eleanor scanned Sir Ulic : 
 
 ‘‘We would not visit on you, sweet Maud, the sins 
 of your friends.^^ 
 
 Then, while Maud’s eyes involuntarily filled, and she 
 silently pressed the hand of Adela, Sir Athelstane thought 
 it a good opportunity to come forward and thank Sir Ulic 
 with air somewhat haughty for the service he had rendered 
 him in reference to his valuable mare, which he would 
 not have parted with on any account, and which he had 
 nearly been betrayed into getting rid of through the mal- 
 practices and representations of his dishonest groom. 
 
 Sir Ulic with mien as haughty received his thanks, and 
 turning to Eleanor and Adela with that smile that 
 could so fascinate, and that lofty and courteous reve- 
 ence that could at once supplicate and command, he said : 
 — “ I claim no introduction by proxy. I have the honour 
 to introduce myself to my kinswomen.” 
 
 Eleanor and Adela were taken by surprise, yet not dis- 
 composed nor offended, by this free address. They were 
 surprised, because, in their intercourse with Catholics, save 
 and except in the persons of Sir Harold Sigurd and Maud 
 Plunkett, they had met hitherto with none upon whom 
 the tradition of past suffering and humiliation had not 
 left a subduing impression. Thus, when Sir Ulic accosted 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RIVERS’ ASSEMBLY. 143 
 
 them not only with the independence of equality, but the 
 majestic assumption of superiority, devoid nf arrogance 
 or supercilious pretension, they felt themselves in a pre- 
 sence not be underrated ; and, deferentially yielding ho- 
 mage due, they smiled gravely and shook hands with their 
 relative. Sir IJlic was pleased. The very demeanour that 
 might not have possessed attraction for others charmed 
 him. He had seated himself, leaving Sir Athelstane to 
 take possession of Maud, when the saloon door was flung 
 open, and two tall footmen, with great' shoulder-knots, 
 ushered in a fresh relay of visitors, and announced 
 with stentorian voice — “Major Grub, the Misses Grub, 
 Captain Grub ! ’’ Amid the hushed silence that ensued, 
 the telegraphic glances from one to another of the as- 
 sembly, who wondered with supreme amazement at the 
 advent of such unrecognised persons into a private circle 
 sacred to the privileged, and the fidgety distraction of the 
 tortured Lady de Rivers, the Grubs advanced in com- 
 pact line three-and-three, the two elder leaning on the 
 Major, the two younger on the Captain. The gentlemen 
 were resplendent in their uniform ; but, for the ladies, 
 how shall they be described ! what between variety of 
 colour, glitter of gold and silver brocade, flashing of 
 trinkets, and superfluity of ornament, they at once dazzled 
 and distressed the sight. Pompously as they perambu- 
 lated with unequal gait, shuffling motion, and awkward, 
 though not embarrassed, deportment through the draw- 
 ing-rooms furnished in amber satin and shining with gold 
 chandeliers and mirrors that reflected the form from 
 head to foot, their eyes wandering in every direction, so 
 forcibly was Lady de Rivers struck with their resemblance 
 to a strolling company of players, that her dismay giving 
 place to a sense of the ludicrous, she secretly laughed ; and 
 in response to the questioning looks of Lady de Courcy, 
 Sir Ulic and the Fitz Adelms, said, iiotto voce^ “ A frolic of 
 my wild boys, Plantagenet and Harvey. They must 
 needs see imrvenues acting beau monde and have a laugh at 
 their expense. I daresay it will be very diverting.'^ And 
 Lady de Rivers proceeded to act the courteous hostess to 
 the guests, leaving the Fitz Adelms, Lady do Courcy and 
 
144 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Sir Ulio, surveying the scene in blank silence, and looking 
 as though they did not enter much into the spirit of the 
 amusement. While Plantagenet and Harvey hastened 
 to assist their mother to receive the Grubs, Adorine and 
 Maud Plunkett took advantage of the occasion to slip 
 away and join Maud Fitz Eustace, to whom Adorine said, 
 laughing, ‘‘ I verily believe, Maud, you are the cynosure 
 of yonder party ; at least we have noticed it is on this 
 charmed circle all eyes have been riveted since their en- 
 trance ; unless, indeed, Sir Ulic de Burgh may prove a 
 double attraction.’^ 
 
 The Fitz Adelms laughed. Sir Ulic, meditating caustic 
 retort, gazed at Adorine, but had not time to put his 
 menace into execution, for Sir Harold, who saw Plan- 
 tagenet conducting Miss Grub in his direction, and not car- 
 ing to be made a butt for Sir Ulic’s mirth, effected a prompt 
 escape, and, with Captain O’Byrne, joined his coterie. 
 
 I say, Athelstane,” cried Sir Harold, taking a high, 
 authoritative tone, as he confronted Fitz Adelm, and 
 you, Eleanor and Adela, if I were not sworn by my creed 
 to love my enemies, I would put you three in a sack and 
 shake you, instead of presenting the calumet of peace. 
 Prithee, what has been the head and front of my offend- 
 ing, that for the last month you have denied your wonted 
 gracious presence and the light of your countenance to 
 your quandom friend?” 
 
 Adela and Eleanor were silent ; but, after a pause, Fitz 
 Adelm said : coldly, “ This is not the time or place. Sir 
 Harold, to enter on explanations. Suffice it to say, I have 
 had cause of complaint his glance, as he spoke, rested 
 significantly on Cornal O’Byrne, also, but, let it pass, I 
 do not wish to debate the topic/' 
 
 No, by our Lady, it shall not pass to-morrow till this 
 misunderstanding between us be adjusted,'’ replied Sir 
 Harold. ‘‘ Have I done you wrong, on proof, it shall be 
 redressed ? If you have to stand convicted of injuring 
 me by imputation, why I shall demand a quid pro quo — is 
 that plain speaking ?” 
 
 1 shall afford you the opportunity,'’ responded Fitz 
 Adelm, haughtily. 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RIVERS^ ASSEMBLY. 145 
 
 Meantime, gentlemen,” said Cornal O’Byrne, it be- 
 hoves us to waive all minor cause of dispute, and suspend 
 all matter of personal broil, to reserve ourselves in view of 
 the great impending duel, where we shall be called upon 
 to second the more important meeting of monarchs on the 
 battle-field. Let us trust that, whatever our present rela- 
 tions, we may on that day stand shoulder to shoulder, 
 sworn friends in a high cause.” 
 
 Albeit, in obedience to the dictates of traditional loyalty 
 we may take our rank beneath the banner of King James, 
 on whatsoever day called on,” said Fitz Adelm, proudly, 
 
 our heart will not lie in the cause of the king, but in 
 that of the dynasty. We do not for himself favour 
 James.” 
 
 A black page, in blue and silver, now coming round 
 with refreshments, changed the current of the conversa- 
 tion ; and, to oppose an effectual barrier to its renewal, 
 Harvey de Eivers approached, leading Judith Grrub, who 
 had asked to be ‘‘hintroduced to the Misses Fitz Adelm.” 
 The Major, the Captain, and Jael, trooped behind close at 
 their heels, having only just loosened their grip of Sir 
 Eeginald, upon whom they had fastened till they nearly 
 set him wild, and compelled him, by a desperate act of 
 resolution, to shake them off. Sir Ulic, whose mind was 
 bent on paying-off Adorine for her espieglerie at his ex- 
 pense, contrived, by a dexterous manoeuvre, to shift 
 Jonas into a seat beside her ; and, hanging back, he 
 watched with sly smile her changed aspect and gesture of 
 uncomfortable confusion at her proximity to this unpre- 
 possessing intruder, whose bold leer and forward conceit 
 for the first time caused the shadow of a frown to flit 
 athwart her brow, then he turned to contemplate the 
 others. The self-governed Sir Ulic was, as we have seen, 
 habitually grave to melancholy, and solemn to austerity ; 
 but gravity, solemnity, all were blown away like clouds in 
 a storm ; and, shaken from his pedestal, he yielded to the 
 infectious laughter, vainly smothered, now violently ex- 
 ploding on every side, as the Grubs, feeling perfectly at 
 their ease, having cast away all restraint and trammel, 
 developed their peculiar idiosyncracies in proceeding to 
 
 11 
 
146 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 place themselves on a footing of equality with the com- 
 pany. Small compassion had he either for the agonised 
 Fitz Adelms, when Judith glued herself to Sir Atheist ane, 
 and the Major, plunging into a seat between Eleanor and 
 Adela, placed his hands, large as boiled lobsters, on each 
 knee, and betook himself, with eyes that flamed with un- 
 pleasant ardour, and mouth smirking from ear to ear, to 
 ogle each lady alternately as though he were making 
 mental comparisons of their personal advantages before 
 deciding a choice. These two, with Adorine and Maud, 
 did not join in the laughter that convulsed the rest, for 
 they were annoyed and indignant. Jael had now seized 
 upon Sir Harold, and whether from excitement, or having 
 indulged in a little too much Tokay, or whatever other 
 cause, she became so demonstrative as no longer to leave 
 on his mind any doubt of Sir Ulio’s heretofore scorned 
 admonitions. At flrst, on making this discovery, surprise 
 and anger predominated in his bosom, but a sense of the 
 comical getting the upper hand, he resolved to treat the 
 matter with raillery and mirth. Not deeming it prudent, 
 however, to entangle himself without an ally in a danger- 
 ous labyrinth, and knowing that Sir Ulic, with his awe- 
 inspiring mien, would not suit his requirement, he pitched 
 on Oornal O’Byrne, at whom he greatly suspected Lady 
 de Rivers was setting her cap, and whispered gravely in his 
 ear : O’Byrne, my dear fellow, navigating in fair weather 
 
 on smooth water is pleasant enough, but ticklish work 
 when one has to steer between Scylla and Charybdis.” 
 
 “What do you mean?” asked Oornal, turning from 
 addressing a few words to Sir Oliver Plunkett. 
 
 “ Well, you are Platonic, or else a diplomatist of the 
 flrst class, to affect not to see what is so open to all others, 
 that two fair ladies tender you their hearts, and you, in- 
 sensible, disregard the offering. 
 
 Oornal looked scared and amazed. Sir Ulic, who did 
 not hear what was said, perceived intuitively that Harold 
 was making him the target of some diablerie, and watched 
 the proceeding. 
 
 “Yes,” continued Harold, gravely, “lookers-on see a 
 good deal. You have only got to choose between Lady de 
 Rivers and Mademoiselle Grub.” 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RIVERs’ ASSEMBLY. 147 
 
 But, my dear friend, impossible ! exclaimed Captain 
 O^Byrne, in alarm, taking a furtive glance at each Lady ; 
 and, as coincidence would have it. Lady de Rivers at one 
 end of the saloon and Jael Q-rub only a few paces distant, 
 were each at the moment looking towards them. 
 
 I protest, I never gave any encouragement. I have no 
 intention of forming any new alliance — I never had.'’’ 
 
 Oh ! that’s nothing— have you no faith in witchcraft ? 
 Do you suppose these sibyls suffer our intentions to stand 
 against theirs ? Don’t we see every day men entrapped 
 into bonds, and wondering after how they came to let 
 themselves be noosed ?” 
 
 Saints defend us ! I hadn’t an idea of it ! — never gave 
 it a thought. I must be cautious. Thanks, Sir Harold, 
 for the hint,” said Oornal O’Byrne, darting a glance of 
 observation on every side, and retreating quietly to where 
 Eveleen Raymond and Lionel Aylmer were locked in a 
 circle with the two younger Miss Grrubs, whom Parson 
 Clutterbuck was entertaining with a dissertation upon 
 ‘‘Pharaoh” and the “Plagues of Egypt.” Delighted, 
 Eveleen jumped up, caught his hand, and whispered : 
 “ Uncle Cornal, take me to Adorine. It’s like purgatory 
 here it’s so dull ; not a bit of fun.” Cornal complied, 
 and Eveleen, much to Adorine’s satisfaction, was presently 
 installed between her and Captain Grub, while O’Byrne, 
 responding to a signal from Sir Ulic, proceeded to take a 
 seat near him. Meanwhile, Harold, stimulated to defen- 
 sive action by the persistent attentions of Jael, whose 
 brother had that morning assured her that men liked to 
 be made free with and courted, and the tacit, bantering 
 looks of his friends, hastily swallowed a cup of coffee, 
 gave the cup to the page, and, turning upon the enemy, 
 said : “ By-the-bye, Mademoiselle Grub, when do you in- 
 tend to give us the pleasure of dancing at your wedding ? 
 ’Tis not kind to your friends to protract their expectation.” 
 “ La’, now, Sir Harold ! how can you ?” simpered Jael, 
 blushing like a poppy and hanging her head. 
 
 “Captain Jonas, I fear we must impute the blame to 
 you, and vote you a jealous monopolist, unwilling to share 
 with a brother-in-law the affection of your sisters.” 
 
148 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 Ton my modesty, yer out ther’,’^ creaked Jonas, with a 
 slimy smile. I’d give the box and dice of 'em to-morrow 
 to any fellers would ’ave 'em. Yerself may ’ave the pick 
 o’ the lot, ha-ha-ha ! but Jael's the one for ye’r money. 
 
 ^‘My modesty would not permit my aspiring to an 
 honour so far above my pretension. I must humbly re- 
 member I am but a Papist and an Irishman,'^ replied Sir 
 Harold, with tone and gesture of mock humility. 
 
 Oh ! hang it, man, can’t you go to church broke in 
 the Major with fierce eagerness. An’ what about ’tother, 
 we’re all Hirishmen now. Ill give yer a thousand down 
 on the nail. Come, is it a bargain ? — that's our Hinglish 
 way of doing business.” 
 
 Too fast, my friend, too fast ; we Irish are slow coach- 
 horses, and like to look before we leap. Sir Athelstane 
 Fitz Adelm, now, would be more up to your mark, not 
 having the same disqualifications that obstruct us.'’ 
 
 Sir Athelstane, not relishing the notion of being made 
 an object of speculation to such ineligible notorieties, red- 
 dened with suppressed anger, and felt as if then and there 
 he could have strangled the speaker, but affecting lofty 
 nonchalance, he took no notice of the jest ; and it might 
 have died a natural death but for William Fitz Eufus, 
 whose talents most frequently displayed themselves in 
 aptitude for blunder, saying, with a chuckling laugh: 
 ‘^Has not Romeo got his Juliet? I take it he will not 
 botch the play by introducing a rival.” 
 
 Now, by all that’s Shakesperian," whispered Harvey 
 de Rivers, in a side laugh to Adorine, Fitz Rufus will 
 get himself stung to death by a hornet, if he approaches 
 that hive with incautious tread. Look at Athelstane's 
 profile and say is it amiable ? ’' 
 
 I say, Captain Grub,’' continued Harvey, hastening 
 to avert retort by diverting the elements to another 
 channel, why don’t you take the initiative and set the 
 example, that others might go and do likewise? why do you 
 
 not take compassion on some forlorn damsel and '’ 
 
 “ I'll not ’ave no forlorn damsels,’' cried Jonas, feeling 
 free enough with De Rivers to bestow on him a scowl of 
 ^ rage for what he considered a suggestion of disparaging 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RlVERS’ ASSEMBLY. 
 
 149 
 
 import, ‘^ril throw myself away on none such ’uzzies. I 
 "old myself of as much consekince as yer do, an’ may be 
 more ; an’ for to show yer as I’m in hearnest, an" looks to 
 wat’s "igh and suitable, I doan’t ’ide behind the bush to 
 say who is queen o’ my ’eart."’ He rose red heated, fuming, 
 and swaggered through the silent, attentive circle till he 
 stood right opposite to Maud Fitz Eustace, made a clumsy 
 bow, snatched her passive hands to his lips, and amid the 
 breathless silence, exclaimed aloud: ‘‘Now yer knows 
 my intentions hall here. I’ve chose the most beauti- 
 ful ban gel in creation.” He came to a stand still. 
 Shrinking from his touch the terrified Maud almost fainted. 
 
 Sir Ulic, who had for a moment in the excess of 
 his astonishment, covered his eyes with his hand, now 
 swiftly came forward, thrust his lithe, sinewy form between, 
 and said: “Sir Athelstane, take Lady Maud into the air ; she 
 is just a little faint ; the fresh air will revive her. Stay, you 
 need not go, it is not necessary,” addressing Judith, who 
 was up to follow them. 
 
 Fitz Adelm supporting the faltering steps of Maud, 
 gave a grateful look to Sir Ulic, who turning with de- 
 rision from the malignant stare of Jonas, and the bully- 
 ing look of the Major, addressed Eleanor : 
 
 “ I perceive Lady de Eivers is making up sets for the 
 minuets and cotillons ; may I have the honour of being 
 your partner ?” Eleanor smiled, and bowed assent. 
 
 “ Lady de Oourcy has, I think, gone with Lady Fitz 
 Stephen to join the card parties in the ante-chamber. 
 — Mademoiselles” (he turned to Jael and Judith), “do you 
 not like a game of spadille, or loo, or whist ?” The dis- 
 comfited Jael and Judith, brimming over with ill-humour, 
 made sullen reply : 
 
 “ I doan’t like gambling,” said Jael, saucily. 
 
 “We doan’t want for to be banished to the dowagers,” 
 said Judith, tossing her head. 
 
 “You had rather join the dance ; I must find you a part- 
 ner — if William the Conqueror be not engaged. Oh ! Fitz 
 Kufus, Mademoiselle Judith will honour you in the first set.” 
 
 Fitz Eufus, who was thus interrupted in making 
 for Maud Plunkett, gave Sir Ulic a discontented glance, 
 
160 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 but not having tact to extricate himself, was obliged to 
 smile hypocritically upon the satisfied Judith. Meanwhile, 
 Harvey de Eivers engaged to Adorine, who having re- 
 covered from the stun and shock caused by Captain Grub’s 
 extraordinary proceeding, had said, sotto voce : 
 
 I did not know, Harvey ; I was not aware that Lady 
 de Eivers was acquainted with the Grubs 
 
 ^‘They have never crossed her path till this evening,'’ 
 responded Harvey; ‘^but I could not, you see, disoblige 
 Harold Sigurd.’^ 
 
 Sir Harold — how 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, entre nous strictly, he prayed me to ask them. 
 There is no accounting for taste.” 
 
 Adorine looked a moment incredulous then, remembering 
 Sir Harold's love of frolic, she seemed to comprehend it, 
 but said : There may be some antics of too grave an 
 
 import to indulge in at the expense of convenience and 
 propriety ; —do you not think so ?” 
 
 Oh, but poor Harold never thinks ; when his humour 
 is up, to enjoy the whim is all his care; but fair lady, I 
 have a word for your ear — walk this way.” He took her 
 hand and pressed it. I am not going to let punctilio 
 stand between me and my happiness. You have admitted, 
 sweet Adorine, that it was only the impediment of creed 
 that raised any objection on your part, to my suit, and 
 that would hinder your father's consent to our alliance, 
 now you naay understand how devoted, how ardent, how 
 self-sacrificing my love is for you, when I tell you I have 
 braved every risk, every consequence ; defied the censure 
 of some, and incurred the obloquy of others, to proclaim 
 myself a proselyte to Eome for your sake. Is this test 
 sufficient ? Do you require any other ? 
 
 Adorine stood still up to this moment ; she had never 
 given the matter a serious thought. True, she admired 
 the gay and showy Sir Harvey, and liked him. She was 
 flattered by his studious attention and evident predilec- 
 tion. For herself she was pleased with his ingratiating 
 father and fashionable and lordly brother Plantagenet ; 
 but when he had a few days previously proposed for her, 
 and she had candidly avowed that but for parental inter- 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RIVERS' ASSEMBLY. 151 
 
 diet and her own religious scruples she might possibly 
 award preference to his suit, which so circumstanced as 
 they stood she could not, she had considered the matter 
 at an end. Now finding it so unexpectedly renewed, 
 scarcely conscious of her own feelings or purpose, she 
 continued gazing in trance-like apathy upon Sir Harvey, 
 who construing her silence and stupor into wavering, re- 
 newed his appeal with energetic vehemence of look and tone. 
 
 Speak, Adorine — speak ; for heaven's sake, hold me not 
 in killing suspense; — say have I done enough to convince 
 you of my love ? If not, say what more you will have. I 
 you be satisfied, place your hand in mine as pledge and 
 guerdon of my recompense.’’ 
 
 But my father,’’ hesitated bewildered Adorine. 
 
 “Your father has nothing to object to now that I have 
 complied with the only conditions stipulated. Adorine, 
 you love me, I know you do ; but you are frightened at 
 shadows; you tremble, you know not why, to own it. Come, 
 be as generous for me as I have been for you. There is 
 no obstacle — your father, my mother — all will be pleased ; 
 just place your hand in mine. — Here’s this confounded 
 interloping Harold ; — let him not have a laugh at us.” 
 
 Adorine smiled, the cloud and the shadow had melted 
 into sunshine ; the impassioned eloquence, the thrilling 
 gaze prevailed ; and Adorine placed her hand in Harvey's 
 just as Harold sauntered up, saying, “ Sorry to disturb 
 your Ute-a-teiBy but you’re wanted in the set.” He looked 
 hard at Adorine, whose face bespoke too plainly a tell- 
 tale consciousness, then at De Eivers, whose countenance 
 wore the gratified expression of triumph, and turned away 
 with brow suddenly overcast, and set in stern sadness. 
 The music at length struck up, and what with minuets, 
 cotillons, promenading groups, the buzz of chat, and 
 bustle of fiitting aud changing groups, the saloon pre- 
 sented a gay and lively panorama. Captain O’Byrne, 
 malgre lui^ danced with Lady de Eivers, Eveleen with 
 Lionel Aylmer, Eaymond with merry Maud Plunkett ; 
 Jonas Grub fioundered through a minet with Elizabeth 
 Fitz Rufus, and the Major tried with her sister Anne, but 
 broke down. Plantagenet Tudor led off Adela Fitz 
 
162 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Adelm, and Maud Fitz Eustace, quite recovered from her 
 threatened fainting fit, glided like an etherial spirit 
 through the mazy windings of the graceful and stately 
 measure, alternately, with Sir Athelstane and Sir Ulic, 
 while Eleanor, betimes, changed hands between him and 
 Sir Oliver Plunkett. Hugh O’Byrne stood, meanwhile, 
 conversing with Sir Eeginald de Courcy, Lovelace 
 Clutterbuck, and the Bishop of Meath, who, since the 
 promulgation of tidings that the king was expected to 
 visit the metropolis, had become wonderfully tolerant and 
 liberal in his religious opinions, even going so far as to 
 shake hands with Father Catholicus O’Cuin, whom if 
 perchance met heretofore he had passed by, ignoring his 
 existence. But now his heart and mind had become 
 enlarged, and no disagreeable collisions marred the 
 amicable converse. Major Q-rub, Jael, and the two 
 juniors had fastened upon stray waifs of the company, and 
 all seemed to enjoy themselves save Sir Harold, who stood 
 apart listlessly surveying the scene. Sir Ulic soon noticed 
 something had gone wrong with his friend, and as soon as 
 he could discreetly, without challenging remark, transfer 
 his partner, he made up to him. 
 
 How now, Harold ; have you foresworn the goddess ? 
 Why don’t you dance ? 
 
 Psha ! testily rejoined Sir Harold ; one’s not always 
 up to the mark ; I’m tired.” 
 
 Tired ! Then you can’t be well. What ails you ? ” 
 Fidledee-dee, can’t a fellow be out of sorts, but you 
 must hand him over to Esculapius ? There, don’t look so 
 pathetic, I can’t bear when you put on that look; I’ll dance, 
 if that will please you.” 
 
 It would please me better you would unburden your 
 mind. Don’t, I warn you, appear before the lady of your 
 love in this mood ; I could not blame her greatly to enter- 
 tain misgivings, and retard your suit.” 
 
 Pshaw ! I don’t mean to — to make any ” 
 
 Why, you were not of this mind awhile since.’* 
 
 To be sure ; what a teasing fellow you are, Ulic. I*ve 
 changed my mind ; — there, I’ve told you ; — I was right. I 
 did not think I had any chance, and I’ve had confirmation 
 
LADY TUDOR DE RiVERs’ ASSEMBLY. 
 
 153 
 
 of it awhile ago. Harvey de Eivers is my successful 
 rival.” 
 
 De Eivers ! Come, now, Harold, don’t let the green- 
 eyed monster take possession of you, dear boy. In the 
 first place. Captain O’Byrne will not consent to Adorine 
 forming a Protestant connexion. In the second place, I 
 do not believe she would herself condescend to it. You 
 have suffered yourself to be deceived by her free and open 
 courtesy, love is so swift to take alarm at every trifle.” 
 
 Sir Harold smiled sadly, I wish I could think so, but 
 
 If 
 
 ‘‘ But, well, but — don’t be silly ; go engage her for the 
 next set, and should she be not free, don’t misconstrue it. 
 To-morrow shall decide the affair ; be at peace till then. I 
 must go look after this young niece of mine, whose other 
 friends leave her, under the pleasing delusion that she is 
 quite an irresponsible being. I see the trio. She, Eaymond, 
 and Aylmer are amusing themselves with Captain Grub, 
 and I don’t approve of it.” 
 
 Sir Ulic passed slowly away, and approached the coterie, 
 where he stood like a grim shadow, looming till they caught 
 his eye, and then silence fell upon the laughing group. 
 Jonas turned, and conquering his awe by a desperate effort, 
 said, insolently : 
 
 Yer absence, I reckon, s^r, is more welcome than your 
 company to these ’ere young folk,” then, unable to brook 
 the commanding mien and stern silence of the iron visage 
 confronting him, he slunk away. 
 
 “What colloquy w^ere you holding with that person, 
 Eaymond ? ” demanded Sir Ulic. 
 
 “ He asked me was I the boy wot battered Bradley, 
 broke his nose, and knocked out his three front teeth,” 
 laughed Eaymond. “ I said I was, and was glad to hear 
 I’d left my mark on him.” 
 
 “ I hope you have enjoyed the party, and danced to your 
 heart’s content, Mademoiselle Eveleen ? said Sir Ulic, 
 addressing his niece. 
 
 “ Yes, Uncle Ulic, it was very nice.” 
 
 “I’m glad you have found a chaperon so discreet as 
 Lionel Aylmer, to devote himself to you so exclusively.” 
 
154 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Lionel laughed. 
 
 “ It was they who took care of me, Sir IJlio.” 
 
 “ Come along ; I see our friends going down to supper,” 
 said Sir Ulic, giving his hand to Eveleen. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 “ My fervid brain 
 Calls up the vanished past again, 
 
 And throws its misty splendours deep 
 Into the pallid realms of sleep ! 
 
 “ They come, the shapes of joy and woe, 
 The airy crowds of long ago.” — 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 In accordance with the ukase pronounced by her uncles 
 unanimously, Eveleen, compelled to pursue her studies 
 with the De Courcy children, was mostly domiciled at 
 Lady de Courcy ’s, only coming for a couple of hours 
 daily in the afternoon, or the evening, if there was 
 company, to spend a while with Adorine. Thus it 
 happened that, having returned home with the De 
 Courcys from Lady de River’s rout, she had not seen her 
 cousin till late the following day. When she entered the 
 drawing-room of her Uncle Comal’s residence in Thomas’- 
 street, it was empty. To pass the time, she amused her- 
 self strumming a theorbo, teasing a monkey chained in one 
 of the windows, tossing about books of pictures, and finally 
 mounting on the loo-table to survey herself in the pier 
 glass, when the door opened, and Adorine entered. 
 
 Etourdie! you’ll get your neck broken!” cried the 
 startled Adorine, gazing at the figure balanced on one 
 foot in the centre of the table. If • mon pere or Sir Ulic 
 were here to day what would you do ? ” 
 
 ‘‘ Fly for my life I Take care ; — stand out of the way 
 till I make a jump. ” 
 
 del ! you are worse than Raymond ; — there, you’ve 
 thrown down the alabaster vase.” 
 
 Is it broken ? What kept you out so long ? — where 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 155 
 
 were you ? Anne Hennessy told me you’d be soon in, 
 and I’m here this half-hour.” 
 
 I went to see Father Catholicus. Can’t you sit down 
 and be quiet ; I want to say something to you,” returned 
 Adorine, seating herself on a lounger. 
 
 “Yes ; is it about the party ? — wasn’t it very nice when 
 we got to the dancing ? I doat on Lionel Aylmer ; he 
 was so pleasant and good-natured. But, Adorine, didn’t 
 they sicken you, the five Jays ? 
 
 “ The five who ? ” 
 
 “ The five Jays — the Grubs. Every one of their names 
 begins with a ‘ J and to think ofOapt’n Jonas saying out 
 before all the company how Maud was the ^ Queen of his 
 heart.’ Poor Maud ! I never got such a fright. I thought 
 she was going to die. And the horrid hobgoblins laid 
 hold of Lionel, and Raymond, and me. I was mad to see 
 Lionel so civil to them; and so would Raymond, only I 
 gave him a pinch or a kick every now and again, to keep 
 him quiet. Now, Ado, would you like to be married to 
 Adonis ? And I did think he had some notion of you, he 
 sat so close, and kept coshering to you so, till I heard him 
 declare for Maud.” Adorine smiled. 
 
 “No, rrHamie^ I should not like it; but I want you to 
 tell me do you like Sir Harvey de Rivers ? ” 
 
 “ I do not like him at all, not a bit. 
 
 “ Why do you blush so ? Your face is the colour of 
 vermilion.” 
 
 “ It is so warm.” 
 
 “Warm, with a foot-and-a-half of ice on the ground! 
 Well, throw oflFyour fur. I don’t like Harvey de Rivers at 
 all, nor Plantagenet, nor the mother.” 
 
 “ Why, Eveleen ? What fault have you to find with 
 them? They are all very kind to you,” Adorine said 
 earnestly, and looking disappointed. 
 
 “ I don’t know. They’re kind enough, and very sweet ; 
 yet for all that, I don’t like them,” said Eveleen positively. 
 Harold Sigurd’s little finger is worth the whole of ’em.” 
 “Now, Eveleen, how can you judge of that, you silly 
 child ? What can you know about it ? ” 
 
 “ Then why did you ask me ? ” 
 
156 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Oh ! just because I wanted to know what you would 
 say. Everyone admires Sir Harvey. High-born, well- 
 bred, accomplished, fashionable, handsome — I cannot 
 think what is your objection.” 
 
 “ Eveleen fixed a thoughtful gaze upon Adorine, who 
 fidgeted beneath its keen scrutiny and said, I know it all 
 now, Ado ; you’re in love with Harvey de Rivers.” 
 
 ‘‘Well, at least you may not cavil at any specific 
 demerit in my Adonis,” returned Adorine with petulance. 
 
 “ Little as I like him, I’d rather see you married to 
 Don Quixote any day ” retorted the uncompromising 
 Eveleen. 
 
 “ Who is Don Quixote ? You are shocking for nicknam- 
 ing persons. Sir Ulic is quite just in being angry about it.” 
 Fitz Rufus is Don Quixote ; that's what I’ve chris- 
 tened him, because he’s always making blunders and talk- 
 ing of his adventures ; and though there’s not a bit of 
 good in him, there’s not much harm, for he’s an ape. — 
 But what’s amiss ? You’re as white as a ghost ; — what are 
 you staring at 
 
 Eveleen, who was stooped tying her sandal, rose up, 
 turned to the window most remote, and there, seated with 
 a volume of “Plato” in his hand, the heavy drapery, 
 which had screened him from view, thrown back, she saw 
 her uncle. Sir Ulic de Burgh.” 
 
 “ Have I alarmed you, fair ladies ? ” was the cool ad- 
 dress of De Burgh, as deliberately, and without change of 
 feature, he closed the book. “Am I expected to make 
 apology for my apparent eavesdropping ?” 
 
 Adorine, confounded and disconcerted, made no reply. 
 Eveline exclaimed, mirthfully : “ Why, Uncle Ulic, we 
 might have been saying or doing something we wouldn’t 
 have liked you to know ; and there you are.” Sir Ulic 
 smiled, as he drew forward his chair. 
 
 “ Receive it as a lesson to be always guarded. Made- 
 moiselle Eveleen, and not to mount on tables, and perform 
 feats of agility when you fancy yourself alone. So you 
 liked the party ; I'm glad to see you did not as Raymond, 
 make yourself sick eating fruit, tarts, and jellies, con- 
 fections, and all such delectable poisons.” 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 157 
 
 Uncle, I didn’t see you eat anything.'’ 
 
 “ Then you had not the eyes of Argus, it would appear. 
 And so you like Don Quixote better than Sir Harvey de 
 Eivers ? Pray what sobriquet have you attached to him ?" 
 Eveleen hung her head abashed. 
 
 “ Come, say it ? What is Sir Harvey 
 No, Uncle Ulic, you will be angry.” 
 
 ‘‘ I give you leave.” 
 
 Adorine won’t like me to ” 
 
 Better, demoiselle^ Adorine should know your opinion.” 
 Well, then, I call him ‘ Prince Lubin.’ ” 
 
 ‘‘ Why, do you think him crafty ?” 
 
 ‘‘ I think he is — and more,” she added after a pause, as 
 though her hitherto misty ideas were beginning to embody 
 themselves in shape. A fir gan chree.^^^ 
 
 “ And what of Sir Plantagenet, and Lady de Eivers ?” 
 Eveleen was silent and thoughtful. Sir Ulic turned to 
 Adorine, pale with vexation. His look was benign and 
 grave, his tone and manner kind and impressive. 
 
 “ Fair lady, I have to compliment your cousin upon 
 deeper power of perception, a more accurate discrimination 
 of character. Be not hurt at my using the freedom of a 
 friend to admonish you that what Eveleen expresses as the 
 result of judgment merely, I can corroborate from know- 
 ledge and experience. Sir Harvey de Eivers is wholly 
 unworthy of your affections or esteem ; you must bestow 
 them on one more deserving.” 
 
 ‘‘ Thank you, Sir Ulic, for your friendly interference,” 
 responded Adorine, coldly. ‘^But unless, indeed, you can 
 show some very tangible proof, some very palpable evi- 
 dence, of Sir Harvey’s unworthiness, it comes too late. I 
 am engaged.” 
 
 Sir Ulic paused, thunderstruck, then resumed, in accent 
 full of pathos, and with countenance expressive of deep 
 feeling: “I am sorry, sorry from my heart, for you, lady. 
 You are engaged to one who will never make you happy. 
 Does your father know of it ?” 
 
 My father knows of it, and is satisfied.” 
 
 * Man witliout a hcai t. 
 
158 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 That you ally with one antagonistic in creed 
 ^^Oh! Sir TJlic, you will think better of it/^ smiled 
 Adeline, with brightly flushing cheek and brow, ‘‘ when 
 you hear Sir Harvey has become a Catholic.” 
 
 ‘^On conviction, or for expediency ?” cried Sir TJlic, with 
 sardonic smile. ‘‘Listen, fair lady,” as he rose, his form 
 dilated in height, his stately mien and aspect assuming an 
 air unutterably majestic, “ this must not be.” — Adorine’s 
 hauteur gave way to trepidation and awe. — “I know Harvey 
 de Bivers, his kith and kin ; you do not. He is not one 
 with whom Sir Harold Sigurd, Sir Athelstane Fitz Adelm, 
 myself, or anyone who valued reputation, would hold in- 
 timacy. I have hinted as much to your father ; but now the 
 time is come to speak more plainly; you must not marry 
 Sir Harvey de Rivers.” 
 
 “ But, Sir Ulic, how can I in honour retract an en- 
 gagement?” exclaimed Adorine. “I have been to-day 
 to Father Catholicus O’Cuin ; and, though at flrst he did 
 not like it, he is now quite reconciled.” 
 
 “ What reconciled him? Well, I care not ; I shall see 
 Captain O’Byrne, and communicate such information as 
 shall at once cause him to interdict a union between his 
 daughter and the profligate De Rivers.” 
 
 “Oh! pray, pray Sir Ulic,” cried Adorine, springing to 
 the door to intercept his intention, “ I conjure you, I en- 
 treat you will not. You are mistaken in Sir Harvey. 
 Do not act rashly on hearsay. It can never be repaired ; 
 will never be forgiven.” 
 
 “ You will plague your heart to please your eye,” said 
 Sir Ulic, disengaging himself gently but firmly from her 
 grasp. “ Next time look for gold beneath the glitter of 
 the surface, dear child. Here, Eveleen, take your cousin. 
 I grieve to see the naiad dissolving in a crystal shower, 
 yet it were more pitiable to look on Niobe weeping in de- 
 spair.” 
 
 Sir TJlic, unrelenting and stern, was off on his mission 
 to find Captain O’Byrne in his study. It was an hour 
 before they reappeared at the dinner-table ; no allusion 
 was made then to the subject ; but a glance at her father’s 
 countenance, and at Sir Ulic’s kind, sad, but resolute 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 159 
 
 physiognomy, told Adorine her doom was arbitrated on. 
 Unlike her docile and timid cousin Maud Fitz Eustace, 
 high-spirited Adorine mentally decreed she would not 
 surrender her engagement at the behest of her father, on 
 the representation of Sir Ulic, till some flagrant charge had 
 been proved against her knight. Let the imperious, de- 
 spotic Sir Ulic do his worst, she would get her Uncle 
 Hugh, Father Catholicus, and Sir Eeginald, to her side, 
 and gain her point. However, when the cloth had been 
 removed, wine and fruit set on the board, and the menials 
 were withdrawn, Cornal turned to his daughter with aspect 
 sympathising and grave : Adorine, much it pains mo ma 
 
 trescherey to be under the necessity of saying you will have 
 to forego this contemplated alliance with Sir Harvey de 
 Livers. My good friend here. Sir Ulic de Burgh, has 
 made such representations as render it clearly impossible 
 that I could give consent to my child uniting her destiny 
 with that of one something worse than a vautour, I should 
 not acquit me of a father’s duty were I to permit it. No, 
 you must suffer me to choose for you one more worthy 
 your affection and my esteem.” 
 
 Adorine’s eye flashed brightly, and her colour rose ; yet 
 she replied in calm, mild accents : You will pardon me, 
 
 mon pere, if I maintain that it is not quite fair for Sir Ulic 
 de Burgh to act the part of a go-between in this case. 
 What has Sir Harvey done? Are his sins so manifold 
 and heinous as to place him — of all other mortals — 
 beyond forgiveness ? In olden time the murderer might 
 claim sanctuary ; and in all time we are assured that the 
 penitential mea culpa of the most criminal may restore him 
 to grace, and cancel his iniquity. I claim, in justice, to 
 know of what Sir Harvey stands accused that expels him 
 beyond the pale of mercy, and deadens every heart to in- 
 tercession in his regard. I am willing to admit culpable 
 he may have been, but never will I believe him to be an 
 obdurate impenitent.'’ 
 
 ‘‘ But, my child, this is precisely the point,” said her 
 father, with vehemence of look and tone. ‘‘ There are 
 things that will not bear to be exposed in their deformity ; 
 with the disclosure of which we may not shock the sensi- 
 
160 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 tive heart or ear. You must accept it on trust that Sir 
 Harvey de Eivers is an utterly ineligible parti^ and elect 
 another more worthy in his stead/’ 
 
 Mon pere^^ persisted Adorine, with imperturbable 
 quiescence of manner, while every feature quivered in 
 revolt, you treat me as a capricious child ; one moment 
 pleased with a rattle, to be satisfied the next with some 
 whimsical toy. I should despise myself were I of soul so 
 shallow, of heart so unstable, of mind so fickle, that I 
 could transfer at will every dictate of honour, every im- 
 pulse of feeling from one I have known and esteemed 
 to some mythical other, and that without any solid basis 
 to act upon of guilt brought home and proved against the 
 impeached. I think, indeed, one is sometimes placed by 
 one’s friends in positions of pain and difficulty. With no 
 charge specified against him, well might Sir Harvey 
 complain, and inveigh against our inconstancy and heart- 
 lessness. If, as you insinuate, there be just cause to 
 alienate me from him, how could I be so insensible as to 
 find solace elsewhere ? Oh, never !” 
 
 Sir Ulic, who had preserved silence till now in deep and 
 attentive interest, entered into the discussion, and said, in 
 tone deliberate and emphatic : 
 
 Too often, alas ! too often, it has been forced upon 
 my observation, the strange, the mysterious magnetism of 
 attraction, by which natures that bear no trace of affinity, 
 or aught of any attribute but what should engender anti- 
 pathy, are yet drawn together, and riveted in most ill- 
 assorted links to jar and corrode thenceforth in warping 
 friction, while those endowed with every quality to assimi- 
 late heart, soul, and mind, and infuse into our sublunary 
 being a very foretaste of heaven, by some unaccountable 
 fatuity miss their object and lay hold on the adverse. It 
 bears indeed the semblance of destiny, yet am I no pre- 
 destinarian. I believe that through the action of that 
 free will bestowed upon us, the shaping of our fate is 
 largely and mainly entrusted to ourselves, to our own 
 judgment, to our own conscientious sense of discrimination 
 between right and wrong, wisdom and folly. Of course 
 I speak not here of what we designate as vicissitudes, or 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 161 
 
 some certain preordained conditions, events, or divinely 
 appointed circumstances that influence the tenor of our 
 lives, but of those general actions within each one^s 
 compass of will and understanding. Therefore, I do hope, 
 most fervently hope, that Mademoiselle Adorine, amenable 
 to warning and council, will cast for herself a horoscope 
 that will give her friends no cause to mourn a future 
 clouded and rainy. Were the delinquencies of Harvey de 
 Eivers solely attributable to the light gay frivolity of 
 youth or nature, however volatile, yet accessable to re- 
 flection, of spirit, however intractible, yet capable of some 
 chastening influence, of dispositions, however selfish and 
 exacting, yet softened by one touch of generous sentiment, 
 of mind, however sordid, coarse and harsh, attuned to one 
 note of divine feeling thrilling through the discord of 
 fierce contending passions, I should have been slow to 
 interpose, and shut out one ray of grace that might redeem 
 him to a better life ; but no, no, no ; Harvey de Rivers 
 is, I fear, maugre the interposition of miracle, irreclaim- 
 able ; a gambler, a frequenter of low and evil orgies, an 
 associate of dissolute companions — what more I must not 
 say. Oh ! lady, it is not while basking in the atmosphere 
 of the drawing-room, bedizened and appointed to act the 
 courtier, to flatter, beguile, and deceive, with all the con- 
 summate tact and skill imparted by nature, gilded by 
 education and accomplishment, that you can arrive at a 
 knowledge of Harvey de Rivers.'^ 
 
 You frighten me, Sir Ulic,^’ said Adorine, with dis- 
 mayed air, while nervously essaying to break a wall-nut, 
 which he took from her and accomplished. 
 
 I wish, dear child, I could frighten your high spirit 
 and brave heart, as much for yourself as I am frightened 
 for you. I wish I could make upon your mind the im- 
 pression of my own conviction of the misery that must 
 ensue from such an inauspicious union,^' said Sir Ulic, 
 earnestly.^' 
 
 “ Eh, bien, there’s an end of it,” said Cornal, decisively; 
 
 Adorine will think no more of it ; and, pour ainsi dire, 1 
 cannot say I feel regret ; somehow I never, for all his 
 blandishments, took very heartily myself to Harvey, or any 
 
162 
 
 lEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 of his kin ; I never felt as if I well understood them. 
 A strange medley, betimes fulsome, and anon overween- 
 ingly arrogant. 
 
 So far all was well. By her saddened and downcast 
 brow and peaceful silence, Adorine appeared to have yielded 
 at length to persuasion, and tardily surrendered her will ; 
 but unfortunately, after brief pause, her father resumed : 
 
 ‘‘Now, there is Sir Harold Sigurd, whom Sir Ulic has 
 given me to understand loves you very devotedly, and is 
 in every respect worthy of your affection and esteem. I 
 like him well myself ; — I wish you would think of him.'^ 
 
 Sir Ulic was pained and thunderstruck by this in- 
 cautious straightforwardness on the part of Cornal. It 
 sufficed, he thought, for the present, and achieved much, 
 to have disengaged Adorine from her trammels ; but now 
 he detected, by the sly smile that played in her eyes and 
 lurked round her lips, that all they had gained was lost. 
 And he was right ; — the thought had flashed into her 
 mind : 
 
 “Now I see it all: this is why Sir Harvey is aspersed 
 that I may be estranged from him ; they wish me to 
 marry Sir Harold. Well, I like Sir Harold sufficiently to 
 have rendered it possible to have complied with their 
 desire, had he in the beginning made such overtures as 
 would have proved he entertained the same feeling that 
 Sir Harvey was not so slow to conceive or express ; there- 
 fore I must needs be true to my flrst love. She rose, all 
 radiant with smiles, bowed wdth gracious courtesy to her 
 father and Sir Ulic, made sign to Eveleen to accompany 
 her, and flitted from the dining-hall, whispering to Sir 
 Ulic, who had hastened to open the door as he marked her 
 transit : 
 
 grace monsieur^ nesoyez pas sip)resse, C’est a moi a 
 
 joiierJ' 
 
 “ Tant pis mademoiselle^ prenez-garde d vous/^ was Sir 
 Ulic’s rejoinder, with pensive smile, as he returned to the 
 salon. 
 
 “ Get on your hat, Eveleen, and wee’ll go to Aunt de 
 Courcy^s,'' said Adorine to her cousin. 
 
 Now while the foregoing scene was being enacted in the 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 163 
 
 O’Byrnes’ house in Thomas-street, another somewhat co- 
 relative, though widely difiPering in its features, was passing 
 in the mansion of the De Courcys in High-street. 
 
 Major Grub and Captain Jonas Grub had the night 
 before settled in family conclave that the solemn question 
 of “ To be, or not to be,” should be proposed and answered 
 on that day as to whether the charming Maud Fitz Eustace, 
 the idol of many a noble household, was to be transferred 
 to the worship of the Grub family, and honoured with a 
 niche in the Grub sanctuary, upon adequate terms of barter ; 
 and whether the fiat was to issue, which should closely 
 bind a patrician Catholic family with one of most Crom- 
 wellian democracy, obscure of lineage, rude, ignorant, 
 bigoted, as well as revolting to every refined sense and 
 gentle hereditary instinct. In view of their object, father 
 and son had equipped themselves elaborately, and to the 
 very verge of exquisite torture — strange to say, without 
 having attained their end, and flatly contradicting the 
 adage, Fine feathers make flne birds.” Jonas, limping 
 in highly fashionable, ornamented boots, which pinched 
 to distraction the huge feet he had squeezed into them by 
 some forcing process, and ill at ease in tight pantaloons and 
 sky-blue doublet set off with tuckers and ruffles, and with 
 massive gold chains, and on his clumsy Angers costly rings, 
 some of which could have told a sad tale : in especial one, 
 crested with a coronet and motto, the signet ring of Koche, 
 Lord Fermoy. Jonas, with all these adornments and helps 
 to adorn, was yet as repulsive and as ill-conditioned, as low 
 birth, low breeding, low life, and evil dispositions could 
 make him. His father, who possessed something less of 
 the butcher, and more of the bravo, with slouching gait, 
 stooped shoulders, and swaggering air, bore strong resem- 
 blance to a horsebreaker done out in holiday costume, or 
 to the keeper of a menagerie. As they rumbled along in 
 the coach from liathfarnham, each busy with his own 
 thoughts, they preserved a moody silence till arrived within 
 view of their destination ; then the Major, waking from his 
 reverie, spoke : 
 
 “Dang it, Jonas, only for it on the breath, I’d loike a 
 Bupo’ suthin' to keep up the pluck ! — but these ’cro flgh 
 
164 
 
 LEIXLIP CAStL^. 
 
 fellars are so nice. Any'ow, if so be we speed well, as in 
 course we will, an’ yer get the gal, I’ve made up my mind 
 about Elnor Fitz Adlem ; I think she’s just the one to my 
 fancy.” 
 
 A ’oighty-toity one yer’ll find ’er, an’ I be not mis- 
 taken,” said Jonas, wriggling as the boot pinched him. 
 
 Hoot ! we’d soon knock that hout av ’er ; — an’ ’ere we 
 are. Pull hup, Eoger ; — now down with yer an’ rattle the 
 knocker.” 
 
 Sir Eeginald de Courcy, in his morning-gown and red 
 Morocco slippers, was luxuriously reclining in a well- 
 cushioned fauteuil^ reading the Daily Gazette, before the 
 fire. A fine Angola cat dozed upon the rug at his feet, 
 and a parrot perched on a roost in its cage (Sir Ulic’s 
 gift to the children), nodded and pondered with all the 
 deep, refiective air of a philosopher studying some abstruse 
 question of science. Lady de Oourcy plied her needle, in 
 silence, at her embroidery, sitting opposite her husband; and 
 the day being sombre and dull, there was a dreamy repose 
 throughout and over all, which the crisp crushing of the 
 paper, with betimes a word of comment on the news, by Sir 
 Eeginald, failed to dissipate, and which held its reign till 
 it was rudely shattered by the announcement of Major 
 and Captain Grub. The consecutive appearance of the 
 uncouth visitors, as they stumbled into the morning 
 sitting-room with a rustic freedom, and hail-fellow-well- 
 met” cordiality of manner, would to any one save a pomp- 
 ous aristocrat, have proved delightfully exhilarating, 
 from its natural simplicity, and utter abnegation of all 
 tedious ceremony and formal restraint. With hands which 
 naturalists, if in satirical mood, might irreverently have 
 termed claws or feelers, thrust forward, the Major seized 
 upon Sir Eeginaid’s, and wrung it like a vice, while Jonas, 
 pouncing upon the all-inert Lady de Courcy, enclosed her’s 
 in his talons, till the rings, indented into her fingers, caused 
 her to wince with pain ; samewhile misconstruing the rapid 
 interchange of looks between the husband and wife, so 
 replete with surprise, curiosity, and interrogation, and 
 interpreting the humorous smile which invariably was wont 
 to embellish Sir Eeginaid’s convivial features when a sense 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 165 
 
 of the ridiculous or ludicrous, the comical or burlesque, 
 appealed to the faculty divine’^ — the power of mirth deep 
 seated in the brain and in the heart — interpreting it 
 into a propitious omen, Major Olotworthy, self-invited, 
 seated himself in an easy chair, and without intermission 
 continued to discharge his battery of compliments in voluble 
 eloquence, while the helpless victims, perceiving themselves 
 quite taken possession of, resigned themselves to their 
 fate, and, resuming their seats, patiently waited the denoue-’ 
 mmt of the event. It was not long coming, for it was the 
 boast of the Grrubs that they wor practical Britishers, 
 straightforward Hinglishmen — and, be it well under- 
 stood, this is an excellent expedient when any business 
 of a delicate or doubtful issue has to be transacted. All 
 anxious, preliminary debating skill, tact, nicety of method, 
 and address, only embarrass the subject, protract it, and 
 render the parties nervous and fidgety : so Major Grub 
 judged, and upon this judgment he so acted. Having 
 enthusiastically shaken hands with Sir Eeginald, assured 
 him of his satisfaction at seeing ’im look so uncommon 
 well an^ young — younger by ten year than last toime they 
 met ; — and the lady comlier an’ comlier every toime he saw 
 ’er ; an’ ’oped as ’ow they’d live to see a progeny of young 
 folk grow up around ’em, the very fac simile of ’emselves, 
 he launched into the business, Jonas the while sitting like 
 a dummy on the edge of his chair, twisting his beaver, and 
 with lynx-eyed vigilance taking notes of the proceeding. 
 
 Well, now, Sir Reginald,” began the Major, tho’ 
 at all toimes glad, as in duty bound, to pay my devoirs 
 to yer,as the sayin’ is, ’taint that in partikler as ’as brought 
 me to-day, but suthin’ of an haffair of consekence. I 
 needn’t tell yer, honoured sir” — he grinned and scratched 
 his head — ^^that young folk will be young folk, jest as we 
 wor ourselves once upon a toime — ha ! ha ! ha ! An’ ’ere is 
 this lad o’ mine, Jonas, as ’as taken it into’s ’ead to go 
 clean out o’ ’is wits an’ fall in love witli one o’ the beauti- 
 fulest gals alive ; as is his notion there’s not her equals in 
 the world. Now, Sir Reginald, as a father’s dooty is to 
 purwide his hoffspring in all respects, an’ pusli ’em up in 
 the world, as is my hambition to do ; an’ I cum to make 
 
1G6 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 yer an hoflfer for the ’and of yer ward an’ niece for my 
 son. Jest say in two twos wot her dower is, an’ wot 
 settlement yer expects on her; for 'tisn’t my ways to 
 haggle about wot’s fair ; an’ if it’s to be a bargain, let’s 
 close it on the nail ; — that’s my off ’and way o’ bisness.” 
 
 The Major ceased and stared hard at Sir Reginald, whose 
 visage, no longer redolent of Immour, but now very red and 
 very sedate, was fixed upon the evidently ruflSed aspect of 
 his placid consort, as though to imbibe inspiration from 
 the superior sagacity of the helpmate to whom he had long 
 since delegated the office of being his brain-carrier, as well 
 as purse-bearer, and prime minister in general. But the 
 oracle was now silent ; yet, drawing prophetic conclusion 
 from visual observation and bracing himself up to the emer- 
 gency, Sir Reginald cleared his throat with a preluding 
 ‘‘ Hum, ah ! indeed,” got up steam, and proceeded : 
 
 My good sir, you haven’t shown me how the ponies 
 could pull together, both differently harnessed and 
 appointed for different routes. I fear it would not answer ; 
 our Maud will not, methinks, care to anticipate purgatory 
 in the flesh.” 
 
 ^^Ah! ha! ha! I smoke yer wit, sir,” laughed the 
 Major, with boisterous appreciation. ^‘That’s a &oadside 
 at our religion. Wall, now, to show you we ain’t bigots no 
 how, the gal shall be free to ’old her own hopinions, an’ 
 go to Mass in reason, an’ ’ave bucketsful o’ holy water, 
 wen she loikes it, an’ — an’ beads, an’ all sech thingum- 
 bobberies as she loikes ; — tho’ we ’olds ’em superstition ; but 
 that’s ’er own affair. Now that’s settled ; let’s come to the 
 ingots, an’ reglate the dower — wot we’ll give on both sides. 
 Tho’ I’m a mon well-to-do, as the sayin’ is, and tho’ I say 
 it in boast, as shouldn’t boast of it, I can show guinea for 
 guinea with any mon ; an’ am the artizyan o’ my own and 
 famly’s fortin’. So jest fix the market — Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 
 Well, my good sir,” returned Sir Reginald, driven to 
 to his wits’ extremity, I understand so little about 
 marketing, that if I went to buy or sell a chicken I’d be 
 sure to be robbed and cheated ; so I keep out of it. But 
 with regard to Maud, Lady de Courcy and I think she is 
 too young to dispose of yet ; she will be the better for 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 167 
 
 keeping* over a little longer ; and when we have made up 
 our minds to auction her off to the highest bidder we 
 shall give you notice.’^ 
 
 ^^Dang it, Sir Iteginald exclaimed Major Grub, in- 
 censed to a sudden gust of passion, by such cool indifference 
 and sarcasm, so different to the result he had anticipated 
 for his suit, I^m a straightforward Britisher, an’ I 
 doan’t understand this ’ere Hirish way of haction. Do 
 yer mean for to say as »ow yer refuses to give yer ward to 
 my son 
 
 That’s my meaning, sir,” responded Sir Reginald, put 
 upon his mettle by the stimulating tone and manner of the 
 applicant, who now bursting all restraint of decorum in 
 paroxysm of ungovernable fury, pitched his tone to a 
 higher key, and vociferated : 
 
 And whoy, sir, wat’s yer motive ? Is it that yer 
 think my son isn't as good as yer niece ? Is it that we 
 ’aven’t as ’oigh blood in our veins? T ave seen ’oigher blood 
 spilled like water, an’ made no more account of it that if 
 it wor the blood o' swoin’. It is we does an ’onour to yer, 
 let me tell yer, in hoffering our connexion an’our wealth, 
 an’ our paternage. Yer moighty foino now, because yer 
 have got the poor paltry king, as is cornin’ over to stan’ 
 by yer ; but let me tell yer, wen it comes to fisti-cuffs, an’ 
 the Prince of Orange, our mon, ’ll make a hare of ’em, an’ 
 pull down his crest, an’ the Protestuns ’ll be hup agen, sorry 
 an’ sore yer’ll be to 'ave refused our hoffer, and the pur- 
 tection we could give yer in that day, any’ow.” The 
 Major, whose wrath now began to show tokens of sub- 
 siding, as he interpreted in Sir Reginald’s stoical sere- 
 nity, and Lady de Oourcy’s really alarmed countenance, 
 symptoms of that abject and crouching submission, into 
 which, by a similar process of explosive ire, he was want 
 to overrawe and govern his household, he proceeded : 
 ‘‘Any’ow, if yer thinks better on’t. I'm not a fellar to 
 raise ructions, an’ stan’ out agen’ an’ apology ; so if yer 
 be willin’ to cum to terms. I’m ready for yer. Jest turn 
 it in yer moind.” 
 
 “ Let’s see the gal, an’ ’ear wot she says ’erself,” cried 
 Jonas, suddenly seized with an insane conviction that the 
 
168 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 instant Maud should appear his personal attractions and 
 white gloves, jet boots, chains, rings, and ruffles, would 
 make an impression so favourable, that it would scarcely 
 need the additional argument of the amatory effusions and 
 amorous tokens he designed to lavish upon her, to ensure 
 a propitious conclusion to the business, but Sir Eeginald 
 and Lady de Oourcy had no idea of subjecting their ward 
 to the vexatious ordeal they had been themselves enduring. 
 Some excuse was made, and in lieu of the object desired, 
 the door opened, when entered Hugh O’Byrne with his son 
 Eaymond. Sir Eeginald and Lady de Oourcy simul- 
 taneously gave a sigh of relief : never were visitors so 
 welcome. Lady de Oourcy signalled Eaymond to her 
 side, while in answer to the perplexed, inquiring stare of 
 Hugh O’Byrne at the Grrubs, Sir Eeginald said, nodding 
 significantly at the Major: 
 
 This gentleman has called to do me the high honour to 
 propose an alliance between Maud and his son. We have 
 just been debating it.” 
 
 Have you said Hugh, drily. “ Then methinks the 
 sooner you give the gentlemen their answer, and let them 
 go, the better.” The visitors glared ferociously upon the 
 speaker, and Jonas was about to say something, when his 
 father interposed : 
 
 ‘^Well, Sir Eeginald, wot’s it to be? — Yes or No? 
 Friend or henemy, we part now ; for 111 ’ave no inter- 
 lopers giving their jaw in the matter.” 
 
 Sir Eeginald was not by nature a courageous man. He 
 could be stout and firm under pressure ; but he loved ease 
 and peace, hated strife, dreaded the notion of an enemy, 
 and would have given the world, in his vacillating mind, 
 to have made some amicable compromise ; to have got these 
 hateful men off quietly for the present, and leave the 
 future to chance. While he was wavering and timorous, 
 Hugh stepped into the arena, and grappled with the 
 foe. 
 
 “ Sir Eeginald, before you give answer to this impor- 
 tunate dictator, and decree the destiny of Maud Fitz 
 Eustace, hear what I have to say, and then act as you 
 will. Forty years ago, a stripling youth, such as you see 
 
THE GRUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 169 
 
 Raymond now, I stood, shoulder to shoulder, with my brave 
 father and gallant uncles, amid the phalanx of our Celtic 
 chivalry, upon the ramparts of Drogheda, battling, as men 
 and patriots would in any land, for our country’s freedom, 
 our homes, and altars ; — nor had our conflict been with men, 
 albeit foes, endowed with some traits of humanity, some 
 touch of nature, human or divine, could we fairly com- 
 plain. Wars have been, and will be, with all their 
 attendant train of horrors, but this was a strife waged 
 between men and demons. My father fell ; our warriors 
 were defeated; but they died avenged, with arms in their 
 hands, and slept the soldier’s sleep. The town was taken, 
 and though quarter was pledged and sworn by the victors, 
 five days of carnage and pillage did not satiate their 
 thirst; — but this is not the climax. In St. Peter’s Church, 
 one thousand aged men, helpless women and children, took 
 refuge from the slaughter. In one of the crypts the 
 flower of the maidenhood of the place lay concealed. Had 
 mortal men, human beings imbued with human instincts 
 of compassion or mercy, been their assailants, some com- 
 miseration might have prevailed, some pleading cry been 
 heard supplicating grace for these desolate ones; but no! — 
 the slaughter raged; — age, youth, and infancy sank 
 beneath the sword. Not one of that thousand fugitives 
 was suffered to live; — all perished indiscriminately. There 
 was among them one, fairest and loveliest of all, dragged 
 from the crypt — she was the niece of the governor of the 
 garrison. Her noble beauty, her youthful innocence, for 
 an instant seemed to touch the heart of the wretch who 
 had seized her ; but fearful lest tender pity might prevail 
 to save this last and only one, a trooper, not passed his 
 own early youth, came deliberately forward and stabbed her 
 to the heart, even while in the sheltering arms of his 
 comrade. I saw the deed done; my sword struck at the 
 murderer, but what could my worn-out strength and 
 boy’s arm serve ? I was cut down and left for dead upon 
 the spot. But it seems my life was to be preserved, that 
 I might one day rise up in witness against this atrocious 
 slayer in cold blood, and warn my kinsman to be aware 
 of the son of such a demon. And now, sir,” turning to 
 
iro 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 the Major, who looked actually transfixed with astonish- 
 ment, and livid with passion, that you remember me 
 and the scene I have recalled, quit this house, let not 
 your shadow again fall upon the threshold, lest human 
 nature, tried beyond its strength, should goad me to some 
 act unworthy a Christian. Rather than witness Maud 
 Fitz Eustace the wife of your son, I would see her welter- 
 ing in her heart’s blood at my feet, and deem it a most 
 precious mercy that had awarded a gentler fate.’’ 
 
 Come along, Jonas,” hissed Major Grrub, snatching up 
 his castor; we will give ’em cause to rue this day.” 
 ‘^Weltering in her heart’s blood !” slowly and solemnly 
 ejaculated the parrot, reiterating Hugh O’Byrne’s im- 
 pressive words, and causing an involuntary thrill of 
 awe in every bosom, as all turned and gazed upon the 
 strange, grave mimic. Just then the door opened, and 
 Maud, accompanied by Adorine and Eva, came in, looking 
 so sweet, so spiritual, that Jonas turned and gave one long 
 intense look of yearning delight at the vision of loveliness, 
 as with slight start of surprise and flush of conscious 
 embarrassment at the unexpected sight of her ugly ad- 
 mirer, she swept by and disappeared in one of the 
 curtained recesses of the windows. 
 
 Any news, Adorine ?” demanded Lady de Courcy, 
 smiling at the look of astonishment depicted on the face 
 of the latter, as she stood gazing at the retreating forms of 
 the Grrubs. Your are just in time for dinner ; — we are 
 late to-day.” 
 
 We have dined, aunty — had an early dinner. Mon 
 pere and Sir Ulic were to ride out to Santry, to call on the 
 Fitz Adelms. Sir Atheist ane has been to visit Sir Ulic 
 this morning, but he was out with his Excellency. — And 
 now. Aunty, will you tell me what brought the Grubs 
 here ?” 
 
 To make a proposal,” smiled Sir Reginald. They 
 fancy you, Maud.” 
 
 Which of them?” shouted Eveleen, uproariously. 
 ^^Maud, I wish you joy. ‘‘Which of them, Uncle 
 Reginald — is it Adorine’s Adonis ? ” 
 
 “ Jonas, the beauty, to be sure,” laughed Sir Reginald. 
 
THE GEUBS PROPOSE. 
 
 171 
 
 ^^But what ails you, Maud? — no need to look so scared. 
 You look like a petrifaction, or a figure cut in stone. There 
 goes the dinner bell ; — Idl scarce have time to change my 
 coat.” (Exit Sir Reginald, in a fiiirry.) 
 
 Weltering in her heart’s blood,” muttered the parrot. 
 
 ^^Poll, Poll, what sanguinary notion are you rehearsing?” 
 said Adorine, offering the bird an almond. 
 
 Poll, Poll, I must teach you to say nice things,” cried 
 Eveleen. You must call Captain Grub ‘Adonis,’ to 
 begin with ; and there’s ‘ Lovely Clutterbuck,’ that asked 
 me, at Lady de Rivers, why I made the superstitious sign 
 of the cross before supper. Yes, aunty ; yes, father ; he 
 did, indeed; and I answered him short: ‘Because I am a 
 papist, and St. Patrick taught us.’ ” 
 
 Lady de Courcy laughed with approval, then turned to 
 Adorine : “ And so I must wish you joy : Sir Harvey has 
 become a Catholic ?” 
 
 Adorine turned quickly, with face fiushed, and sorrowful : 
 “ Yes, aunty, but I’m as far off from my hope as ever. 
 Only think of it, mon pere, I told you this morning, had 
 consented. Father Catholicus came round. All was going 
 smoothly, when Sir Ulic comes and puts his foot on the 
 whole thing ; makes all sorts of charges against unfortu- 
 nate Sir Harvey, and quite weans mon pere from all 
 interest in him. Now, aunty, as I mean to fight out the 
 battle on the defensive, I expect you and Sir Reginald, 
 and Uncle Hugh, and Maud, will all stand by me. Won’t 
 you promise, aunty ? ” 
 
 “ I don’t know, dear,” replied cautious Lady de Courcy. 
 “ If your father and Sir Ulic be not for it, I should 
 scarcely like to oppose them.” 
 
 “But, aunty, Sir Ulic is absurd in his chimerical ideas 
 of propriety. I do believe he is so much perfection, a very 
 little fault would be a great sin in his eyes. I should 
 never wonder to hear of his turning Trappist. I hate such 
 rigidly righteous persons ; I do, indeed.” 
 
 “ Sir Ulic is not absurd, dear, in his strict ideas of pro- 
 priety ; he is my beau ideal of sense and goodness,” said 
 Lady de Courcy. 
 
 “Then, aunty, you will go against me to please Sir 
 
172 
 
 LEIX LIP CASTLE. 
 
 Ulic/’ cried Adorine, disconsolately. But I'll tell you 
 what, aunty, if you will be so unkind, 111 die early of a 
 broken heart, and haunt you all the rest of your days. I 
 think Sir Ulic has bewitched you all ; and for my part, I 
 am not at all captivated with him. I wish he would marry 
 and get rational. Maud, why don’t you say something ? 
 You are always so silent and dreamy, I feel sometimes a 
 wish to shake you.” 
 
 Maud smiled and laughed. I think, indeed, Adorine, 
 we are like the babes in the wood, wandering hopelessly to 
 find our way out. Perhaps we shall be rewarded some 
 day by the birds coming to cover us with leaves, and sing 
 over us in our graves.” 
 
 “ Pleasing suggestion ! smiled Adorine, ironically, 
 while an unbidden tear dimmed her eye. ‘‘Tell me, Maud, 
 do you like Sir Harvey ? ” 
 
 Maud hesitated a moment. “ I don’t know, Adorine. 
 I cannot say. I believe he is very nice, very agreeable ; 
 but I scarcely know ; I am not a good judge.” 
 
 Adorine looked disappointed. “ Uncle Hugh, do you 
 like him ? ” 
 
 colleen replied the uncle thus appealed to, 
 
 “ I vote every man good till I know him to be bad, and 
 though I know but little, or have seen but little, of Sir 
 Harvey, I shall like him for your sake, till I find just 
 cause to dislike him for his own, and don’t fear that Sir 
 Ulic shall warp my judgment by any ill-founded prejudice 
 of his.” 
 
 “Dinner! ” announced the liveried menial. 
 
173 
 
 AbORINE o’bYENE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ADORINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 
 
 ^ ** And hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
 
 ^ Like broken clouds, or like the stream 
 
 That smiling leaves the mountain’s brow, 
 
 As though its waters ne’er could sever, 
 
 Yet, ere it reach the plain below. 
 
 Breaks into floods that part for ever.” 
 
 The Light of the Harem. 
 
 “ My lady, don^t refuse me ; just give me one trial. I’ll 
 be faithful an’ true to ye, an’ serve ye wid all the veins of 
 my heart. And on the truth o’ my heart, I ask ye to 
 take me in. Heaven knows, one short month ago, it’s 
 little Cathleen O’Carroll thought she’d be beholdin’ to 
 earn her bread off of her own flure. But since the sheeling 
 was burnt over our head, an’ the farmyard, wid the horse 
 an’ the cow an’ the pigs all gone, an’ my step-father a’most 
 killed sthrivin’ to save my sick mother an’ the childhre from 
 the fire, it’s on me it falls to earn for the crathurs the bit to 
 keep life in ’em. An’ if them we held our cabin under, an’ 
 was tenants to their father before ’em, won’t pity our mis- 
 fortune, Cod an’ his Blessed Mother look down on us. 
 Where’ll we go at all, all ? ” 
 
 Such was the impassioned pleading of a pretty country 
 girl, aged about seventeen, as with shy and modest de- 
 meanour, she stood simply attired in grey frieze cloak and 
 hood, one severe afternoon in March, in the presence of 
 Eleanor and Adela Fitz Adelm, entreating to be received 
 as a menial into their service in the vacant place of one 
 lately dismissed for dishonesty. 
 
 As the ladies preserved a doubtful silence, the petitioner 
 continued, with redoubled energy : 
 
 “ I won’t eat the bread of idleness, never fear, my lady. 
 I can turn my hand to a’most anythiug ; — I can fiiie-sew 
 an’ stitch, clear starch, iron, crimp muslin, and get up fine 
 things. I understand the management of fowl an’ dairy ; 
 an’ tho’ I can’t say much about cookin’ — for quality — such 
 
174 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 as made dishes, soups, jellies, an’ the like, I’m quick at 
 learning, an’ I know I’ll give ye satisfaction if ye hut 
 make me the prefer of the place.” 
 
 ^^Cathleen,” returned Eleanor, in accents resolved and 
 dogmatic, while she bent her eyes fixedly upon some 
 tatting on w^hich she was at work, I regret I cannot 
 accede to your request, save and except upon the terms 
 already stipulated ; — you know them. Therefore, it rests 
 with yourself to act as you please for your own advan- 
 tage.” 
 
 Is it to give up my religion, my lady, ye mean ? ” 
 sobbed Cathleen piteously. 
 
 You will have to give up all your superstitious prac- 
 tices — the Mass, the confession, and above all, the priests, 
 who keep you in a state of darkness and ignorance. If 
 you promise to do that, and come to Church, read the 
 Bible, and attend our prayers, there is nothing in our 
 power to bestow which you may not command ; for, in 
 addition to our knowing you to be a good, well-conducted 
 girl, we like your manner and appearance. We also like 
 you for the good name you and your people have always 
 borne in the neighbourhood, as well as for the circumstance 
 of your having been so long our tenants ; and we pity you 
 very sincerely for the undeserved calamity that has re- 
 duced you from comfort to indigence. But now you know 
 the conditions, and unless you choose to comply, you only 
 give yourself and us unnecessary trouble to urge the 
 subject further.” 
 
 Mother of God,’’ sighed Cathleen, turning dolefully 
 aside ; for myself I wouldn’t care. No, lady.’’ She 
 turned firmly again : If ye axed me to sell ye my heart’s 
 
 blood in exchange for bread for them that hasn't broke 
 their fast since yesterday, I’d give it an’ welcome ; but not 
 to save the lives of all belongin’ to me, would I give up 
 the ould faith, an’ the Mass, an’ the confession, an’ the 
 Soggarth, that stood by us in the dark days o’ persecution, 
 an' the light o’ glory, with Jesus an’ Mary'' — she courte- 
 sied reverently — an’ with the saints in the world to come, 
 for the mess o’ pottage. So, welcome be the holy will, an’ 
 I wish ye good-mornin’, my lady, an’ pray God ye’ll never 
 
ADOKINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 175 
 
 know what 'tis to want a friend, or he a wanderer on the 
 earth, an’ find the door o’ mercy shut in yer face, onless 
 ye belie yer soul an’ turn traitor to yer conscience.” 
 
 Stay, Cathleen,” cried Adela, as the young girl, bathed 
 in tears, was moving to the door. Eleanor” (she ad- 
 dressed her sister), Lady de Rivers, I just bethink me, is 
 in want of a maid. I’ll give Cathleen a note to her.” 
 
 Heaven bless ye, my lady. May the Blessed Mother 
 an’ the saints reward ye,” said the grateful Cathleen, 
 lingering with renovated hope while Adela wrote a few 
 lines, folded them in a billet, and handed it to Cathleen. 
 
 There, try your chance ; her ladyship may not be so 
 particular. I hear her son. Sir Harvey, has become a 
 Catholic ; — but you are a great fool, Cathleen, to throw 
 away your luck with us.” 
 
 ‘‘ W ell, acuishJay we must be fools for Grod’s sake ; but 
 rm thankful to ye all the same,” replied Cathleen courtesy- 
 ing and withdrawing just as Sir Athelstane and Harold, 
 now quite reinstated in favour, came in. 
 
 “ That girl has been pestering again, Athelstane,” said 
 Eleanor, quietly going on with her work. 
 
 “ Lacy’s step-daughter ? ” said Athelstane. How are 
 they getting on ? That was a terrible act of incendiarism. 
 I’d give a good deal we could come at the perpetrator. 
 No one’s property or life will be safe if such things go 
 unpunished; and Lacy was a decent, industrious poor 
 man. What have you done with the girl? I just saw 
 her going out crying.” 
 
 Oh ! I sent her away. You know what bad example 
 it would be to have a Catholic among our servants.” 
 
 ‘‘And how would you brook a Catholic sister-in-law?” 
 demanded Sir Harold. “Was I not right in supposing 
 Athelstane would not condescend to an alliance with such 
 pariahs ? Are De Courcy and O’Byrne to blame that they 
 resent such insult?” 
 
 “ Oh ! it’s a different thing, quite,” said Adela. “ Maud, 
 educated and clear-minded, could have been enlightened, 
 instructed, and won over by persuasive argument, not so 
 these ignorant bigots of the common class. I’m sorry 
 Cathleen was so stubborn, for I always thought her a 
 superior girl, and she would have so nicely suited us.” 
 
1^6 
 
 LElXLIP OASTLE. 
 
 It was a pity you let the girl’s creed stand against 
 your convenience/’ said Harold; ‘‘good servants are 
 scarce.” 
 
 “ When we consulted Dr. Dopping and Parson Clutter- 
 buck about it,” said Eleanor, “ they decidedly opposed our 
 wishes; — and, Adela, you did wrong to give her that 
 note.” 
 
 “ Why, she said they were starving, and I felt pity,” 
 said Adela. 
 
 “ That’s exactly why you should not,” returned Eleanor ; 
 “ for if you recollect when I made that appeal to the bishop 
 his answer was : ‘ So much the better. They must be 
 crushed, ground down, these wrong-headed people. Nought 
 else can appeal to their reason or make them amenable to 
 conversion.’ ” 
 
 “ Perversion ! ” retorted Harold, jeeringly. “ Now every 
 saint of the heavenly hierarchy, here on this spot I invoke 
 you, that if ever it be my hap to fall among thieves, and 
 lie wounded and bleeding, you will keep this tender 
 Samaritan, whose zeal for souls fools charity, out of my 
 path, and let me bleed and die in peace, unless you can 
 send some heathen dog to lick my sores. Prithee, does 
 the gentle bishop ever preach the gospel of divine charity, 
 which, as I have read it, does not inculcate the Puritan 
 doctrine of conversion by the sword, on which you all so 
 freely act, but commands us to love our enemies ? ^ If thy 
 
 enemy be hungry, give him to eat ; if he be thirsty, give 
 him to drink.’ Did you give that poor girl anything to 
 eat or drink ? — she looked, I thought, faint and weary.” 
 
 There was no response. Eleanor and Adela silently 
 coloured with shame and vexation. 
 
 “No !” returned the irrepressible Harold, “Well, she 
 was not an enemy — that excuses it; — only differed from you 
 in religion, as I do ; and yet you freely pamper me with 
 dainty alms. I say, Adela, to whom did you send the 
 stray waif in your pity to seek her fortune ?” 
 
 •“ If you speak to me, uncourteous knight, in that 
 fashion, I shall not answer you,” said Adela, haughtily. 
 “ Sir Ulic, whom I deemed severe and satirical is, in truth, 
 compared with you, benignity and grace. I sent Cathleen 
 to Lady de Livers.” 
 
ADORINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 377 
 
 To Lady de Elvers, did you ? May her good angel 
 frustrate her evil genius, and cause her to break her neck 
 on the way. You couldn’t have sent her to worse patron- 
 age or matron age.” 
 
 If you do not like it. Sir Harold, we shall, having 
 occasion to go into town to-morrow or next day, call on 
 Lady de Elvers and give her a hint not to take Oathleen 
 O’Carroll,” said Eleanor. 
 
 Do, by all means ; — better for Oathleen to beg from 
 door to door. Day after to-morrow will be the Sabbath. 
 Of course you will go to hear Dopping hold forth ?” 
 
 Yes ; — you ought to come with us,” said Athelstane. 
 
 Thanks ; I like best to hear Christian doctrine ex- 
 pounded from our own pulpit when illustrated by the lives 
 and actions of such men as Father O’Cuin, Father O’Kelly, 
 and such genuine representatives of the sacerdotal order. 
 tT ust meets my notion, you see, of what apostolic teachers 
 exemplify ! — the light shining before men, purity, charity, 
 justice, truth, and a whole catalogue of virtues.” 
 
 Which you infer exists not elsewhere,” said Eleanor, 
 curtly. 
 
 “ Not much, in sooth,” laughed Sir Harold ; — and what 
 specimens we see are dwarfed and stunted enough.” 
 
 ‘^So argue all men of contracted and warped minds, 
 hoodwinked and priest-ridden by drones of Jesuits and 
 friars,’’ rejoined Sir Athelstane. 
 
 Oh, come ! I was in for a fit of the spleen ; but this 
 last dose has cured me of that, as well as self-conceit. All 
 that is left for me to say is, if the pious philanthropists of 
 your Church of England, your enlightened prelates, your 
 masters of science, art, and literature, will develop and 
 send forth to astound, amuse, edify or instruct posterity, 
 men of larger mind, of more intellectual expansion, of 
 nobler worth, of more exalted virtue, than those drones of 
 Jesuits and friars, whose divine lives and human sympa- 
 thies have reconstructed from the shattered elements of the 
 pagan world, the ruins of Greece and Eome, with toil and 
 labour, mental and corporal, all the civilisation which is 
 our boast to-day, and transmitted to all time, from temple 
 and university, constellations that shall never vanish from 
 
 13 
 
178 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE, 
 
 the firmament of glory, names that shall never perish in 
 oblivion. If this your new system of theology, your new 
 koran of belief, your new schools of training shall send 
 forth pupils whose reach of power may eclipse the stu- 
 pendous conceptions and magnificent bequests to ages yet 
 unborn of the grand old masters of the mediaeval and early 
 centuries, I yield the palm and cry, Deo gratias ; — but 
 never, never will you see it. Invention and discoveries 
 may progress — art and science won’t stand still; for the 
 restless, busy mind of man will be ever toiling at the forge 
 or labouring at its alchemy, straining for ever onward to 
 grasp the stars or pierce the Antipodes, but none will out- 
 reach a Copernicus or a Columbus, a Michael Angelo or a 
 Dante, an Augustine, an Ignatius of Loyola, or a St. 
 Dominic. Let them engrave what names they will on the 
 pages of history, on the world’s annals, they never can 
 climb up to, they never can set them side by side with 
 those that have gone before them and struck the first blow 
 to clear the way. Come, Athelstane, I did not mean to 
 plague these ladies with such a dissertation ; but when my 
 blood boiled up in defence of my Jesuit masters I forgot 
 where to stop. The only thing they never could teach me 
 to acquire to their satisfaction was the art of bridling my 
 temper and holding my tongue. Only for that, who 
 knows but I might have been one of them to-day. They 
 used to consider me one of the most obstreperous of their 
 pupils, and went so far as to tell me they would sing a 
 Te Deum at recreation the day that should see my college 
 career closed, and the school quit of me ; and yet, only 
 think, after that I had the inconceivable folly to shed some 
 briny tears on the neck of the very severest of my masters; 
 for somehow I loved him withal. I think it was the sight 
 of Ulic de Burgh laughing in his sleeve that recalled me 
 to my senses.” 
 
 Was Ulic another pupil ?” demanded Sir Athelstane, 
 with grave smile. 
 
 Yes ; but had finished his studies years before me. 
 Lady Fitz Stephen sent him to fetch me home safe lest I 
 might lose my way. I promise you I gave him some 
 trouble to drag me along ; for I would see all that was to 
 
ADORINE O^BYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 179 
 
 be seen in Madrid. Then I made a flight to Eome ; tra- 
 versed some of the Italian states ; fell in love with two or 
 three charming Zitellas ; wanted, right or wrong, to bring 
 one of them home ; got into a row with brigands ; was 
 nearly carried off myself, was only rescued by TJlic’s 
 prowess; and, Anally, in a fit of remorse and compunction, 
 surrendered my liberty and suffered him to transport me 
 whithersoever he would : owing to which fortunate amena- 
 bility you are now indebted to the felicity, if such you 
 deem it, of my acquaintance/’ 
 
 Here visitors coming in changed the conversation, and 
 Sir Athelstane and Harold, slipping away, went for a walk 
 round the demesne. 
 
 Few there be who, perhaps, at one time or other in the 
 course of life, have not experienced how the tenor of their 
 career has been, by some unforeseen event, the action of 
 some agency beyond their jurisdiction, set aside, broken, or 
 diverted into other channels ; their ideas new-shaped, their 
 tone of thought changed, former impressions weakened, 
 and others of opposite tendency written over the half- 
 effaced page, and their minds so annealed by the alchemic 
 hand of change as to expose to the charge of inconsistency 
 or prevarication persons whose principles had been regarded 
 as impregnable to any test. 
 
 That there be such phases in human lives it was 
 appointed for the Fitz Adelms soon to realise. On the 
 next Sabbath day Christ Church, restored to its pristine 
 use and glory, was thronged by a devout congregation, 
 assembled to assist at a grand pontifical Mass, being cele- 
 brated with extraordinary pomp and jubilee at the high 
 altar erected for the occasion in the chancel. The dite 
 of wealth, fashion, and aristocracy of the Eoman Catholic 
 inhabitants of the metropolis and suburbs were bowed 
 down in solemn adoration before the Lord of Hosts. A 
 Te Deam was being intoned by the choir, while the majestic 
 organ rolled waves of melody aloft. It was at this moment 
 the sky, which had been all the morning overcast with 
 brooding clouds, broke into a thunderstorm and floods of 
 rain. The long, rolling peals exploded like the heaviest 
 ordnance, and reverberated from cloud to cloud, while the 
 
180 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 lightning flashed, illuminating the almost midnight dark- 
 ness with intensely vivid power, startling a pair of high- 
 spirited carriage horses, till they began to plunge and rear 
 in desperate efforts to break away : so much so, that Sir 
 Athelstane, alarmed, descending from his usual seat on the 
 box beside the coachman, assisted the pale and frightened 
 ladies to alight, and hurried them out of the deluging 
 torrents into the church, which was close at hand. A 
 moment they stood to regain composure, and then, involun- 
 tarily awe-struck, they gazed upon the scene before them. 
 The lighted altar, the vested priests, the white-robed 
 acolytes, the wafting incense — but more than all appealed 
 to their every spell-bound sense, the rapt, intense, all- 
 absorbing devotion of that kneeling multitude, differing 
 in condition, united in one solemn all-levelling act of 
 divine homage. By-and-by they began to single out 
 objects of recognition. A bench or two before them was 
 Sir Harold Sigurd, his noble head and manly form slightly 
 bent forward, every feature fixed in recollective calm, as 
 heart and soul rendered tribute to the Deity present to 
 his thought. Beyond him again were the De Courcys and 
 Maud Fitz Eustace, hushed in the stillness of prayer. 
 They turned, and close beside them knelt Sir TJlic de 
 Burgh, his forehead resting on his hand, and so motionless 
 in his reverential attitude of devotion, that attracted as by 
 a magnet, again and again their gaze reverted to contem- 
 plate the princely form, all unconscious of the silent 
 sermon it was preaching; and Eleanor felt a chord of 
 sympathy vibrate with strange, unwonted interest in her 
 apathetic bosom, towards Sir Ulic, from whom her glance 
 a moment strayed to Cornal and Hugh O’Byrne, Adorine, 
 Eveleen, Raymond, and the new convert to Romanism — 
 the only blot on the fair picture of piety and holiness — 
 Harvey de Rivers, with derisive eye and mocking smile, 
 ogling the worshippers on every side, as, bent on one knee, 
 his restless motion, ill-suppressed yawns, and roving eyes 
 betokened how distasteful was the sacred solemnity of such 
 a scene to his mind. 
 
 The altar s silver bells rung out, the tuneful diapason of 
 organ and choir died in thrilling cadence and solemn hush. 
 
ADORINE o’bYRNE HARVEY DE RIVERS. 181 
 
 and every head bowed prostrate before the Elevation of the 
 Consecrated Host. Transported out of themselves, borne 
 along by the exciting enthusiasm, the momentary ebullition 
 of feeling, the Eitz Adelms knelt, not in act of faith recog- 
 nising the Eeal Presence, but in compliance, in deference 
 to courtesy. 
 
 After some moments, an interval of fervent adoration, 
 Sir Ulic raised his head, withdrew his hand, looked towards 
 the altar, and casually his eye lighted upon the Eitz 
 Adelms. After a brief, incredulous stare, he quietly 
 vacated his place, and signed to Eleanor to take the 
 seat ; then mutely touching Baymond on the elbow, he 
 signified to him to make space for Adela, which he 
 promptly did by resigning his place and kneeling on the 
 outside beside his uncle and Sir Athelstane, while Eveleen 
 and Sir Harvey looked intent surprise as the avowed 
 Episcopalian took her place beside them. Even decorum 
 could scarcely repress the taunting laugh that struggled 
 through every lineament of Harvey de Eivers^ face, as he 
 riveted a quizzical eye upon Athelstane, who, in no humour 
 for banter, kept looking sternly forward towards the altar, 
 and affected not to notice him. 
 
 The holy rites proceeded, and closed with Benediction 
 of the Blessed Sacrament. Father O’Cuin preached upon 
 the gospel of the day. Gifted with much eloquence, ardent 
 zeal, and warm feeling, his sermon was as impressive as 
 the subject was grand, awakening conscience while stimu- 
 lating the soul to nobler effort for heavenly things, and 
 more glowing aspirations to the Divine Author of all 
 being. At its conclusion the thunder had ceased, but 
 the rain still descended in torrents. The dispersing con- 
 gregation lingered in knots and groups in the vestibule 
 and passages of the church, waiting for sedan-chairs and 
 carriages. The De Courcys, Eitz Adelms, O’Byrnes, Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh, and Harold Sigurd filed out in slow 
 procession, obstructed by the throng, when Harvey de 
 Eivers, edging himself in, whispered, sotto voccy to Fitz 
 Adelm, whose eyes were straining towards Maud Fitz 
 Eustace, who had not yet observed him : 
 
 ‘‘ I say, Athelstane, there bo no missionaries to compare 
 
182 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 with ladies for making converts. I see you’re caught in 
 the same net as myself. I’m glad, by J ove, for it was 
 deucedly awkward the predicament I was in solusJ' 
 
 What response Sir Athelstane’s stern aspect menaced 
 was interrupted by Captain O’Byrne, coming forward as 
 they now stood in the vestibule, and saying, with smiling 
 urbanity of look and tone : 
 
 ‘‘ Since the weather has compelled you to sanctuary, Sir 
 Athelstane, you will not resist if we lay violent hands on 
 you, and carry you off in our train to luncheon.” 
 
 Sir Athelstane bowed, murmuring some indistinct speech, 
 and looked towards his sisters, who, having encountered 
 Adorine, were politely apologising for not having yet 
 visited her, which apology she as graciously received on 
 her part, when Sir Ulic advanced, smiling and bowing : 
 
 Since Sir Athelstane deputes you to be umpires, I 
 hope you will not decline Captain O’Byrne’s and Mademoi- 
 selle Adorine’ s invitation. We are all engaged to accept 
 their hospitality.” 
 
 Question is, how are we to wade through this deluge ?” 
 cried Harold, coming up as Eleanor, yielding to Adorine’s 
 earnest entreaty, consented to join the party. 
 
 Lady de Courcy will take some of the demoiselles in 
 her close carriage,” said Cornal. ^^Unfortunately ours 
 met yesterday with an accident, which deprives us of its 
 use in this emergency.” 
 
 Mine is at your disposal, Captain O’Byrne,” said Sir 
 Athelstane, shaking hands with Maud, whom just then he 
 met. 
 
 ‘‘ I’ll have a race for it,” shouted Raymond, in wild glee, 
 seizing his hat, and darting like a swallow along. 
 
 And I, too ; — it’s a long time since I had the fun of 
 getting a ducking,” cried Eveleen, springing after him, when 
 Sir Ulic caught her by the arm, and fixed upon her one 
 of those controlling glances, half-smile, half-frown, from 
 which there was no appeal. 
 
 You irreclaimable wild bird, what cage shall we find 
 for you ? Here, Maud, take charge of her ; Sir Athel- 
 stane will assist you.” And Eveleen, vexed and mortified 
 at the laughter of the amused Eitz Adelms, and chafing 
 
ADORINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. l83 
 
 at the perpetual restraint imposed upon her by this self- 
 constituted mentor, sulkily suffered herself to be handed 
 into Sir Athelstane’s carriage, while Adorine, Eleanor, 
 and Adela were whirled away in Lady de Courcy’s. 
 Father O’Cuin, who had also been asked to luncheon, now 
 joined them, and the gentlemen, procuring chaises, followed 
 their friends. 
 
 “ You have been feasting on ambrosia,’^ said Harvey de 
 Rivers, detaching himself from a group of gentlemen, 
 prominent among whom were his brother Plan tagent, and 
 Fitz Rufus, who had dropped in, uninvited, on their way from 
 church, and hastening to meet Adorine, as she accom- 
 panied the ladies to the saloon. 
 
 ‘‘No,’' she responded, avoiding Sir Ulic’s penetrating 
 eye, as he placed himself beside Eleanor at the table, 
 while Lady de Courcy and Father O’Cuin, Maud and Sir 
 Athelstane sat opposite. 
 
 “Yes, it is on your breath,” persisted Sir Harvey.” 
 
 “ Gro on, De Rivers, you supply the nectar, and the 
 banquet will be complete,” interposed Sir Harold, as he 
 handed Adela to a chair. 
 
 Adorine laughed at the disconcerted look of Sir Harvey, 
 who did not intend his adulatory compliment to be wafted 
 to any other ear. 
 
 “ Ambrosia and nectar are, I have no doubt, delectable 
 food,” continued Sigurd, with meaning look at Adorine, 
 “ nathless somewhat too ethereal for other than Olympian 
 deities. I’d as lief feed, hoping to thrive and wax vigor- 
 ous, on moonshine and May dew, dispensed by Aurora in 
 butter- cups.” 
 
 “ I coincide in that opinion,” said Cornal O’Byrne, 
 busy carving a dish of roast capons. “ I’m a thorough 
 advocate for the solid in every form.” 
 
 “ Oh, mon per do not belie your nobler nature,” smiled 
 Adorine, taking her place at the head of the table. “ Con- 
 fess the spiritual has more charm for you than the material.” 
 
 Cornal shrugged his shoulders, and smiled : “ 
 c^est vrau I have considered ever that the enjoy- 
 ments of sense could hold no comparison with the ex- 
 quisite pleasures of the intellectual mind ; nevertheless, 
 mademoiselky as our mortal being is so constituted, that 
 
184 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 the most enrapturing harmony which can captivate the 
 ear, the most celestial vision which could entrance the eye, 
 could not long maintain us in vital energy, I must needs 
 perforce endorse my vote in favour of the unsentimental, 
 unromantic solid. What say you, Sir Athelstane T' 
 
 Sir Athelstane, appealed to at that moment was basking 
 in the very elysium of sentiment and romance beside 
 Maud Fitz Eustace. However, tearing himself a moment 
 from the sunshine, he made characteristic response : In 
 
 sooth. Captain O’Byrne, I’m a matter-of-fact man, in 
 the widest sense. I own the charm of music, romance and 
 mystery, but they do not enslave my cool judgment ; — 
 they do not hold dominion over my reason. I can appre- 
 ciate the poetic, the sublime and beautiful. I can admire 
 it, and yet I am Saxon enough not to yield my under- 
 standing to the seductive influence, or sufiPer my mind to 
 be enthralled by the mere ideal, be it ever so fascinating ; 
 wherefore I also record my adhesion to the tangible real, 
 and ignoring the shadowy illusion, cleave to the homely 
 substance. Now, were not this temperate ingredient 
 deeply infused into my Teutonic blood, inevitably I were 
 in danger of being lured away in soul, mind, and body 
 this day by the all-subduing spectacle I witnessed in 
 your church — the dramatic scene, the paraphernalia of 
 pomp and splendour, the appeal of divine music, the 
 combined agencies with which Home has skilfully invested 
 her solemnities, the magniflcent ceremonies and awe- 
 inspiring reverence that guard her rites, and insinuate 
 tremendous mysteries veiled beneath, all tending to the 
 one purpose, the one object, in which she has succeeded, 
 to dazzle the nations, and lead the millions in chains to 
 her foot-stool.” 
 
 Sir Athelstane ceased, and Father O’Ouin caught up the 
 fallen thread : Then you hold the idea that Rome has 
 
 nothing more than the mere appeal to human emotions, to 
 the changeable, diversifled mind of man, with its contra- 
 dictory impulses, devotions, and sympathies; nothing more 
 grave, more solemn, more sublime, than the splendour of its 
 liturgy, its paraphernalia of pomp, its ceremonials, and its 
 music, to entice its votaries, to dazzle the nations, and 
 
ADORINE o'bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. l85 
 
 lead the millions in chains to her foot-stool? How long, tell 
 me, had we Irish Catholics been deprived by the superior 
 wisdom of our enlightened Christian rulers of liturgy, 
 pomp and ceremonial, of tolling bells and pealing organ, 
 of majestic temple and revered shrine, of the glory of light 
 and incense ? And if it were these things that nourished in 
 our hearts the fire of Divine faith, and bound us to Borne, 
 the rock of Peter, what fed us in the years of famine, 
 when all was swept away ; what, in despite of the scourge 
 and the sword — naked, homeless wanderers in our own 
 land — still riveted us by chains of gold and adamant to 
 the see of Peter ?^^ — Sir Athelstane was silent — Father 
 Catholicus continued : It is twenty years since, first 
 
 ordained a Franciscan Friar, I left the sunny shores of 
 Spain, and forsook all the enjoyments of that favoured 
 land, to cast my lot among the oppressed and persecuted 
 of my native soil. My first Mass, after I arrived in 
 Ireland — I remember well — was on the Scalp mountain in 
 the county Wicklow. The altar at which I officiated was 
 a rude rock among the topling boulders of stone piled 
 upon the hill-side, the altar lights were a pair of tallow 
 candles, fixed in sconces in clefts of the rock ; our music 
 was the moaning of the wind as it whistled through the 
 chasms and wild gorges around, the bleating of the 
 mountain goats, the barking of a dog, the crying of an 
 infant, and the warbling of a thrush on some adjacent 
 spray ; and yet never beneath the shadow of cathedral 
 domes in Spain, in Italy, or in France, did I look upon 
 more solemn devotion, more heart-inspiring fervour, more 
 simple, earnest faith and zeal, than that which animated 
 my congregation of bare-headed men, and hooded women, 
 humble, poor, illiterate, as with beads and crucifix in every 
 hand they knelt around me, with great large hearts in 
 every bosom, ready to give still more, ay, still more, 
 even to the shedding of their life-blood, for the old Faith. 
 I felt with a secret joy that almost transported me out of 
 myself, that every adorer prostrate there was in heart and 
 spirit a martyr, and only waited the summons to go forth, 
 as the Christians of old to the Coliseum. Oh, sir, if you 
 would learn the secret of the bond that unites the dazzled 
 
186 LEixLiP castl:k. 
 
 nations to Rome, that chains the millions of Erin to the 
 Pontifical footstool, delve more deeply to discover the 
 mystery. It lieth not on the surface of ceremonial, pomp 
 or liturgy ; it is the faith enshrined in every breast, and 
 fenced hy the royal guard of hope and charity in every 
 bosom. 
 
 Halt there, reverend sir,^’ cried Plantagenet Tudor, 
 “ Have we not faith likewise ? Yet we deem it not essen- 
 tial to clothe the divine virtue in gaudy drapery to 
 enhance its value.'^ 
 
 Faith ! reiterated the Franciscan. In what have 
 you faith ? 
 
 In what have I faith ? re-echoed Plantagenet — 
 Theology, Divinity, or Christian Doctrine had not en- 
 tered into the programme of his college education, so he 
 stared bewildered at the interrogator — Why, sir, I know, 
 and of course you know, I'm a Christian.’’ 
 
 Well,” returned Father O’Cuin, that point con- 
 ceded, what is the pith of your Christian faith?” 
 
 Why, sir, we believe there is a God. We believe in 
 the atonement for sin, and in everything the Church com- 
 mands us to believe.” 
 
 What Church? ” demanded Father Catholicus. 
 
 The Church of England, to be sure.” 
 
 Who authorises her to teach ? She has no authority. 
 England was not in existence in our Saviour’s time. She 
 was not in existence centuries after, when St. Patrick, de- 
 puted by Pope Celestine from Rome, preached the 
 Gospel to an Irish monarch at Tara. How dare this bold 
 usurper assume the prerogative to teach her mutilated 
 creed, to undermine all faith, to contradict divine truth, 
 and lead souls headlong to perdition by her false doc- 
 trine ? ” 
 
 ‘‘ But it isn’t against the faith ; ’tis against the super- 
 stitions of Rome that the Church of England wages war,” 
 put in William Fitz Rufus sententiously. 
 
 And what, pray, do you define to be the superstitions 
 of Rome ? ” demanded Father Catholicus. 
 
 Oh, the Mass, to be sure, fasting, confession, and all 
 the rest.” 
 
ADORINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 187 
 
 ‘‘ What rest — prayer, good works, and alms deeds ? 
 
 Well, they^re not necessary for salvation.” 
 
 ‘‘ Are they not ? The Blood of Christ will save you, 
 hon gri mal gre^ without any conditions to be fulfilled on 
 your part ? You are a privileged sect ; — but prove to me, 
 from Scripture, that penance, sacrifice, and good works are 
 unnecessary and superstitious ? ” 
 
 There was a long, dead pause, broken only by a very 
 nervous ‘‘ hem-a-hem ” from the discomfited champion, 
 till Eveleen, breaking loose in an effervescence of fun, 
 mirthfully exclaimed : 
 
 Now, Icarus, stand where you are. Though the bog 
 under your feet is shaky enough, if you attempt to scale 
 the clouds you’ll fall with broken wings, and there’s no 
 one here will be able to tinker you up.” 
 
 Anticipating result from the indignant gesture of Fitz 
 Eufus, the displeased surprise of her uncles, and the in- 
 judicious plaudits of all the others, Lady de Oourcy, 
 smiling, said : 
 
 “ Eveleen, my dear, little girls should only be seen, not 
 heard.” 
 
 “ Then, aunty, we ought to be nicely 'dressed, and put 
 standing on pedestals, or hung like pictures in frames 
 round the room.” 
 
 Come, Hebe, Vll drink a cup of rosa soils to your 
 health,’’ laughed Harvey de Eivers. What will you 
 have ? ” 
 
 ‘‘ Some nectar. Pass it over.” 
 
 “ I think, my precocious niece, you’ve had sufficient to 
 inspire your wit,” said Sir Ulic ; and, (aside) he added, as 
 he helped Eleanor to some crystallised conserve : Who 
 
 could have supposed a disquisition, arising out of nectar and 
 ambrosia, should have led to such wordy war.” 
 
 I wish Dr. Dopping had been present to have taken 
 part in it,” returned Eleanor. “He is a very learned 
 divine, and would be a match for your talented priest. 
 But, entre nous^ admitting that Home may be in some 
 things right, do you not consider her very exclusive, very 
 illiberal in her doctrine, very uncompromising in her dog- 
 mas, conservative of old tenets and opinions exploded by 
 
188 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 modern enlightenment, unprogressive and unwilling to 
 adopt herself, or modify her views to suit and keep pace 
 with the advancing age 
 
 Eome is all that,” responded Sir Ulic ; ^^and simply for 
 the reason that she cannot help it. Appointed to teach 
 and guide the nations, she must deliver the message 
 straightly as she received it from her divine founder. 
 Were she to admit of innovation to suit the requirements 
 of this age or that, one potentate or another, she would 
 belie her commission. She cannot do it. Were she to 
 draw a stone from the structure here, and another there, 
 to fall in with modern ideas of improvement, the whole 
 fabric would tumble into dilapidation. She cannot do it. 
 Every stone in her edifice has been cemented by the blood 
 of martyrs, who shed it in a thousand forms, in testimony 
 of their faith in her ; the same faith, transmitted by them 
 to us, we guard as a most precious inheritance, and are 
 willing at any moment to consecrate our own lives to 
 maintain its integrity.” 
 
 But how is it you damn all outsiders to perdition ? Is 
 that charity?” cried Plantagenet, who had been listening 
 to the speaker, regardless of the babel of tongues around 
 him. 
 
 We don't condemn you; — you sentence yourselves,” 
 said Be Burgh. ‘‘If floundering in the waves you will not 
 lay hold on Peter's boat and enter in, what is Peter to 
 blame, that he warned you of your fate ? Was Noah 
 answerable for those whom the Deluge overtook, who 
 would not seek a refuge in the Ark before it had floated 
 from their reach ? Use your common sense.'' 
 
 “Tell ye what,” cried Fitz Eufus, raising his voice in 
 eager essay to be heard; “I met with an adventure. 
 Listen” — Eveleen gave a kick at Paymond under the 
 table, and shot a glance at Sir Ulic, who, watching her 
 from the corner of his eyes, nevertheless preserved a de- 
 mure gravity. Fitz Eufus, satiated with good cheer, rose 
 up, sauntered across the room, and, standing with his back 
 to the fire, and with arms akimbo, said: “I was riding home 
 the other evening from Santry, between light and dark. 
 I was passing through a tangle of byways and thickets, 
 
ADORINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 189 
 
 when I came to a spot where a priest was hanged in Orom- 
 welPs time, and a lot o’ fellows — rebels, you know — were 
 burned in the furze by Loftus and Ormonde’s orders. The 
 place is said to be haunted by the country people. Of 
 course I didn’t believe such nonsense — no such thing in 
 creation as ghosts or spirits. How you all laugh ; — can’t 
 you listen to me. I was riding along, when all at once 
 ray horse shied, and I was all but thrown. ^ Look 
 out, sir; — there it is; — the ghost!’ shouted my groom. 
 On the instant we saw a spectral form, wrapt in dark 
 drapery, rise up as if from the earth, toss her arms 
 wildly in the air, and scream, at the pitch of her voice, 
 
 ‘ Help, help ! Murder I ’ Now what do you think of that ? 
 At the same moment there was a gurgling moan, and all 
 was silent.” 
 
 And you don’t believe in ghosts after that ?” laughed 
 Sir Eeginald. 
 
 But what did you do ?” asked Sir IJlic. Went, of 
 course, to help the poor creature ?” 
 
 No, sir ; I was not so Quixotic, though Mademoiselle 
 Eveleen dubs me Don Quixote in derision. I hate chil- 
 dren, they’re such malicious toads. The groom and I set 
 off at full gallop, my conviction being it was a decoy to 
 rob us.” 
 
 But you always carry firearms,” said Sir Ulic ; what 
 had you to fear ?” 
 
 They might have been ten to one, you know, and 
 overpowered us,” answered Fitz Eufus. 
 
 Sir Ulic smiled grimly; Harold Sigurd laughed out- 
 right ; O’Byrne, Sir Athelstane, Harvey and Plantagenet, 
 who were by no means cowardly, joined chorus : Eveleen 
 cried vehemently. 
 
 “ Oh I Don Quixote, if you wait. I’ll go on the next 
 adventure with you. May i. Uncle Ulic ? It’s sure to be 
 safe I’ll come home. I love adventures ; — I do, indeed. 
 Uncle Cornal. I used to have lots at home. Father, will 
 you come back to Urrismore ? Everyone here is so cross 
 but you ; — I can’t do what I like at all ? ” 
 
 “ Well, you seem very independent,” smiled Adela, in- 
 tently observing the juvenile rustic ; — ‘‘ you say and do 
 whatever comes into your head. Your spirits do not 
 
190 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 appear to be broken by much crossness on the part of your 
 friends.'^ 
 
 ‘^And what is it you want to do that you can’t 
 demanded her father. I think myself you are more in- 
 dulged than is good for you. May and Bella haven’t the 
 same latitude allowed them at all. What is it you want ? ” 
 I’d like to go see that place where Cromwell hanged 
 the priest and burned the poor people ; — I mean where his 
 officers did ; — and I’d pray to see that ghost. I’d get 
 Masses said for her, I would.” 
 
 ‘^I’ll tell you the history of the ghost,” said Father 
 O’Ouin, rising and preparing to depart. The day before 
 yesterday a sick-call took me to the neighbourhood of 
 Santry. I was returning late, probably by the same route 
 which you — turning to Fitz Rufus — had taken ; just at the 
 spot which you have indicated, I was startled by the same 
 weird apparition crying out and gesticulating. Having 
 no fear of being robbed, I dismounted, tied my pony to a 
 tree, scrambled through the copse, and encountered an 
 imbecile old woman whom I know very well, but till I had 
 come nearer did not recognise. She was not always 
 idiotic, I have heard, but had been driven out of her 
 senses by trouble ; yet with wit enough to pull through, 
 she rambles the country from county to county, living 
 upon alms. When first I drew near, the poor maniac fied 
 and hid in the bushes ; but when I stood quietly, and she 
 noticed my priestly calling, inspired with confidence, she 
 crept forward, took my hand, and, pointing to a dingle, 
 whispered : ^ She’s there ; — I hid her there.’ Disengaging 
 myself from Mona Shule, I went to search the hollow, and 
 there, lying half-buried in furze, I found a poor girl, the 
 step-daughter of a decent poor man of the name of Lacy 
 living near Clontarf. The girl’s leg was broken ; she 
 couldn’t stir ; but she told me her story. She had been com- 
 ing into town to look for a situation, when passing through 
 the lanes a ruffian attacked her- In the scuffie that en- 
 sued her leg got broken. Some time afterwards Mona 
 Shule, coming through the fields, hallooed for help. No 
 doubt, when you passed by, the assailants had fied. The 
 woman, having no home to shelter the girl, who had 
 
ADORINE O’BYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 191 
 
 fainted, carried her along and hid her in the dingle, lest 
 the marauder might return. There's the history of the 
 ghost.^^ 
 
 And what did you do for the poor girl demanded 
 Eleanor, stealing a conscience-stricken look at Sir Harold. 
 
 Put her on my horse and carried her into town to a 
 lady friend of mine, who sent at once for a surgeon to set 
 the limb. She’ll soon be all right again. If anyone 
 wants a good girl for servant Pll recommend Cathleen 
 O’Oarroll.'^ 
 
 Indeed, Father, I want a maid for the children, said 
 Lady de Courcy ; so I shall see her if you let me know 
 where.’' 
 
 She is with the Mother Superior of the Carmelites," 
 said Father Oatholicus, making his bow, and taking leave 
 of his host and the company. 
 
 Well, Adorine, what have you decided demanded 
 Harvey de Rivers, speaking in low, earnest tone, as they 
 stood at the drawing-room window watching the inter- 
 minable rain still falling, long after the guests had de- 
 parted. Ho drew nearer, bending upon her a gaze of 
 most persuasive solicitation. 
 
 I do not know, Harvey ; I cannot decide anything," 
 was the response, in accents that sounded sad. ‘‘ My father 
 is opposed to any immediate step. (She did not wish to 
 say that her father was now opposed to the alliance which 
 he had before sanctioned, upon the representation of Sir 
 Ulic, in the sanguine hope that he would be brought 
 round again to a more favourable mind.) ‘‘Let us have 
 patience and humour him a little ; — it will be better." 
 
 “ Adorine," returned De Rivers, with impassioned 
 vehemence, “ this is folly ; if you loved me you would not 
 so lightly advocate the postponement of my happiness in 
 deference to the irrational objections, whatever they may 
 be, of your father to our immediate union. I must add 
 that of late, I know not why — your own observation has, 
 perhaps noted it — I do not appear to be in the same 
 odour of sanctity with him. His courtesy, indeed, is un- 
 impeachable ; but it has become formal, constrained, and I 
 see much less of him than heretofore. Could it be that 
 
192 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Ulic de Burgh, Harold Sigurd, or Fitz Adelm, jealous of 
 my favour with him, may, for any sinister motive, have 
 underminded me in his good opinion ? I believe them 
 capable of it, for beneath all their exterior assumption of 
 magnificent qualities there is a depth, a very charnel of 
 corruption, which, when you know them longer, will 
 become evident to your perception. De Burgh is one 
 who, to grasp power over men’s minds, to control their 
 actions, to sway and govern them according to the dictates 
 of his own haughty pleasure, for the mere thirst of despotic 
 dominion, would murder in cold blood, Athelstane, much 
 of his own stamp, is a rigidly righteous, canting hypocrite, 
 a white-washed sepulchre, fair enough to the eye ; and as 
 for Harold, under semblance of a nonchalant hilarity, and 
 boisterous humour, he is the worst of the trio. With 
 these and the prejudices with which they may impregnate 
 your father’s mind, I have nothing to do; — my dealing is 
 with yourself, sweet Adorine. You have confessed you 
 love me ; let your acts now give me proof of it.” 
 
 What do you wish me to do, Harvey ?” 
 
 What do I wish you to do, dearest ? Can you ask ? — 
 Does not your own heart suggest what you should do ? 
 You are of age to decree your own will ; you have a large 
 fortune, left you by your grandmother, at your own dis- 
 posal ; you are quite independent of your father ; 
 suffer not his whims to interfere with our happiness ; let 
 him see that you have outgrown your leading strings, and 
 will no longer submit your free will to the cramp of most 
 unreasonable authority. Fly with me, your slave — your 
 adorer ; my mother will receive you with open arms. I 
 shall take care to have a licence, and all prepared ; and 
 after our marriage give the word, then let France, Spain, 
 Italy, where you will, be the theatre where we shall revel 
 out the honeymoon. Come, my precious one, look not so 
 disquieted, but speak, appoint the day — the hour, that shall 
 give us to each other in the fulness of bliss. Why do you 
 hesitate ? — For what do you waver ? — Of what are you 
 fearful ?” 
 
 Confounded, distressed, and miserable, finding herself 
 pushed into such a sudden and unexpected emergecny, 
 
ADORINE o’bYRNE AND HARVEY DE RIVERS. 193 
 
 contending thoughts struggling in her brain, and con- 
 tending emotions waging civil conflict in her heart, 
 Adorine continued motionless, until the voice of Plan- 
 tagenet Tudor, who had entered unperceived, and heard 
 the passionate appeal of his brother, fell upon her ear, 
 saying, with half-ironical laugh : 
 
 Prithee, forbear invocation of the marble idol ; I wager 
 a silver groat to a golden rose, Diana will not descend 
 from her sublime pinnacle to favour your petition.^’ 
 
 Now, hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet V smiled 
 Adorine, recovering her equanimity, and looking up 
 brightfully and cheerfully. Term me not a marble idol, 
 nor deem me insensible, if I yet must cede to the prior 
 claim of conscience, principle, and duty. Nay, hear me, 
 Harvey : — let your better feelings sympathise with mine, 
 and your better reason enter into my arguments. I love 
 my father very dearly ; he is worthy of all honour and 
 respect. My life long, his guiding hand, his devoted 
 care, and his love, have blessed and made me an Eden, 
 till we have stood more to each other in the relationship 
 of friend and confldant than that of parent and child. 
 Now, picture to yourself what base ingratitude, what 
 return of evil for good, what dishonourable breach of trust 
 it were in me to rise up in graceless rebellion, because 
 the sceptre, till now so mildly swayed, is lifted in sove- 
 reignty to claim allegiance, treasonably to assert my 
 independence, steal like a deserter from my home, and 
 fly for asylum to those whom such very act of mine 
 should henceforth constitute his adversaries. Moreover, 
 Harvey, I have some pride, she continued, with more 
 brilliant lustre animating her features, I will have my 
 wedding celebrated like a queen, with splendour and eclat. 
 How, oh, how could I endure such solemn contract, per- 
 petrated like an evil deed that shunned the light, in secrecy 
 and obscurity, to stand like one unblessed by paternal 
 sanction, or the smiles of friends, to pronounce unhallowed 
 vows before an alien altar ? No, I could not ; — my heart 
 would burst; — you must sacriflce your will to mine in this, 
 Harvey. What shall signify a few days more or less, 
 weeks, nay, perhaps a month or two, for a life of future 
 
 14 
 
194 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 comfort. My father will be propitiated in time. I would 
 not that he or my friends should have just cause to dis- 
 esteem one whom I so truly love.’’ 
 
 ‘‘ Love !” interrupted De Rivers, in oily, satirical 
 accents. ‘‘ Find some other appellation for it, fair Adorine. 
 You love me not; of that you have convinced me. Love 
 is free, generous, uncalculating, unselfish, and all ad- 
 venturous ; it neither hesitates nor wavers in its forward 
 course out of respect for persons, for overstrained, puncti- 
 lious honour, dread of censure, or privation of eclat^ 
 and the world’s applause. It is all the world to its 
 votary. I daresay you like me in part, regard me with 
 some affection, but that is not a return will suffice my 
 devoted heart : wherefore, better, far better, for each 
 retract, ere it be too late. I no longer ask to impose 
 upon you bonds that may be irksome ; as friends, I hope 
 we may sometimes meet. Come, Plantagenet, let’s be 
 going ? I wish you good-afternoon, lady.” 
 
 ^^Stay, Harvey, stay — one word — only one word,” 
 cried Adorine, as after an interval of painful bewilder- 
 ment at this unlooked-for proceeding, on the part of Sir 
 Harvey, she hastened to recall him to urge still further 
 pleading ; but before she was on the stairs she heard the 
 street door violently shut, and stunned and confused, she 
 returned to the drawing-room, where she sat immersed in 
 deep melancholy, revolving many thoughts and plans, 
 till the servant came to light the evening lamps, and it 
 was time for her to dress for dinner. Retreating to her 
 dressing-room, she found Eveleen getting her hair brushed 
 by the maid. 
 
 ^‘What’s up now. Ado?” asked the shrewd juvenile, 
 observing her cousin’s sprightly mood changed to listless 
 languor and gloom. Anne, go fetch my handkerchief I 
 left in the saloon.” Well, Ado what ails you ? — you were 
 crying.” 
 
 Harvey’s gone ; — we had a dispute, and he went away 
 in anger,” said Adorine, with tearful fortitude. I do not 
 suppose he will come again.” 
 
 “ Huish ! — catch him ! — hell be back to-morrow ; — just 
 a make-show to conquer. What did you quarrel about ?” 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 195 
 
 Oh, something he wanted me to do, and I refused, 
 not thinking it right.’' 
 
 Yes, of course ; — don’t give an inch. What was it ? — 
 To marry him in spite of everyone, I wager. Just don’t 
 do it, or you’ll be sorry.” 
 
 The return of the maid terminated her speech, but the 
 sequel proved Eveleen’s sagacity. Next day, Sir Harvey 
 returned, penitential, and thus all parties continued to 
 stand on neutral ground during the brief space that in- 
 tervened till the arrival of King James in Dublin. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 “ Through royal cities speeds our march, 
 The minster bells are rung, 
 
 The loud rejoicing trumpets peal, 
 
 The battle flags are swung.” 
 
 The morning of the 24th of May, 1689, ushered in a day 
 memorable in the annals of Ireland. The metropolis was 
 alive with excitement. The streets were thronged with 
 congregating multitudes hurrying to and fro, some 
 intent on urgent business. Artisans, grooms, squires, and 
 pages, jostled each other, swiftly passing lanes and 
 thoroughfares on their respective avocations. Well-dressed 
 burghers, with their wives and families, equally intent on 
 making for particular sites, which claimed by pre-occu- 
 pancy, were to be unflinchingly held, struggled through 
 the surging masses to attain the bourn of their desires 
 best suited for sight-seeing. Some gathered in groups 
 under triumphal arches eagerly conversed, while flags, 
 banners, and garlands floating from every church spire, 
 every public building, every house-top, and windows filled 
 with pictorial tableaux, representing every feature of the 
 human countenance multiplied, imparted a gala air to the 
 
196 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 enlivening scene. By-and-by, the meridian sun ascended, 
 as magnificently appointed equipages, with outriders in 
 gorgeous livery, emblazoned with glittering crests and 
 armorial bearings, came dashing along in rapid succession ; 
 and knights, barons, nobles, oflficers, aides-de-camp^ and 
 orderlies, mingled in the gay cortege^ convened to render 
 homage to a royal fugitive appealing to the chivalrous 
 sympathy of subjects, who, through every change of weal 
 or woe, had asserted their steadfast loyalty, and now 
 hailed with jubilee the auspicious advent of the first of all 
 the line of British monarchs, from Henry II., who came, 
 actuated by no hostile sentiments, bearing in his train no 
 hordes of rapacious plunderers to desolate their homes and 
 lay waste their lands ; who came heralded by no stern 
 edicts, rousing men’s spirits to wrath and strife ; but who, 
 on the contrary, dethroned by his rebellious English 
 people on ground of principles, for which they had them- 
 selves suffered long years of penal infiiction, and which 
 identified them in a common cause, came as a king to 
 maintain his prerogative, and to advance his standard in 
 bold challenge to the foe. 
 
 Scarcely recovered from the horrors of Cromwellian 
 warfare, its wreck and ruin, thousands there were whose 
 tears yet flowed for rifled hearths and for slaughtered kin- 
 dred, and the hourly throb of whose hearts’ pulse was for 
 vengeance. Lo ! the herald of the pledge to achieve it ap- 
 peared — King James. There were thousands who begged 
 or toiled for bread on the soil once their own, now in pos- 
 session of the foe and the stranger. To such was held out 
 the prospect of redress, the allurement of retributive jus- 
 tice, and they banded to retrieve their fortune in the cause 
 of King James. 
 
 The sunbeams broke cheering as the hopes of all hearts, 
 and gladdened the myriads that choked the thoroughfares 
 through which the pageant of his majesty’s procession was 
 to pass. The flags and banners flapped gaily, and the 
 arras of cloth of tapestry and gold, hung from the bal- 
 conies of the houses, waved in the light breeze, while the 
 clanking of the accoutrements of the military, drawn out in 
 lines along the streets, mingled with the buzz of the ex- 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 197 
 
 pectant multitude. Suddenly a salvo of ordnance and 
 flourish of trumpets gave notice of the king^^s approach. 
 Then waked the city^s din, the crowd’s tumultuous roar 
 the bells of Christ’s Church and St. Patrick’s Cathedral 
 tolled with sublime effect from the lofty belfries, and now 
 the clarion echoed, and martial music responded from the 
 gates ; then burst the tornado, and mighty and far was 
 borne the cry of the thousands — He comes ! he comes ! 
 God save King James ! ” First in sight appeared the 
 carriage of the Viceroy, the Duke of Tyrconnel, bearing 
 the sword of state ; and then, while the skies reverberated 
 thunders of acclamation, and trumpet and drum were 
 drowned in the ocean’s roar, beneath a gilded canopy, 
 amid showers of bouquets and waving of garlands, banners, 
 scarfs and handkerchiefs, his Majesty, riding a gallant 
 charger, passed along, wearing the decoration of the Garter, 
 and attended by the Duke of Bervvick, the Earl of Granard, 
 Lords Meford and Powis, the Grand Prior Fitz James, 
 Generals De Persignan, De Rosen, De Maumont, and a 
 long train of nobility. The king smiled graciously upon 
 his loyal subjects, and returned their greeting with 
 courteous acknowledgment. Arriving at the Liberty,” 
 a locality at that time inhabited by the aristocracy, be- 
 neath a silken canopy extending along the way, a train of 
 forty beautiful girls, selected from the convents, received 
 the royal visitor, danced the ancient rinca^ and walked 
 before in procession to conduct him to the Castle, strewing 
 the way with flowers, while an aged bard, striking his 
 harp, sang the popular anthem — 
 
 “ The king shall have his own again.” 
 
 The religious orders, with cross and insignia, then the mayor 
 and corporation, followed in the ranks ; and over all 
 floated, from the main tower of the Castle, the orifiamme of 
 the Isle, bearing the significant motto — ‘‘Now or never! 
 Now and for ever I” Thus made his triumphal entry the 
 last of the Stuart kings into the ancient city of Eblana. 
 
 It was midnight. Dublin Castle, the theatre of many a 
 State drama, of many a Machiavelian council and plot, of 
 many an awful tragedy, and many a sumptuous display, 
 
198 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 commencing with the date of its Norman foundation, in 
 1205, by Meyler Fitz Henry, was once more the arena of 
 gorgeous spectacle and regal pageantry. Within its stately 
 and spacious precincts the banquet was spread. Never 
 before or since in palmiest days did such scene of magnifi- 
 cence unfold in splendour, and glitter in the effulgence of 
 the dazzling rays reflected from lustre and chandelier, as 
 now bewildered eyes and hearts, when youth and beauty, 
 chivalry and pride, all the elite of fashion and aristocracy, 
 were met in fair assemblage to greet the royal visitor. 
 What had not Erin’s genius, exulting in her joy and the 
 anticipation of her bright futurity, here concentrated to 
 outvie every antecedent and realise the charming imagery 
 of Oriental lore ; the bright conception of the glittering 
 halls of the genii, magically lit up with stars, blazing with 
 gems, odoriferous with perfumes, or the golden chambers 
 of Eastern sultans and Persian kings, where every sense is 
 thrilled with delight or lulled into ecstatic trance in an 
 atmosphere redolent of aromatic flowers, exhaling balmy 
 fragrance, illumined with veiled sunlight, and instinct with 
 the melody of lute and song, warbling bird and plashing 
 waterfall, the haunts of the enchanted and the enchanter. 
 Hand-in-hand with their siren train, to animate the re- 
 velry, came Hope and Pleasure. They circled each brow 
 with a halo of light, and presented to each lip a chalice of 
 intoxicating beverage. Each heart felt the elixir thrill to 
 its inmost depths, and rebounded to new life. And yet, 
 alas ! was not Belshazzar's feast the prelude of his doom ? 
 Here no eye beheld the handwriting upon the wall, no 
 Daniel stood to interpret the dread decree ; yet was it not 
 less impending ? — the sword of the foeman and the victor 
 was at the gate. 
 
 From every province and county, through the length 
 and breadth of the land, Erin called her sons, and they 
 came trooping at the summons to rally round the throne. 
 Conspicuous among the magnates, which even yet, though 
 fused in mind and loyal purpose, still maintained their dis- 
 tinctions of Celtic and Norman race — on the Milesian 
 side were the O’Neill’s, of Tirowen, grand of bearing and 
 aspect in the conscious pride of two thousand years of 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 199 
 
 royal and martial ancestry, perpetuated to the present 
 hour in the fame of Owen Eoe O’Neill, poisoned by the 
 cobra that shrunk from grappling with the lion ; O’Donnell 
 and Mac Mahon, diademed with a rainbow eliminated from 
 the mists of early time, and woven by the loom of centuries 
 in hues of indelible lustre ; O’Sullivan Beare, and the 
 O’Ferrall of Longford, magnificent in the unsullied glory 
 of prestige transmitted from a day when the young world 
 was in its prime O’Connor and O’Ruarc, from whose 
 regal brows had not yet faded the halo of the Celtic crown, 
 whose radiated circle had once invested Erin’s long mon- 
 archal line ; O’Byrne, O’Oavanagh, O’More, O’Eegan, 
 O’Brien, O’Cuin, O’Driscoll, O’Hara, O’Learie, Mac 
 Cormac, and a galaxy, whose Phoenician forefathers, for- 
 saking the cradle of their race, the Oriental clime of the 
 Grhebres, gave their sails to the breeze, and, with their 
 Gentile gods and household idols, steered for the West, 
 bold adventurers, to seek their Innisfail. Side-by-side with 
 these, the descendants of the Vikings of later centuries, 
 were represented by the Mao Ivors, the Mac Forcals, the 
 O’Loughlins, the Mac Swineys, the Eoches, Harolds, 
 Furlongs, &c., &c. ; and in juxtaposition with these were 
 the Anglo-Norman families, four hundred years engrafted 
 on the old stock of the soil, and represented by the Fingal 
 Lords Ilowth, Netterville, Louth, Gormanstown, Leitrim, 
 Clanricarde, Clancarty, Barnwell, the Lamberts, Nugents, 
 Aylmers, Plunkets, and many others ; nor was a large 
 element of Elizabethan and Cromwellian date found absent, 
 as the names of St. Leger, Eussel, Harrington, Carew, 
 Grey, Spencer, Brown, Monk, Ireton, Blood, Jones, Pirn, 
 Brooks, Slaughter, Bruin, Knox, &c., and Hodgings, 
 Thompson, Jackson, Hog, Bussel, testified, though most of 
 these last-named ultimately deserted and espoused the 
 cause of William. 
 
 High-throned, beneath a gorgeous canopy, upon a 
 chair of state, sat the magnate of all eyes, and in circle 
 after circle, crescented round him, glittered the proud 
 array of peers and nobles, chivalry and beauty. Over 
 the bewildering scene of plumes and gems, of scarlet and 
 gold, and of blended hues, outshining Iris, and all that 
 
200 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 title, wealth, and fashion could amass and display, wan- 
 dered the eyes of King James. He smiled with inward 
 gratulation, as well he might ; for, reading every expres- 
 sive feature of the assembly, he felt himself sovereign of 
 more than subjects’ homage — the idol of their devotion. 
 Happy monarch ! Smile on while yet thou mayest, exul- 
 ting in thy last hours of regal sunshine ! J oyous revellers, 
 indulge in the hour’s delightful dream — the awakening is 
 at hand. The illusive mirage shall fade in the dawn of a 
 stormy day. The scene of enchantment, brilliant as ever 
 wrought in magical halls of fairyland, lit up in splendour 
 at midnight, all as unreal, shall as utterly vanish with its 
 pomp, its beauty, and its mirth. Erin ! thou, too, shine 
 out in the ejBfulgence of thy sunset ; — but the thunder-cloud 
 is looming whose lightning shall be death, and whose 
 downpour shall be blood ! King, people, country, join 
 hands in hopeful greeting — together ye shall mourn these 
 hopes all blighted ! 
 
 Now, by my halidom, your Grace,'’ whispered the 
 king to the Duchess of Tyrconnel, smiling, in her Cleo- 
 patrian beauty, on his right, what a scene is here to bid 
 swell high in pride the current of our hearts, and well- 
 nigh beguile us into a contented spirit with the evil that 
 hath overmastered us to make nearer acquaintance with our 
 Irish subjects, by personal sojourn in their midst.” 
 
 ^‘True, your Majesty,” returned in same tone the 
 duchess; the evidence of our own impressions serve 
 to dispel many preconceived motions, and impart more 
 accurate understanding and knowledge of countries and 
 their inhabitants than may be acquired with certainty 
 through the medium of narrative, perhaps not always im- 
 partial, betimes distorted by motives of interest, prejudice, 
 or malice. A brief sojourn among your Irish subjects will, 
 I doubt not, bear good result, and promote your good 
 opinion.” 
 
 And, by Our Lady,” resumed the king, turning partly 
 to the Duke of Tyrconnel, upon whose parade of Celtic 
 plumage the ancient Tyrconnel chief, shorn of his title 
 by fraudulent British patent, smiled disdainful derision 
 from where he stood confounded among the general mass 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 201 
 
 of discrowned Milesians, French oioblesse^ and English 
 competitors for patrician honours and martial fame — “ by 
 Our Lady,’^ said King James, -casting his eyes around, “ if 
 favouring winds speed our sail, and waft our bark once 
 more into the haven of our dominions, not a few of these 
 rare flowers shall we bear from this teeming garden to 
 enrich our bowers and adorn omt parterre at home.^^ 
 
 ‘‘Nay, your Majesty,"' returned the Duchess of Tyr- 
 connel, with bland smile, somewhat sarcastic, “ will you 
 risk an insurrection among the tutelary divinities of 
 Albion? — will you, indeed, flout the Cyprian goddess, 
 who has so long vouchsafed, in consideration of the incense 
 offered her, to reign in Whitehall and the groves of Eich- 
 mond and Windsor, by the introduction of new idols of 
 worship from among the votive daughters of Our Lady 
 and St. Bridget ? I fear me you will incur anathema ; 
 nor Venus^ self be propitiated by the offering of pearls to 
 her crown from an Isle that pays no tribute to her shrine, 
 or scant, at best. 
 
 “Let Venus wax wrath,^^ returned James, quite well 
 comprehending, through the playful ambiguity of speech, 
 her Grace’s allusion to episodes in his earlier life, and that 
 of the merry monarch, his brother, when many a courtesan 
 of notoriety had displaced the royal consort, and reigned 
 supreme. “ We’ve foresworn all false worship, and 
 pledged us henceforth to the one legitimate and true ; and 
 should we give fairer constellations to shine in the gallaxy 
 of our Armament’s stars, Minerva will shed no tears, and 
 ourselves have no regret, though the Cyprian goddess and 
 her Graces, metamorphosed to Furies, betake themselves 
 to their temple. Yes; when we have steadied ourselves 
 upon the neck of the flood that surges to engulf our throne, 
 we shall moot for a bill in Parliament to levy for our court 
 an annual tribute of beauty from our western Isle.” 
 
 But while this brief interchange of speech took place 
 between his Majesty and the Duchess of Tyrconnel, there 
 were groups scattered about through the vast assembly, 
 with whom the interest of our story is more connected, and 
 to whom we shall transfer our attention. While speeds 
 the dance, while music swells and Alls the liall, and aeriel 
 
202 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 shapes and graceful forms tread the mazy circle, and the 
 hum of converse blends with many a silvery laugh, mingled 
 with according strains, among the more remote crowd of 
 lookers-on were a bevy composed of officers — French, 
 English, and Irish — with some noblemen and ecclesiastics, 
 who freely discussed the now all-absorbing topic of the 
 inevitable sequel anticipated by every mind — war ! Pro- 
 minent in the centre of the ring a venerable personage, of 
 advanced years and portly presence, expressed his opinion, 
 in dissent from others, that so soon as the Prince of Orange 
 should be made aware of the determined attitude of Ireland 
 in the cause of King James, it would influence his policy 
 to negotiate terms of composition that should satisfy all 
 parties, without pushing matters to a crisis, involving the 
 issue of war. 
 
 Not so, Colonel Grace,'’ made energetic response a 
 soldierly-looking man, in the prime of life, vigorously 
 clutching the hilt of his sword, giving unconscious ex- 
 pression to the fire kindling within his bosom; never 
 will King James enter into compromise with the usurper 
 of his crown. The sole grace he may award of his mag- 
 nanimity shall be the bridge of gold to the flying foe, as 
 our proverb has it ; — do not take it, though, my meaning, 
 that we shall help him with other metal than steel to speed 
 his march." 
 
 “ It may be as you say. General Sarsfleld,” said Sir 
 Athelstone Fitz Adelm ; yet methinks the Prince of 
 Orange will not bate a jot of his pretension to the crown 
 of England. We all know that with being an expert 
 diplomatist in council, William is an able warrior in the 
 fleld, and his apprehensions will not be formidable of a 
 monarch who has shunned to meet him on his own soil." 
 
 What fight could the king make on his own ground ?” 
 said Cornal O'Byrne. His treacherous subjects turned 
 from their allegiance, his corrupt army deserted in the 
 hour of need. Would you have a man do battle with 
 broken hands ?" 
 
 “ It will, in sooth, prove another version of the story 
 when the usurper makes good his menace and pursues the 
 lion to beard him in his lair,’' said O’Ferrall of Longford, 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 203 
 
 looking at Sir Ulic de Burgh, who stood by with folded 
 arms, gravely attentive. “ If he take away his life from 
 the encounter, he may bear with him such tokens of his 
 claws and fangs as shall humble his conceit for ever- 
 more. 
 
 War is ever to be deplored with its train of cala- 
 mities,’^ said Sir Ulic ; yet would we hail as an ultimate 
 blessing any evil that gave us a monarch to reign over 
 us, not as an alien, but as a father ; not as a tyrant, oppres- 
 sing serfs with iron rod, but as a patriarch, ruling with the 
 golden sceptre of love and justice; hence I for one were 
 loth we should not at sword’s point hold the stern debate 
 of one who should sway our destinies — our own sovereign 
 or a stranger. What says my friend O’Neill ? Is he 
 patriotic enough to endorse my view, albeit its object be 
 not of the dynasty of Tirowen 
 
 O’Neill for a moment paused in contemplation of the 
 subject and the speaker, then smiled, as past reminiscences 
 and far visions indistinctly shadowed forth from the camera^ 
 ohsciira of time, shaped themselves before the mental 
 survey of a spirit intuitively instinct with all the ambitious 
 aspirations that ever animated the breasts of the most 
 masterly of this eminently warlike and diplomatic sept. 
 In response, he exclaimed : 
 
 ‘‘Ay, at any sacrifice, let’s achieve the first point, and 
 reinstate a king, albeit not of our dynasty, upon our 
 ancient throne — futurity will do the rest.” 
 
 “ Vel, begar !” here put in a French officer, who, with 
 sundry shrugs and grimaces, had been till now a patient 
 listener, while he took a pinch from his gold snuff-box, and 
 presented the latter to O’Neill, “the Arish be vera by'aves 
 (jens^ but they can be no compare wit’ the militaire of la 
 belle France^ an’ King James knew ver well they would 
 never beat the Dosh-man sans de bons French soldats to 
 ’elp ’em, saire^ O’Neill’s eyes fiashed between mirth and 
 ire, and Sir Ulic's teeth glistened in a broad smile, as 
 they gazed at the panegyrist of France, vehemently ges- 
 ticulating and looking down from his attitude of self- 
 conceit, with infinite complacency and patronising affability, 
 as he continued, patting O’Sullivan, who stood near him, 
 
204 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 on the shoulder : Begar, mes enfants, veel ’elp you 
 
 throuce ’em, ouf ! Parhleu ! — oui 
 
 O’Sullivan laughed; Mac Mahon strode to the front, not 
 looking conciliated by the Frenchman’s kind intentions. 
 
 ‘‘ Begar, Monsieur^ well make the Dutchman an 
 umpire to proclaim which your men or ours thrash best ; — 
 and what do you wager he won’t award us the prize 
 
 Ah^ mon garcon, selon moi^ de Dosh-man be de vera 
 grand monkey to come play at such gambols to fight us 
 at all,” replied Monsieur^ with vivacity. Courage 
 mon enfant^ vont ve crosh Im vid the tonnerre of our guns ! 
 Mai peste ! Von’t ve, pour rire^ teach Im dance on de 
 heel an’ toe ?” 
 
 And the Frenchman, who was DeMaumont, profoundly 
 made obeisance, and hastily stepped aside, as the Duke of 
 Berwick advanced with Sir Harold Sigurd and the Grrand 
 Prior, Fitz James. There was a winning sweetness in the 
 countenance and smile of the Duke of Berwick, as, having 
 overheard Monsieur expatiating and dealing out his 
 patronage to half-restive Celts, he addressed the circle 
 generally : 
 
 Good wine needs no bush” is a proverb with which 
 we are all familiar; hence French valour needs no eulogist 
 to commend it to your notice, or to inspire the champions 
 of Ireland with confidence that it is not braying donkeys 
 who are come to recruit their ranks. In whatsoever day 
 we shall stand marshalled beneath respective banners will 
 trophy enow be on record, redounding to the. honour of 
 each country, which shall set at rest all question of com- 
 petition between them.” 
 
 Amen ! may the Fleur-de-lis and the Shamrock, the 
 bay-tree and the laurel, fiourish in immortal bloom !” said 
 Dr. Creagh, the Eoman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, 
 addressing Father Catholicus O’Cuin. 
 
 ^‘Do you exclude from the bouquet the Pose and 
 Thistle?” demanded, in lugubrious tone. Dr. Dopping, 
 the Bishop of Meath, who feared it might not be con- 
 strued into an expression of loyality had he absented 
 himself upon such an occasion from taking part in the 
 pageant, and paying court to a Popish king, whom, in 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 205 
 
 common with all of his church, he detested in heart. 
 
 But, alas !” he added, with dolorous visage, and long- 
 drawn sigh: ‘^Now, you Eoman Catholics are in the 
 ascendant, we Protestants must expect small favour. All 
 we can dare supplicate is that you will use your power 
 with lenity, remembering that in what measure you mete 
 unto others shall be meted unto you.'’ 
 
 “ Nay, my lord, be of good cheer,” returned Dr. Creagh, 
 with benign courtesy, “among the very foremost bills 
 introduced into the next parliament, shall be one to 
 abolish for ever pains and disabilities on account of religion, 
 to equalise all classes of the community in privileges 
 touching conscience, to extinguish sectarian animosity, 
 and ordain, without distinction or favour to any, that every 
 creed stand upon its own merits to rise or fall.’’ 
 
 “ A very good programme — very satisfactory, if carried 
 out in the spirit, and not Jesuitically perverted to beguile 
 and lure us to our doom ; — but now are the days of tribu- 
 lation,” sighed the despondent bishop, casting up his eyes 
 in pious token of resignation. 
 
 “ A guilty conscience makes cowards of us all, my 
 lord,” said Father O’Ouin ; nevertheless, create not 
 fictitious bugbears to the disturbance of your peace. ’Tis 
 true, most true, we cannot, if we would, forget the years 
 of blood and spoliation through which we have struggled 
 for life. We cannot forget our people’s persecutions, and 
 our martyred brethren ; nevertheless, we have forgiven, 
 ay, from our hearts, our enemies. We offer them in good 
 faith the hand of reconciliation, and have no fear that 
 Jesuit, Franciscan, or Dominican, will burst the cerements 
 of his gory shroud to claim blood for blood, or pray for aught 
 than blessings upon the hands that have set crowns of glory 
 upon their brows in paradise.” 
 
 “Ugh! umph!” muttered the bishop, gliding softly 
 away, and leaving the impression of his non-conviction in 
 Popish sincerity behind. 
 
 The Grand PriorFitz James turned to Father O’Cuin, and 
 said : “ Verily, these sons of Luther savour strong of their 
 master’s breath. Hank incredulity in all faith, human or 
 divine, is the groundwork of their creed, as bitter in- 
 
206 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 tolerance is the propelling spring that actuates their 
 spirit. Now, of all things, I hate this churlish distrust of 
 good motive — honour, truth, and candour inhuman nature — 
 and, wherever I see it, I infer that man is himself a beggar 
 in the virtues. But tell me, Eev. sir, how is it that, 
 possessed with genius of so high an order, and blessed with 
 so many noble qualities to attract and win esteem, there 
 should yet exist such disparity between the people of 
 England and Ireland, so many points of contrast. We have 
 been long enough amalgamated — the two races — heaven 
 knows, after four centuries to have annihilated all dis- 
 tinctive features and characteristics; — yet no, they are 
 prominently defined to this hour.’^ 
 
 And will be four hundred years hence, and to the end 
 of time,’' said Father Catholicus, proudly. 
 
 How is it inquired the Grand Prior. 
 
 ‘‘ In right of our Celtic descent from the primeval stock, 
 transmitted, like gold fused with but little alloy through 
 succeeding generations to the present day. You speak of 
 the four centuries of amalgamation between the two 
 countries; — we never were in all that time amalgamated. 
 Obeying the inscrutable design of Providence in our regard, 
 the early English settlers enacted laws to prohibit alliance 
 between the colonists and the mere Irish, which, save in a few 
 instances, were on both sides observed engendering anti- 
 pathies which have maintained our nationality to this 
 day. A few years ago the mere Irish, who survived 
 the slaughter of millions were banished to Connaught, 
 there to condense and preserve the germ, the nucleus of the 
 Celtic race in its pristine integrity and purity to revive 
 in some future day in the fulness of glory and dazzle the 
 world. But what are the special points of disparity and 
 contrast between us at which your English prejudices take 
 exception 
 
 ^‘Why, what are they?” returned the Grand Prior, 
 petulantly, and manifesting an Englishman’s disposition to 
 grumble. Why, look you, to begin, take the city, take 
 Dublin; look at your narrow, dingy streets ; compare the 
 architecture of your houses, the size of your public build- 
 ings, with those of London.” 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 207 
 
 Well, that’s not a question concerns us. Till the de- 
 mise of Elizabeth, from the invasion of Henry II., the 
 City of the Pale was exclusively in English hands; 
 English viceroys governed it. Why did you not make it 
 all your hearts’ desire — an oasis in the desert, a city of 
 beauty, a thing for men to point to, and cite as evidence of 
 your liberal and enlightened sway ? You have suffered 
 the golden opportunity to be lost, of bequeathing a monu- 
 ment of your fame to the world. Irish enterprise is now 
 in the field, albeit without much resource of gold or 
 silver to aid their work, and henceforth every new edifice 
 constructed, every design of art, every improvement, will 
 descend to posterity, stamped with the impress of Irish 
 genius, enterprise, and capital, in which you will have 
 had no part. What are your further objections ?” 
 
 The Grand Prior laughed good-humouredly. ‘^You 
 irascible natives deal such hard knocks, I’ll not venture 
 more than humbly to suggest that your weather is 
 very uncertain, your streets very dirty in Cork, and 
 your poor the most squalid and abundant on the face of 
 the earth, who, in tatters and barefooted, pursue you like 
 a swarm of indefatigable flies to the extremity of patience. 
 Why don’t you do something to ameliorate their con- 
 dition ?” 
 
 Slowly, I say, my friend ! First give us back the 
 monasteries and abbey lands of which your kings have 
 despoiled us by confiscation and robbery ; then we shall 
 have means to live ourselves, to feed and clothe the poor.” 
 The Grand Prior made no response, for a discussion 
 between Sir Harold Sigurd, O’Sullivan of Bear, and Sir 
 Athelstane Fitz Adelm, in which several others took part, 
 engaged his attention, and he drew near to listen. Sir 
 Harold was now speaking, and O’Neill, Sir Ulic de Burgh, 
 Cornal O’Byrne, O’Euarc, and others, including the Duke 
 of Berwick, and Sarsfield, hung intently upon every 
 syllable, which fell, concise, clear, and emphatic from his 
 lips. 
 
 Now, it is in this hour of emergency,” continued Sir 
 Harold, addressing principally Fitz Adelm, ‘‘ that we are 
 to reap the evil fruit of the blind, cruel, insensate policy of 
 
208 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 our predecessors, which interdicted Catholics to inhabit 
 towns, to possess arms, or to learn trades. You loyalist 
 Protestants, who join our ranks, are in the vast minority. 
 The Cromwellian settlers, whom you dislike as much as we 
 do, are all disafifected to a man, and are armed to the teeth 
 with firearms, in the use of which forty years of practice 
 have rendered them expert. What have we ? Can we 
 rely upon the trustworthiness or honesty of those artisans, 
 those pampered and privileged favourites of fanaticism, to 
 whom of necessity we give commission to repair such 
 muskets and artillery as we can muster to forge our 
 armour, and prepare our weapons? I say we cannot. 
 Hence, unless foreign subsidies come in, unless France 
 bestirs herself and replenishes our armoury with timely 
 succour, our position is, to say the least, critical.^’ 
 
 Hopeless, I would say,^' murmured Fitz Adelm, 
 gloomily. 
 
 Hopeless, Sir Athelstane ! I say, nay,’^ exclaimed 
 in deep sonorous tones O’Sullivan of Bear, stroking 
 the long black locks from his high intellectual brow, 
 and his dark, but sharply defined Celtic lineaments, 
 solemn when in repose, lighted up with elastic spirit. 
 “ Deem not so poorly of our Milesian valour. Fearful 
 odds, in sooth, there be against us. Nathless, not for this 
 hold our cause desperate, or the usurper’s triumph assured. 
 So long as thews and sinews hold staunch, so long as our 
 < stalwart kern’s arm may wield pike and brand, truncheon 
 and missile, so long shall William of Orange have to render 
 tribute, good store, and equivalent more than quit for 
 every foot of Ireland’s soil he shall traverse between east 
 and west, till he may bootless turn him again to seek else- 
 where more plastic foes of whom to reap his laurels.” 
 
 Such oration is worthy of Mars,” smiled the Duke of 
 Berwick; “nor doubt we in this land renowned for heroes, 
 to behold many an O’Sullivan, an O’Neill, and O’Donell 
 resucitate again with countless others of imperishable 
 fame to revive the olden glory of the Isle.” 
 
 “ Shine out again, spirits of O’Connor, O’Euarc, and 
 O’Brien, and redeem all the ages of glory ye have lost, 
 since the hour in which ye could not agree for love of 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 209 
 
 blessed charity, for love of native land, for love of child- 
 ren’s children, happy homes and altars free, to yield to 
 the tears and prayers of sainted Lawrence O’Toole, and 
 with your sixty thousand warriors, marshalled beneath the 
 walls of Dublin, kick out Strongbow, and his paltry gang 
 of brigands, never more to profane the soil with their 
 tread, or rifle the jewels from your crown,” added Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh, as he bowed with mock solemnity to the 
 three chieftains, who were conversing with O’More and 
 O’Regan in the ring. O’Connor’s dusky cheek and brow 
 flushed with shame and ire ; O’Ruarc’s fairer aspect dis- 
 played the sanguine hue of emotion ; O’Brien's swarthy 
 brow and eye glowed like a smouldering ember; all stared 
 indignant after the retreating form of Sir Ulic, who weary 
 of the discussion so prolonged, seized Sir Harold Sigurd’s 
 arm, and withdrew, to And relaxation in sprightlier society. 
 
 Who is your noble cavalier ? demanded the Duke 
 of Berwick, returning the military salute, and gazing 
 upon Sir Ulic, as he passed with slow, dignifled grandeur, 
 which, while it challenged notice, did not, when as now 
 in his more genial mood, repel approach. 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh, a near relative of the Earl of 
 Clanricarde, than whom, may it please your Crace, his 
 Majesty owns no more faithful subject, or his country a 
 truer patriot,” made answer Oornal O’Byrne, his eye 
 scanning the while a coterie at some little distance, com- 
 posed of Lady de Rivers, Eleanor, and Adela Fitz Adelm, 
 whom she was proud to matronise, they looked so exces- 
 sively distinguished and high born ; Anne and Elizabeth 
 Fitz Rufus, arrived at years of discretion to matronise 
 themselves ; their brother, Sir Plantagenet Tudor, and Dr. 
 Dopping. What first caught, then riveted Comal’s ob- 
 servation, was that the little circle bore individually a 
 ruffled exterior that did not betoken much enjoyment on 
 their part of the gay scene in which they had place. In 
 particular. Lady de Rivers looked distressed and chagrined, 
 and not without reason to justify, as the reader shall see. 
 In the interval whicli had preceded the last drawing-room, 
 at which Adorine O’Byrne and Maud Fitz Eustace had 
 been presented by Lady do Courcy, Blantagenet had 
 
 15 
 
210 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sought his mother to urge the modest request that she 
 should stand sponsor upon the occasion, and perform 
 similar office for the four demoiselles Grub. Lady de 
 Eivers, at first paralysed, then indignant, flatly refused to 
 outrage all social propriety by such overt proceeding, and 
 publicly exposing her clandestine acquaintance with these 
 vulgar plebeians. 
 
 I think, Plantagenet, you will ask me next to intro- 
 duce your concubines,*' the mortifled dame had replied, 
 with a sneer. We may as well have also the housemaid, 
 cook, and kitchenmaid; they will be fit company, you 
 know, for your friends, and would keep them in counten- 
 ance.'^ 
 
 Plantagenet suffered the storm of his mother's wrath to 
 pass over, ere he coolly made answer : 
 
 As you please, mother mine. If these our bankers be, 
 I own to their ill-favoured presence, but will you dam 
 up the stream at which we drink, lock the coffers on which 
 we draw so freely, Harvey and I, by denying us the power 
 to repay them in the coin that pleases them, and costs us 
 nothing. Why, nothing is left us but to cut and run. Our 
 liabilities are positive mill-stones round our necks dragging 
 us into the gulf. A good mother you are, not to help your 
 sons in their exigency by concession so small. I've known 
 some would give their lives for their offspring.'' 
 
 ‘‘ My dear Plantagenet, so I would, but these ill-con- 
 ditioned parvenues revolt me. How can I ? — how can I do 
 it ? " cried the distracted lady, wringing her hands. “ Their 
 social entourage is frightful ; no one knows them. Could 
 we even point to only one of their antecedents, and say some 
 forefather had been of repute ? — but no.'^ 
 
 Well, as for that, mother, nowadays the question is 
 not so much who you were, as what you are ; and less is 
 thought of what you had than of what you have. What- 
 ever these people have been in the past, at present they 
 are in possession of flne estates and vast wealth ; — this 
 alone will, by-and-by, recommend them to favour and 
 ensure them position. We must not be too squeamish. 
 Everyone knows that in the turmoil of revolution which 
 upheaves the slime of the lower strata, noxious reptiles, 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 211 
 
 engendered there for ages, are thrown up to the surface to 
 wriggle and work their way into the sunshine, and revel 
 and gloat in bowers where one views with abhorrence their 
 loathsome trail, as well as the blight of their repast on fruit 
 and blossom. But of that, what to us ? Let's be as the 
 birds on the spray that warble to the parasites, and pick 
 up our crumbs by the way.’^ 
 
 I thought,’’ returned Lady de Rivers, with more 
 composure, “ these Roundheads had no intention of pro- 
 claiming themselves loyal. Is it not understood tacitly 
 that they are devoted to the cause of the Prince of 
 Orange?” 
 
 “ Now that will be just as the wind blows, madre mia. 
 They favour William for his creed, but if self-interest be- 
 come the touchstone, what care they for James or William 
 so long as they can hold their grip of land and power ! In 
 present doubt of the winning crown it behoves them to 
 curry favour with the powers that be : — trust me they are 
 no fools.” 
 
 “No fools, indeed; ’tis we who are the fools,” reiterated 
 her ladyship, discontentedly. “ There are you and Harvey 
 loitering away your days in low pleasures, mixing in the 
 orgies of bacchanalian rioters, frequenting cock-pits, gam- 
 bling tables and houses of ill-fame, and indulging in every 
 folly instead of prudently seeking some wealthy match and 
 settling respectably in life.” 
 
 “ Psha ! how religious you’ve grown, mother ; — like the 
 saints, you begin to deprecate all amusement. A fellow 
 can’t now enjoy a game of cards, or take a cheerful glass 
 with a few friends, or have the least recreation without 
 your censure. This comes of cultivating such holy society 
 as that of the immaculate fraternity of I)e Burgh, O’Byrne, 
 Fitz Adelm, and Harold Sigurd ; — how I hate them ! You 
 know I’d have made suit to Eleanor or Adela, but they 
 repelled my advance as did Maud Fitz Eustace. Then, 
 as for Harvey, is he not like Ixion on the wheel, or 
 Tantalus biding in doubt and dangling like a poodle at the 
 heels of his mistress, because of the scruples of the little 
 fool to wound her conscience, or distress her capricious sire? 
 Had Harvey not been a donkey himself, he’d have done as 
 
212 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 I counselled long ago, carried her off and asked no leave ; 
 but he calculated consequences — my valiant brother. Well, 
 what will you do ? — will you oblige me and present the 
 Graces at the Drawing-room ? You may as well, mother — 
 and, see here, I bethought me you might like to choose 
 some new jewels for the occasion. Here’s a check for a 
 hundred pounds. I made Jonas pay handsomely yester- 
 day for the card of admission ; — you understand ? ” 
 
 Lady de Eivers did understand. Plantagenet’s argu- 
 ments prevailed. Case-hardened to ridicule, and face 
 enamelled with brass, she presented the demoiselles Grub, 
 of “The Park.” But not even the wall of steel, the coat 
 of mail, behind which she had entrenched herself, was im- 
 pervious to the shock that thrilled to her heart as her swift 
 perception detected the involuntary gesture expressive of 
 curiosity and astonishment that lifted the eyebrows and 
 spoke in every feature of the Duchess of Tyrconnel, as she 
 surveyed the caricatures of aristocracy who claimed her 
 notice. However, the painful ordeal was got through. 
 Lady de Livers breathed again, and fondly hoped she was 
 quit of the hateful swarm. Not so ; the swarm had scented 
 and lighted on the hive whence they might draw sweets 
 that pleased their taste ; and now, from the moment she 
 made her appearance in all the eclat of pride and station 
 within the charmed circle of royalty, she was tracked, beset, 
 and fastened upon by the whole Grub family, minus Jonas, 
 who had betaken himself in another direction. In vain 
 she reared her haughty head to warn that she stood on 
 inaccessible ground to all who possessed not the passport 
 to favour ; in vain she frowned repulse that might have 
 withered all that needed sunshine to warm into life ; in 
 vain she sought by cold reserve to chill and delay the 
 budding germ of their determined intimacy. The Grubs, 
 obtuse of heart and opaque of mind, were neither to be 
 repulsed, withered, or congealed by hints or signs. Their 
 publicly vaunted friend. Lady de Rivers, was a “ charm- 
 ing person they were making progress in art of pronun- 
 ciation and accent ; they were resolved to evince their 
 appreciation by cultivating intimacy and a devoted friend- 
 ship ; so they hovered round her, wedged then^selves into 
 
KING JAMES IM DUBLIN. 
 
 213 
 
 contiguity, followed like her shadow ; monopolised the 
 nearest seats ; thrust themselves into conversation with 
 cool effrontery. The Major, so far from being disconcerted 
 by the frustration of his plans and the rejection of his 
 son's suit for Maud by the hinsolent De Courcys,'^ whom 
 he would pay off some day, confirmed his own intentions 
 in regard of Eleanor Fitz Adelm, whom he pursued at 
 church and elsewhere, but as yet at a distance, for he had 
 no opportunity of gaining an introduction. Sir Athel- 
 stane, her brother, did not want loans of money, so could 
 not be bribed. He was not cordial with Harvey or Plan- 
 tagenet ; so they dared not make an instrument of him for 
 his purpose. In the same society they never met, but now 
 a barrier lay open, and while Jael, Judith, Jenny and 
 Johanna hung about Lady De Rivers, and the glowering 
 Fitz Rufuses, plying them with discourse, compelling re- 
 sponse, albeit ungracious, and feeling with secret triumph 
 that they were making way, Major Clotworthy descended 
 like an avalanche upon Eleanor, who was conversing with 
 Plantagenet, her late partner in the dance, and asked for 
 the “ 'onor of ’er and in the next set. 
 
 “Engaged ; — thanks was the unfavourable response, as 
 
 she glanced at Adela in discourse with Fitz Rufus and Dr. 
 Dopping. 
 
 But Clotworthy, not foiled, returned to the charge, lean- 
 ing forward, with amorous smile, “ Dang it if yer not the 
 nicest dressed, and finest gal here to-night. See ’ere, Jael,^’ 
 he called to his eldest daughter, whose anxious eyes he saw 
 busily tracking Sir Harold through the assembly, while 
 her brain was pondering how she might contrive to meet 
 him, “ whoy doan’t yer an’ Judith take pattern of de- 
 myselle Fitz Adelm's dress, an’ busk up so. 'TainT for 
 want o’ gear an’ jewels, but the edication gives the roight 
 ideer in the matter. Now, ’pon my credit. Sir Plantagenet, 
 yer mother’s a fine woman, too, an’ knows it, too. I vow 
 it’s my hopinion yer won’t see ’er die a viddar ; — hoot, not 
 she! I say, bishop” — apostrophising Dr. Dopping, who 
 turned blandly to the bleat of his sheep — “I say, sir, whoy 
 doan’t yer do the dooty of yer ’igh hoffice an’ put a ring on 
 the finger of that young gal, as is dyin’ for a ’usband, tho’ 
 
214 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 she doan’t let on And cackling at his own wit Major 
 Grub stared at Adela, whose visage became suffused, and he 
 winked at Fitz Eufus, as much as to say, ‘‘IVe put a spoke 
 in your wheel. 
 
 The meek bishop simpered, and said : He would he 
 
 at all times happy when called upon to give the benefit of 
 his ministry to his flock.’^ 
 
 Then, ^pon my loife, it won’t be my fault if I doan’t 
 soon employ yer and he bestowed such a look upon 
 Eleanor, that, recoiling with a sense of offended dignity, 
 and teased as well by Jaeks impertinent familiarity, she 
 rose, beckoned to Adela, and taking Sir Plantagenet’s arm, 
 proceeded to join the circle graced by Maud Fitz Eustace 
 in her unique beauty, Maud Plunkett’s blooming loveli- 
 ness, and Adorine O'Byrne’s attractive eclai. Lady de 
 Courcy, Lady Fitz Stephens, Sir Harvey de Rivers, and 
 others, were gathered in a group round the central figures. 
 
 ‘^Here, Eleanor ; here, Adela, are seats,” cried Maud, 
 when she recognised her friends ; and the circle opening 
 gave ingress to the Fitz Adelms, who placed themselves 
 between her and Adorine. 
 
 ‘^What a relief!” laughed Adela, addressing Maud 
 Plunkett. 
 
 Yes ; it is cooler her among the orange-trees, and we 
 are further removed from the orchestra,” returned Maud 
 Plunkett, misunderstanding her meaning, and Adela left 
 it so. 
 
 ^‘Look-out,” whispered Harvey de Rivers to Adorine; 
 
 Cards shuffle. — Here come the heavenly twain. Castor 
 and Pollux, I’ll loan them my place and take a stroll ; — 
 you’re not inclined for another promenade ?” 
 
 ^‘Not yet, Harvey,” she responded, and turned away 
 her face as Harvey withdrew and Sir Ulic de Burgh and 
 Harold Sigurd approached, every smile greeting them save 
 hers. Seats were proffered, but they stood to canvass 
 partners for the next dance. Sir Harold had engaged 
 Maud Plunkett, and Sir Ulic was in his own mind debat- 
 ing to whom he would cast the handkerchief, when Harvey 
 de Rivers, coming back with an air of insouciance^ vainly 
 striving to disguise much empressement of manner, sought 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 215 
 
 Adorine, who was conversing with Adela, and eagerly 
 whispered: “ Ma reine^ I must once again ask you,, as a 
 favour, to suffer me to introduce to you the demoiselles 
 Grub. They urge me hard , and fact is, Adorine, I am 
 under weighty oWigations to Major Grub, which render it 
 vitally important to stand well with the family. Pooh ! 
 you need not look so pained : — courtesy — bow — anything; 
 but let me do my behest and content the animals ; — thaPs 
 a love.’^ 
 
 Harvey, if you so urge me, I must comply with your 
 wish ; but a greater penalty you could not impose,^' she 
 returned, in same tone. I feel, positively, as Maud does, 
 my flesh creep, and my blood run cold, at sight of J onas ; 
 and, as for the others, Pve seen ugly persons I could like, 
 
 but these ’’ she shrugged her shoulders, and by a 
 
 frown expressed what she could not explain in words. 
 
 Well, well, never mind ; just give a smile, a civil 
 word, and ship them off. My mother's sick of them,^’ said 
 Harvey, hastening away. 
 
 Adorine sat mute and pale like one stunned. Sir Ulie, 
 seeing her evident distress, came up and seated himself 
 beside her. What is troubling you, dear child, may a 
 friend presume to inquire?’’ 
 
 Adorine looked up, and in the warmth of the kind eye, in 
 the glow of the sympathising spirit looking into her face, 
 reserve vanished. In a whisper she confided to him the 
 cause of her annoyance. Sir Ulic’s brow fell, and his lips 
 became compressed into severe lines. 
 
 “ Getting into deeper water, fair lady,” he seemed half 
 to soliloquise, and at the moment Harvey came up with 
 Jael and Judith Grubb, looking the pictures of bold exul- 
 tation. To the amazement of everyone he introduced them 
 to Adorine, who, painfully embarrassed and confused, was 
 for the first time shaken from the equilibrium of self- 
 possession, partly natural, partly acquired, but which habit 
 had rendered familiar. With cold, ceremonious courtesy, 
 she complied with etiquette, and glanced reproachfully at 
 Do liivers, whose satisfied smile she did not just now feel 
 a recompense for the dilemma in which he had placed her. 
 Nor was this the climax of her misery. Major Clotwortliy 
 
216 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 and Captain J onas, who had been lingering and prowling 
 the whole time in the vicinity of his charmer, like some 
 baneful spirit, hovering on the confines of an angelic 
 sphere, forbidden to his access, and tracking, with craving 
 eyes, some one particular celestial being guarded from his 
 approach, now took advantage of the opening made to glide 
 in. When she beheld Maud Fitz Eustace turn away, 
 every tint of light and bloom dying on her cheek at the 
 approach of Jonas and Eleanor Fitz Adelm, so proud and 
 tranquil, discovers unequivocal symptoms of trepidation at 
 sight of the Major making towards her, and Maud Plun- 
 kett’s, Harold Sigurd’s, Lady de Oourcy’s, and Lady 
 Fitz Stephens’ chiding stare of wonder, the cup of her 
 distress was filled to overfiowing, and she turned, like a 
 delinquent with crest-fallen brow, to Sir Ulic, and found 
 her first refuge in his gentle sympathy. For some months 
 the two had stood arrayed against each other in quiescent 
 opposition. Though her father had withdrawn his sanction 
 to her marriage with De Fivers, he had not interdicted 
 their meeting as usual : indeed, it would have been im- 
 possible, thrown as they were by the circumstances of their 
 social position into frequent contact. Moreover, Sir Ulic 
 had suggested : “ Let them meet as usual ; only if she will 
 not be admonished, at least, protract the evil hour, and 
 leave it to time to reveal many traits and blemishes in 
 this man’s character that may cause her to pause and 
 refiect before she takes the irrevocable step.” The 
 judicious counsel pleased Oornal O’Byrne. He had supreme 
 trust in the wisdom of his friend, he had unbounded 
 reliance on the principle of his daughter ; and in each 
 instance he was justified. Sir Ulic tacitly assumed the 
 responsibility which Oornal as lightly transferred, and 
 rigorously maintained an uncompromising vigilance over 
 each, which Harvey repaid with intense detestation, while 
 Adorine met it with passive resistance; but now the tension 
 to which conflict had braced her nerves showed indications 
 of relaxing. It is true that though the sequel had evi- 
 denced Sir Ulic’s sagacity, and startled and confounded 
 her too often, by the discovery of some antagonistic 
 qualities, expressions of thought, glimpses of character. 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 217 
 
 dereliction of principle, that clashed with her sense of right 
 and nice ideas of honour, on the part of both Lady 
 de Eivers and her sons, still, in her inexperience of 
 human nature, and her strong love, she was willing to be 
 beguiled, and impute these glaring defects to the tenets of 
 their religion and *as the consequence of their education, 
 not as the manifestations of depraved nature. So she 
 reproved and overlooked them, the while a sense of 
 annoyance clinging like disappointment to her mind. 
 Thus, as she now stood, with the keen sting of pain 
 rankling in her heart, inflicted by the hand that should 
 have spared it, deriving no solace from the smile that told 
 of his contentment, purchased at the expense of her comfort, 
 and wondering in what entaglement, under what obliga- 
 tion he should be placed to enforce his obsequious sub- 
 mission to the wishes of those intruders, whose loud 
 laughter, uncultured speech, and forward demeanour 
 grated harshly on her ear, and vibrated through every 
 sense with a shock of pain. For the first time the point of 
 the barbed arrow insinuated itself into her breast, in the 
 thought that Harvey was selfish and ungenerous. How- 
 ever, the Grubs insensible to her undisguised mortifica- 
 tion, and Lady Fitz Stephens’ gold-eye-glass, spying 
 them all over, laughed, and talked, and joked, and laid 
 hold of this one or that one with bizarre effrontery, under 
 the conviction they were doing the right thing — attempting 
 the easy freedom and graceful abandon with which the 
 patrician noblesse held intercourse with each other, and 
 thinking it was only needful to push their way, and make 
 themselves one with them, to fall, as it were, into the 
 ranks. While Harold Siguard made his escape from the 
 languishing eyes of Jael, and led off Maud Plunkett, Sir 
 Ulic came to the rescue of Adorine, asking her hand as 
 partner in the next minuet. She gladly consented. 
 
 ‘‘Just excuse me for one moment,” he whispered, and 
 hastening past Judith, who had snared Fitz Eufus, to the 
 intense disgust of his sisters, who took no care to conceal 
 their frowns, and Sir Harvey, who had succumbed to the 
 IMajoFs appeal for Jael, he sought Fitz Adelm, who was 
 mtete-a-iete with Cornal O’Pyrne, and briefly accosted him: 
 
218 
 
 I.EIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Come, now, don’t be Athelstane the Unready. Me- 
 thinks Maud Fitz Eustace and your sister Eleanor need 
 the aegis of your protection to be cast over them. The 
 Grubs (Major and Captain) are canvassing the master of 
 the ceremonies to introduce them for the next set.” 
 
 Away shot Fitz Adelm, like a dart from a bow. Captain 
 O’Byrne laughed. 
 
 Your laurels are budding in that quarter Ulio. 
 Time was, not long since, methought no power would have 
 compelled them lower their crests to a Papist. You must 
 be a necromancer.” 
 
 ‘^Soft ; — we’ll bring them to their knees yet ; even Juno 
 and Minerva,” half-smiled, half-laughed De Burgh at the 
 notion, turning quickly to go' to Adoriue, just as Lady 
 de Pivers came up, leaning on Plantagenet, who begged 
 of Cornal to give his arm to his mother, as he was engaged 
 to dance with Elizabeth Fitz Pufus. Cornal ceremoniously 
 complied with the request, from which he would gladly 
 have been excused ; for his own eyes had opened to the 
 fact that her ladyship was spreading her net for his capture. 
 Moreover, she teased him with importunity, urging 
 Harvey’s suit for Adorine, and seeking to fathom his 
 reasons for having retracted his consent to their union. 
 At present, however, her ladyship made no more alarming 
 advance than to look up into his face, smile bewitchingly, 
 ask him how he liked her dress, and assured him the colour 
 peach-blossom was chosen in deference to his taste. Cornal 
 bowed, and conducted the lady into the heart of the 
 crowd. 
 
THE REVIEW AT FINGLAS. 
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE REVIEW AT FINGLAS. 
 
 * ‘ Thy morn hath passed 
 So dazzling in the splendour of its way, 
 
 That the dark shades the night hath o’er thee cast 
 Throw ten-fold gloom around thy deep decay.” 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 Some months had elapsed since the ‘‘Drawing-room^^ at 
 the Castle, and nothing unusual had transpired to mar the 
 general routine of life in the metropolis. Commerce and 
 trade held their wonted progress, and social intercourse 
 proceeded as ordinarily. Nevertheless, men’s minds were 
 anxious. Conviction was rife that the hour was drawing 
 near when the game, whose stake was a kingly crown, 
 should be played out on Irish ground. War! war I 
 was still the burden of rumour and the theme of every 
 tongue. The din of jireparation resounded from every 
 side, and the troops were under incessant drill to meet 
 the crisis. 
 
 It was a grand review-day at Finglas — historic Fing- 
 las — teeming with olden memories, whose sward, nearly five 
 centuries before, had echoed to the stately tramp of 
 Roderick O’Connor’s gathering clans, marching beneath 
 Celtic banners, and the war cries of Celtic chieftains, to 
 dislodge the Norman warriors from their stronghold in 
 Athcliath, Here the breezes had wafted the voice of St. 
 Patrick to the congregated children of the Gael, as from 
 the raths, and duns, and shellings round they hastened to 
 hear his words of power, announcing a new creed, another 
 worship, and gaze upon his inspired form, seeking with 
 mute, questioning eyes in each others’ countenance the 
 evidence of impressions received, and whose verdict was 
 to pronounce the fiat that should exalt or dethrone Christ 
 or the Druid, rear the temple of the incarnate Deity, or 
 lay waste the groves of Bael, where for ages their fathers 
 were wont to assemble by the winding Tolka, and mingle 
 their songs with the purling of its waters ; whose venerable 
 trees now waved their ancient honours over the lone cemetery 
 consecrated to the Celtic cross, where, thick as forest-leaves. 
 
220 
 
 LEIXUP CASTLE. 
 
 grave piled over grave, repose the generations that passed 
 away in the night-time of paganism, with those whose 
 ears hearkened in the dawning of Christian light, whose 
 eyes beamed upon the Apostle of glad tidings, whose 
 bosoms swelled responsive to his preaching, and, receiving 
 the faith he brought, transmitted it to ages yet unborn. 
 Here once again is a scene of panoramic action, awake 
 with all the bustle and interest of human life. Armed 
 squadrons are converging into the plains ; gay equipages 
 are rolling through umbrageous avenues ; horsemen and 
 grooms are galloping along the verdant sward ; well- 
 dressed burghers are mustering in crowds ; hawkers and 
 vendors of fruit and confections hurry to the scene of 
 action, and the rabble contribute their disorderly swarms. 
 The sound of fife, and drum, and clarion swell upon the 
 summer gale. A brilliant cortege of aristocracy, wealth 
 and beauty, winds through the green lawns and glades to 
 a fair pavilion crowning an eminence, and displaying the 
 royal arms and waving standard of England. The 
 Duchess of Tyrconnel sweeps along with her glittering 
 train of ladies and pages, cavaliers, and squires. They 
 take their seats on elevated crimson benches, commanding 
 an extensive view of the field and the martial evolutions 
 of the troops. Over all looks down the unclouded blue 
 sky, brightly shining on the scene, as brightly, perchance, 
 as on the day when the first Mass bell was heard in 
 Einglas, and St. Patrick, deputed by the Eoman Pontiff, 
 stood in his sandalled- feet, shining in his mitred glory, 
 with a brighter aureola burning round his glowing heart, 
 as, leaning on his pastoral-staff, he gave the mystic sign 
 of salvation to the fiock he had gained to the fold. 
 
 Conspicuous among the galaxy that surrounded her 
 excellency were Maud Plunkett, Alice Flemming, daughter 
 of Lord Slane ; Maud Fitz Eustace, Adorine and Eveleen 
 O’Byrne. The Fitz Adelms and Lady de Eivers were 
 also prominent in the pageant with Lady Fitz Stephen 
 and Lady de Courcy. Adorine O'Byrne and Maud Fitz 
 Eustace had become special favourites with the Duchess, 
 who took every opportunity of manifesting her partiality. 
 Upon this occasion Maud sat near her, but Adorine had 
 
THE REVIEW AT EINGLAS. 
 
 221 
 
 taken up a more remote position, and, revelling in ecstasy 
 of bliss, best known to herself, was more sparkling and 
 radiant than ever. Eagerly her eyes strained in every 
 direction, as if in quest of some desired object. The Duke 
 of Tyrconnel rode by and doffed his plumed helmet to 
 the fair occupants, of the pavilion, who returned salutation 
 meet. She smiled also, and kissed hands to her father and 
 Sir Gregory O’Byrne, his cousin, as they followed in the 
 wake of his Excellency’s staff, with his aides-de-camp. Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh, and Harold Sigurd, her uncle Hugh, and 
 Raymond ; but these were not whom she sought. By- 
 and-by appeared Colonel Luttrell, Lord Galmoy, and 
 accompanying them, Harvey de Rivers, gallantly reining 
 his curveting steed. Swiftly bending forward, with a sign 
 she beckoned him to her. He approached leisurely and 
 drew close to the barrier. 
 
 “ Harvey,” she whispered, in tone so low that none but 
 he and Eveleen could hear, ‘‘I"vo been watching for 
 you — oh ! so long — to tell my good news. Mon pere and 
 I went over the whole ground again this morning, and I 
 know all will soon he right. Time and patience work 
 miracles ; the ceaseless prayer — the drop of water falling 
 on the stone wears at last. Mon pere relented somewhat, 
 and said, a little petulantly, I own : ^ Well, well, my child, 
 wait but three months, and if you still persist in importu- 
 ning for chains, I may leave vou to forge them as you 
 will.’ ” 
 
 Is that all ?” demanded De Rivers, drily. 
 
 All ! Is it not everything, you unreasonable Sir 
 Harvey ?” she cried, playfully patting the arching neck of 
 his steed. 
 
 ‘‘ It may be for those whose blood flows in cool current 
 through torpid veins — whose love is temperate and under 
 the sway of stoical platonism, or stringent conscience; 
 but not for one who owns no law but that of despotic 
 love,” he coldly returned, with sulky aspect. What can 
 assure me, fair tyrant, that in three months you will not 
 change your mind, or that you will entertain the same 
 feelings towards me that give me to-day a place in your 
 favour ?” 
 
222 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Out upon thee now, mistrustful Harvey. My confi- 
 dence in you is implicit ; why should yours in me be less 
 I don’t know,” he said, with a hard, sardonic laugh. 
 Venus, you know, was born of the froth of the sea ; — not 
 very staple material. Have you seen Father O’Ouin?” 
 Yes,” returned Adorine, in tone more subdued, and 
 feeling hurt and depressed. 
 
 And what does the keeper of the conscience say 
 ‘‘ I keep my own conscience, Harvey,” she made answer, 
 half ofiended. 
 
 He laughed ; but perceiving he had gone far enough to 
 wound her quick, sensitive feelings, prudently retracting 
 his course, he rejoined, smiling in tone of light banter 
 Well, the drag on the wheel, or the ballast that 
 steadies the ship, you will grant that, doubtless advocates 
 blind obedience to paternal dictate, and you tender sub- 
 mission, as in duty bound. One must admire the dis- 
 cipline which these wise priests exercise over their flock. 
 If at the end of three months your father take the whim 
 to change again his very changeable mind, and Father 
 O’Cuin ratify the eccentricity, by his council, you will not 
 dare to use your own free will to act or think against 
 him — in view of the penalty you should incur by drawing 
 upon you the vial of sacerdotal wrath. You may, for 
 aught I know, be more to be commiserated than blamed.” 
 Pray, do let us change the theme, Harvey, nor mar 
 present pleasure with vexatious contention. It is true I 
 would not lightly, for higher motive than you construe, act 
 in defiance of just and legitimate authority, whither it be 
 my father’s or that of my spiritual director ; but this I 
 pledge you, that if in three months I should again be 
 thwarted by causeless prohibition, I will act upon my own 
 judgment and by my own free will ; — are you content ?” 
 Must, perforce,” Said Sir Harvey, moodily. There’s 
 your Uncle Hugh, that promised to have been at the out- 
 set so staunch an ally, all at once changes, and from an 
 open, genial fellow, becomes reserved and silent ; — and Sir 
 Gregory so formal and distant. ’Tis my fate ; — methinks 
 I was born under the malign influence of some evil planet. 
 And there are Ulic and Harold no friends of mine. I 
 
KING JAMES IN DUBLIN. 
 
 223 
 
 know they do their best to east obloquy upon me ; but 
 shall they go unscathed ? No ; the bolt recoiling shall 
 snaite them, and 
 
 “ Now, don’t be so lachrymose, dismal Harvey,’^ here 
 exclaimed Eveleen, abruptly. It isn’t so exhilarating, 
 your doleful moan ; you’ve made Adorine quite unhappy, 
 and Uncle Ulic and Harold have done you no harm. 
 They are too good themselves ; one would think they were 
 your rivals.” 
 
 “ I’m not so sure, Mademoiselle Malapert, but they may 
 be,” returned Harvey, with caustic bitterness. have it 
 on authentic information that Harold, in a certain quarter, 
 vaunted of his love for your cousin ; nor does he attempt to 
 conceal his admiration.” 
 
 “ Harvey, I have given him no cause, indeed I have 
 not,” murmured Adorine, with suffused eyes and quivering 
 lips. 
 
 “ I wish you had, then,” muttered Eveleen, with frown- 
 ing brow. ‘‘ I suppose none of us can help anyone’s 
 liking — but this comes of children being in a room with 
 visitors. May and Bella are sure to gabble everything 
 they hear; and that’s your information. Anyhow, cheer 
 up, and throw away your melancholy, for here come your 
 drum-headed friends — the Bear and ragged staff. I vow 
 they have Luttrell in their grip ; and he looks as if he 
 liked it. He and Eitz Eufus will be hugged to death.” 
 
 Harvey looked and saw the Grrubs advancing in force, 
 marshalled by the Major and Captain, with Colonel 
 Luttrell in amicable converse, and the rear brought up 
 by a troop of the Bradlys, with knights and heterogeneous 
 acquaintances rejoicing in such high-sounding patronymics 
 as Hog, Bull, Cody, Booth, Blood, and Butcher. Harvey 
 at once doffed his beaver to Adorine, bowed to his saddle- 
 bows, and giving spur to his steed, effected quick retreat. 
 The Grubs soon came up and ensconced themselves in 
 position to see and be seen full in front of the pavilion. 
 Eveleen was as delighted, as Maud and Adorine were dis- 
 tressed by the vulgar stare with which they challenged 
 recognition, as well as by the trying ordeal of plebeian 
 criticism to which they were subjected. At risk of her 
 
224 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Uncle Uiic^s sharp rebuke, she would find matter here for 
 fun and ridicule for a twelvemonth ; but in spite of herself, 
 by-and-by, Eveleen was compelled to suspend her agree • 
 able pastime to gaze upon the panoramic scene, as the 
 chieftains filed along at the head of their battalions to the 
 field — Berwick’s squadrons, King James’ own regiment, 
 and Sarsfield’s officered by their respective commanders ; 
 O’Neills, O’Donnells, MacMahons, O’Sullivans, O’Ferrals, 
 O’Byrne’s, O’Eegan’s, and numerous other corps, led by 
 their colonels and captains, including Oalmoy’s and 
 Luttrell’s divisions, hosting after hosting, defiled into the 
 plain to the roll of drum and the blare of trumpet, harness 
 ringing, and colours fiying. What high thoughts swelled 
 each bosom — who can say ? All looked proud and warlike. 
 Did the spirits of ancient heroes look down upon them 
 from the blue dome above, and sympathise in unison ? The 
 spectacle was indeed martially imposing ; and when the 
 field was formed, and platoons of musketry made the 
 welkin ring with sharp reverberations, and careering horse 
 and tramping infantry advancing, retreating, wheeling, 
 and stately columns charged in all the mimic array of 
 battle, it was exciting to the last degree. Round and 
 round the field rode the Dukes of Berwick and Tyrconnel, 
 with their brilliant staff, including Sarsfield, O’Neill, and 
 other general officers. All proceeded orderly and well to 
 the close, when the troops fell into their ranks to return 
 to barracks. The Duke of Berwick and the Viceroy, 
 with their aides-de-camp and several officers, rode up to 
 the pavilion. The Duke of Berwick addressed himself to 
 the Duchess of Tyrconnell, while the Viceroy engaged 
 Maud Fitz Eustace and Lady de Courcy. Meantime, Sir 
 TJlic de Burgh accosted Eveleen : 
 
 Well, Eva, how do you like a review ?” But before 
 she could reply, a piercing scream, vibrating wild and 
 shrill, startled every ear, and all turning in the direction 
 whence it rose, beheld a gray haired woman, who for the 
 last hour had been observed sitting mute and still upon 
 the grass in a clump of thicket, quietly plucking the 
 sprays, and rocking herself to and fro with a gentle sway- 
 ing motion. Now, all at once, she sprung up and stood 
 
THE REVIEW AT FINGLAS. 
 
 225 
 
 forth to view a weird sibyl, with feet and arms bare, 
 dishevelled tresses* floating upon her shoulders, and a 
 mantle of threadbare texture, torn and weather-stained, 
 trailing half on the ground, partially draping a form 
 once tall and symmetrical, now bent and wasted. Stand- 
 ing upon a hillock, unmoved by the concourse, she clapped 
 her hands, threw up her arms, waved a garland she had 
 wreathed of green spray round her head, and sang, with 
 the gesture of a maniac : — 
 
 “ Sitting in the sunshine 
 Birds of many feather, 
 
 I see them in the sunshine 
 Chirping all together. 
 
 Finches, doves, and thrushes 
 Singing in the sunshine. 
 
 Merry in the bushes, 
 
 * Happy in the sunshine. 
 
 ‘ * Darkling in the sunshine 
 Birds of many feather, 
 
 I see them in the sunshine 
 Gathering all together. 
 
 Raven, kite, and vulture ” 
 
 Whist ! — hear the woodmen sawing the timber ! — fine 
 oaks to come down !” exclaimed the old woman, stopping 
 short in her song, with lifted Anger, and concentrated 
 attention, as if in the act of listening. 
 
 Let them saw away ; — go on with your sweet song,"' 
 said Sir Harold Sigurd, who approached her with Sir 
 Gregory O^Byrne, Captain of the King’s Own Infantry, 
 at the same time handing her a piece of silver, which she 
 took mechanically never altering her position, and after 
 vacantly gazing upon it, she cried again with alarmed 
 mien : 
 
 ‘‘ Whist ! — hear the carpenters at work 
 ‘‘ What doing, good mother asked Sir Gregory 
 O’Byrne, a middle-aged man, of pleasing feature and 
 deportment, smiling upon the crone, as he presented her 
 with another coin. 
 
 16 
 
226 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Making coffins, making coffins, that’s what they 
 are doing, she cried, scanning each one about her with 
 eyes full of significance; then resuming her chant in tone 
 pathetic, and accents modulated above the common : — 
 
 “ Rain, like drops of silver, 
 
 Falling in the sunshine, 
 
 Rivulets of silver 
 
 Sparkle in the sunshine. 
 
 “ But blood were all the showers, 
 
 Falling in the sunshine, 
 
 I saw upon the flowers. 
 
 Weeping in the sunshine.” 
 
 Ochone, mo chuma !'* she wearily sighed and sat 
 down. Tve lived two lives, young man — ha ! ha ! 
 What do you say to that ? The first was a pleasant 
 one in a place far away. I’m a long time seeking for 
 it. I can’t rest till I find it again ; then I shall be 
 happy. Most people, I know, have but one life, and 
 when they die there is an end of them ; — no, not all. The 
 dream lives on; the thought thinks on, only it widens 
 out, goes farther off, sees more, knows and feels more ; — 
 don’t go yet, hear what I have to say, for it concerns you. 
 I died and came to life again ; so you see I know many 
 things you don’t know, and I hear things and see things 
 you may not see. They forgot to bury me, that was why 
 I came back ; — I couldn’t blame them. They had to fiy 
 for their lives, mothers clutching their children and drag- 
 ging them along ; soldiers pursuing with shouts ; many 
 falling on the Via Dolorosa, and lying there till the wolves, 
 prowling by night, devoured them, but my two were torn 
 from me ; — beautiful they were as the golden-winged angels 
 of heaven ; but they died, and were buried in a foreign land. 
 Betimes I see their sweet faces looking down upon me 
 when the setting sun has turned the white fieecy clouds to 
 cushions and draperies of gold and crimson ; then I see 
 them folding and unfolding their silvery pinions and gliding 
 softly through the blue ether. Ah ! I’m happy then."' 
 
 What’s your name, Vanestha?^^ demanded Sir Ulic, 
 bestowing a fiorin. 
 
THE REVIEW AT FINGLAS. 
 
 227 
 
 My name, asthore^ I lost it when I died, and can’t find 
 it.” — She looked piteously bewildered. — ‘‘When I set me 
 to think, it is as though a door opened that gave me a 
 glimpse of things I remembered, and then shut in my 
 face. I’ve no name now, but the people as I go give me 
 alms, and call me ‘Mona Shule.’ ” Now came up G-eneral 
 Sarsfield, the Duke of Berwick, Colonel Luttrell, and others, 
 attracted by the colloquy. All contributed offerings of 
 silver to the poor unknown, who shuffled the coins in her 
 hand, then suddenly springing up, cried: “You want your 
 fortune told, a curaith na Lambh dearg. Ah ! I have no 
 skill in reading the stars. No man can spell those tables: — 
 but it is written up there for all” — she pointed to the skies 
 and again sang : — 
 
 “The Banshee’s wail is wild and dreary, 
 
 Keening in the midnight, 
 
 She weeps, she sobs, is never weary, 
 
 All the lonely midnight. 
 
 Sitting in the sunshine 
 I see the black pall wave, 
 
 Mournful in the sunshine. 
 
 For many a gory grave ! ” 
 
 “ And many more graves,” she muttered on, “ without 
 garland, or headstone, or name ; downtrodden in red 
 slaughter. But what of it, the seed will fructify in the 
 spring-time. A weed or flower, as it drops in the furrow, 
 its quality is written and abides in the germ for aye.” 
 
 “ Pray, Goody,” said Sir Gregory O’Byrne, “ be not a 
 prophetess so bodeful of evil. Come, read my fortune, 
 and let it be of fair augury.” 
 
 “ Mo nuarl heir an so leahar,^’^ cried the demented 
 being, clasping her hands and looking woefully on the 
 speaker. “ Avich na siol, Cahir Mor A leaf blown from 
 the tree thou art ; a seed scattered into unwholsesome soil 
 to bear fruitless blossom, and decay.” 
 
 “Now, beshrew ye, one and all, for simple idiots,” said 
 Colonel Luttrell. “I wonder, De Burgh, Harold, and 
 O’Byrne, to see you wasting time with a beldame that 
 
 ^ Alas ! fetch me the book. 
 
 t Son of the race of Cahir More. 
 
228 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 might be better devoted to yonder bevy of fair dames. I 
 say, crone, addressing the woman, ‘‘you drive a profit- 
 able trade. It marvels me you don’t seek a higher sphere 
 for the display of your talent — the stage, say. Now, you 
 would do to life one of the witches in Macbeth ; or the 
 witch of Endor. Here, let me contribute my groat to 
 your goodly store, and begone.” 
 
 The aged woman thus addressed gazed with solemnity 
 at the hard, harsh visage confronting her, then murmured, 
 in hollow tone of profound pathos: “It was he who dipped 
 his hand in the dish with him that betrayed him. Yes, 
 I know thee now ; my heart knows thee. Thou art his 
 son, yet I can look upon thee and not shudder, for my 
 babes are in paradise, and he can do me no more hurt. 
 Whist, Luttrell ! What wailing voices are those I hear 
 crying from afar — far — far away. ‘ Fly ! fly ! ill-omened 
 man ; — fly and hide thyself ! ’ But where^ I wonder, from 
 the malediction of men and the arrows of divine wrath ? 
 Ill mayest thou thrive, daubed in thine own blood. Silver 
 or gold, I will have none from thee, thou noisome weed em- 
 poisoning the soil that nurtures thee, and blighting the 
 fragrant flower from which thou hast sucked fertility. 
 Away with thee ! Chase him ! rend him ! cry mad dog 
 and stone him ! for he will turn and tear ye, and lap your 
 heart’s blood !” Then, flred as it were by some new im- 
 pulse, while Luttrell strode away slowly, and muttering : 
 
 “ Moon-struck hag ! ” she cast her coins up into the air. 
 One large gold piece, given by the Duke of Berwick, was 
 among them. “ Catch ! catch ! ” she shouted. “ Whose 
 head the gold hits will wear a crown.” But the coin fell 
 in the grass, and with a wild laugh she hurried away and 
 was lost to sight among the trees. 
 
 “ An adventure, by my patron, and not of fair prog- 
 nostic either,” smiled the Viceroy. “ Beshrew yon sibyl.” 
 “No one here to be graced by the descent of a crown on 
 his head,” laughed Mac Mahon. “That’s disheartening.” 
 
 “ Forward, gentlemen, the sun is going down, and our 
 Lady’s departing with his beams,” said the Duke of Tyr- 
 connel, observing the pavilion fast emptying, and amid 
 a confusion of grooms, lackeys, pages, and postilions, the 
 
THE KEYTEW AT FlNGLAS. 
 
 229 
 
 carriages drawing up. The duchess had already taken 
 possession of hers, and swiftly as four prancing steeds with 
 outriders could bear her she was whirled away. Other car- 
 riages followed in quick succession. Adorine and Eveleen 
 set-off with the De Courcy’s in their well-appointed chariot. 
 The crowd soon scattered, filing away in all directions. 
 An hour or two later, the sussurras of the breeze sighing, 
 the voice of the trees waving and whispering to each other, 
 and the rushing of the Tolka river, were all the sounds 
 heard through the lawns and plains of Finglas. Yet the 
 day^s adventures were not over, for a slight, a very trifiing, 
 incident occurred before its close to a couple of the parties, 
 the prelude of momentous result to them. Adorine and 
 Eveleen had returned as they came, in Lady de Courcy^s 
 chariot. When arrived in town her ladyship had set them 
 down, at their request, in Castle-street, at their marchande 
 de modes, where, fitting on dresses and selecting patterns, 
 some time elapsed. At length, when they left to walk 
 home, they saw emerge from an establishment kept by a 
 Jew who trafficked in cigars, and engaged in various other 
 transactions not publicly specified, Sir Harvey de Eivers. 
 Adorine slackened pace, not willing to join him, as she 
 immediately perceived he was followed by Major Grrub 
 issuing with a jaunty swagger from the same place. 
 They walked leisurely on, apparently on very intimate 
 terms and in deep conversation, till they came to Thomas- 
 street, where a little ragged boy, coming up, asked them 
 for alms. He was roughly repulsed; but, nothing daunted, 
 he pursued his calling with unflinching tenacity, holding 
 out his small hand, and with plaintive energy of voice and 
 gesture urging his appeal, till Harvey de Eivers, who 
 happened that day not to be in the best of temper, sud- 
 denly lifted his cane and, with unbridled fury, struck the 
 child a merciless blow. Enraged by the shriek of pain 
 that ensued. Clotworthy Grub added his contribution of a 
 box on the ear and a kick, that sent the unfortunate child 
 flying off the kerbstone and tumbling almost under the 
 wheels of a cart, whose driver had much difficulty in pull- 
 ing-up in time to avoid going over him. Petrified with 
 horror at this brief scene, Adorine stood rooted to the spot, 
 
230 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 but Eveleen sprung forward, caught the child from his 
 dangerous position, and dragged him to the pavement. 
 
 Here, you little rascal,^’ exclaimed Harvey de Rivers, 
 starting back somewhat disconcerted, as he turned and 
 beheld the witnesses of his unmanly exploit gazing in 
 sympathy on the object of his assault, to whom he now 
 proffered a silver piece, which Eveleen indignantly dashed 
 aside, saying : 
 
 Keep your charity, he doesn’t want it now. We have 
 enough to spare and in silence the group stood looking, 
 with varied emotion, upon each other ; and the wailing 
 boy, who, as he then appeared, with begrimed visage, 
 blood-stained from a cut on his nose received in the fall, 
 and blurred with tears, his pale pinched features saddened 
 by a pair of melancholy spaniel-like eyes, was not attrac- 
 tive. Moreover, he was stunted in growth from want and 
 hardship, and in size he did not appear seven, whereas, in 
 reality, he was ten years of age, but looked much older, 
 with an air of premature development that quite oblite- 
 rated every characteristic of childhood from his aspect. 
 Adorine was the first to break the silence. 
 
 “ Oh, Harvey !” she ejaculated, with saddened mien ; 
 and approaching the child she took his hand, and 
 with her handkerchief began to wipe the tears from 
 his face. 
 
 ‘‘ Put him away ; — you are making a show of yourself,” 
 whispered De Rivers, menacingly surveying a group of 
 idlers lounging about, and not bestowing upon him or 
 the Major looks or comments of a fiattering description ; 
 but Adorine, hitherto so amenable to his slightest wish — 
 obsequious ” Eveleen irreverently termed it — for the first 
 time turned a deaf ear, and still holding the child’s hand, 
 began to cross over to the opposite side. 
 
 ‘‘ Let me, then, save you the trouble ?” said De Rivers, 
 blandly ; and offering to take the boy, who shrunk more 
 closely to her side. 
 
 No, pray, I’d rather,’’ she returned, in tone of cold 
 decision, and without looking at Sir Harvey. 
 
 ‘‘ What do you mean to do with him, Adorine ?” whis- 
 pered Eveleen, hastily tripping along. 
 
THE KEYIEW AT FINGLAS. 
 
 231 
 
 “ I don't yet know,” answered her cousin, with darkling 
 brow. 
 
 “ You are not taking him home ? It is an absurdity. 
 The little plague isn’t hurt ; — his bawling is all pretence. 
 I wouldn’t have touched him only he so pestered me,” 
 whispered De Rivers, apologetically. “ Pray, let him go ; — 
 what will your father say ? Look at your dress, with the 
 stains of mud his dirty rags have daubed you.” 
 
 “ I may possibly incur your displeasure also, Harvey, 
 some future day,” she returned, in same low tone, ‘‘ and 
 be made as painfully sensible of it. It was a cruel act to 
 strike a helpless child for begging bread. My father will 
 gladly shelter him ; and, as to my dress ” — she looked a 
 little annoyed at the soiled white silk and mechlin lace ; — 
 I hold you the primary cause of the mischief ; yet I 
 deem it well lost in a cause of humanity. Hush ! my 
 little fellow, stop crying, now ; you shall have something 
 to eat,” she continued, as Eveleen running on, knocked at 
 the hall-door, which was speedily opened, and the two 
 ladies, with their protege, entered, leaving De Rivers 
 without, uninvited, to walk in. 
 
 ^‘Now, Groblin, tell us your name,” said Eveleen, as 
 after brief interval the child stood at a table in a closet, 
 with dry eyes and complacent countenance, demolishing a 
 pile of broken viands and pastry placed before him by 
 Anne Hennessy at the command of her mistress. 
 
 “ Patsy Luke,” mumbled the urchin, through a mouth- 
 ful of jam-tart, regarding his benefactress with approba- 
 tion, while she looked on as if in amused contemplation 
 of the impromptu guest. 
 
 ‘‘ Have you a father and mother, Pat Slug ?” was 
 Eveleen's next interrogation, to which came, in drawled 
 response : 
 
 No ; fader an' modder is both dead.” 
 
 “ Where do you live ?” asked Adorine. 
 
 “ I lives nowhere,” with glance of wonder at such a 
 question ; one night I sleeps on a door-step, anoder in 
 a passage ; sometimes I get into a yard or a stable.” 
 
 ‘‘ And who takes care of you ?” continued Adorine, with 
 increasing interest. 
 
232 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 I takes care o’ myself,” the boy replied, with an air of 
 supreme independence ; I’m in the streets all day ; some- 
 times I get a job to do — to sweep a crossing, or hold a 
 horse, an’ get’s paid, an’ when I don’t I beg ; and when 
 I gets coppers galore I give some of ’em to ould Gran 
 Levie.” 
 
 ‘‘ Who’se Gran Levie ?” demanded Eveleen. 
 
 The ould woman that kep’ me when I was a babby. 
 She begs, too, an’ sometimes I stop a bit wid her.” 
 
 ‘‘ Under these circumstances, Master Slug — if that be 
 your real name, or a sobriquet,” said Adorine, it seems 
 to me you might be legally appropriated and disposed of, 
 according to the pleasure of any of the numerous guardians 
 to whom you were unconditionally bequeathed. I’ve a 
 mind, Eveleen, to retain possession of this stray waif — 
 with father’s permission. Would you like to live here, 
 Patsy ?” 
 
 Now, what a simple question to propose to a starved, 
 naked urchin, suddenly transported from a region of famine 
 and squalor into a paradise of abundance and magnificence, 
 though his eyes had not yet been dazzled with the splen- 
 dour of the saloons, or the delights of the servant’s hall — 
 
 Would he like to live there !” The boy halted mid- 
 way in a piece of stuffed veal, and half doubting if he 
 heard aright, said : 
 
 Is it live here wid you, my lady ! troth an’ I would 
 give my eyes for the same.” 
 
 Would you be a good boy, and make yourself useful ?’* 
 
 Troth, ’an it’s me would. I’d do anything at all, 
 sure, ye bid me.” 
 
 « Very well, I shall speak to Captain O’Byrne. Mean- 
 while, Eveleen, ring for Anne.” 
 
 Anne came to the summons, and received directions to 
 take the child, and have him washed and fitted in a page’s 
 livery as soon as possible. 
 
 What do you want with him ?” said inquiring Eveleen, 
 as the boy withdrew in charge of the wondering maid. 
 
 “Just a whim,” laughed Adorine; “I fancy his odd, 
 old-fashioned face ; besides, 1 hate a footman every time I 
 walk out. That little fellow will answer much better ; 
 
THE REVIEW AT FINGLAS. 
 
 233 
 
 and a page is so ready and useful at all times. I must 
 now christen him ; — but what name shall I find suitable 
 Wait till we see what he looks like when he^s dressed ; — 
 but, Add., aren’t you afraid ‘Prince Luben' won't be 
 pleased ? I declare he frightened me to-day with the look 
 I saw in his face when you spoke to him in the pavilion, 
 and again this evening when you didn’t let the brat go as 
 he bid you.’' 
 
 “ Harvey de Eivers, methinks, is assuming too much,” 
 Adorine responded, with a stately wave of her head ; “ It 
 may be as well to let him have timely notice I stipulate for 
 some will of my own. I would not choose to be quite an 
 abject vassal to a domineering consort. Oh, Eva ! I did 
 not think it was in him to act as he did to a poor little 
 child ; nothing can excuse it. I was amazed, and, I must 
 own, terrified by it. As for that barbarian Major Grub, 
 any atrocity perpetrated by him one might expect ; I am 
 sorry to see him and Harvey apparently on such familiar 
 footing ; his society can do him no good.” 
 
 “ Like goes to like," muttered Eveleen, dangling her 
 hat of white taffetas and feathers by the string ; “ I say 
 again I hate De Eivers ; and if you weren't blinded by 
 some infatuation, Adorine, you’d dread him as you would 
 a basilisk. I think he must have bewitched you with 
 some love philter, I do.” 
 
 “ Eva, you and I shall not be friends if you hold such 
 opinion, and speak so disparagingly of Sir Harvey,” said 
 Adorine, gravely. “ I am not blind to the fact that he has 
 faults, as we all have — none of us are impeccable ; but for 
 him great allowances should be made, considering how he 
 has been brought up. He must be very well dispositioned 
 by nature to be so good as he is.” 
 
 “ Oh, there, stop, Adorine ; it just makes me sick to 
 hear you talk, trying to wash a blackamoor white,” cried 
 Eveleen, giving a wrathful pull to the sleeve of her blue 
 silk pelisse she was taking ofi. “Your just what Uncle 
 Ulic says — a moth flying round a candle that will burn 
 you; — come, there’s the dinner-bell. Throw your things 
 there on the settee, and let’s run in as we are, or we’ll 
 catch it; Uncle Cornal doesn't like to be kept waiting, 
 
234 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 especially when he has Uncle Ulic, and father, and two or 
 three more to dine. Won’t he be mad to see your dress ?” 
 
 ^‘Tou go before me; and, Eva, don’t say anything 
 about what happened in blame of poor Harvey. They 
 are all down enough on him. Leave it to me, and I 
 promise I’ll make him ashamed and sorry for what he 
 did,” pleaded Adorine, as they hastened along. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, never fear, coz, I’ll not blow the coals ; but all 
 the while, I don't think you’ll wash the blackamoor white, 
 do your best.” 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB HOLD CONFERENCE. 
 
 “Bliss ! sublunary bliss ! proud words and vain ! 
 
 Implicit treason to divine decree ; 
 
 A bold invasion of the rights of heaven ! 
 
 I clasped the phantom and found it air. 
 
 Oh ! had I weighed it ere my fond embrace, 
 
 What darts of agony had missed my heart !” — 
 
 Young 
 
 Mercy on me ! what new scene is this between Anne 
 and Zeno ? They won't agree ; and I shall have to part 
 him.” Such the exclamation of Adorine O'Byrne on 
 hearing a sudden outbreak of scuffling, scolding, and crying 
 on the stairs one day, about a week after the stray waif 
 had been domiciled in the establishment. She was in the 
 drawing-room dressed, going out with Eveleen for a 
 carriage airing, when the door flew open, and the maid 
 came in, dragging the struggling page, who, now equipped 
 in livery of white and crimson, clean, and well cared, 
 looked really a handsome youth. At the top of his voice, 
 Zenophon — (for so he had been named by Cornal O’Byrne), 
 stood lustily roaring : 
 
 I didn’t do it; I didn’t do it.” 
 
 ‘‘ You did ; didn’t cook catch you in the fact, you young 
 schemer?” as excitedly re-echoed the maid, who, truth 
 
SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB, 235 
 
 to say, was not well disposed to the new inmate, and felt 
 as though so much favour lavished upon him were ab- 
 stracted from herself. How dare you deny it 
 
 Well, what did he do?'^ said Adorine, impatiently. 
 What did you do amiss, Zeno 
 Stealing and thieving,^’ cried the maid; — ‘^cook and I 
 caught him at the rails on a step-ladder, giving out things 
 
 to an old beldame, that 
 
 “ It was Granny Levie,’’ shouted Zeno, looking im- 
 ploringly at Adorine, who, in stern silence, heard the 
 charge. I had more than I could eat, an’ all the weeny 
 scraps I gather off the plates I kep’ for her and he 
 sobbed vehemently. 
 
 Why didn’t you ask leave, Zeno ?” said Adorine, in 
 kind tone ; — but don’t cry ; there was no harm in it, Anne, 
 is the poor creature a worthy object ?” 
 
 A drunken old cadger, ten to one,” cried the maid, 
 with disdainful toss of her head. ‘‘ No good, I warrant.” 
 ‘‘ She ain’t drunk, but she's old an’ rheumatised, an’ ye 
 may come to it yerself an' be glad to have a pratee to boil 
 an' eat,'’ as stoutly retorted the boy, sobbing. 
 
 Well, well, no more of it,'’ said Adorine. “ Come, 
 Eva, here’s the carriage. Anne, take these bracelets up 
 to the dressing-room ; and you, Zeno, sit here till we 
 return, and look over these pictures." She led him to the 
 window : Sit down on this foot-stool, and don’t stir till 
 
 we come back.” She drew the heavy folds of the window- 
 curtain around him, and followed Eveleen to the carriage. 
 A couple of hours might have nearly passed, when the 
 page, who had fallen asleep in the meantime, was awakened 
 by the opening of the door, and the entrance of two persons. 
 Peeping out of his retreat he saw Sir Harvey de Eivers, 
 and cowered back into the corner, not feeling any incli- 
 nation to encounter the fierce man who, for aught he knew, 
 might, in the absence of his protectors, renew his malevo- 
 lence, and subject him to abuse ; but further was liis 
 resolve to keep close strengthened, when Sir Harvey called 
 to his friend : 
 
 ‘‘Come in, Grub; — no one to molest us; — we can talk over 
 our plans at our leisure. Take a chair; sit down; I know 
 
236 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 the ladies won’t be back for some time, as my mother has 
 got hold of them, and the Captain is on parade with the 
 troops ; so it’s all right.” 
 
 ^^’Ponmy conscience, Sir Harvey,” exclaimed Major 
 Clotworthy, seating himself on a gilt chair, which creaked 
 beneath his weight, and gazing round on every side, ^‘Yer 
 a lucky cove to be so at ’ome in* this ’ere mansion. Lor’, 
 worn’t I of hopinion a few days back, as ye’d got to the 
 length o’ yer tether with Mademyselle, on the head o’ that 
 little cuss, as I ’ear is now taken into the ’ouse as page ; 
 ’ow did yer square it, an’ make all smooth agen’ ?” 
 
 Oh, quite easily,” smiled Sir Harvey, who had thrown 
 himself on a lounger : ‘‘ women are plastic material.” He 
 contemplated the rings sparkling on his fingers. A few 
 honied words quite sweetens their most sour humour, the 
 show of submission to their imperial sway vanquishes at 
 once their most sullen mood ; would you make them your 
 subjects and reign absolute for life, stoop to bind your 
 fetters; ha-ha-ha. My fiance and I had some expostulation 
 on the afiPair; I yielded, pleaded guilty, promised amend- 
 ment, and so we are good friends as before. But, hark ye. 
 Grub, all the while I mislike the way the matrimonial 
 business is lagging.” 
 
 ‘‘ An’ yer ’ave reason,” cried Grub ; dang me if ever I 
 knew a gal as made a cat’s paw of a fellar, keeping him a- 
 dangling arter ’er whole months, as didn’t jilt ’im in the 
 end. Ow, wow, if the case wor mine, see ’ow I’d hact an’ 
 put a hend to the foolery.” 
 
 That’s exactly it,” said De Eivers, rousing up, and 
 now let’s come to the point. Major, and understand each 
 other. If I assist you and your son to carry out your 
 designs in reference to Maud Fitz Eustace and Eleanor 
 Fitz Adelm, I expect you will aid me in furthering mine, 
 for I have no idea of suffering longer demoiselle Adorine to 
 go on coquetting thus ; and as a preliminary measure, that 
 diabolical priest O’Cuin, who plays into her hands, 
 countenancing her fiirtations, and siding against me with 
 her father, must be put hovs-de-comhat — got out of the 
 way — you understand ? I don’t like to say ugly words.” 
 
 “ I understand yer. Leave it to me to gag the priest. 
 
SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB. 237 
 
 I knows a lot o^ chaps, the Bradlys, as’ll do the work, an’ 
 think it fun/' 
 
 Good ; — and then when I’ve foiled the presumptuous 
 coxcomb, Harold Sigurd, who instigated, I feel assured, 
 by that arch-fiend, De Burgh, yet tilts with me in the 
 game, and in defiance of all opposition, strives to bear off 
 the prize. See if I shall not be indemnified for all the 
 vexation and trouble I have endured through her wanton 
 caprices. But let’s now come to the matter that concerns 
 you. What about this bond of a thousand pounds between 
 us ?” 
 
 ‘‘ I’ll cancel it, and make all square between hus the 
 hinstant ye decoy Elnor Fitz Adelm, an’ I get’s pur- 
 sestion of ’er with yer ’elp.” 
 
 “ I'll manage it ; — you’ll have no trouble ; — and what 
 about your son ?'’ 
 
 We'll shell hout the ignots another thousand, the day 
 he ousts the guardians, and carries her hoff ; — isn’t that 
 plain speaking ?” 
 
 Tes, yes ; — you are a matter-of-fact family," yawned 
 De Eivers. What are ye going to do in the case of Fitz 
 Eufus ? He is, I know, an idolater of beauty, yet me- 
 thinks the ladies of his family will demur to his wedding 
 one of your daughters.” 
 
 Look yer, now," exclaimed the Major, with empurpled 
 visage, and eyes emitting fire, Fitz Eufus owes me five 
 hundred, as he isn't able to score, an' never will. I could 
 clap 'im into jail for’t, an’ leave ’im there to rot, but that 
 isn’t my hobject. I’m not a ’ard man, no ; he’s gone an’ 
 been paying of attention to my darter J udith ; he has 
 engaged her ’art, as the sayin’ is, and if he doan’t make 
 ’er his woife afore I fetch 'ome mine, as I ’ope will be in a 
 week or two, I’ll blow his brains out, an’ so I’ve give ’im 
 to know. I’m not a nimcompoop. Sir Harvey, an’ if the 
 ladies, ’is sisters, doesn’t loike it, let ’em clear hout, an’ 
 find ’omes for ’emselves, as will suit. I’ll give my gal a 
 couple o’ thousand, as these tip-top folk must ’ave the grist 
 to carry ’igh ’eads, not but wot I’d as soon she’d a chose 
 the pawson." 
 
 ‘‘ Your a clever man, Major Grub,'’ smiled De Eivers. 
 
238 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ‘‘ Now could you not contrive to secure Sir Harold for 
 your eldest daughter ; — she loves him, I know. With the 
 charming simplicity of innocence, she makes no secret of 
 it; and were it not that partly, indeed, I think to thwart 
 me, he pays court to my betrothed, as I may term her, he 
 greatly admires Mademoiselle Grub.” 
 
 If I thought that,’’ muttered the Major, with thought- 
 ful brow. 
 
 It is a fact ; you may tell the young lady so from me, 
 Sir Harold admires her, not perhaps so much for her 
 beauty, as for the amiability of her manner and the un- 
 affected freedom of her deportment. I need not remind 
 you that we men hate prudery, if it were in Venus; it 
 spoils the greatest beauty.” 
 
 Lor’, sure enough, it do.” 
 
 “ I think Sir Harold’s attentions could be lightly won; — 
 a nice fellow enough in his own way — a good property — 
 high connexions; — only one thing against him, his religion.” 
 Humph ! I wouldn’t let that stan’ in the way, I tell 
 yer ; so now if yer will ’elp me to the noosin’ as wal of this 
 ’ere fish, I’ll be oblirgated to yer ; an ’when ye ’ave limed 
 the birds wot we ’ave alurded to, yer to let me ’ave word 
 of it, an’ me an’ Jonas won’t delay for to be at yer 
 beck.” 
 
 “ Easy, easy, my dear sir, I did not pledge me to net 
 both the same day ; — we must use discretion.” 
 
 “ Lor’, who said yer did ? Take which yer can fust, an’ 
 count on me to get the friar out o’ yer path. I’d better be 
 goin’, lest yer lady come back an’ find me ’ere.” 
 
 It is of no consequence if she should natural enough 
 you should come to consult Captain O’Byrne on matters 
 connected with the impending war ; — but go, as I see you 
 are fidgetty ; — have other affairs perhaps to look after. You 
 shall hear from me shortly, farewell.” 
 
 Good-day, Sir Harvey, I’ll live in ’opes;— yer servant, 
 sir.” And the Major escaped five minutes before the 
 ladies returned. Adorine, hearing De Rivers was above, 
 went up to the drawing-room. Eveleen repaired to the 
 dressing-room. 
 
 ‘‘ I hope, Harvey, you have not been tired waiting; I 
 
SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB. 239 
 
 met, as you know, Lady de Rivers,'' said Adorine, apolo- 
 getically, ‘‘ and we went to pay some visits together. I 
 think we must begin to have fires ; the weather is getting 
 autumnal ; — don’t you find it cold 
 
 Cold Dulcinea, in the glow of your sunny smile ! It 
 is time enough to freeze when Venus has withdrawn her 
 beams, and frowning clouds have quenched the light," 
 said de Rivers, handing her to the divan. But, tell me, 
 have you any news ? ” 
 
 Indeed, no, Harvey ; wherever we went to-day we 
 heard nothing spoken of but the topic that fills all minds 
 — ‘ war, horrid war perhaps mon pere may bring some 
 tidings from the Castle — I expect him soon.'* 
 
 Pooh ! that’s not the news I seek. Tell me, dear 
 saint, is there nothing that concerns ourselves ? I begin 
 to think I am following an ignis fatuus^ that, instead of 
 leading to the oasis of the desert, will befool me in some 
 marsh or quagmire.” 
 
 ‘‘Nay, nay, dear Harvey, why so At that moment 
 a sharp sneeze resounded through the room. Adorine 
 started, De Rivers sprung up, rushed to the window, and, 
 seizing the page, with a smothered imprecation, dragged 
 him roughly forth. Adorine, at once recollecting herself, 
 calmed, and said : 
 
 “ You may go, Zeno.” But De Rivers, conscience- 
 stricken, retained his grasp, and, forgetting all prudence 
 in an ebullition of phrensy, violently shook the boy, while 
 he vociferated : 
 
 “ How, sirrah ! Eavesdropping, you detestable imp. 
 Come along ; I'll teach you better ; I’ll cure you of that 
 disease. Stand oflP, Adorine, you must not interpose 
 now.” 
 
 “ Hear one word, Harvey," said Adorine, laying one 
 hand on De Rivers’ arm, taking hold with the other of 
 the child, who clung to her in wild terror “ It is not his 
 fault ; he did not act the spy. I told him to stay there.” 
 
 “ You told him ?” 
 
 I did, Harvey; let him go.” 
 
 “ And why, may I ask, did you ?” hissed De Rives, with 
 livid cheek, envenomed eye, and brow dark and menacing. 
 
240 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Adorine recoiled in awe, gazing upon the transfigured 
 form with dismay and doub^t ; then her spirit mounted, 
 and, with eyes of transparent light fixed upon De Kivers, 
 she said : 
 
 I hope I have not to account, Sir Harvey, for what 
 I do in my father’s house.” 
 
 Whither or no, he must come with me,” exclaimed 
 De Eivers, who saw ruin to all his projects if Zeno were 
 set free. Come what would, he must be silenced ; and he 
 seized the boy with desperate grasp, dragging him with a 
 force that spun Adorine round the room. 
 
 ^^Oh, Harvey, this outrage to me?” she faltered, still 
 resolutely guarding the screaming child ; Zeno shall not 
 leave my care.” 
 
 Do you refuse, Adorine, to give up the fire-brand at 
 my request ?” 
 
 “ I do, Harvey. I would not, even from you, brook 
 cruelty to a child.’" 
 
 Let him come ; I do not mean to be cruel to him ; 
 but come he must.” 
 
 ^‘No, lady, no, save me ; he will kill me ; he knows I 
 heard all he and the other man said, and will tell you,” 
 sobbed the boy, clutching more firmly the hand that held 
 him in protection, and fixing his speaking eyes upon hers. 
 This brought matters to a crisis. With determined 
 mien, De Eivers stepped forward, and, with a vigorous 
 wrench, tore him from her grasp. Eeeling from the shock, 
 and the excitement of the scene, Adorine sank fainting on 
 the carpet, and De Eivers turned to carry off Zeno in 
 fits, when his exit was opposed by a figure that barred the 
 threshold. 
 
 ‘‘You are a magnanimous hero; — you will distinguish 
 yourself in battle, Harvey de Eivers, with men, since you 
 could so valiantly hold your ground against, and vanquish 
 a lady and a child,"’ said the ironical voice of Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh, as, with folded arms he stood and gazed, scornfully 
 smiling, upon the confounded De Eivers, eyeing him at 
 first with intense confusion, but now, with daring effron- 
 tery, as he responded : 
 
 “ Come, get out of the way, you everlasting interloper ; 
 
SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB. 241 
 
 go help Adorine ; see is she hurt ; and don’t meddle in what 
 doesn’t concern you, Sir Solomon, else you may have to 
 rue lack of wisdom ; — pass on, I say. 
 
 Leave down that child ; don’t you see he is in convul- 
 sions ? ” said Sir Ulic, advancing with measured tread, and 
 the consciousness of strength and power displayed in every 
 calm feature and tranquil movement. 
 
 In the name of all the fiends, who or what hath con- 
 ferred on you the prerogative of authority to command me 
 fiercely demanded De Eivers, glaring at his antagonist. 
 
 Without reply. Sir Ulic took hold of the boy, and 
 Harvey, deeming it useless to prolong a vain contest, 
 yielded him up and departed, with a look at De Burgh, 
 and an imprecation that signified no good intention 
 towards its object, who, with imperturable visage, rung 
 for the footman, consigned the boy to his care, with 
 injunctions to be attended to by the maid, and then 
 transferred his attentions to Adorine, whom he raised 
 and laid upon the lounge, still in an unconscious state. 
 For a moment he stood contemplating the prostrate from, 
 with an air of abstracted melancholy, when a joyous shout 
 broke his reverie, and Eveleen bounded in, exclaiming : 
 What’s all the row. Uncle Ulic ? What happened 
 the fairy page ?” Her eye lighted upon Adorine, and she 
 stood still in sudden alarm, then cried aloud : Uncle 
 
 Ulic, what is it all ? What ails Adorine ; — is she dead ?” 
 No, no ; a little fainting fit ; just leave her quiet a few 
 moments and she’ll come round.'’ 
 
 ‘‘Shall I call for help, uncle ?” 
 
 “No, dear, not necessary ; servants talk and make so much 
 fuss, and invent such stories. — There, she is reviving.” 
 
 Adorine lifted her head, and looked wearily round, then, 
 seeing no one but Sir Ulic and Eveleen, she closed her 
 eyes in silent apathy. 
 
 “ Come, now. Demoiselle Adorine,” said Sir Ulic, 
 lifting her into an upright position ; “ a moment since you 
 were a heroine, and I was in admiration of your firmness 
 and courage in a good cause ; you will not surely now 
 belie your noble bearing by succumbing weakly to emo- 
 tion.” 
 
 17 
 
242 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Adorine, thus spiritedly admonished, raised herself 
 again, looked round, and said in low tone : Where’s 
 
 Zeno 
 
 Safe. I sent him in charge of the lackey to the care 
 of your maid,” returned Sir TJlic. And now, pray, what 
 was the passage-at-arms between you and De Rivers, 
 which I witnessed from the outset, without comprehending 
 the meaning. He wanted to get possession of the boy ? — 
 so much I understood.” 
 
 Yes,” sadly responded Adorine. I must send away 
 that child. From the first he has been the unfortunate 
 cause of dissension between us. I fear I have been too 
 overbearing. Harvey will never forgive me.” 
 
 De Burgh looked rufiled and sarcastic. Do you 
 fear so? I should question whether you ought to 
 forgive him. I should be curious to know what he 
 thinks of himself. He acted as a ruffian and a dastard 
 alone could.” 
 
 ‘^Let us be more lenient in our judgments,” half-smiled, 
 half-sighed Adorine. I feel now I provoked him by my 
 own obstinate pride and unbending will. I did not know 
 he was so hot-tempered. I must be more careful.” 
 
 I could admire your constancy, lady, were the object 
 of it more worthy,” said De Burgh, drily. 
 
 ^^You are inveterate in your ill opinion, Sir Ulic,” 
 languidly returned Adorine. 
 
 Yes; and you’ll be inveterate in yours, exclaimed 
 Eveleen, with her usual abruptness. ^‘You’ll wilfully shut 
 yours eyes and your ears, and see no fault in your beloved 
 Othello, till some day before the honeymoon is half over 
 the hot-tempered angel gives you a good thrashing ; then 
 see how it will be.” And she bent her deep dark eyes, 
 that flashed scornful anger, full upon the sedate counte- 
 nance of the smiling Sir Ulic and the chagrined and 
 mortified visage of Adorine. ‘‘ And what did he want to 
 get the page for, uncle ? ” 
 
 “ I could infer from the boy he had something to tell. 
 Sir Harvey did not wish should be known,” said Sir Ulic. 
 
 We must question him.” 
 
 “ I’ll go this minute,” and away tripped Eveleen, very 
 
SIR HARYEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB. 243 
 
 soon to return with blank aspect, and the tidings that the 
 page was raving in the delirium of brain fever, and saying 
 all sorts of foolish things. ‘‘ And that's more of Harvey’s 
 doings,” burst forth the impetuous girl. ‘‘He has frightened 
 the wits out of him o’ purpose.” 
 
 “ Silence, Eva,” gravely commanded Sir IJlic, as Ado- 
 rine, having for a while vainly struggled to suppress her 
 feelings, gave way to an hysterical fit of weeping, in the 
 midst of which entered her father with his chieftain friends 
 — Mac Mahon, O’Neill and Sullivan. Hastily rising, De 
 Burgh interposed himself as a screen to ward off observa- 
 tion from Adorine. Same time, bowing to the officers, he 
 made sign to Oornal to lead them to the window, while 
 Adorine, choking down her sobs as best she could, effected 
 her retreat with Eveleen. 
 
 “What’s it all about?” whispered Captain O’Byrne, 
 whose eye took in at a glance the whole proceeding. 
 “ What ails Adorine ?” 
 
 “ Some misunderstanding between her and De Rivers,” 
 returned Sir IJlic briefly. “ She fears she has offended 
 him, and will hear of no justification of herself or censure 
 of her quintessence of all perfection.” 
 
 “ Consummate tactician ! ” muttered Cornal, with clouded 
 brow. “ I was wont to consider Adorine a paragon of sense 
 and wisdom, but he has wheedled her into a state of idiotcy. 
 I’ll just put an end to it now, once for all. Excuse me one 
 moment, gentlemen. Cornal hastened from the saloon, 
 followed by De Burgh, entreating him to be cool and 
 temperate, and not precipitate matters by violence ; that 
 Adorine was in a state that required to be soothed instead 
 of being irritated. 
 
 “Leave me, I know what to do,” exclaimed Cornal. 
 And, as he spoke, Adorine suddenly emerged from her 
 boudoir with Eveleen. They were going to see the page, 
 and her father accosted her. 
 
 “ Adorine, I’ve come to say, that since you still yearn 
 with so much pertinacity for the cap and bells, you shall 
 wear them. Methinks you might have chosen a more be- 
 coming crown ; nathless if the jingle that displeases us 
 amuse you, why, have it. You shall many De Rivers. 
 
244 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Let an early day be appointed ; and if when the knot be 
 tied you find it gall, if clouds follow sunshine, and your 
 god be metamorphosed into a mortal, accuse neither friends 
 nor fate, but your own stubborn decree. Come, name the 
 happy day — any time next month — that shall transfer your 
 sovereignty of dominion from your father's to a husband’s 
 house, and impose upon you the weightier chains and 
 sceptre your beguiled soul and heart aspire to. Speak, 
 cliild — why do you pause ? — for what do you hesitate ? — 
 have you not made up your mind? Tears again! — what 
 for, l^d like to know.’’ 
 
 “ Father,” sobbed bewildered Adorine, have patience 
 with me awhile. I am very tantalising, I know, but — 
 but ” 
 
 Lord, save us ! I think women are great plagues to 
 themselves and others," soliloquised Cornal, with rueful 
 visage. One doesn’t know what to do to please them : 
 deny their wishes and they worry you with entreaty ; 
 grant them, and lo I here’s a sample of contentment. 
 Eveleen, my dear girl, when you come to your wooing will 
 it be like this ? If so, I wash my hands out of all concern 
 in it.” 
 
 ^^I’ll never marry anyone you and Uncle Ulic don’t 
 like,” replied Eveleen, very seriously. ^^No; not if he 
 were to bamboozle me to believe him an archangel.” 
 
 Pity we have not pen and ink to record that before 
 witnesses,” smiled Sir Ulic, laying his hand caressingly 
 upon the dark locks of the child. However, Captain 
 O’Byrne,” he continued, turning to the perplexed Cornal, 
 
 since we may not gainsay the superior skill that has 
 moulded the fairer portion of creation, and infused into 
 their nature contrasts that baffle our study, and variations 
 of humour that appear to us caprices, we must yield ac- 
 quiescence to the law, wherefore do not urge Demoiselle 
 Adorine to hasty decision ; — even at the eleventh hour there 
 is redemption : at the last step one may draw back from a 
 precipice.” 
 
 ‘‘ Very true. Sir Ulic. Take your time, Adorine, to 
 weigh tlie pros and cons of the case ; I give you carte 
 blanche now to act at your own discretion. If you give 
 
SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AMD MAJOR GRUB. 245 
 
 me a son-in-law that may show betimes the cloven hoof, I 
 shall regret it more on your account than on my own. Go, 
 dear, 'tis time to dress for dinner ; — are you not expecting 
 the De Courcys and Maud Fitz Eustace ? 
 
 Adorine, somewhat calmed, bending forward kissed her 
 father, and gave her hand in grateful acknowledgment to 
 Sir TJlic, who at the moment was thinking of Harold 
 Sigurd, in mute conjecture whether fortune might not yet 
 be propitious to his dearly-beloved young friend ; but he 
 dared indulge no dream. Wistfully he gazed after the 
 retreating form till the voice of Cornal recalled him, say 
 ing : We may as well, Sir Ulic, return to our friends; 
 
 we have had a busy day on parade, and speculation is rife 
 touching the denouement of future events. Advices just 
 arrived tell of the Prince of Orange levying musters on a 
 prodigious scale, and every hour proves the disparity of 
 this ill-managed country’s drained resources to cope with 
 invasion so formidable : no navy to check the usurper’s 
 armaments ; no war supplies of any magnitude. Never- 
 theless, our recruits come in, the men are full of heart, 
 and, battling as we shall be, under the eye of our gallant 
 king, cedes every arm will do double work, and the flash of 
 each sabre will clear a high road to victory.” — They entered 
 the saloon. — “ I am just saying, O’Neill, to our friend De 
 Burgh,” continued Captain O’Byrne, that though some- 
 what discouraging odds be against us, we have yet enough 
 iron in our blood to prove that quality, not quantity, is, 
 after all, the test of value ; and, when our serried phalanx 
 closes like a rampart against the foe, the truth of the axiom 
 shall be demonstrated.'’ 
 
 “To a certainty,” returned O’Neill, with animation. 
 “ We are all sanguine and agreed on that point ; no chill- 
 ing doubt as to the issue finds place in any breast. We 
 may win our victory at lavish cost, but win we shall. Mac 
 Mahon avers, with truth, Erin’s light has been only hidden 
 under a bushel, and will shine out again like the Gheber 
 fire of old, blazing the more fiercely for its suppression. 
 Ay, something in my own soul tells me. The luminous 
 flame of life, when rekindled in our Isle, and fanned into 
 conflagration by many an ardent breath, shall soar as a 
 
246 
 
 LEIXIJP CASTLE. 
 
 quenchless beacon for evermore, and flash brilliant rays to 
 the world’s remotest ends. Then let the vampire that hath 
 so long fed upon her vitals and grown corpulent, bloated 
 and surfeited, gloating upon the victim whose heart's blood 
 it hath drained and sucked by day and night, ’ware the 
 avenger.” 
 
 ‘‘ Tes,” said De Burgh, whose soul, while O’Neill spoke, 
 seemed on Are in his eyes, I feel with you, that a rain- 
 bow of promise diadems the brow of Innisfail ; yet, though 
 floods may not sweep her from the world’s page, my heart 
 shudders to think what tempest and wreck, through what 
 fiery ordeal, through what baptism of blood, the royal 
 pilgrim must pass to her crown.” 
 
 Sir Ulic !” said O’Sullivan, what though the Phoenix 
 sing her own caoine and die upon the pyre, if the resusci- 
 tated bird arise from its ashes to live in glory. In the 
 glad anticipation thereof, we are all rearing colossal 
 fabrics of future fortune — chateaux en Espagne some of 
 them will doubtless prove, yet dishearten not the builder’s 
 eflTorts by premature warning of the inevitable cost. Let’s 
 begin the foundation ; we can take afterthought for the 
 superstructure.” 
 
 “ When 'erst De Burgh laid the axe to the root on our 
 soil,” said Mac Mahon, with a smile, full little recked 
 the stern race, of tempest, wreck, fire, and blood. They 
 reared their iron strongholds, and with despotic power 
 held their feudal reign. 
 
 Which, had not been but for the recreancy of Irish 
 chieftains,” interposed Sir Ulic, warmly. With all his 
 daring courage, my ancestor, the Bed Earl de Burgo, 
 could not have taken root in the land till he overtopped 
 and obscured in his supremacy even the representative of 
 England’s majesty, had not King Eelim O’Connor leagued 
 his battle-axes with the Norman, and many another rene- 
 gade of influence allied with the stranger, drawing around 
 him a cordon of defence impervious to Celtic spears ? No, 
 no, my friend, if you have been eclipsed in glory, your 
 country’s sceptre broken, and her throne laid low, her 
 people trampled, and strangers exalted in the land, blame 
 not our enterprising Norman valour, but your fathers' lack 
 
SIR HARVEY DE RIVERS AND MAJOR GRUB. 247 
 
 of unanimity in opposing our encroachments ; chide not 
 that we wielded a stern sway over conquered territories 
 and vassals, your own good swords should have sheltered 
 from our marauding, or wrenched from our grasp/’ 
 
 Heaven be good to us, how you take me up. That 
 was not what I meant to say/^ exclaimed Mac Mahon 
 testily, but this : that the descendant of the fierce De 
 Bourgos should have retained enough of their hereditary 
 prestige to scoff at the cost, so he reach the goal and win 
 the guerdon. One thing is clear, you have long enough 
 dwelt in proximity to our combustible temperament to 
 imbibe the infiammatory element and ignite at a spark.” 
 Sir tJlic laughed — his low quiet laugh. Well, it seems 
 
 so, I crave pardon if I have offended.” 
 
 ‘‘ Offended ! Bless you, do you deem me so captious to 
 be offended at hearing plain truth ; there is no doubt of it. 
 The state of disorganisation into which our Celtic constiution 
 was thrown after three centuries of incessant warfare with 
 the Danes and Ostmen, the shattered condition of the 
 Septs, the weakness of the once well-bulwarked monarchy 
 distracted by rival pretensions, the lack of concentration 
 and unity among the clans, threw open the unguarded 
 country, and few of the chieftains, I burn with shame to 
 say it, were found not amenable to the impeachment of 
 supine apathy, selfish unconcern in their comrades’ weal or 
 overt treasonable connivance with the foe.” 
 
 “ Well, we have come to turn over a new page in our 
 history,’' said Cornal, with glowing visage ; now is not 
 the hour to recriminate or canvass what chieftains fell 
 away, or who stood staunchly in the gap to the end. To- 
 day we, their sons, meet in united purpose to cancel in 
 blood on the battle field every stain of obloquy that rests 
 upon the past, and, nor last nor least, in the shock of arms 
 will clash the steel and ring the war cry of ^ Clanrickard.’” 
 ‘‘ Ab-ahoo ! Galriah aboo /” cried Sir Ulic. ‘‘ Time was 
 we kept you aborigines in an exhilarating state of activity, 
 fighting or fiying for your lives. Now, hand-locked 
 champions, we band together for the one dear cause of 
 fatherland. What does Sarsfield think and say ?’' 
 
 “ Ho,” said Cornal, “ the Lion of Lucan is bristling in 
 
248 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 his lair ; Leixlip Castle isn’t large enough to hold him ; 
 he swears a hundred Irish patriots should be a match for 
 five hundred British mercenaries. That’s the blood of the 
 O ’Mores effervescing.” 
 
 ^^Hot work before us/’ said Sir XJlic, spare my pre- 
 sence a few moments, Captain O’Byrne, 1 want to see 
 after Demoiselle Adorine’s page, who met with some little 
 disaster.” 
 
 What, did he fall, cut his nose, scratch his face ?” de- 
 manded Cornal ; but Sir XJlic disappeared without reply. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 A CRITICAL ADVENTURE AND ITS RESULTS. 
 
 Alas ! the world is full of peril ! 
 
 The path that runs through the fairest meads, 
 
 On the sunniest side of the valley, leads 
 Into a region bleak and sterile!” 
 
 “Golden Legend.” 
 
 Some days since the foregoing scene had transpired, during 
 which time Adorine and Harvey de Eivers had not met, 
 the latter unaware of the condition of the page, who was 
 still confined to bed in the incoherent raving of brain 
 fever, assiduously attended by his now zealous friend, 
 Anne Hennessy, and an object of solicitude to every mem- 
 ber of the family and household, felt assured he had made 
 such disclosures as must infallibly preclude all future 
 possibility of amicable relations between, him and his 
 friends ; and as to any hope of alliance with Adorine, that 
 he considered was now at an end. Thus driven to ex- 
 tremity of desperation, a fortune of thirty thousand 
 pounds withdrawn from his expectant grasp, with the 
 prospect of much more in reversion, besides many colla- 
 teral advantages, De Rivers became reckless, and throwing 
 off the mask of dissimulation he had so long assumed. 
 
A CRITICAL ADVENTURE AND ITS RESULTS. 249 
 
 instead of brooding darkly in sullen disappointment over 
 all he had lost, he rallied his energies, hastily convened his 
 friends in council, and with their promised aid sketched a 
 bold programme for future proceeding. His mother he 
 had not yet deemed it advisable to acquaint with the turn 
 affairs had taken, and as to his plans in reference to Maud 
 Fitz Eustace and Eleanor Fitz Adelm, by which he had 
 designed so heartlessy to beguile and betray them into 
 the hands of the Grubs, he perceived any immediate action 
 must be postponed to some favourable occasion, when, if his 
 complicity in the transaction were recognised, he might at 
 least defy consequence. Meantime, in the malignancy of 
 his vengeance and hatred, he stopped at no length. He 
 resorted to every underhand expedient to asperse and 
 malign with evil report, slanderous inuendo, or outspoken 
 jibe and jeer the fair fame and unblemished character of 
 those who had incurred his anathema, till, with the help of 
 his abettors, he had portrayed them in such colours to all, 
 save their intimate associates, that hitherto good repute 
 stood confounded to hear the tale. None had been more 
 astonished than the victims themselves to have seen their 
 likeness as represented in the mirror held by him to their 
 view; but happily they were in ignorance, and as no results 
 had as yet emanated from the oft-spread venom to wound 
 their peace, they heeded not the snakes hidden in the grass 
 intent upon their hurt. 
 
 However, Adorine, whose offended pride had smouldered 
 more keenly than she would acknowledge, and caused her 
 to maintain resentful silence, in the hope that De Rivers, 
 when made sensible by reflection of his inexcusable beha- 
 viour, would return remorseful and penitent to her feet, as 
 time wore on, without realising her anticipation, became 
 alarmed. Memories revived of pleasant hours passed in 
 Harvey’s fascinating society. The days, no longer cheered 
 by his mirthful presence, the reckless laugh of her sans souci, 
 as she called him, his flow of wit and airy gaiety became 
 dreary, dull, and void. Then she thought, too, of how he 
 had loved her, of all the winning expressions of affection, 
 and the admiration and delight with which she ever seemed 
 to inspire liim. ' She pondered over all this in the solitude 
 
250 
 
 LE1XLI1> CASTLE. 
 
 of her chamber, till stings of self-reproach, of ill requital 
 of so much devotion, began to pain her heart ; and, 
 wavering in her mind, she began to believe it was she 
 herself who had offended, that Harvey had reason to 
 complain of her cold response to his love, of the protrac- 
 tion of his wishes, of his hopes deferred ; — and then, was 
 it not most natural he should have objected to a spy upon 
 their conversation ? He had proved it roughly ; but it 
 was a man^s nature to be demonstrative when excited. 
 Her own father was so — few more irrascible ; — yet how 
 gentle, kind, and considerate withal. There were excep- 
 tions, it is true. Sir Ulic de Burgh was calm and self- 
 controlled ; but he was austere, and she did not like that. 
 Harold Sigurd, too, though of higher and more frolicsome 
 mood, was of haughty bearing, and self-disciplined withal. 
 Adorine, though she liked and admired him, felt for 
 him a respect and awe that clashed with any sentiment of 
 affection. She wished for a genial companion, not a sedate 
 master : one who could reflect back sunshine for sunshine, 
 laugh and smile with her, and not be too much above 
 sallies of youthful sport, too sublimated to condescend to 
 the vagaries of Momus, too perfect to brook imperfection 
 in ordinary mortals. Such was Harvey de Rivers ; and 
 she had driven him from her by her inflexible severity. 
 
 Poor Harvey ! It must be that he is afraid or ashamed 
 to come to me again,^^ she meditated. Is it better for me 
 write to him, or call on Lady de Rivers and explain all ? 
 There is no use in asking advice from mon pere or Made-- 
 moiselle Eveleen, for Sir TJlic has told them all he witnessed, 
 and, as a matter of course, I’d gain small sympathy They 
 deem, for one fault, for one ebullition of temper, I should 
 manifest proper spirit by banishing the culprit to J ericho ; 
 but indeed I’ll not. I’ll ask Maud Fitz Eustace what 
 she would have me do, when we go to walk this evening 
 in the Phoenix Park. ’Tis pleasant to speak to Maud, she 
 is so sympathising, and her understanding is so clear, while 
 same time she is so unobstrusive of her opinion, and so 
 diffident in forming judgment. I never yet have heard 
 her say an unkind thing of anyone, or make an ill-natured 
 remark. On the contrary, I’ve heard her frequently seek 
 
A CRITICAL AnVEJ^TLRE AND ITS RESULTS. 25J 
 
 excuse for that which seemed blaruable in others. I 
 wonder, and I wish it from my heart, that this affair 
 could be brought to a happy conclusion between her and 
 Sir Athelstane ; but I see no prospect of it. These Fitz 
 Adelms are so very conservative. Poor Maud ! I wonder 
 how does Lady de Oourcy approve of Sir Ulic’s valet having 
 taken a fancy to Cathleen O’Carroll. My phlegmatic 
 aunt consoles herself, most likely, with the notion that 
 when the young couple are married Cathleen will settle 
 down quietly for the next six months with the young 
 ladies, while her husband goes back to Sir Ulic, having 
 stipulated for the privilege of a weekly visit, as if married 
 people did not care for a home of their own, however 
 humble. I’m glad man pere gave the little cottage in 
 Rathdrum to her step-father, Lacy, and her mother : they 
 are such decent, poor people, and they suffered so much 
 through that incendiary fire.” Thus musing, Adorine 
 whiled away the time that intervened between luncheon 
 and the return of Eveleen from her school studies, accom- 
 panied by Maud Fitz Eustace, equipped for their frequent 
 walk in the park. Adorine was soon ready, and Raymond, 
 being summoned from poring over the adventures of Marco 
 Polo, accompanied them. FitzPatrick, the footman, 
 followed the party at a distance, but keeping them in sight. 
 Merrily they wended their way through the gay streets, 
 Eveleen and Raymond going before, occasionally loitering 
 to take a peep at a toy-shop or picture-window, or turning 
 to complain that May and Bella were not with them, 
 unsatisfied with Maud’s assurance that May could not 
 come on account of her sore throat, and that Bella would 
 not leave her. However, when they reached the park, 
 forgetful of May and Bella, away set Eveleen and Ray- 
 mond to scamper, in all the exuberance of wild freedom, 
 through the lawns and glades, now lost in the thickets, 
 again emerging to view, but still holding their rapid course 
 down to their favourite haunt, the river-side, where they 
 often amused themselves fishing. Maud and Adorine, 
 engaged in earnest converse, leisurely followed their track, 
 the autumnal winds whistling bleakly through the woods, 
 and sweeping showers of withered leaves around them at 
 
252 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 every blast. Maud, having calmly listened in silence to 
 Adorine^s somewhat lengthened narrative of all that had 
 occurred between herself and De Rivers, from their first 
 encounter about the page, and to her question for advice 
 how to act now, was replying : 
 
 I think, Adorine, it might be better not enter upon 
 any explanation with Lady de Rivers. Except in case of 
 extreme emergency, the mediation of a third party would, 
 perhaps, more embarrass matters. Lady de Rivers, it is 
 most probable, knows little, if anything, of the affair. 
 Sir Harvey, I think, acted unbecoming a gentleman. Of 
 course he was irritated — that extenuates his conduct, but 
 does not quite excuse him. If he be now sensible of it, he 
 naturally would not wish to incur his mother’s censure by 
 detailing particulars. Had he done so, she would have 
 urged him to apologise, and have called upon you herself ; 
 therefore, any explanation on your part would be taking 
 her into the cabinet, and might be awkward and disagree- 
 able to Harvey — moreover, it would be an admission of 
 weakness. Better take higher ground. Write a few lines 
 to Harvey, asking him to call on you, and then, in personal 
 interview, you may more easily settle all difference ; for 
 I agree with you, he is loath to subject himself to the 
 rebuff he fears, and requires some encouragement. 
 Hush ! — hark ! There’s a tumult in the distance ; don’t 
 you hear the shouts ? Pray, let’s go another way.” 
 ^^Yes; but where are Raymond and — 0 heaven! is 
 that Eveleen’s cry ? FitzPatrick ” — she turned and made 
 rapid signs to the footman, who increased his pace, and 
 came speedily up, — hurry on, and see where are the 
 children. What is the tumult The footman obeyed 
 with alacrity, and Maud and Adorine, suspending their 
 walk, lingered among the trees, where they were, till 
 FitzPatrick, in a few minutes, returned, in breathless haste, 
 crying aloud : 
 
 Help I — help I they’re murdering the priest, my lady, 
 an’ Master Raymond is struggling with one of ’em, an' 
 Miss Eveleen is standin’ betune him an’ the rest to ward off 
 the blows and away flew the footman, a mere stripling, 
 with a very juvenile red face, but stout though palpitating 
 
A CRITICAL ADVEN'rURE AXD ITS RESUT.TS. 
 
 253 
 
 heart, to join in the conflict. For a moment Maud and 
 Adorine stood aghast, looking at each other in blank 
 dismay ; then Maud, by nature timid, suddenly exclaimed : 
 Oh, let us go and see can we help and Adorine, 
 equally by nature as courageous, darted forward without 
 another moment’s pause, and soon spanning the breadth 
 of wood that screened their view, they beheld, in a glade 
 sloping to the river, a party of ten or twelve men gathered 
 in close group around some central object ; and, as they 
 advanced at flying speed, they distinguished shouts : 
 Break his neck ! — dash out his brains ! — pitch him 
 into the river ! On sped the undaunted girls, with but 
 one thought in their mind, to throw themselves between 
 the priest and his assailants. Near enough now to take 
 in the whole scene, with the persons of the actors, they 
 simultaneously stood still, transfixed with horror. Upon 
 his knees, supported by the bole of an oak, pale, faint, 
 bruised, and smeared with blood from blows and cuts upon 
 his head and face, they saw Father Catholicus OUuin. 
 His hands were pressed upon his bosom, as if in pain, 
 and before him, at a few paces distant, stood Eveleen, the 
 very impersonation of a young Bellona, with torn and 
 disordered dress, and dishevelled hair, a stone in one hand, 
 a sling, which she wildly brandished, in the other ; and, 
 with flaming cheek, and eyes menacing no gentle warfare 
 to any who should oppose her. Not far distant, Raymond 
 was engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict with a powerful 
 youth, whose robust frame and ferocious aspect seemed to 
 render him more than double a match for the sinewy 
 opponent, who clutched him with iron grip, and repaid 
 his blows with interest, regardless of his mocking taunts : 
 Bah ! Paddy ; is that all yer can do ? — scratch like a 
 cat, kick like a colt in bridle.'^ All at once the jiber suc- 
 cumbed with a yell. Raymond shook him off with a broken 
 arm, crying in exultation : Gro tell your Daddy ^twas 
 
 Paddy did it. Master Moses Bradley,’^ and the boy flew to 
 engage another adversary, while the footman, Fitz Patrick, 
 grappled with and belaboured a man who had interposed 
 to attack his young master. But this was not what ap- 
 palled Adorine, and chilled the blood almost to ice in her 
 
254 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 heart. That a gang of ruffians should fall upon an un- 
 armed man for purpose of plunder or revenge, did not cause 
 much wonder ; the times were yet disturbed, freebooting 
 was in vogue in many districts, and priests were obnoxious 
 to a certain low Cromwellian class of colonists. But she 
 veiled her eyes with her hand to shut out the sight. It 
 must be a delusion, a dream* She withdrew her hand, and 
 looked again to make sure. Yes, there again, the cold 
 glittering eye, the cruel defiant smile. There he stood, 
 revealed in all his deformity of soul, the idol she had wor- 
 shipped, the angel transformed to a demon, every grace 
 departed from his brow, every vice enthroned in its stead ; 
 the accomplice of murderers, the abettor of crime — Harvey 
 de Rivers! Adorine did not faint; she grew very cold, and 
 felt like one who had been stunned by a great blow ; but a 
 new nature seemed all at once to have sprung up in her 
 heart ; steadily she stepped forward through the opening 
 ranks of the now passive belligerents, ^till she came and 
 knelt beside the wounded priest. Steadily she met the eye 
 of De Rivers, who, from the moment that Eveleen and 
 Raymond had sprung into the arena, just as he had levelled 
 and discharged the pistol at the breast of Father Catholicus, 
 never attempted to conceal himself or the act which they 
 witnessed. Steadily she made answer when, De Rivers, 
 bending over her, whispered, in blandest tones : I call 
 
 heaven to witness, Adorine, it was in self-defence I 
 wounded ; — you see I did not kill him. He first assaulted 
 me, and these’' (pointing to the Grubs and Bradleys) ‘‘can 
 bear witness to my truth ; they came to the rescue of 
 Plantagenet and myself.” 
 
 Adorine waved her hand. “ That will do. Sir Harvey 
 de Rivers ; you need make no defence. Send hither the 
 lackey.'^ She stooped and whispered to the wounded priest : 
 “ Father, do you know me ? Are you suffering badly 
 He smiled faintly, but with intelligence, and pressed her 
 hand. Adorine looked around in deep distress. Where 
 could she turn for help ? — not one friend at hand ; not one 
 whose countenance invited confidence. The night-shades 
 falling, could they venture to linger in that sequestered 
 place, traversed by few in the noon»day ? Unprotected 
 
A. CRITICAL ADVENTURE AND ITS RESULTS. 255 
 
 would they venture to go ; yet could they leave the 
 wounded, perhaps dying, priest defenceless in the hands 
 of his foes. De Eivers perhaps guessed the thoughts fill- 
 ing her bosom, for he accosted her, and said : Allow me 
 
 to see you home. We can send assistance. 
 
 Adorine stood up, but, turning, addressed the lackey : 
 Do you think, Fitz Patrick, that with Master Eaymond^s 
 help you could carry Father O’Cuin at least some way 
 toward^s home 
 
 Quite sure of it, my lady,’^ responded the lackey, 
 and forthwith, as gently as they could, he and Eaymond 
 lifted between them the wounded man, who fainted from 
 exhaustion. But not for this did they slacken speed, 
 while now a new cause of alarm presented itself. Ado- 
 rine, walking close beside her friend fanning his brow 
 with her handkerchief, suddenly heard Eveleen scream : 
 Where’s Maud ?” Halting, she gazed around on every 
 side ; no Maud was visible in any direction ; and now, 
 scanning the troop of marauders, she noticed the Grubs, 
 Father and son, had also disappeared. Oh ! now, indeed, 
 the chalice was full to overfiowing, and Adorine, utterly 
 unnerved, would have fallen stricken in her anguish to the 
 earth but for Harvey’s supporting arm. Fortunately 
 Eveleen’s presence of mind did not forsake her in this 
 crisis. She called to the lackey to stop — shouted to Eay- 
 mond : ‘‘ The Grubs have carried off Maud !” And with- 
 out further parley the pair set off to intercept the ab- 
 ductors, knowing well they could not, on foot, have gone 
 far with their burden, and were, to a certainty, lurking 
 among the foliage of the copse, ’till the darkness of night 
 or a clear coast made their departure easy and their prey 
 secure. Shouting at the pitch of their voice, and calling 
 aloud for help, they ran to and fro ; nor in their distrac- 
 tion did they hear the muffied tramp of horses feet gallop- 
 ing along the sward, ’till the steed of the foremost rider, 
 startled by the wild rush of Eveleen in her scarlet mantle 
 athwart his path, plunged, reared, and well-nigh unseated 
 his masterly rider, who reined up, exclaiming: So ho, 
 
 Nimrod — steady ! What now, Eveleen ? Is it possible ! — 
 Child, what ails you 
 
256 
 
 I.EIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Oh, father ! Uncle Cornal was now all Eveleen, in 
 the paroxysm of her delight and terror, could sob and 
 gasp, as, heedless of two other horsemen closing in the 
 ring, she seized the bridle of Cornal O’Byrne^s restive 
 charger, exclaiming — Save — save them 
 
 ‘‘ Save who ? Where’s Adorine ? where’s Maud ?” ex- 
 claimed Cornal, growing pale with apprehension, and Fitz 
 Adelm and Harold Sigurd drew closer with intense dismay, 
 but at the instant rung a loud whoop and shout of triumph. 
 Eveleen darted forward, exclaiming : He’s found her ! ” 
 
 The horsemen followed, and presently espied Eaymond 
 emerging from a woody knoll leading Maud, who ap- 
 peared, when they were near sufficiently to observe her, 
 dreadfully agitated, and overcome with terror. Fitz Adelm 
 sprung from his horse, took her in his arms, and pressed 
 her head with gentle tenderness to his bosom, saying, 
 softly : What has frightened you, Maud ? — look up, you 
 
 are safe ?” But Maud, paralysed with horror, could make 
 no answer. Raymond, however, explained all, capering 
 the while with a boy’s extravagant glee in the pride of his 
 success. The Grrubs carried her off.” Everyone started. 
 Fitz Adelm uttered a monosyllabic anathema, briefly con- 
 signing the objects of it to the dominion of Pluto. The 
 chase was a stiff one, but the foxes broke cover at last, when 
 they saw you. They knew the game was up, so thought 
 it the best of their play to let go their booty and make off 
 themselves. These sort o’ chaps don’t like the smell of 
 gunpowder no more than the crows ; and, as for the whiz 
 of a bullet or the flash of a sword, they’d as soon face the 
 ‘ Phouca^^ though the’re so ready to give both.” 
 
 ‘^My rescued darling ! ” murmured Fitz Adelm. Harold 
 Sigurd and Hugh O’Byrne gazed on in meditative mood. 
 Cornal vented some hasty ejaculation, then cried aloud, 
 Where’s Adorine ?” Come this way,” responded Eve- 
 leen, and all resumed their route. Fitz Adelm, having 
 given his horse to his groom, brought up the rear on foot, 
 assisting Maud, who, though still trembling all over and 
 silent, felt reviving strength and confldence in the aid and 
 protection of one so loving and beloved as Sir Athelstane. 
 In a little while the party came in sight of Adorine and 
 
A CRITICAL ABVEKTLRE AND ITS RESULTS. 257 
 
 saw her kneeling upon the sward, supporting, in a recumbent 
 posture, the priest, who had regained consciousness, and 
 with her handkerchief dipped in a pool of water, left by 
 heavy rain of the night before, she was washing the clots 
 of blood from his head, while De Rivers stood by pouring 
 forth a volume of self-exculpation, the sound but scarcely 
 the sense of which fell upon her unheeding ear. The 
 lackey, standing sentinel at hand, alternately surveyed 
 with reverential awe the priest, and glowered darkly upon 
 his assailant, whom his fingers tingled then and there to 
 strangle. 
 
 ‘‘How, now! — What’s all this exclaimed Cornal 
 O’Byrne, dismounting as he came upon the group, and 
 riveted his astonished gaze upon each one. Adorine, 
 stunned into lethargic calm by the magnitude of the ter- 
 rible disaster that had crushed heart and brain, making 
 no reply, turned to Maud, advancing with faltering step, 
 and said, in a low tone of reproof : 
 
 “ Why did you separate from us, Maud 
 “ Adorine, I did not/' faintly articulated her cousin ; 
 “ I was near you when Captain Grub came and took my 
 hand ; I tried to disengage myself, and grasped Sir Harvey’s 
 arm for protection. He thrust me off, making sign to his 
 friend, bidding him take care of me; same momenta 
 cloak was fiung over me. I cried out and struggled ; but 
 you did not hear, and, helpless as a child, I was borne 
 away. I scarcely know what happened after ; I did not 
 faint, but I was in a state of stupor. I felt I had only to 
 die, when I heard Raymond shout ; all at once I rallied 
 and screamed aloud. He heard me, and I was saved.” 
 
 All eyes turned upon Sir Harvey de Rivers, who, with 
 cool address, defended himself : 
 
 “ I wanted to speak to Adorine ; — how could I have 
 suspected the gentleman, to whose care, in the exigency of 
 the moment, 1 would have transferred you, would have 
 acted BO dishonourable a part ? I’ll call him out for it.” 
 Maud shook her head in silent but emphatic contra- 
 diction of this apology: she knew she had been betrayed 
 by Sir Harvey, and she, as well as all the others, noticed, 
 while he spoke, a strange alteration in the tone of his voice. 
 
 18 
 
258 
 
 LElXLir CASTLE, 
 
 Wont to be smooth, oily, and insinuating, it had become 
 uneven, flurried, meanly flat, drawling, and snivelling. His 
 aspect, too, was not the same ; for while his lip still sneered, 
 it exhibited contorted lines of pain ; and though his eye 
 retained its bold audacity of expression, its light quivered 
 and shifted with uneasy restlessness of action that boded a 
 spirit disturbed within his bosom. Turning from him, 
 Cornal pointed to Father O'Cuin, and repeated his demand, 
 as he bent over and took his cold, clammy hand in his 
 warm grasp. 
 
 ‘^What is all this? What has happened you, my 
 friend ?’’ “ I am the unlucky cause of the catastrophe,^' 
 
 said de Eivers. ‘‘I fear I've killed him ; — he is 
 
 speechless. I did not mean to , But the priest 
 
 may thank himself. He reviled me as a heretic, scoffed 
 at my conversion, threatened that the Inquisition and 
 the auto-da-fe would soon be established institutions in 
 the land for the suppression of heresy. I remonstrated, 
 he retorted, and swore never with his consent should 
 the Lady Adorine be my wife. Then, I own I lost 
 my temper, and spoke intemperately. He rushed 
 at me with a formidable case-knife, when in self- 
 defence I flred my pistol. A lot of fellows who were by 
 at the time can corroborate the truth of what I say. They 
 have all dispersed, but I know where to And them. One 
 of them picked up the case-knife, which he dropped when 
 wounded.” 
 
 De Eivers paused, and obliquely scrutinised every 
 countenance to note the impression his words had 
 made. It was not satisfactory ; — no brow unbent, no re- 
 laxing countenance gave indication of credulity ; even 
 Fitz Adelm, upon whose prejudice he had counted for 
 support, looked callous and undemonstrative. But now 
 the wounded man, whose ear had taken in all, each syl- 
 lable he had uttered, stirred, made feeble effort to rise, 
 moaned unconsciously with pain, rested a moment on 
 Comal's arm, then in tones clear and strong, though 
 tremulous and hollow, made declaration : 
 
 ‘‘ False ! false ! I deny it alL” 
 
 Yes, Father, we know it is,” cried Hugh O'Byrne, 
 warmly ; don't now exert yourself to say more/' 
 
A CRITICAL ADVENTURE AND ITS RESULTS. 259 
 
 Come, spread a litter of our mantles. We’d best not 
 stay here all night, but seek some aid while there may be 
 yet time,’* said Sir Harold Sigurd. 
 
 A litter was hastily constructed, and while they were 
 placing the Franciscan thereon, De Eivers approached 
 Adorine, and said, humbly : 
 
 Do you, too, join my enemies, and lend a willing ear 
 to the nefarious calumnies they concoct for my rain She 
 bowed coldly : Suffer me to pass, Sir Harvey.” 
 
 Is, then, all over between us ; — no more love, no more 
 hope ?” 
 
 “ All is over ; we henceforth, if ever, meet as strangers.” 
 Not so, by heaven I” furiously vociferated De Rivers. 
 
 Shall I succumb to be a target for the shafts of malice, 
 or the accommodating puppet of a woman’s every whim- 
 sical idea ? You have plighted to me your troth, Adorine. 
 Do not for one instant flatter yourself I shall release you 
 from your engagement, or weakly resign your fickle 
 affections to another. Hitherto, your pleasure has been 
 the arbitrator of mine, henceforth my will shall be the 
 arbitrator of yours 
 
 “ Threats, sir ! do you threaten ?” said Oornal, turning, 
 to give his arm to Adorine, as De Rivers, without 
 other response than a most sinister smile, retreated. The 
 party moved on with Harold Sigurd, Hugh O'Byrne, 
 Raymond, and the lackey, bearing the litter before ; Fitz 
 Adelm and Cornal by turns assisted in relieving the 
 supporters until they arrived at their destination, the 
 Franciscan chapel-house, Cooke-street. Here all tarried 
 till the speedy advent of the surgeon to examine into the 
 case of the patient. It was soon ascertained Father O’Ouin 
 had three ribs broken by kicks, his head severely cut with 
 blows ; but the wound in his breast was not mortal. The 
 ball discharged from the pistol had struck against a medal 
 of St. Francis, which he wore suspended round his neck, 
 glanced off and lodged in the flesh, inflicting a painful, but 
 not dangerous hurt. Glad of the good tidings, and leaving 
 the sufferer comparatively comfortable and easy, Captain 
 O’Byrne, Adorine, Sir Harold, Eveleeu, and Raymond set 
 off* homewards Sir Athelstane volunteered to see Maud 
 
260 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 to the residence of the De Coureys. His escort was thank- 
 fully accepted. They had proceeded a little way in silence, 
 when Sir Athelstane addressed his companion : 
 
 Would it were to my own home its liege lady and 
 queen I were conducting you, dearest Maud. What joy 
 to my sisters, what rapture for me ; yet, alas ! there is 
 between us a stern barrier, not reared, in sooth, by me, but 
 by your friends ; — why are they so obdurate, so unrelent- 
 ing ? what is it they fear ? I am willing to merge in oblivion 
 all difference of creed between us ; I have pledged my 
 knightly word that you shall, without hindrance, worship 
 at your altar and decree your own path to heaven. You 
 trust me — why will not they? Would they have me — 
 would you, Maud, have me belie my conviction, wrong 
 my conscience, else like Harvey de Rivers play the hypo- 
 crite, and condescend to base duplicity to accomplish my 
 end r 
 
 No, Athelstane, I would not,^^ sighed Maud, ^^a present 
 of reckless enjoyment were no panacea for a future of lost 
 
 peace ; — but, Athelstane 
 
 Dearest ?’^ 
 
 She looked up in his face with simple earnestness : 
 
 We cannot both maintain conflicting dogmas of faith, 
 and yet each be right in our convictions — one of us must 
 be wrong.’^ 
 
 ^^Yes,^' smiled Fitz Adelm, ‘‘that is a self-evident 
 proposition, and the inference, fair Maud, you would 
 imply is; which of us holds the untenable ground ? I 
 would fain believe not 
 
 “ But you are not sure, Athelstane, with arch smile. 
 
 “ Yes, of course I’m sure as one can be of anything in 
 this world that I’m right.” 
 
 “ And I, being equally sure on my part, Athelstane, we 
 still stand as we stood — one must be wrong. Ah, dear 
 Athelstane, if you would but inquire into the truth of what 
 I say — if you would but investigate impartially between 
 the merits of your church and mine, not long should you 
 bide in doubt, the light would pour in upon your eyes, 
 you would know what to believe, and why. Then, in- 
 stead of laughing at our faith, or at best humouring our 
 
A CRITICAL ADVENTURE AND irS RESULTS. 261 
 
 supposed folly with passive disdaiu, as one treats the con- 
 ceits of children, you would be foremost in its assertion. 
 Will you, for my sake, do it, Athelstane 
 
 For your precious sake I would do much ; but, believe 
 me, Maud, it would be of no use; my principle would 
 remain unshaken. I believe I am right. What more 
 do I want to know ? IVe read the Bible over and over ; 
 it can tell me nothing new. — But here we are at home ’’ 
 He ran up the steps to knock. 
 
 ‘‘Will you come in asked Maud, timidly. 
 
 “ This evening I cannot, love my sisters have a dinner 
 
 party, and they will be sorely puzzled to think what delays 
 me. Carmima ! I shall see you to-morrow. Aclios,^' 
 
 Maud entered the stately mansion, and Fitz Adelm, 
 withdrawing, encountered Dr. Dopping leisurely coming 
 along the pathway, attended by a liveried servant carrying 
 his cloak.’^ 
 
 “ Good-evening, Sir Athelstane,’^ his Grace accosted 
 him, and — “ Good-evening, bishop,’' was Fitz Adelm’s re- 
 joinder. “Glad to meet your Grace. Hope I find you 
 well 
 
 “So, so, bearing in travail and much groaning of 
 spirit the burden appointed unto me, till I be called to my 
 reward exceeding great,’' murmured the disconsolate pre- 
 late, darting his eyes heavenward, as if he thought to catch 
 a sudden glimpse of the glory revealed. Sir Athelstane 
 shrugged his shoulders as he walked alongside. Though 
 a staunch Episcopalian, he hated cant and parade of piety ; 
 but he was not one of temper constituted to judge harshly. 
 He thought the bishop must be dyspeptic, or afected with 
 hypochondria, and he was turning in his thoughts what 
 remedies were good for these disorders, when the bishop 
 accosted him in tone of some aspersity : 
 
 “ Much it concerns me, Sir Athelstane, since need be I 
 say it, to witness the lax and degenerate spirit that of late 
 days prevails among the elect. Alas ! time was, nor long 
 since, when the children of light would hold no parley save 
 with tongues of sharp steel with the children of darkness ; 
 but now, allured by the concupiscence of the flesh and the 
 lucre of mammon, the pomp of the world, and the pride of 
 
262 
 
 l:Eixlip castle. 
 
 life, they consort with the ungodly, making no account 
 that they who play with fire shall burn, and those who 
 touch pitch shall be defiled. It is a grievous theme to di- 
 late upon."' Sir Athelstane preserved stolid silence, hav- 
 ing some misgivings as to the drift of the bishop’s oration. 
 The latter, that he might apply no unction of misconcep- 
 tion to his soul, continued, solemnly: ^‘Yea, I were want- 
 ing in zeal of my ministry were I not to speak plainly, even 
 to you, Sir Athelstane, and admonish you, in all friendli- 
 ness, that you are too intimate by far with those Popish 
 families of the neighbourhood. It is bad example. It en- 
 courages others, and quite subverts that exclusive conser- 
 vative integrity, at once the shield and bulwark of the 
 saints. Lo ! behold the eflPects of contaminating infiuence 
 as exemplified in the case of that once promising young 
 man, Harvey De Eivers ; well, you are treading in his 
 footsteps, and your end will be the worship of the golden 
 calf and the daughters of Moab.’" 
 
 ‘‘ Now, your Girace shall pardon me,” haughtily re- 
 sponded Fitz Adelm, who, at the moment, had launched 
 into mental review of Dr. Dopping"s model young man, 
 and some of his commendable exploits, latest on the tapis, 
 Maud, his cherished idol, consigned, by his hand to the 
 power of an unscrupulous monster, and the inofiensive 
 Franciscan Friar struck down by the assassin’s weapon. 
 “It is true I have been sedulously inoculated from my 
 childhood with the idea that papists were something worse 
 than pagans, more detestable than ghouls, but within the 
 last year circumstances have thrown me into nearer con- 
 tact, affording me opportunity of personal observation and 
 knowledge, deducting from which I assert, unhesitatingly, 
 that so far from justifying the character in which they have 
 been represented, they completely refute it; and I am 
 proud to number among my acquaintances some worthy 
 of admiration, and who honour the religion they profess 
 by their high virtues of mind and heart, gifted intellect, 
 and cultivated talents. No, I repeat it, I see nothing so 
 very reprehensible in the lives or doctrine of Catholics as 
 to render it incumbent on us to fly them as plague-stricken 
 lepers.’^ 
 
A CRITICAL ADVENTURE AND ITS RESULTS. 263 
 
 The bishop groaned aloud in anguish of spirit, and la- 
 meuted, in strain of dolorous expostulation: ‘‘Lost — lost! 
 yea, verily, the seductions of the daughters of Belial en- 
 tice thee to thy ruin ; and thine eyes, hoodwinked by their 
 spells, thou seestno more the abominations of idolatry, and 
 thou warrest no more with the superstition of the Gren tiles ; 
 the wiles of Dalilah have shorn the strength of Sampson, 
 and given him in chains to the Philistines.’’ 
 
 Sir Athelstane, not altogether touched with compunc- 
 tion, responded : “ Good, my Lord Bishop, your similies 
 are inapplicable. I see well enough the idolatries and 
 the superstitions of the votaries of Pome, not the sons or 
 daughters of Belial, for they profess Christianity as we do ; 
 but if they choose to believe more than we do, wherein need 
 that concern us. I do not defend their idolatries or super- 
 stitions, I simply despise them as the inventions of priest- 
 craft to hold dominion over their subjects, just as nurses 
 fabricate stories and devices to awe and frighten children 
 into good behaviour. So long as these puerilities lead to no 
 public evil, no overt scandal, need we trouble ourselves that 
 others shape for themselves a course of action we do not 
 mean to follow? If my neighbour deem it good for him to 
 fast, to discipline his body, to bow before a crucifix, to 
 kneel to pictures and relics, well, I’m not going to do the 
 same ; I smile at his folly and pass on. I do not deem 
 myself called upon to smite him.” 
 
 “ Alas ! ” said the bishop, “ not so reasoned the Jews of 
 old, when, at the Lord’s behest, they slew the heathen, 
 broke his idols, gave his temples to the flames, and put his 
 priests to the sword. These were the* people of zeal, and 
 they had favour in his eyes.” 
 
 “ Ay, but that was under the Old Law, when idolatry 
 meant human sacrifice and worship of demons. We live 
 now under a new dispensation, and the law of Him who 
 broke down the wall of separation between the Jews and 
 the Gentiles, and who preached charity and good-will to 
 all men. But come, let us not quarrel. It don't follow 
 because I esteem for their virtues some personal friends, 
 and distinguish them from the mass, that I'm so infatuated 
 as to become their proselyte, or that I respect their errors. 
 
264 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 On the contrary, I^m an advocate for free will and en- 
 lightenment of mind ; and, as I believe that the genius of 
 Popery tends to shackle one and obscure the other, any 
 measure to arrest its growth would meet with no more 
 strenuous advocate than I ; but never will I refuse the hand 
 of friendship to an upright man because of his creed, or 
 deny him the aid of my arm to defend himself from in- 
 jury, or to chastise the wanton aggression of a foe, were 
 that foeman my brother.^’ 
 
 A popish wife will lead you by a silken thread to ex- 
 tend your liberality, sighed the sceptical prelate. 
 
 Fitz Adelm spiritedly answered: — 
 
 If a popish wife could convince me that her Church 
 was in the right, and mine wrong, deem not I were so 
 grounded in obstinacy as not to bend to the truth. 
 Straightway I would go over to Rome ; — but that is not 
 probable; — meanwhile, trust me I would not in merciful re- 
 ligion’s cause, act a tyrant part, or convert my sceptre into 
 a scourge, as in religion’s name, and by those wearing 
 religion’s mantle, has been done too often, far too often, 
 to goad unwilling slaves to false profession. Sir Athel- 
 stane’s wife shall be free to worship her God according to 
 the dictates of her own conscience. Nay, more, even as a 
 father bestows toys upon his child, and baubles, which his 
 own matured understanding rejects as puerile, so shall my 
 liberality indulge her with every harmless nonsense she 
 can desire : — relics, pictures, beads, images, she shall have 
 no lack of.” 
 
 You will throw in the children, too,” sneered the bishop. 
 
 Fitz Adelm came to a stand still. ‘^Well, no,” I 
 should not like the children to be papists — the boys, at 
 least. But nonsense ; — ’tis time enough to think about 
 that. Do we part here ? — this is my way. Farewell ! 
 Be not disheartened; you have not yet lost a sheep 
 of your flock. Come over, and dine to-morrow. Fare- 
 well !” Beckoning to his groom, Fitz Adelm mounted 
 his horse and galloped off ; while the bishop, whose 
 prejudices had increased and strengthened to an acme 
 threatening billions fever, despondently wended his home- 
 ward way. 
 
THE LETTER. 
 
 265 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 “ The effort to be strong, 
 
 And, ke the Spartan boy, to smile and smile, 
 
 While secret wounds do bleed beneath our cloak,” 
 
 Spanish Student. 
 
 Ensuing the events narrated in the last chapter, few of any 
 startling import transpired for some time. Schomberg, with 
 ten thousand troops, had landed in the autumn, at Bangor, 
 county Down, and the Prince of Orange was expected soon to 
 follow with his contingent. The winter months passed 
 tranquilly away with active preparations for the field on 
 both sides, and spring once more, with her sunshine, birds, 
 and fiowers, revisted the earth to gladden many a heart that 
 should never hail its returning smile. 
 
 Meantime, Father O'Cuin recovered gradually from the 
 severe wound infiicted upon him by De Rivers. Between 
 him and Sir Athelstane, who had been unremitting in his 
 attention, a very cordial intimacy had sprung up, and in 
 many a well-debated controversy between them not a few 
 of Fitz Adelm’s erroneous opinions had been set right, his 
 prejudices modified, and though he had not submitted his 
 intelligence to the light of faith in revelation, and pre- 
 ferred rather to base the foundation of his creed upon 
 theory and the sophistries of reason, than subdue his 
 mind to the admission of mysteries beyond its compre- 
 hension and reach of conception, nevertheless, tantalising 
 and uncomfortable misgivings had begun to underwork 
 the tranquillity of his soul, and disturb complacency in its 
 own infallibility of position. The Franciscan’s argu- 
 ments were trenchant, his theology stabbed with home 
 thrusts, his exortations were unanswerable, and ever and 
 always Fitz Adelm withdrew from the contest he had 
 presumptuously challenged, not elate with the triumph of 
 
266 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 a victor, but brooding- in humiliation over his defeat, 
 pondering sometimes Maud’s words : We cannot both 
 
 be right,’’ and anon recurring to Father O’Cuin’s merciless 
 simile, in which he compared heresies, in whatever form 
 assumed, under whatever name propagated to wens, 
 tumours, excrescences, that spring from the true body, 
 yet formed no integral part of it, and should either in 
 time decay and wither into nothing, or be scarified and cut 
 away, cast ofi* to fester in corruption, or breed noxious 
 ephemera, destined in turn to perish, while the living 
 members, that for a space had suffered from the rankling 
 venom of the putrid sore, cleansed and healed, should be 
 renewed in strength and beauty to the end of time. 
 
 Sir Athelstane was a thinking man, and he laboured so 
 well in his investigation that he knocked one stone out of 
 his structure of episcopalian faith, but without replacing 
 it, and so the edifice was tottering and shaken, in spite of 
 the architects who would help him to pull down and re- 
 build it. Father Catholicus and Maud Fitz Eustace — 
 Maud, becoming more and more dear — he saw frequently, 
 but as yet no relaxation of the edict gave hope that he 
 might claim her as his own, till compliance with the con- 
 ditions exacted by her friends should have removed the 
 interdict, and this point he could not bring himself to con- 
 cede. He could not, even for Maud’s sake, apostatise from 
 his principle. 
 
 The Grubs, father and son, apprehensive, with good 
 reason, of the punishment threatened by Fitz Adelm and 
 her friends for their daring enterprise, had taken judicious 
 precaution to clear out of the way till the storm should 
 blow over; so Posy Park was for awhile deserted. But 
 that did not emancipate Fitz Rufus from his impending 
 doom, of which we have had an inkling. He was invited 
 to join the Grub family in their excursion to the North. 
 The innocent young aristocrat swallowed the bait. He 
 set off, assuring his friend Plantagenet Tudor he would 
 pluck the gulls for another loan, in consideration of his 
 friendly condescension. How great was his discomfiture, 
 when caught in the trap, to find himself confronted with 
 but two alternatives of exit — a pistol and a coffin, or 
 
THE letter. 
 
 26 ? 
 
 Judith Grub and matrimony,. In vaiu the victim pro- 
 tested, whimpered, shed tears of impotent rage and misery. 
 The Major was inexorable, the Captain savage, the lady 
 unyielding and resolute in her affection. That day week 
 there was announced a wedding in high life in Dundalk : 
 William Fitz Rufus, Esquire, led to the hymeneal altar 
 Judith, second beautiful and accomplished daughter of 
 Major Clotworthy Grub, of Posy Park, county Dublin. 
 The bride, who wore Mechlin lace and orange blossoms, 
 was attended by a train of twelve bridesmaids, to wit, her 
 three sisters, with the Mademoiselles Ruth Hogg, Sophy 
 Booth, Eliza Cod, Jane Woods, Anne Wogan, Marjory 
 Bull, Matilda Powell, Priscilla Brown, Tabitha Sanky.’’ 
 Never was wedding celebrated with more eclat. A hundred 
 guests, mostly military men and parsons with their wives 
 and daughters, sat down to the dejeuner. Among them 
 there was Major Blood and Colonel Butcher, as well as 
 Captain Slaughter, and witty jokes were bandied at the 
 expense of these Sons of Mars, which set the table in a 
 roar; and there was much dancing in the afternoon, with 
 music and romping among the young people. Altogether 
 it was such a scene of hilarity, devoid of all unnecessary 
 dignity and tiresome decorum, that Fitz Rufus actually 
 lapsed into the spirit of the fun, and capered with the rest, 
 giving little heed to what his high friends would say, or 
 his sisters feel, when the tidings were made known in 
 Dublin of the alliance he had formed. 
 
 Some days later — news did not travel then so swiftly as 
 in these days of rapid locomotion — Elizabeth Fitz Rufus 
 being wished joy of her new connexions, fell into fits, and 
 Anne, her sister, on the verge of lunacy, rushed oft* to find 
 solace in the bosom of Lady de Rivers, herself mourning 
 in desolation over Harvey’s blighted prospects and her own 
 perished hopes ; for from the fatal hour when Adorine, with 
 blenched lips, as firm as marble, had breathed the words : 
 All is over between us ; henceforth we meet, if ever, 
 as strangers,'’ in vain she wrote letter after letter, and 
 called time after time — in vain she lay in wait to pounce 
 upon Adorine, in the hope her mediation, her intercession, 
 might restore things to their former footing. Her letters 
 
268 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 were returned unopened. Peremptory orders denied access 
 to the presence of Mademoiselle O’Byrne, who had now 
 withdrawn into such complete seclusion from the world, 
 that out of her own immediate connexion Lady de Rivers 
 had no chance of meeting her in public. Yet Adorine 
 did not mope or spend her hours in solitude and vain 
 repining ; no, that was not her nature. True, the sting 
 of bitter disappointment, the barbed arrow of sorrow was 
 lodged deeply in her heart ; but, like the Indian, secretly 
 writhing under torture, nay, smiling beneath the inflic- 
 tion, she bore the anguish and made no sign. The worm 
 might consume with gnawing pain, but her proud spirit 
 spurned to complain. At home she pursued her wonted 
 avocations without deviation ; received her friends, played, 
 sang, dressed, passed much of her time with Maud Fitz 
 Eustace in the private society of the Duchess of Tyrconnel, 
 and so deported herself in all respects as to impress every 
 mind with an idea that the revelations of the long, linger- 
 ing, and but lately convalescent page, had, conjoined to 
 previous circumstances, completely weaned her affections, 
 nay, embittered her with hatred to the idol she had so 
 blindly worshipped. Her father, uncle, and cousins were 
 delighted at what they also considered the rebound of her 
 flexible nature to new life and energy. Eveleen, indeed, 
 attributed it to self-gratulation at her providential escape 
 from connexion with such a monster. Sir Harold Sigurd 
 took prompt advantage of the opportunity now opened to 
 step into the place vacated by his rival, and there lie in wait 
 for the occasion, but she sedulously appeared as bent upon 
 denying him opportunity to urge his suit, and make her 
 sensible of the deep and earnest devotion that pleaded for a 
 return he felt it yet premature to solicit by overt proposal. 
 Of all there was only one whose deep mind had fathomed 
 the hidden spring, and studied the alchemist at work in 
 her own secret laboratory, and analysed, by process of 
 keen observation, the change wrought in the alembic of 
 flery ordeal upon the metal subjected to the test ; and 
 when, a few weeks later, all Adorine’s friends noticed that 
 the light of the morning had departed from her brow, and 
 its bloom from her cheek — that her eye beamed with a 
 
THE LETTER. 
 
 269 
 
 saddened radiance, and her step had lost its elastic spring, 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh understood full well that burning 
 tears, unshed, had stagnated to a dead sea in their recess, 
 withering every flower of joy, converting the fruit of hope 
 to ashes, and congealing in stony petrifaction the 
 bounding pulse of life. In each vibrating laugh she gave 
 his ear had detected the mournful ring of sorrow ; his 
 eye had noticed the shallow tinsel of each fleeting smile ; 
 and deeply it grieved him to see youth's bright horizon so 
 early clouded, even while he rejoiced with unspeakable 
 satisfaction at the abrupt termination of an engagement 
 so pernicious, and so pregnant with evil prognostic. Much 
 he yearned to felicitate, even while he sympathised, with 
 her, to speak words of consolation, and to beguile her 
 thoughts to new subjects of interest, to occupy them with 
 another object, dear to his own, but delicacy sealed his 
 lips. Moments, however, there were when Adorine, by 
 some vigorous rally, shaking off for awhile the reptile 
 coiled round her heart, could lapse into her former self 
 and, without simulation, indulge in some sally of frolic, 
 an effusion of comic humour, a droll adventure, an 
 anecdote, or a piece of news fraught with zest. Thus it 
 happened one day that Sir Ulic, after having been electri- 
 fied himself by the tidings concerning Fitz Bufus, having 
 an hour to spare after parade, came over to Thomas-street, 
 and entered the saloon, where Adorine was engaged, 
 pending the arrival of visitors, with some piece of fancy- 
 work, while Harold Sigurd stood at a table playing dominoes 
 with Eveleen, and Eaymond traced upon a map the 
 probable route of Schomberg onTiis way to Dublin. 
 
 ^‘Have you heard the news just arrived in town, fair 
 lady he said, as after brief preliminary salutation to all 
 parties, and a glance at Eaymond’s occupation, he drew a 
 chair and seated himself beside her. ‘^Poor Fitz Eufus 
 has got locked up.^’ — Adorine laid down her tapestry. — 
 Yes, indeed, it is true. Caliban — your Caliban, Eva — 
 and the gnomes got hold of him, and locked him up in 
 the enchanted castle. He is married to demoiselle Judith 
 Grub." 
 
 “Phew!” whistled Harold, suspending the dominoes 
 and approaching ; “ dangerous family, that,” 
 
270 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 I knew the hears would hug him to death, shouted 
 Eveleen ; — why did he go into their den 
 
 But,” said Adorine, “ that must have been with his 
 own consent ; for though he was wont to laugh at, and 
 disclaim all interest in those persons, he was very intimate 
 with them. His sisters, I do not think, will like the 
 alliance/’ 
 
 Faith, we might have guessed when they enticed him 
 down among them, after their raid upon poor Maud to carry 
 her off to the enchanted castle, that they had some design 
 on the little fellow/' said Harold, with musing brow; 
 “ all my wonder is that he didn’t break out of the toils.” 
 
 Alkmy wonder is that they angled with the fish so 
 long before they hooked it. So May and Bella de Oourcy 
 are going to be sent to Comal’s Court for change of 
 air after the whooping-cough, with Cathleen Daly their 
 maid?” 
 
 Tes, Sir Ulic, for a month or two,” replied Adorine ; 
 
 and Eva wishes so much, if you have no objection, to go 
 with them.” 
 
 I have no objection, dear ; — but won’t you be lonely ? 
 What does your father say ?” 
 
 He does not object ; and I — I will miss her ; yet the 
 change will do her good ; I know she pines for the green 
 fields and the flowers.” 
 
 “ Not if you would be lonesome, Adorine,” promptly 
 cried Eveleen, shifting away the dominoes, and turning 
 to persecute a pair of paroquets by tickling them with a 
 quill.” 
 
 Let those birds alone, Eveleen ; you tease them,” said 
 her uncle. 
 
 ^‘Stupid things!” ejaculated Eveleen, they’re always 
 sleeping. Uncle, I’d have rather had a present of a 
 monkey.” 
 
 “Indeed! Well, I shall see and make you out one; 
 but you must know those lively pets are very mischievous.” 
 
 “ The very thing I'd like it for. Uncle IJlic. What fun 
 to see the old house fumed topsy-turvy by the gambols 
 of Master Pug ; and how nicely I’d have him dressed. 
 Oh, do get me a monkey !” 
 
 “ By-the-by ! ” exclaimed Sir Harold, drawing a parcel 
 
THE LETTER. 
 
 271 
 
 of papers and letters from his pocket, with a suddenly 
 conscience-stricken look, I got a letter this morning 
 marked ^ immediate it came while we were at drill, by 
 courier, and I quite lost sight of it and now,” he bowed 
 to Adorine, ‘‘ I will peruse it with permission.” The 
 permission being signified, Sir Harold glanced over the 
 superscription, in a coarse, round hand, of a letter elabo- 
 rately sealed, and impressed with the stamp of a burning 
 heart, and highly perfumed with mignonnette. He cut 
 round the seal with his penknife, unfolded the paper, stiff 
 and crisp, read a line or two, changed colour, and cast a 
 furtive glance around, to observe if he were noticed. 
 Adorine’s eyes were bent over her work ; but Sir Ulic’s 
 vigilant gaze was fixed upon him. Harold looked again, 
 read another line or two, with deepening fiush on his 
 cheek, and air perplexed and haughty, then exclaimed 
 aloud : ‘‘ In the name of all the Grubs, from a caterpillar 
 to a boa-constrictor, what’s this 
 
 ‘‘ A proposal, Idl wager. I get a scent of perfume, the 
 fragrance of a lady’s breath on it,” said Sir Ulic. 
 
 Sir Harold was not wont to vent himself in strong 
 expletives, but his upright equilibrium under extreme 
 pressure at this moment swerved from its balance, and a 
 vivacious explosion, resulting from disturbed elements, 
 escaped his lips. Adorine laid down her work, De Burgh 
 crossed his knees and had recourse to his handkerchief, 
 Eaymond looked up from the map on which he was inte- 
 rested, while Eveleen exclaimed : What’s up now, 
 
 Apollo ?” 
 
 “ Eveleen,” said her uncle, with rebuking look and tone, 
 you sometimes forget you are a lady. It is not ladylike 
 to be pert or flippant. Why do you not take example from 
 your cousin ?” 
 
 “ Oh ! she’s a lady, uncle, but I’m not ; and don’t want 
 to be — not I.” 
 
 Yes, uncle ; Uncle Cornal is a gentleman, but father 
 was only a blacksmith.” 
 
 “ Well, what of that? If your Uncle Comal’s brother 
 found it expedient in time of trouble to pursue a trade 
 both ancient and honourable that does not change tlje 
 
272 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 blood in bis veins or yours. The bright hereditary in- 
 stincts of race should still remain.’' 
 
 Well, uncle,” returned Eveleen, with indignant toss 
 of her head, that may be, but I know the difference. 
 No one thinks the same of me as of Adorine — and you 
 know it, too.” 
 
 ^‘Of course not, you little chit. Wait till you are a 
 grown-up, accomplished young lady.” 
 
 ‘‘ No, nor then either, uncle. No one thinks as much 
 now of father as of Uncle Cornal. I’m not blind ; I can 
 see people’s faces, and I know what they think — the Fitz 
 Adelms, and plenty more.” 
 
 Sir Ulic was silent, in pity and astonishment. He con- 
 jectured someone must have been taunting the proud- 
 spirited girl, and hadmade her reckless. He had thought she 
 was yet too young to have become initiated in the mys- 
 teries of caste ; but he was this time in error. Eveleen’ s 
 mind had quite opened to the meaning of the expression 
 
 losing caste.” Birth was no equipoise for that. Then 
 she knew she was a fortuneless dependent upon the bounty 
 of uncles and cousins — affectionately, kindly treated, but 
 not on an equal footing. The young De Courcys, in right 
 of wealth and station, she perceived, claimed distinction 
 and respect, and had their claim allowed, while she must 
 fall back and await the dole of condescending notice in 
 compliment to them, or be slurred over altogether with 
 passive disregard. Many a time, poor child, in her gay 
 attire, and amid courtly scenes, she sighed for the rustic 
 cot in Urrismore, where she had felt her independence; for 
 the lambs and the kids, and goslings, that she felt were her 
 property and fortune ; for the dear companions of her 
 childhood, between whom and herself there was no con- 
 trast ; and for the wild adventures in which her heart 
 delighted; while many a time the rebellious heart, and 
 fearless spirit prompted her to fling off the trammels of 
 her new life and betake her once more on wings of speed 
 to her lost home. One only link at these times withheld 
 her desperate purpose — her love for Adorine. That was 
 the pole-star of her life, the sole principle that magnetised 
 and fixed her steadily in her position. Not that she made 
 
THE LETTER. 
 
 273 
 
 much demonstration of the feeling. It lay too deep for 
 show, and it was only now and again when some spark^ 
 ling ripple came upon the surface of the tide that A-dorine 
 believed she was even slightly appreciated or cherished by 
 her young relative. But while the foregoing altercation 
 took place between Sir Ulic and Eveleen, Harold perused 
 his letter; and in the lapse of silence that ensued, he turned 
 to slip quietly from the room. Sir Ulic detected his move- 
 ment, sprung up, and, in a vein of frolicsome humour, in- 
 tercepted him : 
 
 ‘‘ Come now, my son, you re not going to treat us so 
 unhandsomely — to sneak off like a boy that had got a nest, 
 and didn’t wish to share with his companions.” 
 
 What do you want ?” retorted Harold. 
 
 ‘‘We want to know the contents of that letter. Is it a 
 proposal?” 
 
 “ No,” fiercely responded Harold. 
 
 “We don’t believe you.” 
 
 “ Don’t, then.” 
 
 “ Come, hand over the budget. Let’s see for ourselves ; 
 ril read it out and spare your modest blushes. It’s not 
 written in ogham or cryptograph, is it ?” 
 
 “ Oh-h ! get along, you unparalleled pedagogue. I say, 
 you colossus, don’t crush me beneath your weight ; I’m not 
 an Atlas.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Uncle Ulic, that’s right ; — hold him fast ; — don’t let 
 him go;— get the letter,” screamed Eaymond andEveleeu, 
 with shouts of laughter, in which Ad orine joined heartily, as 
 they fiew to lay seizure upon Sir Harold’s legs and arms.” 
 * “ I say, I say, fair play ; three are too many for one. 
 
 Let go, some of you, and give me a chance for my life,” 
 cried Harold, swinging himself round. “ Grood heavens, 
 Ulic, where were your arms braced ? Your muscles are 
 spun iron, and your sinews would serve as cables to hold a 
 ship in a storm.” 
 
 “ Oh! what a sapling you are, yourself — brittle as glass, 
 delicate as a porcelain vase.” 
 
 “ Don’t hurt him, Uncle Ulic ; — think it’s a lady you are 
 wrestling with,^’ cried Eveleen, making a spring to snatch 
 the letter from his uplifted arm. 
 
 19 
 
274 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 I say, demoiselle Eveleen/’ cried Sir Harold, loftily, 
 get rid of some of that quiverful of arrows you delight 
 to sport with, else some day you will break your bow- 
 string, and be left defenceless at the mercy of another 
 archer. Let me draw breath, I say.” 
 
 The scene of laughter and struggling was at its height, 
 when the door opened, and Cornal O'Byrne entered with 
 Sir Gregory. 
 
 How, now, gentlemen !” 
 
 There was no abatement of the contest between the 
 well-matched wrestlers. Cornal looked for response to 
 Adorine, convulsed with laughter. 
 
 Help ! — he wants to rob me,” lustily shouted Harold. 
 
 Of a surreptitious correspondence. We must have it,” 
 cried Sir Ulic, and with a dexterous manoeuvre he seized 
 the document. Standing, he wiped his brow to cool him- 
 self, and, consequential as an Achilles, for a moment en- 
 joyed with triumph the discomfiture of his opponent. But, 
 victory achieved, he returned the letter, saying : 
 
 “All jokes apart, Harold, is it a proposal 
 “ No ; — read it out. Hang me if I can see the drift of 
 it. Perhaps Captain O’Byrne and Sir Gregory may help 
 to unriddle the sphynx.’’ 
 
 “ Attention, all T' Sir Ulic read as follows : 
 
 “ Dear Sir ’Arold, — 
 
 “ Excuse my boldness in inditin’ this epistle t’ye ; 
 for has we never ’ad oportoonity of meetin’ but in publiek, 
 
 I ’ad no other ways of making beknown to ye my mind, 
 an' the 'igh favor ye stand in with my father the Major, « 
 and my brother the Capt’n ; and if it be troo, as a good 
 frend of yours, an’ of us, ’as given to understand, I ’old a 
 place in yer ’igh hopinion, as is most fiatterin’ ; all I want 
 to say is, my 'eart returns the same in all trooth, and ye 
 need ’ave no fears as ’ow the Major ’ll cut up rough at one 
 of yer stamp, an’ won’t begrudge money in reason, an’ 
 religion ’ll be no stumblin’-blok, for we knows ’ow to com- 
 pare betwixt the ’igh-born and the common vulgar sort o’ 
 people as ’aven’t no fit uhderstandin’ about it — in coorse to 
 be pitied, not ’avin’ our edication to polish ’em. Nor don’t 
 
THE LETTER. 
 
 275 
 
 ’ave any fears of any brawl with the parsons, as is all 
 squared. We cum back to the Park yesterday, as we 
 shouldn’t ’ave left so long but for that aborted afair be- 
 tween Jonas and Sir Fitz Adlem, w’en he thort to carry 
 off the lady of ’is ’eart, out o’ pure love, an’ risk’d all 
 danger for’t. The Major intends to give a great rowdy- 
 dow this day week in ’onor of the bride an’ bridegroom. 
 You an’ any frend o’ yours ’ll be ’eartly welkim. So ’opin’ 
 ye’ll cum and make us all ’appy to see ye after bein’ so long 
 parted. Deer Sir ’Arold, an’ my sister, Fitz Rufus, an’ my 
 brother-in-law, William, the Major an’ Capt’n, all sendin’ 
 love. No more at present from yours till death. 
 
 ‘^Jael Grub.” 
 
 Sir Ulic, gravely smiling, folded the letter and handed 
 it to Sir Harold. 
 
 “ How can you say that is not a proposal? — not even 
 ambiguously couched ! The burning heart expresses its 
 expression without reserve. Some friend, it would appear, 
 has insinuated to the young lady that she has a place in 
 your good opinion, and she informs you her heart returns 
 the same in all truth. How will you answer that ?” 
 
 ‘‘ Good opinion is not love,” snapped Harold. 
 
 “ I should consider it to stand proxy in the present in- 
 stance,” laughed Sir Gregory O’Byrne. “ Moreover, the 
 lady tells you, in plain terms, no objection will be made to 
 one of your stamp ; that money in reason won’t be grudged ; 
 that religion will be no stumbling-block ; the parsons are 
 squared ; and the father and brother send love. Why, man, 
 you’re blind as a bat.” 
 
 “ Chuck ! chuck ! chuck ! come to be killed,” sung 
 Eveleen, with a humour and grimace at the disconcerted 
 Harold, that set everyone laughing, save Cornal. 
 
 ‘‘Will you go to the ‘ rowdy-dow ?’ ” smiled Sir Ulic. 
 
 “ I have permission to bring a friend ; — will you come ?” 
 
 “No; my dear boy, ‘ Those who go in danger’s way 
 shall perish therein.’ Take warning by Fitz Rufus, and 
 sliun the castle of the charmers. I marvel, Adorine, how 
 you were able to steer clear of the perilous nymphs ; — how 
 did you manage ?” 
 
276 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Mon pere came to the rescue/^ slie answered, glancing 
 amused at her irritated-looking sire, who chimed in : 
 
 Yes ; I gave Adorine a sharp reprimand before De 
 Rivers, and bade her understand I would not countenance 
 such associates. Races like families,’^ he continued, 
 possess a type of feature and countenance which distin- 
 guish their nationality. Thus we have the flat Saxon, 
 the prominent Norman, and the pointed Milesian physiog- 
 nomy ; and those again subdivided into family traits 
 which pervade every generation. Now, expound for me 
 to what branch of the human kind the Grrubs pertain ; for I 
 swear that of all the ill-conditioned and ill-favoured mortals 
 it has ever befallen me look upon they bear the helL^^ 
 Dutch boors I should think they are descended from, 
 with a tincture of the nigger,^’ said Sir Ulic ; ‘‘ they are 
 very unprepossessing all.” 
 
 “ Unprepossessing !” exclaimed Cornal ; you favour 
 them, Harold, my boy. All I say is, keep out of their 
 path.” 
 
 Harold turned and his eye fell upon Adorine, pensively 
 smiling at his evident discomposure. In sportive mood he 
 flung himself at her footstool and gazed into her face : 
 
 Will you be my Minerva and interpose the aegis of 
 your protection between me and the amazonian queen ? 
 Do ; — I’ll be your slave for life.” 
 
 Adorine blushed, smiled, and shook her head : The 
 
 goddess of wisdom does not interfere in such cases. I fear 
 you must invoke Diana.” 
 
 “ Diana ! Oh, no, by the grace of Venus,” he cried, 
 jumping up ; I’m no votary for celibacy; and if you dis- 
 miss me to such cold patroness, I’m off.” 
 
 Adorine looked up, but dropped her eyes as she met 
 the deprecating gaze of her father and the disappointed 
 look of Sir Ulic ; she bent down over her tambour frame, 
 and it was a relief when Sir Gregory* addressed her, saying : 
 And when do you intend, fair cousin, to pay your 
 promised visit to us at Timogue 
 
 “ My father must answer that she smiled, ‘‘ I shall be 
 
 * Ancestor of the present Lord de Tabley. 
 
THE LETTER. 
 
 277 
 
 very glad at any time to renew acquaintance with my 
 cousins, and ramble through the dear old mansion and 
 domain of Timogue.” 
 
 So we shall, Gregory,’^ returned Cornal ; so soon as 
 we have shipped the Orangeman and his rout to Hades, 
 hoisted King James to his throne, and flung out our 
 banner over the land, we will be down with you. Have 
 you any good hunting there 
 
 Of the ^madra-alta and red deer we have none,’^ re- 
 turned Sir Gregory, ^‘they are exterminated; but we can 
 promise you a flne run over stiff ground after the sionac-f 
 ruadliy of which there are no lack; — and if He Biirgh and 
 Sir Harold will come also, it will be pleasure multiplied.^’ 
 Count on me,” said Sir Ulic. After work we may 
 take a holiday.” 
 
 And as he spoke, Lady Fitz Stephen and the He 
 Courcys came in, upon which, after some little conver- 
 sation and some badinage between Sir Ulic and Maud, 
 Harold and he set out to return to their quarters at the 
 castle. 
 
 I wish Harold,” said Sir Ulic, as they passed along, 
 ‘‘you could make up your mind to propose at once for 
 Adorine,” I ween your timidity causes you to stand in your 
 own light.” 
 
 “ Say diffidence, if you will, not timidity, Ulic. She gives 
 me no encouragement to hope. I cannot hoodwink myself 
 to the fact that she does not smile on me as she did on De 
 Eivers. She does not care for me.” 
 
 “She likes you, I think,"' returned Sir Ulic, “you 
 amuse her ; — but I can also perceive she is afraid of you.” 
 
 “ Afraid of me !” exclaimed Harold, stopping short and 
 envisaging Sir Ulic with expressive astonishment. “ What 
 for, I’d like to know 
 
 “ You are too brusque — too bold.” Sir Ulic smiled. 
 “Your Danish instinct prompts you ever to storm and 
 take by a coup 'de main that which you should win by 
 address. From childhood it was the same : impetuous and 
 sanguine, you would ever choose to seize by assault where 
 you might gain by negotiation. I think if our Aunt 
 
 ♦ Wolf. t Fox. 
 
278 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Fitz Stephen had not held tight the rein she did over you, 
 you would have turned out a highwayman.’^ 
 
 ‘‘Lord save u^!'" ejaculated Harold, aghast. 
 
 “ Confess it/’ proceeded Sir Ulic. “ Do you not recog- 
 nise yourself in the mirror ? Here you are, as I know to 
 my cost, rendering your heart-worship at the vestal shrine 
 of a peerless being well worthy of its incense, yet under an 
 affected air of insouciance^ bravado, or nonchalance^ you 
 seek to disguise your feelings, and think she should hand 
 herself over to you, proud of the honour of being asked ; — 
 No ; every one is not a demoiselle Grub. Ladies require to 
 be wooed with delicate attention, with some demonstra- 
 tion of affection ; — ^you are not sufficiently courteous or 
 ingratiating. Half the secret of De Rivers’ success was 
 his insinuating address and subservient homage, adultation, 
 and savoir-faire, I venture to say that, possessed of these 
 indispensable requisites, without any one other of your 
 undoubted personal advantages to aid, that if I laid my- 
 self out to do so, I could enter the list to compete for the 
 prize, and win it before you.'’ 
 
 “What if I asked and she refused me, as I fear she 
 will ?” suggested Harold. 
 
 “ Then I should arm my mind, were I you, with forti- 
 tude to endure the fiat^ and know the worst. Moreover, 
 time is not standing still; events are progressing fast. 
 Schomberg’s army in the North has been augmented, as 
 we anticipated, by all the northern rebels, and the Prince 
 of Orange is coming over to take the field in person. We 
 know not the day nor the hour when the tocsin shall 
 summon to the field. Were it not well done to avail of 
 the interim to press your suit, and have your mind set at 
 rest ? Were the case mine I should not hesitate.” 
 
 “ Our minds are not moulded in metal of the same 
 calibre, Ulic,” smiled Harold, thoughtfully. “ You would 
 embrace a murderous certainty rather than dally in 
 suspense, while I favour the suspense upon the principle 
 that while there is life there is hope. I own I do cherish 
 a latent hope, which I tremble to foil by precipitation. 
 Would she were a dowerless maid, for then I could feel 
 less embarrassed in making my advance. My pride takes 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 279 
 
 alarm, lest some busy devil suggest her fortune is more 
 my aim than her peerless self. However, I will take your 
 hint, IJlic — though, faith, it isn’t my nature to fawn and 
 crave, and all that sort of crawling work.” 
 
 ^^No; but it is your nature to be kind, you could coax 
 and pet a child, or you could plead for your life, I take it. 
 So, ho ! here comes an orderly. Well, Dwyer ?” 
 
 His Grrace requires your presence at the Castle, sirs,” 
 responded the orderly, with military salute, and drew 
 aside to let them pass. They accelerated their speed, and 
 the curtain fell, whose refurling should disclose another 
 panorama of life’s scene. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 ‘‘ Ah, gentle planet ! other sight 
 Shall greet thee next returning night, 
 
 Of broken arms, and banners tore, 
 
 And marshes dark with human gore. 
 
 And piles of slaughtered men and horse, 
 
 And Forth that floats the frequent corse ; 
 
 And many a wounded wretch to ’plain 
 Beneath thy silver light in vain.” — 
 
 Lord of the Isles. 
 
 At length it has arrived — the long impending hour ; and 
 the unfurled curtain, again withdrawn, reveals the stage 
 of life. But all the scenes are changed, and the actors 
 are called upon to play new parts in the terrible drama of 
 a nation's woes. Ours are all historic characters, many of 
 whose names are engraven upon the pages of chrono- 
 logy, while others only survive in traditionary lore in the 
 annals of the heart. On the 1 3th of August, 1689, the 
 first detachment of the Williamite army — a splendid 
 force, commanded by the Duke of Schomberg — landed at 
 Bangor in the County Down, and on the 17th took 
 
280 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 possession of Belfast. All the rebels of Ulster joined 
 their standard — Scotch and English colonists, planted 
 there by the hand of James I., to aid, in later days, a 
 usurper in tearing the crown from the brows of his grand- 
 son, the second James ; but justice and retribution, though 
 slow, are sure. In the other provinces all the Cromwellian 
 settlers — a vast majority — in a ferment of secret rejoicing, 
 bided their time to flock to the field and raise their ensigns 
 of revolt. On the 14th of June, William landed at Carrig- 
 fergus, and, proceeding to Belfast, he found his forces to 
 consist of upwards of forty thousand men, English, Scotch, 
 Dutch, Swiss, Prussians, Scandinavians, and French 
 Huguenots. On the 16th of June, King James, at the 
 head of twenty thousand men, marched northwards to meet 
 him. 
 
 Verily, if the walls of old Dublin had tongues to speak, 
 they could tell of strange mutations witnessed by them. 
 There are edifices that stand to-day as monuments to 
 perpetuate memories of the past, or sepulchres in which 
 they lie entombed. King’s Inns, where the first parlia- 
 ment, convened by King James on the 7th of May, sat till 
 the 20th July, while his Majesty held his royal court in 
 the strong castle of Lord Trimleston, on the present lands 
 of Roebuck House. The old Dominican monastery of St. 
 Saviour, now the sight of the Four Courts ; St. Sepulchre’s, 
 the palace of the Archbishops of Dublin, now the barracks 
 of the mounted constabulary ; St. Patrick’s Cathedral ; 
 Christ Church, the Castle, with all the once aristocratic 
 streets and private dwellings, now so ruinous, so metamor- 
 phosed that not a vestige of their former aspect remains 
 to arrest the wayfarer’s notice. The pilgrim wends along, 
 unconscious of the opulence, wealth, fashion, and rank that 
 had shed a halo round these mansions when they were 
 “ young and proud.” He gazes on begrimmed marts of 
 plebeian traffic, dilapidated chambers tenanted by squalid 
 generations, who know not that within those now dark 
 precincts of decay and desolation erewhile dwelt, in ‘‘pride 
 of place,” the nobles of the land ; and that through those 
 once gilded and lighted saloons “ sped the banquet and 
 the ball.” Might the dead return to revisit their former 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 281 
 
 abodes, no eye could recognise its own — a melancholy 
 exemplification of the psalmist's words, “Thou shalt change 
 them as a vesture, and they shall be changed.^’ There 
 they stand to-day in their glory's downfall, the wreck of 
 years, all wild and wildered, and look as though they 
 were thinking of the times when the stately tramp of martial 
 squadrons, going forth to battle, echoed wide and far — 
 from the hour that the Lord Deputy, Grey de Wilmot, 
 at the head of his thousands, set forth, full of confidence, 
 to grapple with the last and most redoubted enemy of the 
 Pale, Fiech O'Byrne, “The Firebrand of Leinster,”* 
 and returned with humiliating defeat from conflict with 
 the indomitable chieftain, to the hour, a century later, 
 when King James led all the chivalry of the land, the 
 young flower of resuscitating Erin, to lavish their warm 
 heart's blood in his cause upon the banks of the Boyne. 
 And who may say what tears were wept in those saloons 
 of splendour; what sighs wafted through the odoriferous 
 atmosphere, exhaling the breathing of sorrowful regret, 
 dismay, and doubt, with the fragrance of flowers blooming 
 in porphyry vases ; when, to the ringing and braying of 
 wild war music, with tossing plumes, and waving banners, 
 and helmets, shields and lances blazing, passed in long 
 array the dazzling squadrons of horse and foot, officered 
 and commanded by warriors whose hearts swelled high 
 with hope and pride, yet the smile of whose lip and the 
 cheery wave of whose hand served not to dispel the tear 
 that spontaneously dimmed each eye, as each one passed 
 the temple where some divinity for him was enshrined, 
 and thought of war's uncertain issue. In two we know of 
 such was the case : Sir Reginald de Courcy had gone 
 forth and left his tearful wife and Maud Fitz Eustace 
 to comfort themselves as best they might ; Captain 
 O'Byrne had taken leave of his daughter, and departed in 
 haste, for lamentations unnerved him. Sir Ulio de Burgh 
 came in again at the last moment to say farewell. He 
 found Harold on his knees before the weeping mourner. 
 
 So designated by Sir John Perrot. See State Papers in Bermingham 
 Tower. 
 
282 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 At first he was going to retreat ; then a thought struck him. 
 He came forward, thoughtful, grave, and anxious, while 
 Harold rose in embarrassment. 
 
 Adorine, dear child,'’ said Sir Ulic, impressively, and 
 taking her hand, none of us may foretel the events of 
 the coming crisis — we all hope the best ; but let us not 
 blindfold our eyes to the stern fact — thousands must fall ! 
 Every man this day goes forth with his life in his hand, 
 to combat far less, oh ! believe it, for King or Crown, than 
 for native land, holy altar, and each one his heart holds 
 dear and precious as the pulse that throbs within it. Be 
 it my lot to fall in battle, it will make me glad in death to 
 think Harold, whom I love as a brother, should meet some 
 equivalent in your dear love for mine. He is worthy of 
 the holiest and best you could bestow. Make me happy 
 in the thought that he will be happy, that he shall have a 
 faithful friend — and you, you may need it — a strong pro- 
 tector.” 
 
 Adorine for some moments could not speak for sobbing ; 
 at length, half smiles and tears, she faltered : If Sir 
 
 Harold knew my heart he would not covet it ; all the 
 love that dwelt in it warm and happy, like a bird in cage, 
 has fiown away, I know not whither." 
 
 “ But I do covet it, sweet Adorine,” eagerly responded 
 Sir Harold. 
 
 Yes, yes,” cried Sir Ulic, giving her passive hand into 
 his, such as it is, give him your heart ; let it be his to lure 
 back the bird to its warm, happy home, to rekindle the 
 sacred fire on the altar, and keep it burning there ; — that is 
 my own sister. Now one dear mutual embrace and away ; 
 I hear the Tyrconnel trumpets sounding our march.” — A 
 deep sob, a fervent clasp, a murmured blessing, a rush from 
 the chamber, and all was still. Harold wrung Sir Ulic’s 
 hand in passing, but no sound escaped his lips. — ‘‘All right, 
 dear boy, she will be true to you as the steel to the 
 haft," said Sir Ulic, replacing his casque. “ And now all 
 we have got to do is to fight like lions that guard their 
 cubs from the hunter.” 
 
 “ Bless you Be Burgh ! bless you my own dear, true 
 friend, your unselfish and gallant heart ; in sooth, what 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 283 
 
 ere betide, I feel now my arm new braced, and every pulse 
 restrung with three-fold motive for ardour in our sacred 
 cause. Forward ! ill-speed the foemen shall cross my 
 path to-day 
 
 The morning of the 30th of June, 1690, dawned in 
 summer beauty, and the sun’s first golden beams struggling 
 through a silvery haze, shone down upon embattled hosts, 
 marshalled in all the stern array of war, upon the banks of 
 the Boyne, calmly winding through green undulating hills 
 and valleys, clothed with golden harvests, and waving 
 woodlands blending in luxurious charm to delight the 
 eye as far as the horizon’s bounds. To the south-east the 
 steeples and Castle of Drogheda, from which floated the 
 royal flags of King James and the French monarch, 
 towered aloft in mid-distance, while seaward glistened in 
 the morning light the white sails of the fleet that bore the 
 Williamite army to the shore. Nearer to the eye the tents 
 were pitched, and chequered heath and sward, hill and 
 plain. The countless snow-white pavilions, with banners, 
 bandrols, scrolls, and pennons of every hue, streaming and 
 fluttering td the light gale around each royal standard, 
 proudly raised on high the beacon of the field, while all 
 the landscape is alive with squadrons moving, horse and 
 foot, in ever-shifting lines and squares, as each chieftain 
 led his hosting and reviewed his ranks. Encamped by 
 Donore Hill, Duleek, and Slane, muster the Celtic 
 bands. Spare, sinewy, athletic, all on fire, restless, and 
 eager for the fray, badly-armed, ill-equipped, inferior by 
 one-half in numerical proportion to their adversaries, what 
 reeked they of wild grotesque effect made by lack of 
 martial uniform, or that their weapons — glaive, battle-axe, 
 spear, and club — were ill-matched against the superior arms 
 of Britain ? Each battalion had unbounded confidence in 
 its commanding officer, and many a peal of heart-born 
 laughter, with clamour of tongues, and war^s wild cries of 
 exultation and defiance ringing from stately ranks, told of 
 lightsome bosoms throbbing for fame, and moving to death 
 
 with military glee.” Opposite, on the northern side of 
 the river, behind the hill of Tullyallen, are drawn out the 
 forces of England, supported by legions of foreign mer- 
 
284 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 cenaries — Dutch, Swiss, Prussians, Scotch, Scandinavians, 
 and Huguenots — fifty thousand strong, well-equipped, 
 drilled, armed, and banded in stern phalanx to crush the 
 might, and trample down in blood the chivalry of one small 
 Island, arrayed in its single prowess against them. 
 
 The morning of the 1st of July was ushered in by the 
 drums and bugles of the Williamite camp sounding the 
 generale^ and the Scotch Foot Guards under Lieutenant- 
 General Douglas, and the Danish Horse under Schomberg, 
 advanced, ten thousand strong, with five pieces of artillery, 
 to ford the river at the Bridge of Slane, and turn the left 
 flank of James’s army. The trumpets and clarions of the 
 Milesian cohorts gave out a cheery response to the chal- 
 lenge ; and with bold port, light heart, and airy mien, the 
 bands moved forward inflated with buoyant hope to meet the 
 foe. Not so sanguine or inspirited were their leaders and 
 officers. At the eleventh hour a terrible chill of dis- 
 appointment had fallen upon their souls, deadening, if not 
 paralysing their energies. The king, the rallying point 
 of their enthusiasm, the star of the field, to whom every 
 eye would turn, the ennobling influence that should beacon 
 them to victory ; this king, this vaunted hero, under whose 
 auspices they were to achieve renown, how has he belied 
 his prestige, and dismayed their bosoms with doubt. 
 Weak, vacillating, selfish, timorous, when on the field and 
 in sight of the enemy, scarcely can he be persuaded into 
 a resolve to meet him. He falters ! — he hesitates ! — he will 
 not fight ! Out of twelve pieces of artillery, he orders six to 
 Dublin, in preparation for his retreat, till, shamed by the 
 entreaties of Sarsfield, and the wrathful exclamation of one 
 of the French officers grouped around, witness of his 
 pusillanimous bungling : Sire, if you had a hundred 
 
 kingdoms, you would lose them all,"’ he at length is 
 persuaded at least to animate with his presence his Celtic 
 defenders. He calls around him the picked men of the 
 French regiments sent to his aid, withdraws a couple of 
 miles from the scene of action, to abide the issue in security, 
 and leaves twenty thousand young recruits, gleaned from 
 a population long unused to arms, who had never been 
 under f};‘e in the field, supported hj only six field pieces, 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 285 
 
 to contest with a force of fifty thousand veteran troops, 
 splendidly equipped, with the finest park of artillery ever 
 seen in Ireland, to hazard all for his cause. It was only at 
 the last moment that James also was brought to perceive 
 the danger of his being flanked from Slane by the enemy. 
 Accordingly, Sir Ulic de Burgh, who held post in Tyr- 
 connels Horse Guards, was despatched to order up Sir 
 Neil O’Neill’s cavalry to defend the pass. The warriors met 
 with lugubrious aspect. Sir Ulic delivered his message, and 
 added in haste, as O’Neill sounded his march to the troops. 
 
 Mars has descended from his sphere ; the god of war 
 has assumed an unpropitious aspect that is quite dis- 
 heartening.” 
 
 A poltroon, by my saint!” responded O’Neill, with 
 grim smile. Far ah- far ah ! faugh-a-ballagh ! We must 
 
 every man be our own king, and battle for our rights. 
 Farewell, brave Ulic, if we meet not again below, look 
 above. Farewell ! — God speed I” 
 
 And away dashed the chivalry of Erin, high hearts, 
 strong hands, to check Schomberg’s Danish horse from 
 crossing the ford at Boss-na-ree, while the Douglas 
 Infantry were forcing that of Slane. For one hour did 
 O’Neill’s five hundred cavalry beat back the united force 
 of ten thousand men, but the warrior’s course was run. 
 Sir Neil O’Neill fell, mortally wounded, in the thick of the 
 fight ; and then, bursting the frail barrier opposing 
 them, came dashing the legions of the enemy upon King 
 James’ flank. Lauzun, with six pieces of cannon, hastily 
 advanced from Oldbridge, to intercept their progress ; but 
 the elder Schomberg gave orders for the passage of Old- 
 bridge fords, defended by Tyrconnel’s infantry. Fifty 
 pieces of cannon simultaneously opened, shaking the hills 
 with thunder, and sweeping the Celtic battalions before 
 their iron storm, while the bombs from the mortar bat- 
 teries riddled the serried phalanx on every side. Under 
 cover of this volcanic downpour. Count Solme’s Dutch 
 Blue Guards, two thousand strong, led the way through 
 the river, followed by the Brandenburghers, supported by 
 the Londonderry and Enniskillen Foot, with a long 
 column of Huguenots under the veteran Calimotte, the 
 
286 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 main body of the English under Count Nassau, and a 
 detachment of Danes under Colonel Cults. The roar of 
 cannon ceased as they neared the southern bank. A pause 
 of breathless suspense ensued, then a wild cheer and scanty 
 volley burst from the Irish lines; but the enemy, filed along 
 in unbroken array ; armour flashing and banners dancing, 
 on, on they come. The raw levies of Ireland wither away 
 like scrolls scorched before the well-sustained, all-sweeping 
 fire of the cool- trained veterans of foreign lands. Hamilton, 
 at the head of the only well-disciplined Irish cavalry 
 force on the field, rushes to the charge. The earth rocked 
 beneath the onset of this magnificent squadron. They 
 fronted the third battalion of Dutch Blues, and hurled 
 them back. The Brandenburghers turned and fled. The 
 Huguenots were routed, and Calimotte, their leader, 
 slain. Far and wide swept and dashed the billows of war, 
 the reckless charge, broken rout, rally and stand, rushing 
 van, wheeling columns, floating banners, tossing plumes, 
 flashing lances, cries of the wounded, shouts and yells of 
 rage or triumph, thunder of ordnance, roll of drum, blare 
 of clarion and trumpet, all commingled in wild disorder 
 to make a pandemonium revel of the field. 
 
 Seeing his friend Calimotte fall, the elder Schomberg, at 
 the head of a chosen body of reserve, dashed forward to 
 rally the flying Huguenots, broken by the hurricane rush 
 of the Irish horse. 
 
 Come on, come on, messieurs! behold your persecutors!’’ 
 cried the helmless warrior, alluding to the French on the 
 other side, and he charged at TyrconneVs horse. He and 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh crossed swords. While bullets rained 
 in deathful shower on every side, the tide of battle sweeps 
 on, but no crested leader guides its way ; cut down with 
 sabre wounds sternly dealt, and a bullet in his neck, the 
 veteran has closed his career beneath a Celtic brand on 
 Celtic ground. Apprised of the fate of his generals, and 
 the repulse of his troops, William, at the head of five 
 thousand of the flower of the cavalry, marched with celerity 
 from Tullyallen to engage the Irish right flank, com- 
 manded by the young Duke of Berwick. This corps were 
 just in rapid march to assail the rear of the enemy, when 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 287 
 
 each party, simultaneously under way, excited to pitch of 
 wild phrenzy by the vastness of the issue pending on their 
 conflict, crashed in fearful collision ; brandished broad- 
 swords flamed, shields and lances rang, the thunder of the 
 horses’ hoofs rolled along the earth, vehement and im- 
 ploring resounded the shouts of the officers of Berwick’s 
 troops. Sir Gregory O’Byrne exclaims : 
 
 Close up ! — close up, for God’s sake, closer ! — closer !” 
 
 ‘‘Now, lances, upon them!” cried O’Sullivan, in a wild 
 cry of joy. 
 
 “Bear on! — bear on, for death or victory!” shouted 
 O’More, in a paroxysm of excitement that waked a re- 
 sponsive thrill in every bosom. 
 
 “Follow my clansmen ! — keep close, keep close, and push 
 forward !” cried Oornal O’Byrne. 
 
 The panoplied ranks closed with a shock, and a 
 shudder like the wreck of an earthquake. The clang of 
 broadswords, the crash of spears upon helmets and 
 corslets, the swaying of the surging masses locked in 
 deathful wedge, torn banners, shorn plumes, spouting 
 blood streams, broken arms, and riderless steeds career- 
 ing over the plain, proclaimed the fell havoc of the 
 encounter. In headlong charge, Plantagenet Tudor, 
 who had joined the ranks of the enemy, met Oornal 
 O’Byrne. Full brief was the stubborn contest ; for while 
 the well-matched combatants plied weapon with many a 
 dinting blow, Harvey de Eivers and Major Grub, enlisted 
 in the same warfare, thundering dowm, sealed his doom ; 
 and, ere Hugh and Raymond, who had obtained a com- 
 mission in the service, could fly to his aid, Oornal O’Byrne, 
 overborne by numbers, and covered with wounds, had fallen 
 lifeless beneath the sabre- strokes of his banded assailants. 
 But no time for thought, or care, or sorrow. The dead lay 
 trampled in gore, and on dashed the eddying surge of 
 strife. The Irish horse broke the Williamite phalanx ; the 
 white plume of the Duke of Berwick was seen towering in 
 the throng of the crushing host, and rose over all the din 
 of battle a peal of wild triumph, borne in long reverbera- 
 tions from earth to sky; the Milesian squadron, rushing 
 onward with the impetus of a torrent dashing from a 
 
288 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 mountain, swept the Dutch and foreign mercenaries from 
 their path to the edge of the river. King James, apprised 
 of the success that was tiding him to victory, nevertheless, 
 cheered with no encomium, animated with no commenda- 
 tion, rewarded with no grateful acknowledgment the 
 champions of his cause. Colonel O’Ferrall, who bore to 
 him the good tidings that his majesty’s Irish lieges were 
 sweeping the foe from the field, was accosted on his return 
 by Sir Harold Sigurd, and questioned by the young man 
 with beaming eyes : 
 
 ‘‘Well, O’Ferrall, did his majesty dub you baronet or 
 peer for your good tidings ? — Peers and baronets have been 
 created for less cause.” 
 
 “No, good faith; nothing of the kind,’’ answered 
 O’Ferrall, with gesture of pardonable disgust tiitticg 
 athwart his fine features. 
 
 ‘ ‘ W ell, what said his ma j esty ? — thanked you, of course — 
 a prognostic of future reward.” 
 
 “ Humph ! I beg you’ll not laugh now ; my spirits are 
 not in tune to harmonise with mirth. His majesty has a 
 tender heart ; — he wept, and besought us to spare his 
 English subjects. But O’Brien of Clare answered his 
 majesty, and said : ‘ The fiower of our chivalry, my liege, 
 have unstintedly shed their blood in your service — O’Neill, 
 O’Byrne, O’Ruarc, O’Driscoll, and many another. Their 
 comrades’ duty is to avenge them, and free the land ; hence 
 we must postpone mercy till the work be achieved.’ ” 
 
 “ What said his majesty ?” 
 
 “ Feigned not to hear, and Tyrconnel made sign for the 
 outspoken chieftain to retire,” said O’Ferrall, hastening to 
 regain his post in Sarsfield’s regiment. 
 
 Heavy firing from Oldbridge announced that William 
 was crossing once more, and to the most experienced Celtic 
 leaders it now became evident that numbers and that 
 artillery must win the day and carry off the palm from 
 bravery, however resolute and reckless. Yet, confronted 
 by the ever- dreaded charge of the invincible cavalry, 
 William left for a moment the head of the Enniskillen 
 Scotch to hurry up the Dutch auxiliaries. The Ennis- 
 killens, seeing Berwick in front about to charge, turned. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 289 
 
 and William, coming with the Dutch, met them flying 
 pell mell. Giving the Dutch over to De Ginkle, he took 
 himself the wavering northern contingent in charge. The 
 Huguenots also came up by this time, and, all combining, 
 William advanced, and then ensued the most desperate 
 cavalry combat of the whole war; William, brave as a 
 lion, was in the thickest of the fight cheering and leading 
 his men ; Berwick and Sheldon pressed their foes with 
 resistless energy, and once more down the lane went the 
 enemy, horse and foot, with the Irish cavalry in full chase. 
 Unfortunately they pursued too far. Eeturning to resume 
 their position they were assailed by a deadly fusilade from 
 an ambuscade of detached masses of the foe, with Ginkle 
 falling on them in the rear and driving them before the 
 storm upon Donore, where once more they rallied for a 
 determined stand. William, observing their manoeuvre, 
 suspended further attack till he could muster his ranks for 
 an assault in full force. It was at this moment, while the 
 small hosting of undaunted heroes took their stand for the 
 final endeavour, that King James precipitated the crisis of 
 the event. Yielding to the anxious solicitude of Tyr- 
 connel and Lazun for his safety, he set off in full speed 
 for Dublin, taking as a guard for his person the exaspe- 
 rated Sarsfield and his splendid cavalry regiment, in that 
 hour of peril so essential on the field. In that, to them, 
 compulsory flight of shame Sir Ulic de Burgh and Harold 
 Sigurd met. Sir Ulic’s brow was dark with gloomy anger, 
 although his brand that day had done good service, and 
 cut down not a few foemen. But Harold, who, stationed 
 in the brigade of reserve to wait upon the king, had no 
 opportunity afforded of distinguishing himself, was sullen 
 and chafed beyond endurance. ‘‘I had scant hope, Ulic,'’ 
 he said, as the two rode side-by-side, ‘Hhat we should 
 achieve a splendid victory ; but that the king should have 
 proved himself an imbecile, something less than a man, I 
 did not expect — no, by heaven, I did not ! I could weep 
 for very shame and rage. Our best blood spilled, our best 
 hopes baffled. What a target for scoff and scorn wo shall 
 stand before the world !’' 
 
 “Nay, Harold, I deem not so,'’ responded De Burgh, 
 
 20 
 
290 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 moodily; ‘Hhe world has also a discriminating judgment; and 
 when the history of this day’s exploits will be discussed and 
 canvassed by competent and impartial umpires, I doubt not 
 but the failure of our endeavours will be justly traced to the 
 right source. Meanwhile, what now engages my anxious 
 thought is not the fate of England’s dynasty or concern 
 for the fortune of a 8eamus-a~hocca. No ! far dearer in- 
 terests awake my sympathies. For deem not the warfare 
 brought to conclusion by the issue of this day : not a man 
 in the land but will hold that our disaster must be retrieved, 
 cost what it will, and, when country, not king, is the word, 
 his arm will be nerved anew in a holier and more hopeful 
 cause. In sooth, opponent though he be, I may not with- 
 hold just meed of praise from that Prince of Orange, and 
 wish that the monarch who swayed our destinies had been 
 endowed with a small modicum of his courage and conduct; 
 then, from what I have witnessed of the daring valour of 
 our men, despite adverse odds and all disparity of fortune, 
 had we not carried a splendid victory we had at least sus- 
 tained defeat without dishonour, and left our foes scant 
 reason to rejoice for victory.’' 
 
 Have you any tidings of our friends ?” asked Harold, 
 hope some hasty rumour just wafted to my ear, that 
 O’Byrne had fallen, is not true.” 
 
 ‘‘ Oh ! sincerely I trust not,” said De Burgh. ‘‘ Which 
 of them?” 
 
 Nay, I cannot tell.” 
 
 I saw them, while we rode to Schomberg’s charge, like 
 meteors shooting along the field in Berwick's careering 
 squadron as it bore down like a whirlwind upon William's 
 first cavalry charge. I have not seen them since. Ray- 
 mond rode between his father and uncle, and my heart 
 swelled with pride to see the free and gallant bearing of 
 the fearless boy, but I lost sight of them in the tumult 
 and turmoil of battle. Heaven send them safe and shield 
 them.” 
 
 Amen,” said Harold. How it galls me to desert the 
 field and lie in ignorance of the fate of our comrades for 
 the ignoble office of pioneer and guardian to Britain’s 
 runaway. How I pity gallant Sarsfield, for he feels as 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE. 
 
 291 
 
 we do ! Did you see Father Catholicus O’Cuin on the 
 field 
 
 Yes,’^ said De Burgh; ‘‘he and some score of his 
 brethren, with several Dominicans and Jesuit fathers, 
 were busy among the wounded and dying. I saw one 
 poor fellow killed while giving a drink of water to a 
 soldier. Here comes Mac Mahon, looking thunderbolts. 
 What tidings, comrade 
 
 “ What more need ye than that we rue growled the 
 northern chief, his bosom heaving with volcanic flame that 
 menaced fierce eruption. “ Look ye now ; by heaven ! 
 the meanest kern on Irish soil had proved himself a hero 
 to-day, and worthier to head embattled hosts than this 
 king, this paltry thing, for whom I have not words to ex« 
 press the contempt of my soul !” 
 
 “ Softly, dear friend,"' smiled De Burgh, the wrath of 
 Mac Mahon and Harold Sigurd in some measure reacting 
 as a safety-valve to dissipate the pent-up ignition of his 
 own overcharged bosom. “ Beware of treasonable words ! 
 Eavesdroppers enow there be to pick up such seed, and sow 
 them where they may bring forth evil fruit.’" 
 
 “ Poniard me, if I care !” testily responded the other. 
 “ A dastard that could so desert his post is worthy no 
 man’s allegiance. Mark my words, Seamus-a-hocca is no 
 more a king. The tide he would not stem has turned, and 
 crown and sceptre are swept beyond his reach. 
 
 “ I gainsay that. All hope is not yet lost,” said O'Fer- 
 rall of Longford, waking from a trance of torpid melan- 
 choly, and rousing his weary charger with the spur to 
 brisker motion. “Entrenched within the fortifications of 
 Dublin, James will turn to bay. I cannot believe he 
 would yield his crown without one more effort. Mean- 
 while our troops will cut out new work for William that 
 may yet retard his success." 
 
 “Defend us, good heaven, if such conjecture fall true !” 
 murmured De Burgh. “ Blockaded by the fleet on sea, 
 invested by land, ill-provisioned with the munitions of 
 war to stand a siege, a timorous king to embarrass our 
 councils and trammel our action, all the horrors of 
 Drogheda would be renewed, and the city given over to 
 
292 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sack and pillage. Our hope, our sole hope, was in hand- 
 to-hand conflict on the open field.'’ 
 
 “ I do not despond,^' persisted O’Ferrall. If our allies 
 and brother chiefs yet make good their stand on the field, 
 and at least protract the conflict, we may have time, using 
 energy, to place the city in posture of defence.” 
 
 “ But they cannot. It is not in human nature to work 
 miracles, or in flesh and blood to achieve impossibilities,” 
 said Mac Mahon, angrily. Without artillery, with but 
 few officers to command them, O’Neill and our ablest cut 
 down, the others compelled to quit in this untimely flight, 
 what can our men do 
 
 The sagacious chieftain spoke with justice, and yet he 
 realised not in conception the stern tenacity of purpose, the 
 magnanimous heroism of soul, that swayed the Celtic 
 bosoms of noble, knight, and kern, banded in the magni- 
 ficent cause of freedom. 
 
 When the fiight of James was made known, it had 
 • caused a momentary pang of consternation through 
 the battalions, followed by a burst of scorn. The 
 ranks closed in firm phalanx, and held their ground 
 upon Donore, from whence, however, it soon became 
 essential to fall back, as squadrons of the enemy were in 
 march towards Duleek, designing to hem them in rear. 
 Accordingly, the Irish left was swung round, and pushed 
 on mile for mile with the flanking Williamites. At Duleek 
 they took up a strong position on the south of the stream 
 which passes the town. The enemy advanced, surveyed 
 the ground and the disposition of the troops ; then, de- 
 clining further battle, rested for the present, content with 
 having forced the Boyne and put to fiight the Stuart king. 
 Nevertheless, this was all their gain. They had not cap- 
 tured a gun, and William’s own chroniclers confess they 
 had to show for their victory but one or two standards 
 and few prisoners, while their loss in killed and wounded 
 nearly equalled that of the Eoyalists. 
 
 James, guarded by his escort, arrived safely in Dublin, 
 and proceeded to the Castle. Jaded, sullen, and out of 
 temper, he accosted the Duchess of Tyrconnel : ‘‘Madame, 
 your Irish are excellent runners.” 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 293 
 
 ^‘But your majesty has won the race,” was the haughty 
 rejoinder to the ungracious insinuation that would im- 
 peach the bravery of the noble and devoted chivalry which 
 formed an impassible rampart with their bodies, to defend 
 his ignoble flight and arrest the pursuit of his foes. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SCATTERING. 
 
 “ Why weepest thou, Erin ? Why droop thy green bowers ? 
 
 Why flows all in purple the wave of Cullain ? 
 
 Why sink the young maidens, like rain-laden flowers ? 
 
 Why hushed are their songs on the desolate plain ? — 
 
 Ruin and sorrow are o’er them spread ; 
 
 Revel, and freedom, and mirth are fled.” 
 
 Griffin. 
 
 From the war-field’s dread panorama let us turn to another 
 picture. The flower of her chivalry gone forth, Dublin, 
 yesterday the focus of animated life and bustle, sits to-day 
 in the hush of expectant silence — the lull before the 
 bursting of the thunder-clouds that brood along the 
 horizon. The streets are deserted, shops are closed, trade 
 is at a stand-still. Each house and stately mansion wears 
 a lonesome, solitary aspect, as though the shadow of death 
 had fallen upon its threshold with awful solemnity. 
 
 Within a spacious saloon of one of those patrician resi- 
 dences, the slanting sunbeams, struggling through rose- 
 coloured silken curtains, shed a carmine tint upon the 
 dreamy atmosphere, the ceiling, the walls, and the gilded 
 furniture, and tinged with an aureola of crimson light the 
 dark golden hair and rich auburn tresses of Adorine 
 O’Byrne and Maud Fitz Eustace, as they sat closely 
 nestled in a recess of one of the windows, with throbbing 
 hearts awaiting, in intense anxiety and absorbed minds, 
 the hourly-expected couriers with tidings from the field. 
 
294 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Very quiet and patient seemed gentle Maud. The costly 
 reliquary and beads in her hands told of mute prayer 
 appealing for help in this hour of need. Very fidgety and 
 restless was Adorine. Alternately she glanced at her still 
 companion ; now she impetuously turned over the leaves 
 of a book ; anon breathed a fervent aspiration ; then, 
 shading her eyes from the dazzling sun, peeped through 
 the curtains ; and finally vented her impatience, exclaim- 
 ing : Groodness ! methinks there never was so long a day 
 
 since time was created. How easy you take it, Maud !” 
 
 What good will it do to fuss one’s self into a state of 
 misery mildly returned Maud. 
 
 There ! that’s just Aunt de Courcy. I believe, if 
 there were an earthquake, you two would stand still to 
 philosophise and have a good steady look at the wreck 
 and ruin around. I hate those cold, unsympathetic 
 natures that nothing can stimulate. My own is on 
 thorns ; I begin to fear evil tidings. Had there been 
 good, our friends would have taken care to let us have 
 some inkling ere now.” 
 
 You forget the distance,” said Maud, and how little 
 time they will have to think of us in the hurry and con- 
 fusion of battle. But why anticipate evil ? We must 
 soon hear some news.” 
 
 0 Maud ! my heart misgives me that we shall hear 
 evil ; and if mischance befall any of those I love it will 
 break.” 
 
 Nay ; weep not, Adorine ; they will all return.” And 
 as Maud spoke, with saddened brow, a tear dimmed her 
 eye. How silent the streets are !” 
 
 The door opened, and Lady de Oourcy entered, looking 
 depressed, but calm. 
 
 Well, aunty, what do you think ?” cried Adorine, 
 rising up, and yawning with weariness of spirit. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, dear, I’m not thinking at all ; — better put it out 
 of one’s head ; — but as no bad news has come, we must hope 
 for good. What are you and Maud doing ?” 
 
 Our best to make each other uncomfortable,” smiled 
 Maud. “ I advise patience, and Adorine doesn’t like it. 
 She forebodes evil, and I don't like that.” 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 295 
 
 “ Oh, silly ! Come and have some refreshment ; — you 
 have taken none to-day ; and that will not help to fortify 
 you against trouble, should it come,’^ said the practical 
 lady. 
 
 Maud stood up. I believe I will, aunt, if only to vary 
 the occupation. Come, Adorine.’^ 
 
 ‘^No ; I don^t want any viaticum against trouble, if it 
 come ; to eat now would choke me. But, hush ! — hark ! — 
 do you not hear 
 
 Yes, yes.’^ All flew to the window. — ‘^Some tidings are 
 coming. People are running from the houses ; the streets 
 are filling. Yes, surely; the excitement is great. The 
 king has won the victory ! 
 
 Stay, children,” said Lady de Courcy, hastening forth, 
 I’ll take the lackeys and cross over to the Plunketts ; they 
 will be sure to have the earliest intelligence.^^ 
 
 She went, and Adorine and Maud were left alone. An 
 hour, a long weary hour of suspense and doubt passed, 
 the menials running to and fro had brought conflicting 
 accounts. The king had returned with some regiments to 
 Dublin. Some said he had been defeated, others main- 
 tained the reverse ; rumours, the wildest and most contra- 
 dictory, sped from side to side. Clamour and turmoil filled 
 the streets, thronged with agitated crowds. As evening 
 shadows came on apace, and new scouts poured in, appre- 
 hension’s pallid hue was visible in every countenance ; hope 
 was chased by doubt, and doubt by fear. The sun de- 
 scended in masses of clouds; the short-lived radiance 
 died, and darkness closed upon the scene. Lady de 
 Courcy at length returned. Her visage showed traces of 
 weeping, but her demeanour was calm, and her voice 
 steady, as in reply to the eager questioning of Adorine 
 and Maud, she said : 
 
 I could ascertain no certain tidings beyond the fact 
 that the king left the field before the battle was decided. 
 
 I wish, I wish I had my children here. I wish ” the 
 
 hasty opening of the door interrupted her, and Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh came rapidly in. Lady de Courcy uttered an exclama- 
 tion of pleasure, but stood still to read in his countenance 
 the news of which he might be the bearer. Adorine sprung 
 
296 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 forward, caught his extended hand, and gazed upon his 
 face in pleading silence. She had never seen him look so 
 stern or so sad. He seemed overcome with emotion he 
 found it difficult to repress. Maud was the first to break 
 silence. 
 
 Sir TJlic,’' she faltered, in low tone, and was silent. 
 De Burgh mastered his excitement, and spoke in hollow, 
 constrained tones : 
 
 I regret, dear friends, it is not my fortune to convey 
 tidings more auspicious to cheer your hearts. Our troops 
 fought well, but the Boyne is lost. I have not many 
 minutes to spare, as we are under orders at five in the 
 morning to attend the fugitive king to Kinsale en route for 
 France.^^ 
 
 You don’t mean it. Sir Ulic said Lady de Courcy, 
 fired with unusual energy, and drawing nearer you don’t 
 mean to say the king flies, and abandons us and his cause 
 to the enemy ? 
 
 James — we may, I fear, entitle him king no more — 
 has counselled us to engage in no further struggle, but to 
 make the best terms for ourselves we can with the enemy,’’ 
 almost sobbed De Burgh in the excess of his crushed 
 feeling. 
 
 Of course we’ll do no such thing,” cried Adorine, 
 vehemently. Our soldiers can combat as well without 
 him. What of my father and— and Harold? If kind 
 heaven spare our friends, we need not concern ourselves 
 for the king, dear Sir Ulic, our country remains.” 
 
 Harold is safe at the Castle. He sought to come, but 
 the king required his presence. He commissioned, by me, 
 his dear love to the lady of his heart.” 
 
 ‘‘And my father, Uncle Hugh and Raymond?” de- 
 manded Adorine, with eyes brightening with hope. 
 
 Sir Ulic turned away his head, while his heart heaved 
 with spasmodic pain. Later fugitives come in had brought 
 each his tale of disaster. From one of them he had learned 
 the fate of Cornal O’Byrne. His generous bosom had 
 ached with keen sorrow, and his eyes had rendered briny 
 tribute to the memory of a lost friend esteemed and be- 
 loved. He could not man himself now to endure sight of 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 297 
 
 the anguish a truthful answer must involve. Evasively 
 he replied : 
 
 Of Hugh or Eaymond I have heard nought ; your 
 father you will hear of anon. Sir Athelstane, Fitz Adelm, 
 O’Brien of Clare, and a few others, have been taken pri- 
 soners. Come, now, Maud, no tears, I pray : these are safe 
 enough. Athelstane ingratiated himself speedily with 
 William by deploring the adverse fate that had given us 
 an English James in lieu of a Dutch William to espouse; 
 while O’Brien had the modesty to cry out : ‘ Change kings 
 and we’ll fight the battle over again.’ ” 
 
 ^^And what of Sir Reginald — my husband — can you 
 tell me aught of him ?” anxiously inquired Lady de 
 Courcy. 
 
 Well, I can : it is not bad news, Lady de Courcy, nor 
 yet quite good. Sir Reginald fought bravely ; he has been 
 wounded, not severely, but he is unable to travel. He has 
 been conveyed as far as Finglas, where he is lying at a 
 farm-house in the neighbourhood.” 
 
 ‘‘ Let a carriage be ordered instantly ; I shall set off 
 without delay,” cried Lady de Courcy, -hastening to 
 summon the servants. 
 
 “ For heaven’s sake, do not ; you know not the danger, 
 the risk you run,” exclaimed Sir Ulic emphatically. The 
 country swarming with troops ! It is madness !” 
 
 Let go, Sir Ulic ; I fear no danger, I know no risk, 
 where my husband’s life is imperilled,” said Lady de 
 Courcy, in stern, resolute tone, and vigorously shaking off 
 Sir Ulic’s arm as she hastened to the door. 
 
 Aunt, let me go with you,” cried Adorine, springing 
 impetuously after her. Sir Ulic seized her arm : 
 
 “ I forbid it,” he exclaimed, in a high, authoritative 
 tone that admitted of no dispute, and with a look that 
 commanded submission. I may not control Lady de 
 Courcy’s action, insane though 1 deem it, but you, with 
 the responsibility of whose care I am charged, I enjoin, on 
 the part of your betrothed, Harold, not to withdraw hence 
 till my return or his, to convey you in safety. Well, what 
 now ? As he spoke, Adorine had grown white and cold 
 as the marble vesta whose silver lamp lighted the saloon. 
 
298 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 She turned, laid a hand on each shoulder of Maud, and 
 drooped her head upon her bosom with a mournful cry. 
 
 What is it Adorine ? — what ails you? cried her cousin 
 in alarm. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh ! Maud, Maud, I know it all now I shall never 
 &ee him more ! Never, never more ! 
 
 Who, darling Adorine ? Oh ! Sir Ulic, hold her ; 
 she is sinking.’’ 
 
 Sir Ulic led her to the sofa, and rang for the attendants. 
 
 It is too true,” he whispered, in reply to the interroga- 
 tive look of Maud. I spoke incautiously j I did not 
 deem her perceptions so acute. Captain O^Byrne is among 
 the slain ; — break it as gently as you can to her, Maud. 
 How it grieves me to have to leave you now, but my time 
 is up — I must go. Count on my return without delay. 
 Send hither the maid or the housekeeper,” he added to 
 the foot-page, who came at his summons; but from the boy 
 he learned that Lady de Courcy had taken both the women, 
 as well as the coachman and lackey, with her. 
 
 Don’t mind, Sir Ulic, she is recovering,” said Maud, 
 with difficulty restraining her tears, and striving to appear 
 composed. 
 
 ^^Then, farewell brief space, dear children; bear up a 
 little while against the storm ; sunshine will come again. 
 How I wish Eveleen were here now. Again, adieu.” And 
 Sir Ulic disappeared, gently closing the door in his exit. 
 
 For a long interval there was solemn silence in the 
 chamber. Maud wept in silence, and Adorine lay in 
 a lethargic stupor of woe, too deep for passionate demons 
 stration. The hours wore on, the lamp burned low, the 
 early beams of the summer morn began to glimmer in the 
 east, and shed a cold gray light through the dim saloon. 
 Shivering witii cold, Adorine languidly raised her head, 
 sighed, and turned her w^an palid face to her companion : 
 
 0, Maud, I wish we could die ; there is nothing be- 
 fore us but sorrow.” 
 
 Don’t say that, Adorine,” sighed Maud. 
 
 Ah, yes, Maud; what is life worth when we lose 
 those we love ? Oh, nothing, nothing, nothing. It is 
 very cold, Maud ; — what hour is it Where is Sir 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 299 
 
 Ulic ? — Has aunt come home ? — Can we go out and get 
 Mass . 
 
 All these questions Adorine asked in rapid succession, 
 as if in effort to divert the current of her thoughts from 
 stagnating upon the one doleful theme. Maud replied it 
 was near four o'clock ; Sir Ulic had gone ; Lady de 
 Courcy had not returned ; Sir Ulic had cautioned them 
 not to leave the house ; and, feeling very chilled herself, 
 she would summon the page to bring some chocolate, and 
 liave a fire lighted. Adorine listened with indifference, 
 and relapsed into melancholy abstraction. The morning 
 rose with splendour, and for the last time for nearly two 
 centuries the Angelus bells rang from the Eoman 
 Catholic Churches and the convents. A cheerful fire was 
 burning upon the hearth, and Maud, with much coaxing 
 and importunity, had prevailed upon Adorine to rise and 
 take a cup of chocolate. They had knelt to say the Salve 
 Regina, the DeprofancUs, to join in the Angelical salutation, 
 and now, with streaming eyes, they sat in silence at the 
 table, the untasted morning repast lying cold and ne- 
 glected before them. After some time, Maud spoke : 
 
 Adorine, I am getting very uneasy for aunt ; surely 
 it is not slight cause would detain her from us so long, 
 knowing, as she does, how unhappy we are ; the kiug 
 has been gone some two or three hours. The city is 
 quite unprotected. Listen to the din and roar of dis- 
 order in the streets, and at any moment the enemy may 
 arrive.’^ 
 
 Adorine lifted her eyes, heavy and wet with tears, to 
 the window, but said nothing. The two girls, wrought 
 upon by similar agency, now presented a marked contrast 
 to their natural idiosyncrasy. The impulsive, ardent 
 Adorine had become supine and listless under the weiglit 
 of her sorrow. The placid Maud had been wakened into 
 energy, and her dormant spirit roused to vigilance by 
 anxious apprehension not unfounded. It might have been 
 an hour later the breakfast things were removed, and the 
 cousins, holding their sad vigil of care and sorrow, waited, 
 one feverishly impatient, the other in torpid calm, the 
 events of the day. 
 
300 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 I think, Maud, I would like to go home,’’ at length said 
 Adorine ; he may be brought there, and I would like to 
 see him once more — my father.” 
 
 “ Adorine, impossible,” said Maud, in tone of decision. 
 ‘‘ You could not traverse the streets alone ; and I have sent 
 a message to all the servants, except the page, to go make 
 inquiries about aunt and Sir Reginald at Finglas.” 
 
 Oh, I’m not afraid of going so short a distance by 
 myself,” said Adorine. 
 
 But think how displeased Sir Ulic will be. And you 
 would not leave poor me alone. Oh ! now I hear some 
 persons ascending the stairs,” and Maud flew to open the 
 door, but hastily recoiled with consternation legible in 
 every feature. Upon the threshold she encountered Major 
 Grub and Captain Jonas, his son. 
 
 Don't be frightened, my precious,” exclaimed Major 
 Clotworthy, advancing with a smile upon his lips, and an 
 intolerable blaze of savage triumph lighting up his flery 
 orbs. The times is changed, yer see ; them as wor at the 
 top o’ the wheel is under it now. But see wot love is ; — 
 there’s Jonas as ye couldn’t abide when yer ’ad friends an’ 
 fortune to smile on yer, come now, to take yer, no better, in 
 point of wealth off, than a beggar, to his 'eart, and bring 
 yer to a ’ome betrn'r yer lost. Lor, the luck o’ some !’' 
 And Clotworthy, having delivered himself of an effusion, 
 no doubt in his idea, amiably expressed and meant, stood 
 complacently surveying the handsome saloon and its 
 astonished and petrified occupants, while Jonas, with 
 smile supposed, or intended, to beautify his hideously 
 repulsive countenance and unshapely features, approached 
 the shrinking Maud, whose aspect of unutterable terror 
 and trepidation, did not indicate much appreciation of the 
 luck that had befallen her. Precipitately she retreated as 
 he drew near. Adorine, all at once shaking off lassitude 
 and melancholy in the newly awakened sense of alarm, 
 came and stood beside ,her. In accents tremulous, de- 
 spite her efforts to control them, she said : 
 
 ‘‘Captain Grub, Mademoiselle Fitz Eustace is much 
 flattered, and thanks you for your kind intentions, but 
 when I tell you she is engaged to another, and must not 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 301 
 
 leave this house till her guardian, Sir Reginald de Conroy’s 
 return, I feel assured you will act with kindness as a 
 gentleman and withdraw.’’ 
 
 ^^Do yer? — thenyer mistaken ; — that’s not wot we cum 
 for,” responded Jonas; ^^an' let me tell yer the message 
 we got for yerself from Sir ’Arry de Rivers, to say as ’ow 
 he’ll cum the moment ’is dootys in King William’s service 
 gives him leisure to fulfil ’is engagement to yer, an’ ’opes 
 as ’ow ’is company ’ll be some make to yer, for yer father 
 as was cut to pieces in the battle.” As he spoke he grasped 
 Maud in his gigantic clutch. 
 
 Adorine flew to the window to throw it up, and scream 
 for assistance. She beheld a coach, with four horses and 
 outriders, standing at the door, but had no time to 
 observe more or to cry out, being rudely dragged away 
 by Major Grrub, who held her as in a vice, stifling her 
 screams with his hands upon her mouth, while Jonas 
 hurried off with the horror-stricken and senseless Maud. 
 All was the work of five minutes, so sudden, so astound- 
 ing, that some time after the Major had himself taken his 
 departure, Adorine continued standing where he had left 
 her, wildered, helpless, inert in thought and action, like 
 one trancebound by spell, or lost in the mazes of a dream, 
 most terrible and confusing. By slow degrees, at length, 
 her benumbed faculties relaxed, and her paralysed senses 
 recovered their tone. No more time for tears or unavail- 
 ing lamentation ; she raised her head, gave one awe- 
 struck glance round the silent apartment — took one 
 moment to shape her course of action, then quickly array- 
 ing herself, she summoned the frightened page, told him, 
 wliat he knew already, that the persons he had admitted 
 to the house had carried off the Lady Maud, that she was 
 going home, and if Lady de Courcy returned she should 
 seek her there. But restless and tniserable, Adorine did 
 not make any longer sojourn at her residence than to 
 learn that there were no new tidings, and to acquaint 
 the servants with what had happened to her cousin. She 
 ordered a chaise, and drove to the Fitz Adelm’s town- 
 house in Mary’s-street ; but finding they had gone to 
 Lady de Rivers, she repaired to the dwelling occupied by 
 
302 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 the Plunketts. Here she found Lady Plunkett and 
 Maud plunged in deep affliction for the uncertain fate of 
 their own friends, of whom they could obtain no infor- 
 mation as to whether they had been killed, wounded, or 
 made prisoners ; nevertheless, they deeply sympathised in 
 Adorine’s calamitous story, and entreated her to stay with 
 them till some more definite event should decide the course 
 of all. Adorine complied ; it was some relief not to have 
 to return to a desolate home, haunted by memories and 
 phantoms of terror; besides, companionship in woe seemed 
 some alleviation of its sting. One grief helps to lighten 
 the burden of another, and she began to think that but 
 for the dreadful fate of dearly beloved Maud, if Eveleen, 
 Sir Harold, and Sir Ulic were near her now, she would 
 find some solace for the loss of her idolised parent. 
 Fears for herself she had none — she had heard of He 
 Rivers’ menance, and she despised it. While the three 
 ladies sat, each full of her own care, yet seeking to lighten 
 that of the other. Lady Fitz Stephen, who was also stay- 
 ing on a visit with Lady Plunkett, came up from luncheon. 
 She cordially embraced Adorine, and heard with conster- 
 nation about Maud Fitz Eustace. 
 
 My dear, this is terrible!” ejaculated the old lady. 
 ‘‘ And you left word at the Fitz Adelms ? — but they can 
 do nothing till Athelstane’s return. My poor child I I 
 do not doubt but he will shoot the Grubs ; — no one could 
 blame him ; — such dreadful people I And if what I hear 
 be true, my maid says it is, her brother heard it from some 
 people named Bradly, that the Major admires Eleanor, and 
 meditates somes design to obtain her ; he will have to be on 
 his guard. Oh, my, how dreadful, the king should have 
 behaved so I We shall be in the hands of the enemy, and 
 who can foresee what may befall ? I’m so glad dear Ulic 
 and Harold are out of town; they have escaped so far; 
 but they have an implacable enemy in Harvey de Rivers, 
 and indeed in Plantagenet Tudor. How glad I am, 
 Adorine, you have given up all idea of union with Harvey. 
 How I wish it were my noble Harold or Ulic had won 
 your heart; we should have been all so happy. But, as I 
 was saying, I am glad they are out of danger’s way. It 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 303 
 
 would break even my tough old heart, that withered, but would 
 not break for many a past woe, to see them, perhaps, shot or 
 hanged, as might befall, should they be taken by the foe/^ 
 
 Adorine startled, and a thrill of horror went through her 
 heart. Oh, hush ! Lady Fitz Stephen, say not so ! Why 
 should they ? They fought nobly for their king, and are 
 no traitors.^' 
 
 “ Child, child ! how you talk ! Forty years ago, thou- 
 sands of our countrymen fought for their king, for Jameses 
 father, and were no traitors ; yet 1 saw them shot, hanged, 
 butchered, sold into slavery, as rebels and traitors. Their 
 innocent wives and children were not even spared. Oh ! 
 have I not reason to be fearful for my boys ? Shield them, 
 0 Lord ! from their foes.^’ She ceased, and silence, long 
 and drear, fell upon her auditors. 
 
 The following day was the Sabbath, and for the last time 
 Catholic rites were celebrated at the hour of noon in the 
 Cathedral of Christ Church. Assisting at the divine mys- 
 teries knelt an anguish- stricken congregation, scarcely a 
 heart of which but bled anew for some severed tie, while 
 streaming eyes and wan faces were fixed upon the altar, 
 its sculptured crucifix and painted passion, in heroic en- 
 deavour to imbibe fortitude and resignation from con- 
 templation of the suffering of their Divine Model. The 
 thurible’s fragrant incense ascended with the sighs of 
 many, and many a deep groan from riven bosoms blended 
 with the organ’s solemn roll. Again, for the last time, the 
 Catholic bells, from the belfries on which, ere night-fall, 
 orange flags were hoisted, tolled the Angelus. For the 
 last time the pastoral staff was lifted, the mystic sign of 
 salvation was dealt, and apostolic hands were raised in 
 benediction over a prostrate people within those time- 
 honoured and consecrated walls. 
 
 Anne Hennessy, and Zeno the page, expecting their 
 lady’s return after Mass, were standing in the vestibule. 
 The door stood open, and their attention was engaged by 
 a party of military approaching, headed by Sir Ilarvey do 
 Livers. They halted in front of the house, and De Livers 
 entered,accosting the maid with jocular pleasantry. 
 
 Good-day, my lass. Look here wliat I’ve brought, a 
 
304 
 
 LEiXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 whole company of fellows to billet. Now don’t be squeamish, 
 but make yourself agreeable ; and, as you are comely, I 
 wager you’ll not lack admirers. Is your lady at home ? 
 
 Musha ! she’d be likely to stay at home to entertain 
 such a kish of rowdies,” exclaimed the girl, with an air of 
 saucy bravado, while trembling with secret fear lest she 
 should return and be seized upon. 
 
 Likely she is at the De Courcys,” muttered De Eivers, 
 same time tramping through the house, and throwing open 
 every door in his progress. Anne made a sign to Zeno, 
 who had crouched into a corner behind a coat-stand to 
 escape notice, and whispered him to get out by the coach- 
 house and endeavour to meet Adorine, who had gone to 
 hear Mass at some church — she did not know where — with 
 the Plunketts, and intercept her return. The little fellow 
 lost no time in obeying directions. He darted away soon 
 as De Eivers’ back was turned, and hastening at rapid 
 speed from church to church arrived at last, fagged and 
 out of breath, at the cathedral, which he reached a few 
 moments before Harvey de Eivers (whose inquiries at the 
 De Courcy’s and Plunkett house had guided him direct) 
 entered by the sanctuary portal, filling the sacred edifice, 
 now deserted, save by two or three that yet lingered in 
 supplication before the altar, with irreverent uproar and 
 clang of martial accoutrements. With a loud cry and out- 
 stretohed arms the page bounded forward, and cast himself 
 before Adorine. In wild consternation the kneeling group 
 arose, and in profound silence and motionless attitude 
 gazed upon the sacrilegious intruder into the holy fane 
 and the sacred privacy of domestic afiliction, awaiting the 
 manifestation of his purpose. Suspense was brief. Bow- 
 ing low, with derisive courtesy, to the circle, Harvey ad- 
 dressed Adorine : 
 
 Lady, you will please accompany me.'’ 
 
 Adorine’s heart gave a mighty bound. It needed not 
 De Eivers’ malignant smile of conscious power, his master- 
 ful tone, and the presence of an armed force to inform her 
 that she was at a victor’s mercy. Nevertheless, with 
 haughty serenity of mien, and spirit swiftly arming for 
 the contest thus challenged, coldly she answered ; 
 
THE SCATTERING. 
 
 305 
 
 ^^Sir Harvey de Elvers, I am not your prisoner. I 
 shall not separate from my friends. Pray, do not molest 
 us, or mingle new bitterness in the chalice of our sorrow 
 by taking advantage of our defenceless position to offer 
 insult or annoyance. Permit us, in courtesy to retire. — 
 Come, Lady Fitz Stephen.’^ 
 
 You mistake, fair lady, the purport of my presence, 
 and place ill construction upon my intentions,’’ smiled De 
 Eivers, with taunting show of obsequious deference. 
 ‘^The city, as you are aware, has changed masters, it is in 
 the hands of the conqueror. My presence is essential to 
 your safety. My object is not to insult or to annoy, but 
 to bear you under my protection beyond such risk : my 
 prisoner, therefore, you must consider yourself. Let fair 
 surrender and capitulation win favour of one not disposed 
 to be a very severe gaoler. As for our mutual friends, they 
 are at liberty to go their way ; I am only concerned at 
 present for the security of what I justly consider and hold 
 to be my own property.” 
 
 While De Eivers spoke, Adorine listened in silence, and 
 with concentrated attention, which nothing escaped. She 
 noticed the mocking irony of his tone, the cutting sarcasm 
 of his words, the defiant expression of his eye ; she marked 
 the foreign badges of distinction glittering upon his 
 Williamite uniform, telling their story of honours won in 
 an alien cause. Slowly, mechanically waving her hand as 
 be concluded his speech : 
 
 Oh, traitor, false of hand and heart — away ! My worst 
 peril were in your protection.” She turned and took Lady 
 Fitz Stephens’ arm, while her friends closed around her. 
 
 De Eivers made signal to his band. They advanced, 
 and again the tramp of feet and clatter of mail startled 
 the slumbering echoes of the cathedral, then all knew that 
 resistance was vain, and could only eventuate in scene of 
 rude, unavailing collision. Silently each took a farewell 
 embrace, and the circle parted. So much of calm so- 
 lemnity, of supernatural repose, invested the transaction, 
 that De Eivers, who had expected a far different result — a 
 clamour of reproach, a storm of wailing, a tumultuous op- 
 position, was unpleasantly awed, and felt utterly discon- 
 certed by the superior bearing and quiet dignity of his 
 
 21 
 
306 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 captive. It seemed to imply a sense of innate strength 
 and courage with which he might find it not easy to cope ; 
 he had much rather have seen her give way to passionate 
 emotion, and display evidence of terror. Relief, however, 
 came to alleviate his uncomfortable sensations. The page, 
 beholding his beloved mistress seized by the terrible l)e 
 Rivers, all at once set up a howl of rage and grief, and 
 fiew wildly yelling for help to the porch of the cathedral. 
 Every evil passion stirred up in his heart at sight of the 
 innocent author of his lost favour with Adorine, whom, to 
 intimidate and subdue by violence, was now his only hope 
 and aim. De Rivers pursued the boy, caught him in full 
 flight for the street, dragged him back, kicking and strug- 
 gling, by the hair of his head, swung him round and 
 dashed him to the pavement, vociferating frantically : 
 “ You imp of discord. I’ll end your mischief-making !” 
 and he drew his sabre. Then shrieks arose as the ladies 
 rushed forward ; but the soldiers, thrusting between, forced 
 them back. Adorine, leaning against the altar-rail, felt as 
 if an iron fillet had been bound round her temples till the 
 stagnating blood clogged her ears, and a mist rose before 
 her eyes, in the midst of which she discerned, in shadowy 
 outline, a band of warriors stride along the chancel. In 
 dizzy whirl, with drawn swords, they swayed around her. 
 She heard a Babel confusion of tongues, angry clamour of 
 voices pitched high in discord, a crash, a shock of conflict, 
 then she was conscious of being dragged away by a strong 
 hand from grasp less powerful, and all was blank. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE FLIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 “ The young, the brave, 
 
 The beautiful, whose gladdening voice and eye 
 Made summer in a parent’s heart, and gave 
 Light to their peopled homes— o’er land and wave 
 Are scattered fast and far, as rose leaves fall 
 From the deserted stem — they find a grave, 
 
 Far from the shadow of the ancestral hall, 
 
 A lonely bed is theirs whose smiles were hope to all.” 
 
 James arrived at Kinsale, embarked on board the French 
 squadron, and sailed for Brest, where he arrived on the 
 ‘20th July. He had withdrawn all the available troops 
 
THE FLIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 307 
 
 from Dublin, to defend his flight through Wicklow, and 
 the remnant of the defeated forces, on their return from the 
 Boyne, finding themselves abandoned to their fate, unani- 
 mously resolved to march for Limerick, as Sarsfield had 
 counselled from the beginning, there to rally and stand, 
 not in the cause of king, but that of country. Dun- 
 gannon, Dublin, Kilkenny, and Waterford, deserted as in- 
 defensible, lay open to the .enemy and at the mercy of a 
 foreign soldiery, flushed with conquest, and desperadoes 
 of every clime and class. The muse of history lays down 
 her pen in silence and refuses to record upon lier pages the 
 scenes of atrocity, iniquity, and woe wrought in many 
 a once holy and happy home. Yet vainly would she 
 drop the mantle of oblivion, and bury the past beneath 
 the pall. The waves of Lethe, though they flow to the 
 end of time, never shall erase from the tablets of tradi- 
 tion, or sweep from the heart of posterity, memories 
 handed down by sage and seer, in song and story, of the 
 tragedies enacted in those days, for they are solemn legacies 
 bequeathed from father to son — an inheritance for 
 generations yet unborn ! 
 
 Far remote from war’s stern din, basked in the full, warm 
 beauty of summer-noon, a sylvan scene of woodland, hill, 
 and glade. Brilliant as lake of molten sapphire, the fir- 
 mament glowed above the vernal carpet, spread beneath 
 with enamel of white and gold — the daisy, childhood's 
 star, and the king-cup, golden diadem of fairy ; while 
 around forest trees, mantled in moss and ivy, twined the 
 brier-rose in clasping wedlock; where purple Iris and 
 Lily of the Valley clustered beneath their shade, and the 
 hum of the revelling bee, the buzz of gossamer- winged 
 insects, and the twittering of blithe birds on the spray, 
 filled the air with tuneful life ; where sheep browsing the 
 herbage, and cattle languidly couched, or standing in the 
 pellucid rivulet ; the voices and laughter of children, and 
 barking of dogs breaking betimes upon the ear, infused 
 into the heart a tide of joys and carried back thought , 
 thousands of years, on pinions of dreamy rapture, to those 
 pastoral days, the ago of gold when the “ young world 
 was in its prime,” and angels and men held one holiday of 
 
308 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 peace and praise, unbroken by violence, undimmed by 
 tears, unstained by blood and crime. Emerging from a 
 dense grove of fir that clothed a steep hilFs side, plashing 
 through a tiny river at its base, bounding over the wild 
 heath with gleeful mirth and shout, three youngsters set 
 off, rivalling each other in rapid race for some given point. 
 Eveleen O'Byrne wins the goal, and before May and 
 Bella de Courcy have come up, she stands triumphant, and 
 reckless of irreverence, upon the Druid^s altar of Carrig- 
 mines, where, perchance, two thousand years before, some 
 high- priest of her race had officiated, while the blood of 
 victims streamed. Pooh ! what thought had she of olden 
 times, in aiding her companions to scramble upwards, while 
 Norah Toole, the nurse of May and Bella, and Cathleen 
 Daly, their maid, looked on with amused interest. 
 
 ‘‘ Come now, avourneen, come, alanali^ its time yer wor 
 home to yer dinner,’’ more than once had pleaded the 
 hale old woman, drawing the hood of her cloak over the 
 snow-white dimity cap, and ample border quilled round 
 her broad, good-humoured face, and as stoutly and persist- 
 ently rejoined May or Bella. 
 
 You needn’t worry, nurse ; we won’t go home these 
 two hours ; — you go if you like, and Cathleen will stay ; 
 — it’s such fun to be here.” A young man in military 
 uniform came tripping across the sward as she spoke. 
 
 I declare, here’s Daly, Sir Ulic’s man !” shouted 
 Eveleen, who saw him first. Cathleen turned and has- 
 tened, with beaming smile, to meet her husband. 
 
 Musha thin, good luck to ye, avic; — an’ what’s the news 
 ye fetch ? ” cried Nora, speeding forward also. 
 
 Sorry news, troth,” responded the young man, still 
 holding his wife’s hand. ‘^My master's gone on 
 wid Sarsfield, and Sir Harold, an’ O’Ferrall, to 
 purtect the king to Kinsale — we lost the battle by 
 him, bad luck to him and his heels ! Anyhow, whin we 
 got to Bray, Sir Ulic got leave of absence for me from the 
 gineral, an’ bid me come down here to warn ye, if the 
 enemy come up to Dublin, not to stay here, but to take 
 the young missuses, an’ get down at once to yer step-father 
 
THE ELTGHT at MID^^IGHT. 309 
 
 Lacy’s place in Rathdrum, wl\ere ye'll be out of their 
 reach till he cau come himself to see after ye.” 
 
 “ Och, musha, the Lord betune us and harm ! — is that 
 the way?” ejaculated both women, and Oathleen added: 
 But Oormac, acushlish, — she looked at the children in 
 the distance and sunk her voice to a whisper — where’s 
 their father and uncles ?” 
 
 Ah, ye may well ask, Oathleen, asthore ; we had a 
 bloody day of it. Sir Reginald got wounded, an’ his wife 
 went out to Finglas to mind him, so they can’t look after 
 the children. Captain Cornal is killed, the light o’ heaven 
 to him; I never seen a finer officer, except my master; — and 
 Mr. Hugh and his son we can hear nothing of — wirra, 
 wirra !” 
 
 ‘‘Glory be to God!” ejaculated Oathleen. “May the 
 Mother o’ God purtect us!” 
 
 “ Ochone! Ochone ! Amin chimed in Norah ; and address- 
 her charge, she now added, emphatically, with scared man- 
 ner ; “ I say, yez must come home ; I’ve got plenty o’ work 
 before me, I warrant, an’ yez can play about the garden. 
 There’s Oathleen gone before with Daly. The crathur 
 hasn’t broke his fast yet. 111 be bound, an’ what ud yer 
 mother say to hear ye wor till three o'clock without yer 
 dinner, an’ yous out o’ the whooping cough ; — come on, I 
 say ?” — thus peremptory, Norah gathered her chickens 
 under her wing, and marched them homeward. At the 
 gate of Comal’s Court they came up with Daly and 
 Oathleen. 
 
 “ Come in, Cormac, an’ get a bit to eat,” said hospitable 
 Norah, an’ restyerself, avic, an’ tell us all about the war?” 
 
 “ I’m obligated to ye, ma’am,” returned Cormac ; “ but 
 my master’s ordhers is to go on straight from this to 
 Dublin without stoppin’: I’ve a message, more betoken, 
 from Sir Harold Sigurd to Demoiselle O’Byrne ; I have to see 
 after lier Deynoiselle Fitz Eustace; that all’s right wid ’em 
 till farther ordhers : — but if it be plasin’ to ye 111 pick a bone 
 an’ take a sup o’ dhrink, just to wet my throat afore I 
 start.” 
 
 “ Well, come as far as the back door, anyway ; ye can’t 
 eat it standin’ here, arooUj' said Cathleen ; and Cormac, 
 
310 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 having complied, was soon sitting at the kitchen table de- 
 molishing the bone — that is to say, the best part of a 
 cold shoulder of mutton, in conjunction with thick wedges 
 of bread and butter, washed down with plenty of beer, 
 while ten or twelve domestics of the household, of every 
 grade, from the nurse and children’s maid to the dairy 
 girl and errand boy, stood around with mouths agape, 
 listening to his account of the battle, and ominous prognosti- 
 cations of direful sequel, which had the effect, as soon as he 
 was gone, of sharpening their wits into brisk vigilance to 
 spy approaching danger, and their hands to active pre- 
 paration to meet it. 
 
 It was midnight, and the three children who occupied 
 the same chamber, were roughly awakened by a loud 
 voice in their ear, and a rough grasp on their shoulder. 
 Starting from their respective couches they saw Norah 
 standing over them, wringing her hand, and loudly vocife- 
 rating: — 
 
 Up, up, everyone o’ yez an’ dhress yerselves in a jiffy — 
 the Siclurie^s cornin’ down threena clieela on us, an’ we’Jl 
 be hard set to get the start of ’em ; Thady Doyle an’ 
 Lanty Murphy says they’re past Dublin by this. Will 
 yez hurry, I say? — Cathleen can t come dhress yees now; — 
 an’ don’t sit staring like images that had nothin’ to fear. 
 Begorra, it’ll put us to the pin av our collar to get clear o’ 
 the vagabones.” 
 
 In an instant all was hurry and confusion ; — tlie 
 children sprang out of bed and began to huddle on 
 their dress, May and Bella wildly screaming for their 
 mother, and Eveleen loudly protesting she would go to 
 Dublin, she knew the way quite well, to be near Adorine. 
 Norah, at all times excitable, was nearly driven out of 
 her senses by the uproar of her refractory charge. She 
 rushed to and fro, helping an their things, shook her fist, 
 threatening condign punishment, groaned alternate ejacu- 
 lations to heaven, and rehearsed former passages of her 
 life in quick rotation : 
 
 Ochone, ochone ! ferrier gave / wasn’t this the way 
 we wor put to the road in Cromwell’s time ? Blessed 
 Mother o’ God ! Hould yer tongue, Misthress Bella, 
 
THE FLIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 311 
 
 Cathleen can’t come to ye ; she’s helpin’ the gossoons and 
 the colleens to load the big cart ; wirra, wirra, to think 
 we’d be on the shraugliraun afore morn’. Musha, Misthress 
 Eveleen, asthorej will ye come on ? Small thanks ye’ll 
 get, or give yerself, if ye, just out o’ conthrariness, put 
 yerself into danger ; never fear, alanah, Misthress Adorine 
 an’ Maud ’ll be safe enough wid Daly to look after ’em : 
 an’ maybe tisn’t in Dublin at all they are now? Do ye 
 think they’d stay to be laid hould on by the innemy? — 
 throth they wouldn’t, inagh /” 
 
 But, nurse, where are we to go to ?” demanded Eve- 
 leen, with whom this suggestion found weight. ‘‘ I’m 
 ready now.” 
 
 Well, down wid yees, while I gother up the beds an’ 
 blankets. It’s to Cathleen’s people, the Lacys, in Rath- 
 drum. Glory be to God ! how many eyes ’ll rain salt 
 tears this night ; — Lord send his angels to comfort ’em !” 
 
 Down the stone winding-stairs of the old castle, never 
 again to resound with echoes of household life, passed the 
 children, scared and weeping, followed by Norah, bending 
 under the weight of bundles. They reached the postern, 
 which was crowded with the retainers, all in commotion. 
 A great waggon, yoked to four half- trained, strong young 
 horses, stood on the terrace, into which the menials, men 
 and women, were hurling boxes, hampers, and bundles, 
 with nimble hands, and clattering tongues. The exciting 
 novelty of the scene, lighted by a brilliant moon, had the 
 effect of diverting the children’s minds from their grief. 
 Their eyes soon smiled, and their volatile young spirits 
 instantaneously hailed with reckless glee the ocean of 
 adventure into which they were about to plunge unwitting, 
 if in its shoreless expanse a harbour should ever be found. 
 Even Norah smiled with satisfaction, as she looked down 
 upon the stout team, nearly top-heavy with goods and 
 chattels, and the impatient drivers lashing their whips, as 
 they stood by the horses’ heads. 
 
 “Now, childhre, in wid yees, jewels,” she cried, lifting 
 in May and Bella; “ now wrap the cloak snug about yees. 
 Here Misthress Eveleen, avourneeny get behind ’em, an’ 
 take this warm wrap. Cathleen, where will you sit, 
 
312 
 
 LEIXL1I» CASTLE. 
 
 alanah ? G et up, Shelah Brady. Where’s Melcha Mooney 
 and Muirie Cavanagh ? — Here, Brian, help me up with 
 this load o’ blankets; — mind, Thady Dunne, how ye settle 
 that crate o’ oaten cakes and wheatenmeal bread atop of 
 the live cocks an’ hens in the basket. Come on, Art 
 Dwyer — we’ll be late if ye don’t stir yerself.” 
 
 Never fear, acuishlehP^ returned the factotum of the 
 house, sucking his pipe with vigour, and carrying a lot of 
 newly slaughtered geese and ducks. ‘‘Where’s the creel 
 wid the turkeys an' flitches o’ bacon ?” 
 
 “ Undher the poteen kegs, alongside the boxes of odds 
 an' ends,” said Cathleen, adjusting herself beside Bella. 
 
 “ Hould thim garrans quiet, will ye ?'’ shouted Dwyer, 
 floundering under the weight of a flock bed on a tottering 
 eminence. 
 
 “ Arrah, don’t ye see the crathurs is in haste to be off,” 
 returned Brian Toole, a tall, broad shouldered youth, with 
 frolicsome countenance, as patting the horses' heads, he 
 took a humorous survey of the motley caravan, towering 
 like a pyramid. His animated eye fell on his mother, 
 looking bewildered to see where she could stow two little 
 kids and a bonive.” 
 
 ‘‘ Get the churn in on its side, an' the crathurs ’ll slip in 
 quite convanient,” shouted the wag, who saw there was 
 scarcely room for a sod of turf. 
 
 Norah cast a glance of displeasure at her son, of whom 
 she was wont to be weakly proud, saying, reproachfully : 
 “Musha, now, ye sthancay this a time for sport? 
 Come up wid ye, ye caperin’ gandher, while ye have a 
 chance of a roost at all, I say.” 
 
 “ Here I am !” he cried, springing with a fine young 
 ban dog, tucked under his arm. 
 
 “ Milloon miilla P cried his mother, scrambling after her 
 kids into a space it would have puzzled a mathematician 
 to solve by what process the dimensions of a body far less 
 than hers could have been fitted into. 
 
 “ What must ye be fetchin’ that baste for — stuffin’ up 
 the place with the likes of him ?” 
 
 “Arrah, now, mother, it’s jokin’ ye are. Is it to lave 
 
THE FLIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. SlS 
 
 Bran behind ye’d be at me?’' whooped Brian. ^^Recliea!^ 
 I’d as soon lave my blessed skull.” 
 
 ‘‘Hist !” cried some of the party, either anxious to get 
 ofiF, or gifted with sharper ears than the rest ; the army’s 
 cornin’ ;■ list to the pillalu beyant.” 
 
 “ Let go the garrans ! Don't listen till ye get yer 
 throats cut, I warn ye,’' cried Norah, in alarm. “ Slash 
 on the garrans, Brady, Dia liuve a vouchleen,’\ That’s it — 
 cut away for dear life, an’ keep the heart o’ the counthry. 
 Be my throth, the road ’ll thry the metal o’ thim young 
 colts; — see how they do clear the ground undher their feet, 
 an’ kick up the dust, the purty crathurs. Oh, vo, vo !” 
 “’Tiswollif they don’t kick us into the first ditch,” 
 cried May, with a shout of laughter, in which Eveleen 
 and Bella joined. “ They fiy like skittish goats ; — and 
 what a spill we’d have, nurse.” 
 
 “ God help yees, ye poor colleens ; ye have no wit, or 
 ye wouldn’t take sport out o’ such misfortune,” said Norah, 
 pathetically. “Musha, there’s our last sight o’ the poor 
 ould castle, wid all the windies dark. Whose home it ’ll be 
 next ? Ochone ! Take care, now, at the turnin’ of the road. 
 Brady an’ Dwyer, hould the reins stiff, an’ keep their heads 
 together in the middle; — that’s it. Now lave 'em to 
 ’emselves, an’ I’ll warrant they’ll not let the grass grow 
 undher em.” 
 
 Away w^ent the rocking team, up hill, down dale. 
 Miles were traversed. The travellers had nearly all 
 sunk into silence, save Norah, whose voluble tongue 
 from time to time went at the rate of a mill-wheel. 
 Still on, now jolting over a rugged acclivity winding 
 among hills purple with heath and broom, with pace 
 somewhat slackened, when, all of a sudden, a fierce growl 
 and bark from Bran was followed by a weird, unearthly 
 shriek, and same moment a figure, revealed by a moon- 
 beam bursting from a cloud, darted across their path, and 
 disappeared in silence in a copse of heath. VVith cold 
 blood curdling round their hearts, hair stilfened with per- 
 spiration, and eyes starting from their sockets, the fugitives 
 gazed upon each other, and the frightened horses, despite 
 
 * Go on. t And God speed you, men. 
 
314 
 
 LElj^LIP CASTLE. 
 
 the driver’s efforts to slash them od, pluDged, reared, and 
 stood still. 
 
 Cross o’ Christ betune us an’ harm !” muttered Norah, 
 crossing her brow fervently ; — what is it at all 
 
 ‘‘Lord, save us!” faltered the rest, with tightened 
 breath and beads of perspiration oozing through their 
 scared foreheads ; “ it’s a warning — it’s the banshee I” 
 
 “ Hould a minute,” cried Brian O’Toole, the stoutest of 
 the party, jumping from the waggon; ‘T’ll see if it ain’t a 
 pishrogue of some omadaun to bother us. Come, Bran, 
 whoop ! hunt it out, I saw where it flew.” And away 
 started master and dog. 
 
 When the tramp of his feet on the craggy road, and the 
 sound of his plunge among the crackling bushwood was 
 hushed, all for a moment was dreary stillness; but soon the 
 savage barking of Bran, and the shrill whistle of Toole, first 
 at distance, then nearer, announced some discovery. Pre- 
 sently he was seen toiling along under weight of a burden. 
 
 “ What t\iQphoiica has he got ?” muttered Art Dwyer, 
 scratching his fuzzy head ; — “ it’s a colleen^ inagh P 
 
 Make room., there,’^ bellowed the stentorian lungs of 
 Toole ; “ here’s your banshee,” shoving his load upon his 
 mother; — I think she’s dead ! I found her lying in the 
 loso ! Now whip on wid yez like hunters I” 
 
 orrciy wirristniey my wren of the wilderness ! where 
 did ye come from, at all, at all ?” cried Norah, relieved of her 
 first apprehension, and compassionately opening her arms 
 to the stranger. “Not a pulse of life in her, asthore machree. 
 Will^ yez hould back childher ; ye keep the air off her face, 
 an’ hindher me from doin’ anything.” 
 
 But neither Eveleen, May, or Bella heeded the command. 
 They hung, intent in their scrutiny, over the inanimate 
 form, till, with an amazed stare of incredulity at each 
 other, Bella screamed : — 
 
 “Why, it’s Maud!” 
 
 “ What’s that ye say ?” cried Norah, thrusting her back, 
 and peering through the now dim light of approaching 
 dawn into the features of the unconscious sufferer. 
 “ Queen o’ Glory, so it is ! Ah, musha, what’s come to 
 pass, at all, at all ? Oh, my cmsk ban ! my woodbine 
 
THE FLIGHT At MIDNIGHT. 
 
 315 
 
 flower, my cushat-dove — wake up and tell us what hap- 
 pened ye. Badcess to yer stupidity, Cathleen, for to go 
 put the kegs o^ poteen where they can’t be got at, an’ 
 there ye sit like one that had got the palsy. Lord save us, 
 as white an’ trembly as a rag on a bush. Grood luck to ye, 
 Mistress Eveleen, honey ; — that’s it. Fan the air well about 
 her wid yer hat Arrah, Thady, whin we come to the 
 first brook get down an fetch us up a dhrop o’ wather.” 
 
 “ Nurse, she’s coming to herself,” cried May, cheerily. 
 ‘‘ Hold up her head a little ; — look, Maud ; — wake up ; see, 
 you’re with us all.” 
 
 Maud did look up, opened her eyes, gazed around 
 with straining, vacant stare, that seemed not to 
 realise her position, or recognise any face about her ; 
 then murmuring some inarticulate words in low, com- 
 plaining tone, she relapsed into partial insensibility. 
 Sorrowfully all grouped in silence, contemplated the pros- 
 trate form, each busy with thought and framing conjecture 
 as to what strange adventure had cast Maud Fitz Eustace 
 in their own unexpected course, like a leaf blown by a 
 tempest from its bower far into the desert. Maud, whom 
 they had left reigning queen-like, in the luxurious mansion 
 of the metropolis, surrounded by friends, in the bloom of 
 life and beauty, found by accident at midnight, lying bereft 
 of friends, almost of life, miles away in the heart of the 
 mountain wilderness ! They could not fathom the mystery, 
 and yet it was easy of explanation. Man conceives, de- 
 signs, and plans their execution ; often success is permitted 
 to crown his schemes, but often, also, the invisible agency 
 of the spiritual world, interpreted and explained as chance, 
 comes in to frustrate his deepest laid plots, his most san- 
 guine hopes. Thus it happened, at the very moment that 
 Jonas Grub, unimpeded in his triumphant course, and 
 exulting in the unobstructed possession of his long-coveted 
 prize, was bearing away the victim. Father O’Mara, a 
 Dominican friar, and Lionel Aylmer, his pupil, were pass- 
 ing on their way to Usher’s Island, when the transaction 
 engaged their notice. Father O’Mara was not acquainted 
 intimately with the De Courcy family, therefore, he did 
 not quite take in the purport of what he saw, the scene was 
 so quiet ; but Lionel Aylmer understood it all on the instant. 
 
316 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLK. 
 
 Tlie moment he saw Jonas enter the coach, having depo- 
 sited Maud, and, drive off at full speed, Lionel, rebounding 
 from his brief spell of wonder, cried out to his companion : 
 “Father, we must follow and overtake that coach.’^ He 
 hailed a chaise, jumped in quickly, followed by the 
 Dominican, and interested the driver, by the promise of a 
 large recompense, to pursue the flying equipage. No easy 
 matter, though, to give chase to four high-mettled steeds, 
 and keep them in view. Jonas did not take the route to 
 Eathfarnham, for he had considered all contingencies. 
 Fitz Adelm, on his return from the battle, which might now 
 be at any moment, would be sure to call on the De Courcys. 
 There he would learn what had taken place, and in all 
 probability he would at once set off to Posy Park, to 
 call him to reckoning and reclaim Maud. So up hilly 
 country, across Dundrum, on to Bray and Wicklow. “ For,^’ 
 argued Jonas, “he will never believe I followed in the 
 wake of the king's army ; and once in Wicklow, there are 
 lonesome places enough, and friends, among whom I may 
 shelter till some lucky blow, dealt by my father on his own 
 account, removes Fitz Adelm out of my way.” Thus on 
 they held, pursuers and pursued ; but the issue seemed 
 discouraging, for the coach distanced the one-horse chaise 
 without difficulty, and in the end would have certainly 
 baffled all endeavour and escaped, but a little beyond Bray, 
 Maud became so seriously ill that Jonas, alarmed lest she 
 might die, thought it best to stop and seek assistance at 
 the nearest farm-house. By inquiries along the way the 
 Dominican ascertained the route of the abductor, and 
 before noon they arrived at the very spot, to see the horses 
 were having a feed of bran and water, and yoked, ready 
 for the next start, while Grub and the postillions — two 
 of the Bradleys — were refreshing themselves within. Light- 
 ing from the chaise, which they left at a little distance, 
 Lionel Aylmer, having borrowed the driver’s clasp knife, 
 walked deliberately up, cut the traces of the coach-horses 
 to pieces, and set them galloping away, while Father 
 O’Mara, proceeding to the farm-house through the little 
 flower-garden in front, hailed a child he saw eating a 
 crust at the door, and asked him to send out his mother. 
 
THE FLIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 
 
 317 
 
 A comely matron, with an infant in her arms, appeared, and 
 dropped a low, reverential courtesy to the priest. 
 
 ^‘You have got strangers in your house?” said Father 
 O’Mara. 
 
 ‘‘ Yis, yer reverence : a gentleman goin^ in haste to join 
 the king, and his wife, a purty young creature, who was taken 
 ill by the way, which obliged him to stop a little to rest her ; 
 — I think it’s her head is bad.” 
 
 No such thing,” cried Aylmer, coming up ; it is a 
 lady he is carrying off from her friends. On peril of your 
 own salvation, help us to save her.” 
 
 “ Cross o’ Christ !” exclaimed the horrified woman, rush- 
 ing into the house and crying to her husband : Shane ! 
 
 Shane Kelly, kick them out. Gret out, ye villans, 
 get out of my dacent house, afore we lay the marks 
 of our fingers on yees. Get but, I say, this minit.” 
 
 ‘‘ Is the woman mad ?’’ cried Jonas, starting up, while 
 Shane Kelly, a robust ploughman, and the Bradleys stared 
 agape. Father O’Mara and Aylmer entered ; then Jonas, 
 having some inkling of affairs, flew to the door of the 
 chamber, where Maud was lying on the bed, to secure his 
 booty. liridget Kelly and the Dominican placed them- 
 selves between. Then burst a storm of angry threats, 
 and menaced scuffle, and explanation all commingled, the 
 uy)shot being Shane Kelly being made to comprehend the 
 affair, and reinforced by Myles, his brother, just come iu 
 to say there was a lot of horses running away through the 
 corn-fields and meadows, and by the driver of the chaise, intent 
 upon the issue of the exciting chase, while his horse enjoyed 
 the deserted mess of bran and water. Jonas and his I'riends 
 got unceremonious orders to quit, enforced by some handling 
 that made them dubious of tlieir lives among tlie ruffian 
 peasantry. So confounded, enraged, crest-fallen, breathing 
 vengeance, and on foot (for the horses, driven wild by the 
 frantic efforts of the yelling urchins, and daft louts sent 
 to capture them, had galloped out of sight and reach), they 
 had to wend back their way. After some hours of rest, 
 refresliment, and counsel with their host, it was agreed that 
 the Dominican should proceed on witli Maud, to establish 
 her in someplace of safety beyond the reacli of her enemies. 
 
818 
 
 LEIXLTP CASrLE. 
 
 Bridget Kelly consented to accompany them, to attend on 
 the invalid. Setting out in good time with a fresh horse, they 
 had got within a few miles of Ratlidrum, when halting to 
 rest for the remainder of the night at the house of a friend 
 of Father O’Mara, Maud, in the agony of brain fever, made 
 her escape in an unguarded moment, wandered through the 
 place, and was found and rescued, as described, by the 
 fugitives on their own journey. 
 
 “I tell you what it is, May,’’ saidEveleen, after ponder- 
 ing awhile the strange event in her own mind, ‘‘those 
 ugly reptiles, the Grrubs, have some hand in this, as sure 
 as I’m alive.” 
 
 “Nonsense, Eveleen!” retorted May, half crying. 
 “ What would bring them up this way ? No ; as sure as 
 you’re there, father, mother and she, were going some- 
 where, and the enemy’s soldiers attacked them, Maud 
 escaped and then, with a loud fit of wailing : “ father 
 and mother are killed or made prisoners ; — that’s the whole 
 story.” 
 
 “ Don’t cry, Misthress May ; don’t cry, alanah^' sobbed 
 Cathleen Daly. “ It’s more like to be what Misthress Eve- 
 leen says. Anyhow, I see the roof an’ trees of my step- 
 father’s shelling in the distance. God bless poor Captain 
 Oornal ; sure, but for him we wouldn’t have a shelter to 
 cover our heads this blessed Sunday morn’ ; — an’ there’s the 
 chapel bell ringin’. Anyhow, let us get home first, an’ in 
 good time we’ll know the best or the worst.” 
 
 “Praise be to God! we’re safe from tlie pursuit of the 
 vagabonds, anyway,” exclaimed Norah, with a long-drawn 
 breath of contentment ; and the drivers, urging on the now 
 thoroughly jaded and weary horses, the fugitives arrived at 
 the dwelling of Lacy, while the family, returned from Mass, 
 were at breakfast. Here a hearty welcome and plentiful 
 repast cheered the wanderers ; — but their respite was brief. 
 The following day, the neighbourhood was thrown into con- 
 sternation by rumours that the enemy was marching upon 
 Wicklow, and in large detachments were scouring th3 
 country, burning villages, wrecking houses, and murder- 
 ing the peasantry ; that Comal’s Court was burned to the 
 ground, and tliat the Irish troops who had attended King 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF UUJ^MORE. 
 
 319 
 
 James to Kinsale, finding their return to Dublin cut off 
 by the Williamite victors, were in march for Limerick, 
 there to make another stand. Later tidings confirming 
 this intelligence, the fugitives, this time reinforced by the 
 Lacys, who feared to stay behind, reloaded their team and 
 set off for Carlow, upon the suggestion of Oathleen, whose 
 husband’s father owned a snug farm of twenty acres in the 
 vicinity. Owing to the illness of Maud they were under the 
 necessity of travelling slowly. It was not, therefore, till 
 the evening of the third day they arrived, weary and dis- 
 heartened, at the homestead of Patrick Daly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE FUGITIVES OF DUNMORE. 
 
 “Grimly it frown’d when first with shudd’ring mind 
 We saw the far-famed cavern’s darkling womb, 
 
 An4~ior that vault of silence and of gloom 
 Left the fair day and smiling world behind ; 
 
 Ifiit what bright wonder hail’d our eyes ere long, 
 
 Tke crystal wall, the sparry-curtain’d dome, 
 
 The sparkling sliafts that propp’d that cavern’ d home. 
 
 And vaults that turned the homeliest sound to song.” 
 
 Griffin. 
 
 The homestead of Patrick Daly, lying at the foot of the 
 Carlow hills, was a fair specimen of primitive architecture. 
 It consisted of a square, built up by four mud walls, par- 
 titioned by the same into a centre flanked by two com- 
 partments, one of which was appropriated as a sleeping- 
 chamber for himself and wife, the second for his daughters, 
 while the central portion, being the point cVappui of the 
 household, was pressed into more service than an unini- 
 tiated mind could devise or conceive. Its range of settle- 
 beds denoted it as the dormitory of the male members of 
 the family, but it was also the hotel at the gratuitous ser- 
 vice of any benighted traveller who might choose to raise 
 the hospitable latch. Its great cross-beams of timber. 
 
320 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 whicli supported the roof, also lodged high and dry a 
 lordly cock and his harem in endless variety of feather. 
 From a nook behind a pile of turf, a young calf inno- 
 cently peeped out, and in the opposite corner a kid fre- 
 quently joined in the lively chorus of bleating and cackling. 
 In the middle of the chamber was a large deal table, stools 
 of every size and form, pails, tubs, a churn, crockery-ware, 
 shelves of chaney,’’ a spinning-wheel, crowded every 
 available space, yet they did not comprise the extent of 
 the owner’s property ; doubtless, had space sufficed, Daly^s 
 four plough-horses, his several milch cows, and a lot of 
 bonives, would have all been likewise housed. 
 
 If Patrick Daly had ever found his social circle too 
 limited for his wishes, he was now being made amends ; 
 for at the time of which we speak, around the table above- 
 mentioned, was gathered a motley group of persons of 
 various age and condition at dinner, while the ample 
 chimney-corner and settles were also occupied by fugitive 
 guests. Seated at his board, the good old man served and 
 pressed his hospitality upon the strangers, whose history 
 had called forth his keenest sympathies, while his wife 
 bustled to and fro, now helping the guests, now joining 
 the conversation, then adding more fuel to the fire, turn- 
 ing the cakes on the griddle, and setting the kettle on the 
 hanger, while anon stealing into the little inside chamber 
 to take a look at the invalid lying on the bed, and whisper 
 a few words to Cathleen and the children watching beside 
 her. For some days the travellers sojourned in this peace- 
 ful bourn, hoping that, for the present at least, they had 
 found a secure asylum; yet, hearing with dismay from 
 time to time, through wandering vagrants, scouts, pedlars, 
 and such wayfarers, direful accounts of horrors, massacre, 
 and pillage wrought by the enemy on all sides, and 
 within not many miles of them. Anxious fears and doubts 
 betimes disturbed their peace, added to the utter impossi- 
 bility of communicating with their friends or hearing any 
 tidings of them. A few days, however, terminated sus- 
 pense, and realised the forebodings of the fugitives. It 
 was midnight, not a sound save the long-drawn breath of 
 the sleepers, couched, some on settles, some on sheaves of 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF DUNMOUE, 
 
 321 
 
 straw round the smouldering embers on the hearth, was 
 heard in the shelling of Patrick Daly. The clock was on 
 the stroke of twelve, when a loud bark from Bran awoke 
 the slumberers, and, listening, the sound of hurrying foot- 
 steps coming up the boreen or lane greeted their ears. 
 The host and several others had sprung up as the door was 
 thrown open, and Con and Fergus Kennedy, Daly^s two 
 nephews, rushed in panting, and exclaimed, with wild 
 emotion : The sogers is cornin’ ! Up every mother sowl 
 
 o' yees ; — get all ye can lay hands on an’ fly. Such burnin', 
 wrackin’, an’ carnage, ye niver seen. It bates Orom’ell, 
 and to a sartinty we’ll be burnt alive undher the roof, it 
 yees don’t take to yer traheens an’ get the start of ’em.'’ 
 
 Having given the alarm, the young men flew to bring 
 out the horses — there was no time to yoke the waggon 
 — and a scene ensued of wild uproar and confusion — chil- 
 dren crying, women screaming, men shouting, and all 
 rushing distractedly to and fro. The braying of a horn 
 was heard in the distance. 
 
 Which way? — which way?” yelled several women, 
 already seated, some with children, on the horses. A litter 
 had been constructed between two, in which Maud, wrapt 
 in blankets, was laid, while Eveleen and Norah rode at one 
 side. 
 
 “Kilkenny — keep the Kilkenny road towards Dun- 
 more,'’ shouted Daly to Brian Toole, who led the van, 
 holding the bridle of the horse litter. “ God speed and 
 prosper yees, I pray.” 
 
 “Come along, Daly. — Come on Cathleen an’ the rest o’ 
 yees, an' have a chance for yer lives ! ” cried the others, 
 as they set off. “We can help yees to a lift whin we get 
 over a piece o' the road.” 
 
 “ No, no ; get on, get on, or yees’ll be overtaken ; we’ll 
 si lift for ourselves," shouted Daly, while he, with his wife, 
 Cathleen, and several others, men, women, and children, 
 too aged or too weakly to keep up with the rapid flight of 
 the mounted cavalcade, lingered behind, watching tlie 
 departure of their comrades, till nearer they heard the 
 tramp of horses' hoofs, and then, helter-skelter, away went 
 each to find a hiding-place wherever chance, fate, or 
 
322 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 t riune led them. A clouded sky, a fitful moon waning in 
 le horizon, lighted the pilgrims’ way, beset with danger, 
 ever and anon as they traversed the waste, penetrating 
 deeper and deeper into the solitude, imagination, that 
 active sentiment of the overwrought mind, conjured up 
 fictitious alarms to accelerate headlong speed ; fancied 
 shrieks floated on the distant gale ; and pale moonbeams, 
 glinting from a parted cloud, transformed waving broom 
 and thickets of copsewood, dimly seen afar, into hostile foes 
 waiting for their blood. Thus goaded by the sharp spur of 
 terror few words were spoken, scarce a breath was drawn, till, 
 as morning broke, the exhausted troop slackened rein on 
 the wild heath of Dunmore. It was a strange, picturesque 
 scene. Nearly twenty human beings grouped motionless 
 as statues upon tired garrons, which they bestrode in twos 
 and threes, gazing upon each other, and round the solitude 
 wet with night dew, and waking to life in the first cold 
 gray light of dawn. 
 
 “ That was a smart trot,” at length muttered Lacy, 
 wiping the damp from his brow; we’ve put a couple score 
 o’ miles betune us and the bloodhounds, anyway, I reckon ; 
 but what’s our way now ? Sorra sight o’ bawn or sheiling 
 where one might ax for a cup o’ wather to wet one’s lips, 
 an’ I’m as dhry as a wisp o’ hay ; sorra lie in it.” 
 
 Toole meanwhile had dismounted, and throwing the 
 bridle to his mother, set off with his dog, leaping and 
 frolicking about him, to explore the environs. 
 
 Anyhow, let us rest the garrans, an’ give ’em time to 
 pick a mouthful, the crathurs,” said Norah, getting off her 
 pony, and standing to look at Maud, who was babbling in 
 low, incoherent murmurs in the Italian language, which 
 no one understood, but a smile was on her lips, far happier 
 than those about her : she was again in her convent- 
 school, sharing in the frolic glee, leading the dance, or 
 walking in procession with her young companions. 
 
 “ Musha, what’s she say in’ at all, Misthress Eveleen 
 alanah ? You that has the book lamin’ can tell.” 
 
 ‘^It doesn’t much matter what she’s saying,” sullenly 
 returned Eveleen. If this night’s work doesn’t kill her, 
 she’s as tough as a cat, and it was a shame to come away 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF DUNMORE. 
 
 323 
 
 and leave May and Bella behind ; — I thought Dame Lacy 
 had them till now, or not a foot I’d have come.” 
 
 Ah, thin, musha, see this !” retorted Norah, reproach- 
 fully, ‘‘ hadn't 1 this helpless crathur to look afther, an’ 
 whin I bid thim come on, didn't they take conthrary, an' 
 say they’d stay with Oathleen ; — but what’s that bladder- 
 emscate gossoon o’ mine about ; — where's he gone at all ? 
 See the gumshon of ’im to lave us at such a moment. I 
 wondher, Lacy, what's best for us to do next? — Wait till 
 nightfall to go back, or maybe our people ’ll find their 
 way afther us here ?” 
 
 Sorra one o’ me knows what it’s best for us to do,'’ 
 soliloquised Lacy, dubiously scanning the district around. 
 
 Whist !” cried Dwyer, ‘listen to Bran how he barks; 
 I hould ye he has started a wolf below there. Has any of 
 yees pistols ?” 
 
 “ I’ve got the captain’s two-horse pistols,” said Nolan, 
 and as he spoke their ears were assailed by a tremendous 
 hubbub of hallooing, barking, and din from a precipitously 
 inclined plain some hundred feet distant. Presently a 
 crowd of carrion crows and daws rose in wheeling circle, 
 and hovered shrieking in the air. The blood ebbed in 
 every heart, and the trepidation of the fugitives was in- 
 creased by loud yelps, and a rush of several dark objects 
 from the place where Toole had disappeared. 
 
 “ Mary, John, an’ Joseph, Pathrick, Bridget, an' all 
 the saints inthercede for us,” groaned Norah, thumping 
 her breast. “ What’s happened, at all, at all, och, musha, 
 Brian Toole ?” 
 
 Arrah, whist ! — here he comes,” cried Dwyer; “ sorra 
 fear of a bad penny but it ’ll come back to the owner.” 
 
 “ Come, he's beckoning us on,’' cried Lacy. And 
 again the little band was in motion, and proceeded till 
 they joined the youth, whom they found retreating, till 
 he found them sloping down a gorge that seemed to end 
 in a blind arch, festooned with brambles. 
 
 ‘‘Well, gossoon, what are we goin’ to do here?” de- 
 manded Lacy, with a stare. 
 
 “ Well, now, only think o' the cuteness o’ that ,dqg, 
 philosophised Toole ; “ he has more knowledge than 
 
824 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Christhan. Now, I’ll be bail not one o’ yees ’ll see the 
 snug retreat he wint of his own accord to find yees, and 
 dhruve the foxes, crows, and wild cats out of, thinkin' it 
 mighty convanient to lodge their betthers on a pinch.” 
 “Well, where is it, ma bouchal; sorra stick of a roofthree 
 can I see betune this an’ the sky. I suppose ye don’t want 
 us to cut a hole in the rock to burrow in ?” 
 
 “ Come along ; maybe it’s a castle ye want to set up in; — 
 ye’ll have to humble yerself for once, avic,' said Toole, 
 diving with his dog into the chasm. 
 
 “ Why, this is a pit,” exclaimed Dwyer, creeping cau- 
 tiously behind him. “ Now, what ih.Qphonca^ ye hosthiine^ are 
 we goin’ to do here ; — is it to be buried alive, ye want us ?” 
 “ Whist,” screamed Mrs. Lacy, at the pitch of her voice, 
 “ as sure as the sun’s in the heaven, I hear shouts on the 
 wind ; — the innimy’s hot afther us in purshuit.” 
 
 This ended colloquy and debate. 
 
 “ Turn the garrans loose ; whip them to a gallop, and 
 follow afther me, every one o’ yees,” shouted Toole, 
 scrambling downward on all fours. Submitting to chance, 
 the alarmed band, set loose the animals, and recklessly 
 plunged into the pitch darkness of the yawning gulf. 
 Keeping close together, Norah and Eveleen last, dragging 
 along Maud as gently as they could, over steep and slippery 
 rocks, winding down, still down, till finally they appeared 
 to have gained a level space, where they could stand 
 upright. Norah had previously been muttering along : 
 
 “ Queen o’ glory, what a hole ! — as black as ould Nick’s. 
 Musha, will ye stop somewhere, Brian. Has the place a 
 bottom, or is it all stairs o’ cliffs an’ splinthers P” 
 
 “Come on, come on, or maybe we’ll be foileyed, or 
 they’d fire on us?” cried Lacy. Down they toiled till 
 again Norah, breathless, raised her voice, encouragingly : 
 
 “ I won’t go another fut ; — it’s lose our way we will, an’ 
 not be able to get back ; — sorra bit o’ me knows this minit. 
 Ochone ! the luck o’ me to follow that omadhaun. Where are 
 ye, Brian ?” —No teply from Brian. — “ Bran, Bran, Bran.” 
 No response from the dog. A vague fear oppressed every 
 bosom, and a cry burst from the lips of some. “ Ho, 
 Toole ! Brian Toole !— Bran, Bran ! What are we to do ? 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF DUNMORE, 
 
 325 
 
 Here we are, G-od knows where/’ shrieked Norah; “half 
 undher the earth, ’ithout a glimmer o’ light, or the laste 
 insight of our way back, through that mischievous gossoon 
 an’ his dog. Call him. — Bran, Bran ! — here, Bran ! — 
 Brian ! Oh, blessed Mother \” 
 
 “Aisy, Norah, wait for the sun to shine an’ light us 
 out,” cried Lacy. “ It’s only a thrick o’ the gossoon.” 
 “I’ll brain ’im; — I’ll tache ’im to play thricks !” ex- 
 claimed the wrathful mother. “ Och, wirra, wirra, what’s 
 to become of us, at all, at all ?” 
 
 “ There’s no use in bawling,” here broke in Eveleen ; 
 “ that won’t help us much. Let’s climb up the way we 
 came. I’m glad May and Bella are not here now.” 
 
 “ Throth, we may find ourselves in Agypt, among the 
 hecatombs ; I hear ’em talk of, afore we stop/’ retorted 
 Norah ; “ an’ for them as had lights an’ purvisions, it was 
 no hardship, but what in the name o’ the Blessed Thrinity 
 are we to do that hasn’t them ? Wait for the sunshine, 
 inrfgh f It’ll be in heaven, I think, we’ll see it next. 
 Ulaloo ! ulaloo ! Oh, Mother Mary, come an’ show us the 
 way out, you that had to fiy yerself from the purshuit o’ 
 foes ; — och, but you wor sinless, midin deelish ;* — an’ maybe 
 it’s for our sins we’re dhruv into this confounded charnel, 
 to be our purgathory. Och, Brian, Brian, jewel, what’s 
 happened to yer father’s son ? Ain’t I a woeful mother this 
 day ? — orra^ orra.^^ 
 
 While thus Norah lamented, filling the cavern with loud 
 exclamations of woe, terror held some motionless and mute; 
 others poked about with sticks, taking care to keep within 
 reach of each others’ voice. For more than an hour, they 
 groped in fruitless endeavour to find an issue from the 
 cave ; and now, with agony’s cold dew stiffening upon every 
 brow, some stood stupefied, while some wept desponding 
 tears. Suddenly Brady called out : 
 
 “ Halloo ! — I hear Bran !” None else did, but all raised 
 a simultaneous shout — 
 
 “ Bran, Bran, Bran !” and Lacy, Dwyer, Brady, and 
 Nolan whooped and whistled till the cavern rang. 
 
 “ Ila ! — now, I hear the villain !” exclaimed Lacy A 
 
 *Dear Virgin 
 
326 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 moment after the rest also distinguished the sounds of leap- 
 ing and scrambling ; then a sharp bark, a whine of joy. 
 The voice of Toole next was heard ; a minute more, a 
 tumble, a jump, and the missing guide was greeted with a 
 volley of abuse and irate interrogation. 
 
 Arrah, don’t be botherin’ me ! — I'm as wet as a fish from 
 my swim in the river ’ithout,” was the courteous retort of 
 Brian. 
 
 Eiver ! — river !” exclaimed all, in renewed awe. Is 
 there a river here, too.” 
 
 Why, man, where are we ? What place is it, at all ?” 
 demanded Lacy, in accents of impatience. 
 
 ‘‘That’s what I want to come at myself,” said Toole, 
 striking a spark from a fiint and igniting a piece of tinder, 
 which gave a glimpse of the anxious visages grouped 
 around. By means of cotton steeped in oil a light was 
 next produced, and startled, dazzled, blinded, every head 
 bowed down, every shrinking eye winked and closed in 
 the unutterable blaze of luminous beams radiating from 
 every side, above, around, below. Oh ! what is this ? Are 
 they caught up in spirit into the region of glory, or are 
 they standing in the flesh, transfused into the central rays 
 of some mysterious orb, some midnight sun ? What is this 
 miracle? What is this lofty and spacious temple, sup- 
 ported by rows of fluted columns, gradually ascending to 
 the arching dome? Walls, pillars, and roof, one rainbow 
 of glory ! Eubies, diamonds, sapphires, opals, every gem 
 of every hue in crystalline lustre, wreathing and adorning 
 base and capital of the gorgeous chamber. Here glittered 
 diadems too dazzling for earthly monarch’s brow, and 
 flowers bloomed in tints of unearthly radiance. Eecover- 
 ing, by-and-by, their power of vision, all eyes, as- 
 tounded, turned upon Toole, who, no less transfixed by 
 the scene of transfiguration, stood beside a cross of colossal 
 dimensions, which flamed like a solid adamant. He had a 
 soldier’s knapsack on his arm, at his feet lay a matchlock, 
 in his hand he held the torch whose lighting had kindled 
 the subterranean glory of the hall f by his side crouched 
 Bran, close to a bundle of faggots, looking caninely phi- 
 losophic upon the scene. 
 
 * 9?he far-famed cave of Dunmore. 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF DUN MORE. 
 
 827 
 
 Milk mnlloon mullah /” exclaimed Dwyer, first break- 
 ing the spell of silence. But it's grand entirely. It's a 
 fairy rath.’^ 
 
 ^^G-od save us!” ejaculated Toole, with visage never 
 before guilty of seriousness. We’ve got among the 
 good people, slua-shee^ an’ maybe it’s into hares we'll be 
 turned for pryin’ into their secret places. Mother o’ God, 
 purtect us I ” and he blessed himself devoutly. 
 
 ’Tisn’t nath’ral at all, if ’tisn’t a mitg^gle,” wisely said 
 Lacy, with awestruck visage. 
 
 ^^Of course it must be a miracle, and the fairies can 
 have nothing to do with it, for there’s the cross,” cried 
 Eveleen, pointing triumphantly to the symbol of redemp- 
 tion. I begin to think it must be spars.” 
 
 Spars I — what’s them, honey?” demanded Norah, get- 
 ting used to the magnificence. But Eveleen, who had 
 merely heard of such things, did not feel competent to 
 enlighten her, whereupon Brady said, earnestly: 
 
 Now, if it wasn’t for the cross. Lord be praised I I’d 
 swear we wor in Grogan’s fairy palace ; — but the cross sar- 
 tifies, as Misthress Eveleen says, that we’re safe from en- 
 chantment an’ the spells o’ the good people. I amn’t a 
 bit afeard, not but what I must say it bangs Banagher.” 
 Sure, the wealth o’ all the earth is in it, aroon^'^ ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Lacy. Did ever anyone see sich jewels ? — 
 But musn't someone have put them here ?” 
 
 ^^Begorra!” suddenly broke from Norah, ^‘I think it 
 must be one o' the tumuli where some o’ the ould kings 
 kep’ their treasure an’ here buried theniselves, we’ve come 
 upon. — I mane the pagans, av coorse — the Christians is all 
 laid in the rheaferts undher head-stones. I don’t suppose 
 it ’ud be robbery to take some of ’em whin we’re goin’, 
 seein’ they’re so long dead, an’ no one to claim em. Throth, 
 I’ll have some of ’em. — An’ now, Brian, avic^ why did ye 
 lave us so long be ourselves?” 
 
 Why, it happened this way, mother, beggin’ yer 
 pardon for sayin’, I don’t think the ould pagan kings 
 id set up a diamond cross over their bones, or to guard 
 their treasure. I think it must be Christian kings hid 
 ’em here from the Danes ; — but we’ll soon get the 
 
328 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 priest to find out the ins an^ outs of it. But, as I was 
 sayin,^ there\ another passage straggling from the one 
 yees came by into another place all darksome as this was, 
 wid a river running along it. Myself didn't know it — 
 nor that I^d lost my way — till I slipt in, an’ was a’most 
 dhrowned. Whin I got out, I called, an’ called, an', not 
 knowin' where to find yees, I scrambled to the enthry 
 agin to sarche for a faggot to light, an’ behould ye, I 
 scarce put my head out o’ the hole whin I spied a red- 
 coat ; I dhrew back till he passed, thin out I came to see 
 where he winJt, an’, what should I come on, but a lot o’ 
 ’em sittin’ on the heath among the broom an’ bushes 
 dhrinkin’ an' smokin’. I crept behind under the loso, an’ 
 heerd by their talk they wor the sidurie come in purshuit 
 o’ us. wondher,’ says one of 'em wid a mighty cute 
 face, ‘ I wondher, Jonas,’ says he, ^ where they could have 
 got to? We didn't lose time in follying them after fir- 
 ing the hut, an’ we ransacked the counthry well as we 
 come along. I think the devil must have helped them to 
 run,' says he. His carabine was lyin’ behind him on the 
 ground, an’ another fellow had put down his knapsack. 
 When I seen them in high argument about which way 
 they’d go next afther us, I reached out my hand, an’ 
 crooked ’em in, thinkin’ they’d be mighty handy on a 
 a pinch. ‘Eob the robber, siz I;’ with that off I trudged, 
 an here I am. — Let’s see the booty.” 
 
 With his knife Toole cut the knapsack and nimbly ex- 
 tracted a flask ofi»brandy, a pickled ox tongue, a roll of 
 tobacco, a bottle^of old sherry wine, rations of various 
 kinds, a purse of gold pieces, and a quantity of jewels, the 
 spoil, no doubt of some pillaged family. Meantime Mrs. 
 Lacy had arranged the faggots brought by Toole to make 
 a fire, and before its brilliant flame, in the glow of such 
 splendour as ball-room never rivalled, reposed thankfully 
 the hunted fugitives, blessing Providence which had con- 
 trived such sanctuary to shelter the persecuted. 
 
 “Now, where are ye off to, Brian ? — Hadn’t ye work 
 enough to keep ye aisy for the day, avic?” said Lacy, seeing 
 Toole again clambering up the rocks, while his mother and 
 several women were on their knees saying the rosary before 
 the cross^ 
 
THE FTJGTTTVES OF DUNMORE. 
 
 329 
 
 I tell ye what, neighbour/’ returned Toole, our work 
 isn’t half done. How many o’ yees ’ll vote to live a month 
 an’ maybe more, here without aiting or dhrinkin’, fire or 
 clothin’. Now, by what I hear the vagabones say, there’s 
 a garrison of ’em come down to Catherlagh that’ll keep us 
 as close as hares in a form for many a day— -one Bruen 
 is colonel of it ; — an’ don’t yees think this hundred gold 
 pieces, laid out in bread an’ male, an’ whiskey, an’ bacon, 
 praties, turf, an’ blankets, id be betther nor the coins in 
 yer pocket ?” 
 
 Begorra, an’ it’s yerself has the gumshon, Brian, aw,” 
 cried his mother, pausing midway in a decade to eulogise 
 her provident son, and add a few items to the list. Yis, 
 machree^ do go ; — an’, let me see, we’d want a couple o’ 
 saucepans, an’ a griddle, an’ a few spoons, an’ knives, a 
 taste o’ soap, an’ a few hanks o’ yarn, an’ 
 
 Arrah, whist ! — how’ll I keep them all in my head ?— 
 I’ll fetch what I think wanted,” cried Toole, springing like a 
 cat up the rocks with his dog, while the rest set, with the 
 exception of Norah and Eveleen, to examine and explore 
 the arcana of their subterranean asylum, and make them- 
 selves acquainted with the intricacies of the windings and 
 passages to and fro. Several had also broken off ornaments 
 of spar, which, after curiously examining, they retained, 
 in the pleasant conviction that their fortunes were made for 
 life. Many endowed with superior knowledge, and gifted 
 with acquirements above these poor untutored beings, 
 have been as erroneously misled in their grasp of fancied 
 substance to find by-and-by the coveted prize of imputed 
 intrinsic value changed into a fictitious bauble. 
 
 Eveleen, so keenly delighting in scene of adventure 
 and excitement, was getting more of it than she cared for. 
 With tearless but sorrowful eyes, and heart aching for the 
 unknown fate of Adorine, her father and brother, uncles 
 and aunt, and cousins, she sat down, crouching beside 
 Maud, lying wrapt in muffllings on the ground, and gazed 
 long and wistfully upon the unconscious object of her in- 
 creased solicitude, thinking to herself all the chance she 
 had of learning anything of her friends depended upon 
 the recovery of the sufferer to life and reason. Norah| 
 
330 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 squatted upon her heels opposite, with her chin resting on 
 her hands, for once contemplatively inclined, and immersed 
 in unwonted thought and care, was soberly reviewing the 
 events that had come to pass ; and, conjecturing future 
 probabilities, she was miserable, thinking of her foster- 
 children, even though knowing well Oathleen^s fidelity to 
 her charge was a sure anchor. But how might it have 
 fared with the attendant herself ? She deplored the ne- 
 cessity that had compelled her to abandon them. 
 
 Sure, but for ye, helpless crathur,” she began to medi- 
 tate aloud, from the physical impossibility of her garrulous 
 tongue maintaining silence, while she gazed refiectively at 
 Maud, ‘‘I’d a never stirred a fut ’ithout ’em; anyhow, wid 
 the help o’ the Virgin’s Son, I’ll not let the night pass but 
 I’ll go back to look for ’em, ’an see how they got off from 
 them murdherin’ thieves o’ sodgers.” 
 
 “How will you walk all that way?” said Eveleen, 
 moodily. 
 
 “ Ocli^ alamh ! is that all ye ax me ? Misthress Eveleen 
 I’ve walked from Tredagh* wid the neighbours, such of ’em 
 as ’scaped the swoord o’ Orom’ell by reason of livin’ some 
 miles beyant the town. My maiden name is O’Dogherty — I 
 belonged to that sept — an’ I come o’ high people ; but afther 
 the murdher an’ defeat o’ Sir Cahir, our near kinsman, my 
 father, an’ his childhre after him, had to take sarvice, an’ 
 glad to get it, where we could. My first— I was then but 
 a slip of a colleen like yourself — was in the Fitz Stephen 
 family.” 
 
 “Is it old Lady Fitz Stephen?” demanded Eveleen. 
 
 “The brother of her husband, asthore. He had just 
 married, afore the war broke out, a niece o’ Lady Fitz 
 Stephen, and aunt to Sir IJlic de Burgh. Her name was 
 Eleanor Fitz Grerald. Another sisther married Sir Asculph 
 Sigurd, Sir Harold’s father, an’ his own sisther was 
 married to Miles de Cogan of Eathfarnham. OchonCy 
 jewel! they wor all fine families, kind and neighbourly 
 one wid another, an’ the childhre the loveliest ever the 
 sun shone on ; an’ happy they wor as the day’s long till the 
 curse o’ Crom’ell come, an’ thin all was wrack an’ ruin. 
 The husbands wint to the war to fight agin him, and was 
 
 * Drogheda. 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF DUNMORE. 
 
 331 
 
 killed, some ov ’em, an’ some tuk prisoners, wounded, an’ 
 sent to the foreign parts into slavery, where they died ; an’ 
 the childhre, most of ’em, I believe, wint the same way ; an’ 
 the wives — I know Sir TJlic’s mother died the night he was 
 born, from grief an’ hardship ; — Sir Harold’s father escaped 
 from the slave-gangs an’ got home, an’ he an’ his wife lived 
 in concealment in Lady Fitz Stephen’s house. Ye see the 
 ould lady married agin ; but he was a Cromwellian officer, 
 an’ she didn’t care for ’im. It was in hopes to be able to 
 get back her own first husband’s childhre, which she 
 wanted, an’ to shelther the rest o’ her family, she married 
 Colonel Clifford. Anyhow, he didn’t live long, an’ had no 
 childhre ; so, though he left her well off, loads o’ money an’ 
 land, she always keeps the first husband’s name; an’ it 
 was she tuk and kep’ ’em all, till Sir Asculph died, an’ his 
 wife soon after, an’ thin she reared the orphans, her gran’- 
 nephews. But, as I was sayin’, whin the ruin came, an’ 
 we wor all scatthered like chaff afore the winnow, I set off 
 with the De Cogans, because they were stoppin’ wid us at 
 the time, an’ they thought to escape wid the childhre. 
 Anyhow, we wor purshued by the innimy : they fired upon 
 men, women, an’ childhre. Miles de Cogan, I heard some 
 say, was killed, the wife left for dead, an’ the childhre took 
 by the sodgers. Whin I come to my sinsesitwas dark 
 night ; so I crawled away out o’ the carnage, an’, as I said, 
 wid some I overtook on the road, made my way on fut 
 from Tredagh to Dublin, where I fell in wid Lady de 
 Courcy’s people, making their escape to France. They 
 took me wid ’em, as they knew me belongings, an’ to 
 mind the young childhre, that’s Lady de Courcy now, an’ 
 her sisther that was married to Captain Cornal O’Byrne, 
 the light o’ heaven to him, I pray ; an’ it was with Captain 
 Fitz Eustace I met my own man, Laurence Toole, heaven 
 be his bed this day. So what’s to hindher me walkin’ a few 
 miles in sarch o’ my jewels? — throth, not a haporth.” 
 
 Here the invalid, who had been long quiet, moved un- 
 easily, opened her eyes, gazed vacantly around, and made 
 an effort to rise. Norah assisted, raising her in her arms. 
 
 ^^Dhia as Mhuiri goith aroon nHanimal' * muttered Norah. 
 
 God and Mary be with you, beloved of my soul. 
 
332 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Won^t you spake to us, at all, at all, an^ tell us what ails 
 ye, an^ what brought ye to the shaughraun, asthore machree. 
 I wish we had a sup o’ wather to cool her temples ; — an’ I 
 must gother some more o’ that coolin’ ’arib mixture to make 
 her a dhrink.” 
 
 ‘‘ No/’ murmured Maud, complainingly, I won’t take 
 it ; — I won’t eat or drink ; — I’ll starve myself. I want to go 
 home; I must, indeed, go home. I hate you, Captain 
 G-rub, and it’s no use to tease me ; — I couldn’t love you if 
 I tried.” 
 
 Maud,” cried Eveleen, impatiently, Grub isn’t 
 here ; — ’tis Norah and I ; — can’t you look at us and see ?” 
 Maud listened, puzzled by the sound of the w^ell-known 
 voice in her ear, and gazed blankly at the faces bending 
 over her, then smiled, and said : 
 
 How did we escape, Adorine ? — Did Sir Athelstane 
 come ? Now I shall be quite happy. Indeed I thought 
 the Blessed Virgin would not forsake me, and yet I could 
 not help being frightened. — But what makes such light 
 here ; — is it Mass or Benediction we are going to have ?” 
 Eveleenand Norah shooktheir heads in sorrowful silence. 
 Mass and Benediction,” reiterated Maud, her voice 
 sinking to a murmur, and light and music ; — heaven is 
 much nearer to us than we think, and many will go from 
 this straight in. That crowd of beautiful beings I see sit- 
 ting among the flowers on the sunny hill-side, I think, are 
 the angels waiting for them.” Her voice subsided into 
 inarticulate whispers, and Norah, gazing sternly at the 
 brilliant, sparry illuminations on wall and roof, muttered : 
 Begorra, shure enough, I think it’s corj)se lights yees’ll 
 turn out to be ! Angels, indeed, sittin’ in light an’ flowers 
 on the green hill-side ! Faix, anyone ’ud know ye was 
 ravin’. The devils have got the counthry to thimselves 
 for many a day, whosumever gev ’em a lase o’ it, an’ it’s 
 little call angels has to it, throth. Come along, Misthress 
 Eveleen, an’ we’ll go wid the rest, an’ see what sort o’ place 
 is it we’ve got ’ithout rint, to live in, till the Lord knows 
 whin. Anyhow, it’sclane an’ roomy ; an’ if we get enough 
 to ait, an’ a few bits o’ sticks o’ furnither in, an’ a spare blanket 
 or two to screen off a couple rooms, we’ll be snug enough, 
 I daresay,” 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 333 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. THE RUINS OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 “ High from the fields of air look down 
 Those eyries of a vanished race, 
 
 Homes of the mighty whose renown 
 Has passed and left no trace. 
 
 He MANS. 
 
 Leixlip Castle, raising high its crested head and embattled 
 towers above the rich amphitheatre of woods that emboss 
 the sloping terrace upon which it stands, mantled in six 
 liundred years of hoary age, listening to the roar of the 
 Salmon Leap and the sweep of the Ryewater, as the fork- 
 ing rivers take their turbulent course along its base : 
 Leixlip Castle, whose massive Anglo-Norman tower has 
 echoed the thrilling blast of the martial bugle when 
 King John issued, with his panoplied warriors, from its 
 portcullis to levy blackmail upon neighbouring Milesian 
 chieftains, or to lead the chase of the moose, red deer, 
 and wolf, with hound and horn, and the knights and 
 barons of England following in his train along the 
 LiflFey's banks and through Kildare's oaken forests : 
 Leixlip Castle, the stronghold of the lordly Geraldines, 
 scene of banquet and revelry, what time they paced its 
 tapestried halls, and the light of silver cressets streamed 
 through mullioned windows upon the surrounding land- 
 scape, and whose haunted chambers have witnessed strange 
 vicissitudes, and been in turn the palatial domicile of 
 Norman noble, Cromwellian freebooter, and Williamite 
 soldier, a few days since the residence of General Sars- 
 held, and now in possession of another lord. The stately 
 pile wore a frowning and dismal aspect as it looked down 
 in grim solemnity upon the sullen waters meandering be- 
 neath. In a second-story chamber of the square central 
 pile, well-appointed and handsomely furnished, Adorine 
 O' Byrne, wrapt in loose morning gown, reclined in the 
 afternoon upon a low damask lounger, looking Avan and 
 weary, as her calm, sunless eyes rested upon the waving 
 
334 
 
 LElXLII* CASTtE. 
 
 woodlands nodding their drowsy heads with languid 
 motion in the distance ; then slowly withdrawn, after some 
 time, they rested upon a lady whose back, as she sat at a 
 writing-desk, was turned to her. Scarcely convalescent 
 from a brief, though dangerous illness, consequent upon 
 the rupture of a blood-vessel in her last encounter with 
 De Eivers, she had yet to learn what events had ensued 
 during the interval. Former inquiries had been baffled, 
 as the leech had strictly prohibited excitement, and, above 
 all, interdicted speech ; but this day, that she was allowed 
 to be first conveyed to the saloon, the restriction was re- 
 laxed, though not altogether removed, and Adorine 
 watched impatiently till she saw the lady seal her letter, 
 then she opened her lips, and said : 
 
 Come now. Aunt De Courcy, and tell me, as you pro- 
 mised, all I want to know : — Where are we, aunty 
 
 Lady De Courcy rose and came forward. Her fair, soft 
 countenance emphatically betrayed the ravages effected by 
 anxiety and mental suffering. Her features were pinched, 
 her eyes and cheeks shrunk and hollow, nevertheless, the 
 imperturbable calm of her aspect was unaltered ; approach- 
 ing, she seated herself beside Adorine, adjusted the cushion 
 beneath her head, damped her brow with aromatic vinegar 
 and ottar of roses, and said : 
 
 We are in Leixlip Castle, dear.^^ 
 
 In Leixlip Castle, aunty ! — General Sarsfield’s ? What 
 brings us here 
 
 It is not General Sarsfield’s now, dear ; — William of 
 Orange has got possession of it, and Sir Athelstane Fitz 
 Adelm is appointed governor, pro tempore 
 
 How’s that, aunty ; — did not Sir Athelstane combat in 
 the royalist cause, against the Prince of Orange 
 
 Yes, dear ; but when the cause was lost, he went over 
 to William.” 
 
 Adorine’s brow clouded, and she remained silent for 
 some moments, as if in thought, and then resumed : — 
 Why don’t you tell me about Uncle De Courcy, and 
 the children, and Maud, and everything, aunt? — it distresses 
 me to speak much.’^ 
 
 Then, don’t dear; — I’ll tell you all I can. The night 
 
tEIXLlt CASTLE. 
 
 335 
 
 I went to Finglas, I found Sir Eeginald, through some 
 management of Fitz Adelm’s, who had himself been taken 
 prisoner, had been removed to Swords, thence also carried 
 off prisoner into William’s camp, where his wounds, 
 several, but not serious, were attended to by the surgeons. 
 I wrote immediately, begging permission and escort to see 
 my husband, which was granted, and I also sent a mes- 
 senger to acquaint you of my proceedings, who, it appears, 
 did not discharge his commission. I stayed till Sir Eegi- 
 nald was able to travel, which was in a day or two ; and, 
 with Sir Athelstane liberated, and appointed to a post in 
 William’s service, we returned to Dublin, to find poor 
 Maud gone, our house in possession of Captain Vereker, 
 and some ten or twelve men billeted upon us ; — your father’s 
 house was similarly occupied by Ensign Gregg, and a 
 party of military stationed there by De Eivers. Upon 
 inquiry, we found you had gone to hear Mass at Patrick’s 
 Cathedral. Thither we proceeded, having met Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh’s man, Daly, on the way, and arrived just in time 
 to rescue poor Zeno from the inconsiderate fury of, I 
 really think, a mad man. I never saw Harvey so violent, 
 I could not have believed it. It was at the same moment 
 you ruptured an artery, and Fitz Adelm, on the suit of 
 Lady Fitz Stephen, interfered to save you from being taken 
 possession of by De Eivers. He claimed you as his pri- 
 soner, and sent you hither under a strong guard. Very 
 kindly, also, he offered Lady Fitz Stephen, Sir Eeginald, 
 and myself, accommodation here also, which we were on 
 our own account, as well as yours, glad to accept, as we 
 could not have been comfortable in our own residences, so 
 monopolised. Zeno also and your maid were permitted to 
 accompany you. No one could act more handsomely than 
 did Sir Athelstane, and truly it grieves me the poor fellow 
 should have so much cause of affliction.” 
 
 “ Ah, yes, aunt ; — about poor Maud; — no tidings of her, 
 I fear,” Adorine was just saying, when her aunt whispered, 
 as she rose : 
 
 Here’s Fitz Adelm.” 
 
 “Don’t stir, pray. Lady de Courcy,” said Sir Atliel- 
 stane, coming forward, as he softly closed the door behind 
 
836 
 
 LElXLlP CASTLE* 
 
 him. 1 am glad to hear Demoiselle Adorine is so much 
 better.^’ He drew a chair and sat down, Adorine plac- 
 ing her hand, with smile of grateful acknowledgment, in 
 his, remarked the woe-begone, but fierce expression of 
 his physiognomy ; yet his tone was soft, and his 
 manner reassuring, as he accosted her: “I congra- 
 tulate you upon your twofold escape, fair lady. 
 The king of terrors, the second whose claim threatened 
 imminent danger, seems to have relaxed his suit ; — 
 you will soon be quite restored to health ; meantime, 
 Adorine, can you tell me anything of my sisters, Eleanor 
 and Adela ? — I know all you have, unfortunately, to say of 
 my lost Maud. Ah, Lady de Oourcy, must not Sir Eeginald 
 and her other friends now reproach themselves for the unre- 
 lenting obduracy that deprived that poor child, in the day 
 of need, of a husband's protection. But I shall not add to 
 the sting of your affliction by my complaints ; — tell me, 
 Adorine, do you know anything of my sisters 
 
 ‘‘ Your sisters. Sir Athelstane repeated Adorine, ris- 
 ing a little, and looking at him in questioning surprise ; — 
 I called on them to tell what had happened Maud, and 
 heard they had gone to spend the day at Lady de Rivers ; 
 I know no more. Surely, surely, nought can have happened 
 untoward to them ?” 
 
 •‘I know not,’’ returned Athelstane. ‘‘ They went, as 
 you heard, to Lady de Rivers; left, having received some 
 erroneous tidings that I was wounded on my way with the 
 king to Kinsale, and wished to see them. Each of these 
 reports were without foundation ; but believing them, they 
 set off, and have not since been heard of, notwithstanding 
 all my inquiries in every direction.” 
 
 Merciful heavens !” ejaculated Adorine. 
 
 Fitz Adelm continued with darkly musing brow, 
 ‘‘Lady Fitz Stephen surmises Major Grub is implicated 
 in the affair, and were it so, he stands high in favour 
 with Schomberg and De Ginkle. He has been appointed 
 to command the garrison at Kilkenny, wfflile his son has 
 been promoted to some post under Colonel Bruen, at Car- 
 low ; nevertheless, had I sure inkling that this had 
 
 hand in the Iraugaction, I would not bide his return to 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 337 
 
 call him to reckoning. I would straight away to his post, 
 and shoot him at the head of his regiment. As for his son, 
 the varlet’s doom is fated. Strange, strange ; — my scouts 
 and spies, Daly, Sir Ulic’s man, the busiest and sharpest 
 of them, can gain no intelligence of Maud. She is not seen 
 or known to be with or near him. It is very strange 
 
 And strange, too,’^ soliloquised Lady de Oourcy ; ‘Hhat 
 no tidings can be ascertained of my poor children or their 
 attendants, and Eveleen.^’ She raised her suflPused eyes to 
 heaven, and her lips moved in prayer. 
 
 Only my duty ties me here, and that I have been de- 
 nied leave of absence I sought,’^ said Fitz Adelm, would 
 set off this moment in quest of our missing ones myself ; 
 and were the secret of their Avhereabouts buried in the 
 earth, I would come at it. I protest I hear Dopping's 
 voice on the stairs; — let me be off. I^m not in the 
 humour for pious exhortation as delivered by his Grace; — 
 an excellent man, but dry ; — lacks unction ; — always 
 stultifies me. Lady de Courcy, oblige me entertain the 
 bore. Adorine, you can claim an invalid^s privilege, and 
 sleep. Adieu ! au revoir. Find out what you can,’^ and 
 Sir Athelstane escaped by one door as the Bishop of Meath 
 was ushered in by another, leaving Lady de Oourcy to 
 entertain the dignitary. 
 
 We shall here digress in our story, to a narrative of 
 deeper interest, at the period of which stood midway between 
 Carlow and a wild district called Killeshin, from the ruins 
 of an ancient church and Danish rath, close by a gurgling 
 stream flowing through a mountain ravine, a lonely house, 
 not altogether of antique, nor yet of quite modern con- 
 struction, large, rambling, displaying no architectural 
 proportion, but strongly built, with square, massive, stone 
 walls, very small windows irregularly set, and very narrow 
 doors, front and rear, painted green. It was erected by 
 some Elizabethan adventurer, people said, though its style 
 was not Tudor. At any rate, some family who had 
 shared in the confiscations when the last sword that had 
 waved defence over all the district, the sword of Feich 
 O’Byrne, fell from the grasp of the slain chieftain, but who 
 had not perpetuated their name or their fame to posterity, 
 
838 
 
 LElXLir CASTLE. 
 
 being summarily ejected by the grudging successor to the 
 chieftaincy, left it in later time to be transferred by Crom- 
 well to one Corporal Grrier, in possession of whose widow 
 it now was used as a half-way house of refreshment for man 
 and beast, between Carlow and the Queen’s County ; for 
 the Grriers had been improvident as they were rapacious, 
 and had the name of being as sordid, cruel, and ill- con- 
 ducted as they were fanatically zealous and religious. So 
 there stood the hostel, dirty, neglected, with a bedlamite 
 sort of crazy aspect that did not invite approach or patron- 
 age, and yet it was occasionally patronised by a certain 
 class for sake of old association. The Bradly’s, Grubs, 
 Knights, and others, were wont to pay flying visits to their 
 friends. Bob and Dick Grrier, who delighted to entertain 
 them with whiskey-punch and stories of how they robbed 
 wholesale, or eased more lightly the purses of unwary tra- 
 vellers, farmers, pedlars, or such — papists, you know ” — 
 who, belated, had taken themselves to the hospitable shelter 
 of their roof. They even were so trustful in the integrity 
 and honour of their friends as to whisper, when the glass 
 circulated freely, of some that had crossed the “thras- 
 hiir^ that had never returned the same way, and Bradlys, 
 Grubs, and Knights, Sharkeys, Maws, and Booths, winked 
 knowingly, and said : ‘‘ It was quite right ; warn’t they 
 papists ; an’ if the lot could be collared and so disposed of, 
 so best.” And then Dame Grier and her daughters, Fanny 
 and Sophy, made themselves agreeable and the place com- 
 fortable to their friends ; and, as their circle was numer- 
 ous, wealthy, and liberal, they were seldom long without 
 guests. But there came a day when a close carriage, not 
 so pretentious as some that were wont to arrive, drove up 
 to the hostel, and two ladies alighted, whose appearance 
 dumfounded the whole conclave of slattern menials and 
 officious members of the establishment, as with grave mien 
 and stately grace and dignity, all distinct from ostentatious 
 bearing, they advanced to address the bedizened and be- 
 jewelled hostess, who, simpering and smiling, received 
 them in her state apartment. 
 
 ‘‘ We have been directed here,” said the elder la^y, hold- 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 339 
 
 ing in her hand an open letter, in quest of a wounded 
 officer, our brother, Captain Fitz Adelm.” 
 
 Lor’, yes, dear, sure,’’ returned the hostess, advancing 
 her portly person and riveting a stare of such mingled 
 effrontery, cajolery, curiosity, and indefinable expression 
 upon each visitor in turn, that even the calm, steady eyes, 
 whose gaze was used at once both to command and ques- 
 tion, shrunk away from the probing ordeal, and they felt 
 frightened, they knew not why. Mrs. Grrier continued : 
 ^‘The young hofficer, poor dear, was to have come this 
 morn’, but I’ve got word to say as ’ow he can’t come till 
 nightfall ; but the ladies as comes to meet ’im is to stay an’ 
 make theirselves comfortable all the same till he comes. — 
 Will I show ye to yer rooms ?” 
 
 One room shall suffice,” again spoke the elder lady. 
 
 We had brought our maid, but she got ill on the journey, 
 and we had to leave her at Bray.” 
 
 Ay, sure, dear ; travelling in this ’ere barb’rous 
 counthry shakes the life out o’ ’em as is used to better. I 
 wondher ’ow ye came on by yerselves ; — but ’igh folk fears 
 nothin’.” 
 
 “We had nothing to fear ; we found the people civil and 
 obliging,” again returned the senior. “ Show us to our 
 room.” 
 
 The lofty tone disconcerted the voluble landlady, and, 
 arrested in mid course of familiar loquacity, she waddled 
 before to show the way, while the ladies, following, noticed 
 a young, ragged, barefooted girl, not well-featured, but of 
 good countenance, dart away from the door, where she had 
 evidently been listening in curiosity. 
 
 “Plase, leddies, will ye ’ave any refreshment? Ye can 
 ’ave fowls an’ bacon, or ’am rashers an’ heggs, or 
 
 “ Nothing at present ; we shall let you know, by-and- 
 by,” said the junior lady, dismissing the landlady with 
 significant gesture ; then, when alone, she turned to her 
 sister : “ What a wild, doubtful sort of place this looks to 
 be, Eleanor ? I should fancy it the resort of cut-throats ; — 
 and that woman, I don’t like her appearance at all.” 
 
 “It is very dreary, Adela ; — and those wild mountains 
 before us seem so drear and desolate. Uow could Athelstane 
 
340 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 have come to such a place, remote from every human habi- 
 tation ? We can surely have made no mistake — She 
 glanced at the address in her hand. — No. The Hostel or 
 Inn of Killeshin. Well, here we are. I deemed we should 
 have found him before us. He cannot be so bad, if he be 
 able to travel.^’ 
 
 We shall not be comfortable here, I am certain,’’ said 
 Adela. For a few days, that will not signify much to 
 us ; — but for Athelstane, I cannot, with you, think why 
 he comes here.” 
 
 ‘‘ To be quiet, and out of the way of noise, I suppose,” 
 suggested Eleanor. If he were well, I should say to have 
 a few days’ shooting over the moors ; — but, then, he would 
 not need us. It is very strange ; — not even a line to meet 
 us here ; — only a verbal message ; — but, of course, when he 
 comes, he will explain all.” 
 
 “ Shall we walk out, or drive and look about us, to pass 
 time ? ” said Adela. 
 
 “Well, no ; I think better not. Night is coming on, 
 and it threatens rain. We might lose our way, perhaps 
 fall among ill-disposed people ; — and the coach was to have 
 gone on to Carlow to put up at the Coachman’s Livery in 
 the town. Pity we had not time to order our own chariot, 
 and so unlucky that Phoebe Barrington should have got 
 ill.” 
 
 “ I don’t believe she got ill at all,” said Adela. “ She 
 was afraid to come on, and feigned illness as an excuse to 
 be left behind in the hotel. I saw through the trick at 
 once.” 
 
 “ If I thought Phoebe could be so ungrateful as that, 
 and so unfaithful,” mused Eleanor. What more she would 
 have said was cut short by the cautious opening of the door 
 and the entrance of a ragged girl, who, with frightened 
 look and manner most gauche and awkward, came forward, 
 dropping a courtesy, and twisting a corner of a dirty apron 
 in her fingers. She stood irresolutely, looking from one 
 lady to the other. At length Eleanor said : 
 
 “ You have something to say: — has Captain Fitz Adelm 
 come ?” 
 
 “ Throth, an’ musha, no ; nor isn’t to come,” whispered 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 341 
 
 the girl, casting a fearful glance backward. ‘‘ God help 
 yees, aroon; I know yer quality, an^ wouldn’t bring a 
 poor colleen into throuble ; — but get out o’ this as fast as ye 
 can, for ye’ve been decoyed. Oh, sorra word o’ lie in’t; 
 an’ the misthress is in the sacret. It’s the Major has come 
 wid Parson Maw an’ a lot o’ their cronies, an’ it’s for no 
 good to yees, I warrant. I heerd them a-plottin’ of it all 
 through the keyhole.” 
 
 Eleanor and Adela looked at each other with a sort of 
 incredulous quietude, then at the girl. 
 
 What do you mean ? ” demanded Adela. — What 
 Major do you speak of?” 
 
 ‘‘ Major Grub, sure; isn’t he cornin’ down to marry one 
 o’ yees, an’ the parson wid ’im ?” Eleanor laughed. The 
 girl seemed taken aback, and, altering her tone, said : 
 
 Och, musha, me lady, I axe yer pardon ; but sure I 
 thought by what I hear ’em say, an’ the cosherin’ they had, 
 an’ the schamin’, that ye was as innocent of it as the un- 
 born babby ; an’ that the ring was to be put on in spite o’ 
 ye, an’ the parson to read the words, and the sartificate to 
 be made out, an’ the Oapt’n and yer frends to know 
 nothin’ of it till he and iveryone was plased to consint : — 
 an’ more betoken, didn’t I axe the priest whin I wint to 
 confession, Sathurday, an’ he tould me for to warn yees 
 when yees ’ud come, an’ he axed me who the leddies was, 
 an’ whin yees was to come, an’ in coorse I couldn’t tell him, 
 by reason I didn’t know it thin.” 
 
 Adela, we must fly at once,” exclaimed Eleanor, in 
 consternation : ‘‘ I apprehend the whole thing now. — But 
 where shall we go, strangers as we are ? — Girl, will you 
 come with us, and be our guide to some safe place ; — we 
 shall reward you well ?” 
 
 “ Musha, thin it’s myself would, with all the veins o’ my 
 heart, but I’d be kilt and murdhered av it was known I 
 tould yees, an’ my father, Tim Casey, ’ud be put out av the 
 place, an’ maybe worse, for they’re a raal wicked set, every 
 one o’ ’em; — an’ I must run, for they’re at dinner, and me 
 busness is to sarve ’em, an’ fetch in hot pratees and chops, 
 one afther another.” 
 
 “ Come, let us go at once, while we have daylight, 
 
342 
 
 lElXLlP CASTLE. 
 
 Eleanor/^ cried Adela, roused to alarm, and moving to the 
 door. 
 
 Stay, acuslilihy ye don^t think they ’ud let ye oflf that 
 away ; the front hall-doore is locked, an" yees can^t get out by 
 it, and Tom Fowler, the stable boy, an’ Fred Boxwell, the 
 helpin’ boy, two bodach villains, is in the passage just now. 
 But wait till I get "em out o’ the way, an’ 111 lave the 
 back doore by the kitchen ajar, an’ whin it’s dusk yees can 
 steal out, an’ thin roon like red shanks, if yees wouldn’t be 
 caught and brought back ; — that’s all I can do for yees.” 
 
 “ Oh, Heavenly Father, where are we to go? What shall 
 become of us ?” cried Eleanor, with clasped hands and up- 
 raised eyes. 
 
 ‘‘ Where’s the priest to be found ? — we’ll go to him,” said 
 Adela, promptly. I see, girl, you are a Catholic 
 
 Yis, glory be to God, an’ his Blessed Mother, I am, 
 adliore^ 
 
 ‘‘ And the people of the house ?” demanded Eleanor. 
 
 “ Saints, the whole kish o’ em !” cried the girl, with sar- 
 castic grin, goes to hear Parson Brown prache every 
 Sabbath in Carlow, an’ cooms home worse nor they wint — 
 leastways more black an’ bitther.” 
 
 But the priest — where is he ?” asked Eleanor, anxiously. 
 
 ‘‘Musha, honey, he lives no nearer nor Carlow; he 
 only cooms down when he can, to hould a station ; — but his 
 name is Father O’Donovan ; — an’, there, I must run, the 
 ould one’s callin’, ^ Molly, Molly ’ — Ould Nick choke her. 
 Stay till I coom to yees agin.” 
 
 Away darted Molly, leaving the Fitz Adelms now per- 
 fectly aware of the machinations of which they were the 
 dupes, and indeed the victims, in a state of mind more easy 
 to be imagined than described. 
 
 Situate on the acclivity of a mountain, within three miles 
 of the town of Carhla, anglicised Carlow, lies the ruin of 
 a mouldering abbey and cemetery, whose dilapidated monu- 
 ments indicate the last resting-place of generations whose 
 dust, once enlivened by the ethereal fire of soul, had made 
 the solitude populous, and alive with all the interests, 
 labour, business, pain, and pleasure of existence. A noisy 
 rivulet, pursuing its course through a rocky channel close to 
 
LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 343 
 
 the ruin, adds its mournful murmuring to the drear so- 
 lemnity of the ivy-mantled pile, coeval with the dawning of 
 the light of Christianity in our Island, and of which now 
 hut three walls remain standing. It isgsupposed to be the 
 chapel, commemorated by trad^ition and history as the site 
 also of an extensive college, wherein many foreign and 
 native youths were educated. At the period of our story it 
 was in a less ruinous condition, and in one of its cloisteral 
 recesses an old woman, from time to time, took up her 
 abode and dwelt in desolate companionship with the owls 
 and bats that tenanted the shattered elms, the dismal yew- 
 trees, and embowering ivy. In the neighbourhood she 
 was known as The churchyard hag.'^ A sad example of 
 what might be humanity’s lot was this miserable outcast 
 from the pale of social sympathy. Never was there creature 
 so poverty-stricken, or crime abandoned, that owned no 
 fellowship with her kind, whether through medium of 
 blessed charity, or the companionship of kindred vice. But 
 whenever Mona Shule ” appeared, with such terror had 
 superstition invested her, the scared beholder fled quaking 
 from her path, as from the apparition of a phantom, bode- 
 ful of every misfortune. No conjectures w^ere rife concern- 
 ing the mysterious wanderer and dweller among the tombs, 
 for all concurred in one belief, first engendered, then con- 
 firmed by her own phrensied ravings, that she was a ghostly 
 inhabitant of the other world, permitted to revisit the earth 
 and haunt some former scenes of woe. Full often she was 
 heard to rave of slaughtered kinsmen, lost children, and 
 plundered homesteads, and betimes, wildly incoherent, di- 
 late, in utterance of superior language, upon splendours 
 and pageantry, and a career of gladness, in which she 
 had high place ; but as a former book, out of which many 
 pages were torn, her shattered memoiny and diseased brain 
 gave no connected thread by which a clue to her history 
 might be obtained. Supernatural power also was attributed 
 to the hag, supposed to hold midnight communication with 
 the spirits of the dead ; and this chimera was not alone her 
 defence against the injuries of apprehensive enemies, but 
 also procured for her means of supi ort from the propitiating 
 
344 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 alms of the peasantry, at whose doors, within irregular in- 
 tervals, she made her appearance. 
 
 Upon a calm, stilly night, illumined by fitful moonbeams, 
 and in the earlier part threatening rain, which by-and-by 
 cleared off as the stars came out, and the silvery orb rose 
 higher in the "^nament, Mona sat crouched over a fire of 
 furze and brambles, crooning a low, mournful dirge, ^yhen 
 her song and her lucubrations were suddenly cut shoyt by 
 the singular apparition of two handsomely-attired ladies, 
 standing, themselves seemingly dismayed, under the arched 
 entrance of her domicile. Mona stood up, and stared ir^ 
 silence, blessing herself over and over. 
 
 Grood dame,^^ said the foremost of the ladies, who was 
 no other than Eleanor Fitz Adelm, advancing a pace or 
 two, pardon our unseasonable intrusion; — we have lost our 
 way on the moor, wandered hither, saw a smoke ascending 
 among the trees, heard your voice singing, and have come 
 to ask you to direct us to some -shelter for the night. We 
 found no door, or we should have knocked before coming 
 upon you unaware.^’ 
 
 Mona pressed her hand upon her brow, as if to calm its 
 distempered throbbing, and give shape to her thoughts in 
 speech. At length she muttered : The keeper of the 
 
 balance and the sword is come again to the judgment 
 to mete out even-handed justice. What be the flight of 
 centuries to Him whose day is eternity, and in whose eye 
 no time passes ? The young have withered, and the old 
 have died, yet the offspring of the oppressor live to beg 
 bread of the oppressed, and the heirs of the unjust usurper 
 of other's possessions want themselves a home 
 
 Perplexed by her incomprehensible speech, the strangers 
 gazed in silence upon the weird hag, and seemed inclined 
 to withdraw, though ^idently much fatigued' by long and 
 toilsome travel. They looked around the place ; there was 
 no vestige of furniture of any kind : a heap of furze in a 
 corner was the only thing their eyes could rest on. 
 
 Do you live here asked Adela, seating herself on 
 the bundle. 
 
 “Live here!’' reiterated Mona. ^‘No, no; I walk 
 a ay round through my park and demesne. The 
 
L^lIXLiP CASTLP. 
 
 345 
 
 grounds are so extensive, it sometimes takes me weeks to 
 go thro’ them. I see my servants at work in the fields, 
 and gather flowers in my garden. I only shelter here from 
 the rain, or when the sun is too strong for my head. The 
 children’s screams weakened my brain, and it has never 
 been strong since. Never ! But I am quite well. Pray be 
 seated, and we shall have company and supper presently.^' 
 
 ‘‘Let us go, Adela, she’s quite crazy, poor soul,” said 
 Eleanor, in a low tone ; — and the same moment she was 
 startled by hearing the sound of many footsteps and voices 
 approaching the ruin. Adela stood up quickly. 
 
 “ Come, Cathleen, come in ; — here’s a nice place to hide ; 
 — they’d never think of coming to look for us here,” cried 
 a young voice whose tones were quite familiar to the ears 
 of the Fitz Adelms. 
 
 “We needn’t be afraid of ghosts, there’s so many of us ; 
 and I’m half dead with running,” cried a second equally 
 well-known voice. “ Get on, Cathleen ; — you’re the greatest 
 coward amongst us.” 
 
 “ Easy, alanali^ we haven’t your young legs to get over 
 the stones ; — now — there — jump down; — help the old man, 
 Misthress Daly, jewel ; — that’s it. 0 Lord, save us ! 
 there’s someone in here 1” 
 
 The fugitive remnant of Daly’s guests and family, 
 flying to the cemetery for refuge, found themselves now 
 within the ruins of Sleibhtach — Sletty Priory — and Cath- 
 leen, ’ and the De Courcys (May and Bella), in speech- 
 less amazement, stood face to face with the no less aston- 
 ished Fitz Adelms. No one could speak for emotion. 
 The murmurs of the maniac first broke the stillness : 
 
 “ Yes, yes, the hrotaneh^ is true — ‘ blood for blood, 
 tears for tears ’ It minds me of tlje night we fled from 
 the foe, and hid like wounded roes in the foil dhuivna bain 
 seoch,] The rain drowned us, and the thunder crashed 
 over our bruised heads, and the sword flashed keener than 
 the lightning, and more deadly; — but retribution will 
 spread her net for them, and not in vain ; — they shall walk 
 into the toils, and the hind shall see the end of the 
 hunter.” 
 
 ♦ Ancient i)rophecy. t The black glen of the d rt 
 
346 
 
 LEIXLI^ CAStLEi 
 
 Don^t mind her, she’s crazy/’ whispered Eleanot, obser- 
 ving the frightened looks of the children. What brought 
 you here she added, addressing Cathleen. 
 
 Och, musha, lady, dear, didn’t the sodgers come down 
 upon us, 'and hadn’t we to fly thveena cheela, some one way, 
 some another, to save our lives. — But what brings ye 
 here in sich an out-o’-the-way place, may I make bould to 
 ax?’* 
 
 ’Tis too long a story to tell now, Cathleen ; hut it shall 
 be known by-and-by,” said Eleanor, loftily. She added 
 aside to her sister : I have no doubt it was in pursuit of 
 
 us they came upon these poor people. Cathleen/’ she con- 
 tinued, and her cheek burned — for Eleanor was acutely 
 sensitive to shame — ‘‘we once, in your distress, denied 
 you an asylum in our house; — can you forget the ungenerous 
 deed, nor deem it unworthy of us to beg one night’s shelter 
 in your home, when these pursuers shall have departed ? 
 We will not ask for any accommodation more than the 
 shelter of the roof, knowing you have not much to bestow.” 
 
 “ Arrah, thin, my lady, will ye whisht, an’ not demean 
 yerself by axin compliments o’ the likes o’ us, that was 
 yer father s tenants, an’ owes ye many a favour. All we 
 have yer welcome to ; — where there’s room in the heart 
 there’ll be room on the hearth. All I fear is the vagabone’s 
 won’t lave a stick o* a roof but what they’ll burn over 
 us.” 
 
 “ But how came you here, May and Bella, from Comal’s 
 Court ; — and where’s Eveleen ?” demanded Adela. 
 
 May and Bella, with voluble utterance, soon narrated 
 their adventures, to which the Fitz Adelms listened with 
 deep interest, particularly to the strange account of their 
 rencontre with Maud, who, they were confldent, had, like 
 themselves, been the victim of some evil practices. 
 
 Cathleen, with her father-in-law, Daly, and several others, 
 grouped themselves around Mona Shule. Reinforced by 
 numbers, they felt equal to the undertaking, and stood 
 listening, wuth mouths agape, to her rambling soliloquies, 
 and trying to make oracular predictions out of her dis- 
 jointed sentences ; while Mona herself seemed puzzled and 
 perplexed by this extraordinary invasion of her solitude. 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 347 
 
 Thus passed some hours till dawn appeared, and with it 
 came, in quest of the fugitives, carrying some rescued 
 articles from home, the two Kennedys, to say, that the 
 whole shieling was a wreck, not a ha’porth but the black 
 walls left standing, and to caution the fugitives not to 
 leave where they were, as the sodgers were prowling about 
 in all directions. With this bad news, the young men de- 
 ported by separate routes in quest of provisions for their 
 friends, having first cautioned the fire to be extinguished, 
 lest the smoke should attract notice, and lead to their dis- 
 covery. Huddled all together, in dismay and doubt, trem- 
 bling at every sound, the strangely-assorted group, in 
 patient anxiety, awaited the return of the scout, and a 
 long, weary day of suspense deepened into night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 “Ob, there are times whose pressure doth efface 
 Earth’s yain distinctions, 
 
 Which make us kindred, by one chastening bower, 
 
 And feeling but, as from the storm we cower. 
 
 What shrinking weakness feels before unbounded power.” 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 The two Dominicans having in vain sought for Maud 
 during some days, finding all trace of her lost. Father 
 O’Mara directed Lionel Alymer to return to town, while 
 he himself would continue the quest for a while longer, 
 assured, in his own mind, she must be somewhere in the 
 vicinity, and determined, if possible, to ascertain her fate. 
 Jonas Grub, foaming with rage for the rescue of his prize, 
 so deftly as he had imagined secured, returned to Dublin, 
 resolved, on his part, to leave no stone unturned to regain 
 possession of the object, enhanced in value by the impedi- 
 ments cast in his way, and the difficulty of its acquisition. 
 To this end he had made interest among his powerful 
 party, and succeeded in obtaining a command under 
 Colonel Bruen, one of his staunch supporters, in the regi- 
 
348 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ment stationed at Carlow, for himself, as well as subordi- 
 nate posts for his friends, Sampson and Moses Bradly. 
 His father, Major Grrub, through the interest of De Rivers, 
 and Plantagenet Tudor, had been appointed to command 
 the garrison at Kilkenny, and, as we have seen, adroitly 
 laid his trap, abetted by his friends, to ensnare Eleanor 
 Fitz Adelm, without ostensibly appearing himself in the 
 transaction, which had so certainly prospered, but for the 
 intervention of the little ragged girl, Molly Casey, whose 
 agency in the aiffair no one suspected, she seemed so wild 
 and half-witted, a drudge only fit for picking potatoes and 
 cleaning saucepans. In vain, when the Fitz Adelms were 
 missed, they sought elucidation of the mystery; but Jonas 
 and the Bradlys, who had come to assist in the enterprise 
 of the Major, who was also reinforced by his friends, 
 Grideon Bradly, Simon Grore, and Toby Drought, asserted, 
 with tremendous affidavits, that the two cussed priests 
 was at the ’ead an’ tail o’ the business, an’ should 
 be done for.” Thus it may be easily understood that, 
 with this drove of lawless myrmidons prowling at large 
 in quest of their prey, amenable to no law, human or divine, 
 awed by no sense of responsibility, restrained by no authority, 
 goaded by passion, thirst of blood, and pillage, applauded 
 by approving fanatics, what devastation raged throughout 
 the country, what homesteads were wrecked by their 
 orders, and what lives were sacrificed with impunity, to 
 their vengeance. The Kellys were first to fall in sacrifice. 
 Slaughter and spoliation of the rebels,” the stigma 
 under which private malice wrought its triumph and 
 satiated its greed, in the name of loyalty, left not a vestige 
 of that once thriving family ; — scores of others, without 
 any other rhyme or reason, save that their creed and 
 country rendered them obnoxious, shared the same fate. 
 In all directions people abandoning their homes fied to 
 the shelter of the most inaccessible mountains, and the 
 genius of silence and desolation reigned over the land. 
 
 Father O’Mara, shifting from place to place, now flying 
 with the hunted peasantry, aiding them by his counsel, 
 encouraging them by his exortation, cheering them by his 
 presence and his sympathy, offering up Mass for them, and 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 349 
 
 in every way in his power striving to alleviate their 
 troubles. Now perceiving his search for Maud fruitless, 
 began to think he would return to Dublin, not through the 
 more guarded and dangerous passes of Wicklow, but by 
 the more open route of Carlow and Kildare. Taking 
 leave of the people among whom he had briefly sojourned, 
 and leaving them in the watchful care of other equally 
 solicitous pastors, he set out, arrived at dawn at the burned 
 shieling of Patrick Daly, where Father O’Donovan was 
 wont to hold his periodical stations, giving Mass, hearing 
 confessions, baptising, and marrying. The ruins were 
 still red and smoking, and Father O’Mara, sadly pondering 
 over the destiny of the country which seemed to decree 
 perpetuity of sufiPering in every age, in every reign, under 
 every form of government to the doomed inhabitants ; and 
 inly praying that strength might be given them to bear 
 their lot, cautiously wended his way through heath and 
 copse, when a friendly voice greeted him : ,, 
 
 God save yer Eeverence same moment, Fergus 
 Kennedy, carrying a can of milk, and some griddle bread, 
 tied in a bundle, emerged from a by-path, intersected by 
 hedges of hawthorn. Kindly returning the peasant’s 
 greeting. Father O’Mara entered into conversation, and 
 learning that it was the shieling of the young man’s uncle 
 that had been burned, and that he, with several others, 
 were hiding in the old Abbey of Sleibhtach, hard by, the 
 Dominican, diverging from his route, volunteered to ac- 
 company him to his friends. They reached the cemetery in 
 the afternoon, being constrained to hide for some hours 
 concealed in the fern, by observing soldiers prowling within 
 sight of them ; and entering the ruin, exclamations of 
 pleasure from all the huddled fugitives told how welcome 
 was the return of Fergus, and the sight of the priest, whose 
 rapid glance soon took in the group, and distinguished its 
 several components. Mona Shule and he appeared as though 
 they had been old friends, though in reality they had 
 never before met. The maniac clapped her hands, kissed 
 his over and over, and sang and laughed in wildest exu- 
 berance of joy. Turning from the poor creature, his dark 
 gray eye rested upon the Fitz Adelms and the Do Courcys 
 
350 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 in wondering conjecture of what circumstance had con- 
 founded the fate of individuals so manifestly above them, 
 with the lot of the humbler herd. Addressing the old man 
 Daly, and the circle in general, cheerfully he spoke, and 
 the tones of his voice fell like pleasant music upon the 
 ears and the hearts of all : 
 
 ‘‘ So, my friends, I congratulate you. Our dear Master, 
 in his great love, has vouchsafed to bestow upon you a share 
 in the burden He Himself carried to the Mount of 
 Calvary. Well, who’s going to be the bravest soldier of the 
 cross 
 
 ‘‘ Musha, Lord love yer Eeverence,” half-smiled through 
 her tears, as she dropped a courtesy, the wife of Patrick 
 Daly, an’ make us obedient to do his blessed will ; — but 
 Con here, that’s just come in afore yees, says there isn’t as 
 much left as ye’d lap round yer finger of the ould place. 
 They roasted the pigs in the sty, bad luck to ’em ! an’ we 
 haven’t as much as a sod o’ a roof to cover us.” 
 
 Well, my dearly beloved, who was it that while the 
 foxes had their holes, and the l3irds of the air their nests, 
 had not where to lay his head ? Do you find it hard to 
 bear companionship with Him, our Divine Lord ? Can 
 you tell me, my little friend,” turning to May De Courcy, 
 “ the first in comfort of the beatitudes ? Is it not, ^Blessed 
 are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven ?’ Ah, 
 yes, dear children” — he looked at the Fite Adelms — the 
 less we have of this fieeting world, the more of it we sur- 
 render, or are deprived of, the larger shall be our portion, 
 the more magnificent our inheritance in the world to come, 
 whose tenure will be certain, because we shall have pur- 
 chased it at cost. What signifies how it fares with our 
 perishable bodies, the fiimsy garment that covers our souls 
 for a few brief years or moments here, till our prison gates 
 are opened, and we be admitted into the light and glory of 
 eternity, now screened from our mortal eyes by the blue 
 curtain above. Our lives here are very weak,- subject to 
 misery, beset by peril. Passed this boundary, all that 
 will be changed. Now, my friends, to make the thing 
 plain to your understanding ” — he turned to Daly, Cathleen, 
 and the young men, with a smile of humour brightening 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 351 
 
 his dark features : — suppose I a great king, instead of 
 a poor friar ; poorer than any of you — for I haven^t even 
 my liberty — suppose I came and said to you, I want you 
 to fight for me against my enemy. He^s a great rascal, 
 and he’ll send his army to rob you, and plunder, and wound 
 you ; but when the war’s at an end, and I’ve conquered 
 him. I’ll give an estate and title to every man, woman, 
 and child that has fought the good fight and been faithful 
 to me. The more wounds you have to show, the better 
 for yourselves, as each one shall have a specific recompense, 
 and for him who hasn’t a rag to cover him, best of all, 
 since I would summon my courtiers to clothe him with royal 
 garments from my own wardrobe. Now, my friends, 
 don’t you think instead of finding it a hardship to be 
 robbed, and plundered, and wounded, you rejoice and say 
 it was the very best and luckiest thing that could have 
 happened to you ?” There was a shout of laughter and 
 exclamations of : 
 
 Sure enough, and God bless yer Eeverence, but you 
 know how to comfort us in our throuble. The Mother o’ 
 God smile on ye, and the saints in glory be yer pur- 
 tection, ahairT 
 
 ‘‘ Yes; but don’t forget the Mother of God and the saints 
 in glory did not get to it till they had earned it by 
 labour and suffering here, as you must do.” Then, 
 assuming a graver tone, he accosted the Fitz Adelms : 
 ‘‘ But while it is necessary for us to bear with patience 
 and fortitude unavoidable afflictions and trials, we are not 
 forbidden to petition that the chalice may pass away, or to 
 seek escape from, or alleviation of suffering ; hence we 
 must set about providing some more suitable and safe 
 asylum. If you have any idea of where ” 
 
 A thrilling shriek, a yell of exultation, a howl of rage, 
 all simultaneously mingled, arrested the Dominican’s 
 ^eech. He turned to see the cause of the interruption. 
 Lo ! under the archway of the ruin, gloating with satis- 
 faction over the victims cut off from escape, confined within 
 the precincts of the cloisteral space where they stood, ap- 
 peared the terrible forms of Major Grub, Gideon Bradly, 
 
352 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Tom Fowler, Sanky Woods, S wanly, and one or two 
 others of their creed. 
 
 “ Lost ! — lost !” exclaimed Eleanor, grasping the hand of 
 the Dominican priest, who coolly responded : 
 
 “ Not so sure ; — another Power must decree that. They 
 are but creatures like ourselves, and have bounds to their 
 jurisdiction. Let us pray.” 
 
 Mona began to sing : 
 
 ‘‘ The spider her web sits spinning, 
 
 Bluebottles, wasps, and blood-sucking flies — 
 
 Dainty fare for the toiler’s winning — 
 
 Come to spy how the shuttle flies.” 
 
 And there, while the maniac trolled her lay, scrutinising 
 each one with restless, piercing gaze, stood the hunters 
 and the prey face to face ! 
 
 It was past noon of the second day in the cave, and 
 Brian Toole, who would not hear of his mother going in 
 quest of the De Oourcy children, yet anxious himself to 
 learn how they and the others had fared, after having 
 supplied the inmates with all he could procure for present 
 exigency, set out on the expedition, which suited his 
 rambling propensity. With gun on shoulder, and well- 
 filled pouch of shot and gunpowder slung by his side, the 
 dog running before, he trudged the wild heath, sitting but 
 once to rest and refresh himself with a draught from a 
 capacious flask and a wedge of hearth cake, shared with 
 Bran. Starting again, recruited, he resumed his way, and 
 after some miles fell in with a young lad in military equip- 
 ment, who also carried a musket. They hailed each other : 
 God save ye, gossoon r 
 
 God save ye kindly, ma houchal ; — where are ye from ? 
 Ye wear the king’s uniform.” 
 
 From the Boyne.” 
 
 An’ ye lost the field, avic 
 
 The ill-omened neigh of the garran ban lost us the 
 field !” retorted the youth, angrily. We fought well, 
 lonersha /” 
 
 “ Ay, but the king turned out to be a hare, an’ made 
 his traheens save his skin. Where are ye goin’ now ?” 
 
^HE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACli. SSS 
 
 To Limerick. I'd have been there long ago, but I got 
 separated from my father in the battle, and stayed to search 
 for him, but of no avail. Likely he was slain. 
 
 “ And you've come from the Black North, an' are goin' 
 down all the way to Limerick by yerself, asthore. It's a 
 good sthretch." 
 
 I've an uncle there, and he'll get me into Sarsfield's 
 regiment, or maybe his own." 
 
 “ Maise go deimin ! You're a stout, brave boy ; — what’s 
 yer name ?" 
 
 ‘‘ Eaymond O'Byrne.” 
 
 Mills mulloon mulla ! Is it Captain Comal's nephew, 
 I hear my mother talk of?" 
 
 “ I suppose so," said Raymond, curtly, and stared at 
 Toole, suddenly snatching up the dog, standing still and 
 making a warning sign. 
 
 They were now near the ruins of Sleibhtach, and Brian 
 spied the forms of some soldiers moving through the 
 copse and trees quite close under the walls. Masther 
 Eaymond," he whispered, I'll lay a wager them’s the 
 villans o' sodgers ; an’, by my throth, it's in sarch o' 
 the neighbours they’re prowlin’. I'm sure an' sartin it 
 isn't goin’ to say their prayers they are, or to look for relicts 
 in the ould abbey. Let’s climb up into the ivy an' watch 
 ’em, to see what they’re about — some devil’s mischief, 
 batershin.^’* With that the two youths sprung with agility 
 upon a low parapet, clung to the ivy, and, laying hold of 
 projections, scrambled upwards till they gained the roof. 
 Looking down through a chasm from their elevated nook, 
 great was the surprise of each, but of Raymond in par- 
 ticular, on beholding the group below. Time to interpose 
 in their defence seemed brief, and Raymond, levelling his 
 matchlock, was about to fire, with the thoughtless impetu- 
 osity of a boy, when Toole, catching his arm, whispered: 
 “For love o' the Vargin, don’t, sir; — the vagabones has 
 guns, too, an’ it’ll be only murdher wholesale ; while we 
 could only give ’em three or four shots at most. Hould 
 the gun a bit, an’ lave it to me to invint a stratagem ” 
 Hastily thrusting his musket into liaymond’s hand, he 
 
 * Maybe, 
 
 24 
 
354 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 tore from his shirt pieces of linen, which he filled with 
 gunpowder. Then, calling to Eaymond to follow him, he 
 descended from the ruin, stuffing, as he passed along, cart- 
 ridges into chinks of the masonry, and with his tinder- 
 box applying fire to the end of each ignitable material. 
 “ Now, sir, let^s clamber into the hollow of yonder old oak- 
 tree an’ wait.” 
 
 Meanwhile the soldiers addressed their captives : So 
 
 ho, trapped in the gin, moles an’ ferrets ?” 
 
 An’, best of all, we have the fox,” shouted Gideon 
 Bradly, pointing to Father O’Mara. 
 
 ’Old ’im fast, I tell yer, comrade. Priests’ ’eads is 
 gettin’ up in the market, an’ yer in luck,” cried Clot- 
 worthy Grub, pouncing upon Eleanor with a whoop of 
 triumph, while the rest began thrusting their spears at 
 random into the bodies of men and women, amid the 
 shrieks of the children cowering behind. Adela and 
 Cathleen, sheltered by Mona Shule in advance, clapping 
 her hands and yelling: ^‘Hurrah! hurrah! — Cromwell, 
 Ireton, Bradshaw, and all the brood I ovation and jubilee, 
 hurrah 1” 
 
 After brief scene of rude violence and insult, the victims 
 were secured and marched away. AVhen they were at the 
 distance of twenty yards from the ruin Toole and Kaymond, 
 in concert, now hallooed with all their might, and Mona, 
 who had been suffered to go at large, after receiving a 
 spear-thrust, added her frantic shrieks : 
 
 Come back, come back, Bradly an’ Grub. There’s 
 more o’ them. Don’t let them escape !” 
 
 The devil’s in it,” cried the troopers, as they halted 
 and looked back. 
 
 Go see wot it is, Fowler,” exclaimed Grub, looking savage. 
 
 ‘‘ I’ll lay ye a quid o’ pigtail we’ve only bagged half the 
 game,” suggested Gideon Bradly. 
 
 Come back,” shouted his son. ‘‘ We’ll take the covey 
 as easy as whistle, an’ any we can’t, knock on the ’ead.” 
 
 “ I’ll lay a cask o’ beer my son’s intended is among ’em 
 in one of the ’iding-’oles,” vociferated the Major. ^‘I’U 
 stop ’ere in charge o’ the prisoners, while yer go back and 
 inspect the premises. We only in westergated one chamber,” 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 355 
 
 Stay, then,’' cried Gideon, an' you 'old charge o’ this 
 'ere gal," laying his hand on Adela’s shoulder, as wot 
 IVe a mind to. Come on, lads, let’s rummage the place, 
 an' maybe the trends wot hallooed arter us ’ll give a ’elp, 
 wheresomever they be lurkin’, afeared to show, no doubt. 
 Whose that spakin' ? — Where are ye ? — Come out here, ye 
 tarnation skulks, an’ let us see ye ; an’ if ye give thrue in- 
 formation, worth while, we'll reward ye." 
 
 “ Ay, wid a shot, maybe," cried a voice from the tree. — 
 It was now dark, and the troopers could not well distinguish 
 objects. — ‘‘ Anyhow, it's thrue what I say," continued the 
 voice. Ye think ye’ve got a lob, an' yer lavin' the most 
 behind;— ay, in throth, only I've a grudge to someone, I 
 wouldn't say it. A lot o' priests, an’ more nor one mitJire 
 is stowed away in the ould abbey in such cute corners, I 
 hould ye a purse o' goold ye'll not find 'em." 
 
 “Won’t we, ye skulker? — 'idin' in that tree, ye are. 
 We’ll smoke 'em out, if we make- a bonfire of it, maybe," 
 cried the soldiers, lighting a torch and re-entering the ruin. 
 
 “ Take yer time ; ye won’t find 'em in a hurry ; an', if 
 ye do, ye'll lave 'em there, my haro ; — an’ more wid 'em not 
 such good company,’’ muttered Toole. “ Come, now, 
 misthress,’’ calling to Mona Shule, “ get close under the 
 branches here, an' don't be meandherin' like a sthrame 
 that had lost its way. We’ll have a thunderstorm just 
 now ; — an’ it won’t be rain ’ll come down. Shouldher yer 
 gun, Mr. Raymond, an’ be ready to start." 
 
 Further words were cut short. A volley of explosions, 
 that rivalled the heaviest discharge of ordnance, reverbe- 
 rated above, below, around, and tore the old abbey walls 
 from their foundation ; the crash of stones, sliooting like 
 rockets into the sky, and descending in rattling shower ; 
 the boom of tumbling blocks of masonry, yells, shrieks, 
 and' death-groans, mingled with the screeching of night- 
 birds, made a fearful chorus. Dread silence closed the din ; 
 andTooleandRaymond,issuingfromtlieirretreat, beheld all 
 that remains of Sletty to this day — three walls of the chapel 
 and the mound of rubbish that entombed their persecutors. 
 
 ‘‘ Naom Atnir ! * There’s a job," exclaimed Brian Toole, 
 
 * Blessed F atlier. 
 
356 
 
 LEIXLP CASTLIE. 
 
 surveying his exploit with an air of stupor, and Mona 
 Shule, standing with outstretched arms and dishevelled 
 locks, like a weird being, muttering incantations over a 
 ruin. 
 
 Come, Masther Eaymond,'’ he cried at length, shaking 
 himself ; they Ve only got their due ; — what call had they 
 to come afther us ? Let us go help the crathurs they wor 
 persecutin’, an’ lave ’em there to rot, bad cess to "em. I 
 doubt if the ould man an’ woman ’ill get over the spearin’ 
 they gev ’em.” Hurrying on, they came up with the 
 terrified prisoners, transfixed in speechless awe, and strain- 
 ing their eyes towards the focus of destruction. Before a 
 syllable was exchanged, and while they crowded round 
 with anxious eyes, Raymond shouted to his comrade as he 
 saw Major Grub %ing at full speed : 
 
 Hark ! follow the chase ; — don’t let the ringleader 
 escape to muster aid.” And away over tombs, monuments, 
 copse, and furrow bounded Raymond and Toole, reinforced 
 by the Kennedys. Light, sinewy, active of frame, they 
 overtook the ponderous dragoon, with whom they stoutly 
 grappled. Raymond was at once for discharging his gun 
 and putting an end to the foe. Toole again interposed : 
 
 ‘‘ Save the shot, Masther Raymond ; — it’s all we have, 
 barrin’ mine, as I spint all the powdher. Give him the 
 blade ; — cock the likes o’ him up wid a dacent bullet ; — 
 scuffle away my big bull;— yer in hands knows how to 
 howld ye in spite o’ yer horns.” 
 
 Mercy, ye villans ; — spare my life an’ I’ll give yer 
 goold a fistfull,” shouted the overpowered monster, writh- 
 ing in the grasp of the infuriated Toole, the Kennedys, 
 and Raymond, while the latter essayed to draw his sword 
 from the sheath. 
 
 “ Och, musha, but it’s yerself knows how to pray on a 
 pinch,” grinned Toole. Spare yer life, ye vagabone ! 
 Warn’t you mighty marciful in sparin’ the lives o’ the 
 poor crathurs ye laid hould on ? — didn’t I see ye prod thim 
 as if ye wor’ stickin’ pins in a pincushion ? — an’ as for the 
 goold, why, its goold we’d give (/alior to be shut o’ the 
 likes o’ yees. Now, Masther Raymond, whip it into him 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 357 
 
 Bate, an’ send him to keep company wid them as owns him, 
 wheresumever they live.” 
 
 A bright steel flashed in the moonlight ; a strong hand 
 parried the swift descending stroke, and Raymond, looking 
 up, found his arm grasped by the Dominican, Father 
 O’Mara. 
 
 “ My son, you would not murder in cold blood ?” said 
 the priest, in tone of mild reproof. 
 
 Raymond, taken aback, stared at the mediator in silence; 
 but Toole, doffing his cap in respect, cried wrathfully : 
 “ Arrah, musha, yer Reverence, lave him to us ! — don’t 
 we know what's best to do with the likes o’ him ? Is it to 
 let the varmint go, an’ bring all his hive agin upon us ?” 
 
 “Don’t take his life; let him live and repent — but bind 
 him fast, so that he can’t escape to harm us till we have 
 got beyond his reach,’’ said the Dominican. 
 
 “Arrah ! listen to this; — did the likes o’ him iver repint, 
 except if he done a good turn?” shouted Toole, wrathfully. 
 
 “ Didn’t he set fire to our roof, an’ burn it to the 
 ground, wid’ the hens an’ the crathurs in the sty ?” 
 argued Fergus Kennedy, with blazing eyes. 
 
 “ Didn’t he purshue us to have our blood, an’ wound the 
 ould couple, an’ saize the lady, an’ swear to bring in yer 
 own head, father, whin the price was up agin in the 
 market?” cried his brother. 
 
 “ No matter ; I forbid you, in the name of God, to hurt 
 liim. He cannot harm us now; secure him, and leave him 
 till his friends come, as no doubt they will, to seek him, 
 while we effect our escape. Put up your blade, my son.” 
 
 Raymond sullenly obeyed. 
 
 “Bother!” ejaculated the disappointed Toole; “who’s 
 got a sougaun ? — here’s a bit of a one. Hould yer arms, 
 avic^ an’ if I don’t fix ye, ’taint my fault.” 
 
 “ Yer not goin’ to lave me in this ’ere place, all alone 
 among the dead ?” shouted the horrified Major. 
 
 “ Throth, an’ it’s just what we’re goin’ to do ; an’ I hope 
 the sperits won’t be angry for our lavin’ such a cargo o’ 
 wickedness among their bones, seein’ we couldn’t help it, 
 an’ we ax their pardon,” cried Toole. 
 
 “I conjure ye not; — I ’ave a mortial fear o’ ghosts. — 
 
358 - 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Priest, don’t let 'em ; — I see yer a good-’earted man ; — save 
 me.’’ 
 
 ‘^Come, none o’ yer palaver, to soother the priest,” 
 shouted Con Kennedy, while Toole vigorously knotted the 
 cord round his arms, and Fergus pinioned his legs. 
 
 Let me go ! — I swear I won’t betray yer ITl be yer 
 friend for life. Take me with yer ; — yer can keep a watch 
 on me ; — ’elp me, priest, ’elp me, these fellars will obey 
 yer commands.” 
 
 My man, I can do no more for you than to save your 
 life,” said the Dominican. Our own lives are also to be 
 cared for ; and, I regret to say, we have been so often be- 
 trayed, we can trust no more to the faith of men who do 
 not seem to consider they have souls to be saved. And as 
 we have much more to apprehend from you than you have 
 to fear from ghosts, we must leave you now, with this final 
 exhortation : Take warning by the fate of your associates 
 in evil, so suddenly many of them cut off in their sins and 
 hurried before their Judge ; repent while time is yet 
 vouchsafed you for that end, lest your lot be with them 
 that descend into the lake of fire. Come along, friends.” 
 Father O’Mara hastened to return to the little group he 
 had left, followed by Eaymond, the Kennedys, and Toole, 
 whose exasperated spirit found some comfort in the howls 
 and imprecations of the pinioned enemy, and a furtive stare 
 at the ruin, where the rest, so lately rude and strong in 
 life, lay crushed and buried, with the exception of two or 
 three, who lay severely injured among the debris^ but not 
 killed. 
 
 Rejoining their party they found the aged wife of Daly 
 lying dead of her wounds on the grass, all grouped around 
 her in every attitude of dismay and pity ; then said 
 Father O' Mara : 
 
 We must bury her before we go ; some of you raise a 
 slab anywhere convenient, while I read prayers. Silence 
 I entreat. Let no wailing betray us to chance prowlers.” 
 Amid stifled sobs the Dominican read the De Profundisy 
 with low, impressive tone, all, without exception, joining 
 in the responses ; then, with reverend care, they raised the 
 corpse and laid it in an escutcheoned vault hard by. 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 359 
 
 Granay grana^ ye won’t be long alone in the grave, 
 acuishlehy agus asthore machrecy^ wept the old man, her 
 husband, as they replaced the slab. ‘‘Afore long ye’ll 
 have Pathrick by yer side agin — uirra^ iiirra If did I think 
 ye’d be lyin’ here cold to-night, avoureenj macliree ? 
 
 “ Come away, my friend, she isn’t here at all,” cried 
 Father O’Mara, taking tha old man’s arm and drawing 
 him on ; “ she’s in a bright home among yonder stars, 
 shining down upon us poor pilgrims. The fleshy garment, 
 which the spirit has cast away, is all that’s laid by for 
 awhile. Don’t be down-hearted.” 
 
 “ Father, where are we to go ?” whispered Eleanor Fitz 
 Adelm, respectfully appealing, with conflding air, to the 
 priest, whose eye was attracted by a scene of embracing 
 and endearment between the De Courcys and Eaymond 
 O’Byrne. 
 
 “ In sooth, child, we must trust to Providence ; I am a 
 stranger in this neighbourhood, but let us get on, it is not 
 well to delay.” 
 
 “ If yer Eeverance knows of no place, I do, but it’s a 
 good step from this,’' put in Brian Toole, who overheard 
 the dialogue ; “ an’ it’s proud my mother an’ the rest o’ 
 ’em ’ill be to see yees ; — but, as I said, it’s a good stretch 
 from here.” 
 
 “ So much the better, I should deem,” stid the father ; 
 “ we’ll gladly accept your hospitality, my friend-. Where 
 do you live ?” 
 
 In Kilkenny, yer Eeverance.” 
 
 “ Kilkenny ! How are these ladies^ women, and chil- 
 dren to walk to Kilkenny, more than twenty mileS ?” cried 
 the dismayed priest. 
 
 “ They can walk six or seven miles, anyhow,’’ cried 
 Toole, giving a hitch to his doeskin pantaloons, as if to 
 brace himself for the journey, “an’ then maybe Pierce 
 Butler ’ud lend his horse an’ cart to go the rest o' the way.” 
 
 “ Very good, if we can manage that,” said Father 
 O'Mara. “ But shall we be safe in your cabin ; — there’s a 
 garrison stationed at Kilkenny within these few days ?” 
 
 “ Throth, yer Eeverence,” returned Toole, with a hu- 
 * Grace, grage. t Alas, alas ! 
 
360 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 morons twinkle in his eye, and brushing up his shaggy 
 elf locks, barrin’ one o’ ourselves insenses ’em into the 
 knowledge o’ it, which we won’t be apt to do, it ud take 
 more garrisons nor the world could hould to coom at it. 
 Ay, throth, they might ate their dinners on the roof, an 
 be nothin’ the wiser if we was dancin’ a rinca on the Sure, 
 wid bagpipes, as, plase the Queen o’ Heaven, we will.” 
 Come on,” said the Dominican ; “ yon have raised my 
 curiosity ; I shall be glad to see the dwelling you describe — 
 a rath, maybe. Where’s the old woman ; — we’re not going 
 to leave her behind ?” 
 
 She’s gone, yer Eeverence,” said Kennedy; I seen 
 her goin’ off cacklin’ an’ laughin’ afther the ould walls fell. 
 The ould hag is crazy, an’ roves about the counthry. She’d 
 only bring us into throuble, for she’s onlucky.” 
 
 Well, if we cannot help her, let us get on,” said the 
 priest. Friend, lead the way.” 
 
 Masther Eaymopd, you’ve a gun, and, musha, coom 
 along wid us,” said Toole. Begorra, ye’ll be more use 
 there than at Limerick, where they’ll get plenty to help 
 them, I warrant ; — an’ there’s somebody there ye’ll be glad 
 to see waiting for ye ; — throth, ay.” 
 
 Is it my father ?” demanded the youth, eagerly. 
 
 ‘‘Well, no, aviCy tisn’t him, but someone else.” 
 
 “ Step out ;*I’ll go for a couple of days but ; I must get 
 on to Limerick. I’d like to shoot a fellow or two first, just 
 to keep my hand in practice ; only for you grudging the 
 powder, I would,” and the boy, half defiant, half humor- 
 ous, looked askance at the Dominican, who was surveying 
 him with amused attention as he trudged along between 
 May and Bella. 
 
 “ I hope,” said Father O’Mara, overtaking him with a 
 few hasty strides, “ you will give us a hare for our next 
 repast ; not one of us, I believe, have broken our fast since 
 yester’ morn’ — too long for the weans, if we could help it. 
 It will do them out of a year’s growth. And so you are 
 going to Limerick ?” Eaymond nodded assent. 
 
 “ Where are you from ? You have a soldierly look.” 
 
 “ The Boyne,” with a frown. 
 
 “ The Boyne ! Ah, come tell me all about it, my son. 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 361 
 
 and about yourself. I lost two brothers in that botched 
 battle. Truly, my Franciscan friend prophesied well. 
 Catholicus O'Cuin predicted, the night before the battle, 
 when we stood in the camp waiting the hour to minister 
 to the dying and wounded, that we would lose the day. 
 Courage is a gift from heaven to the pure of heart and 
 noble of soul. Courage, wisdom, constancy of mind, and 
 purpose : James lost them all in an ill-fated hour. He 
 
 became as a shuttlecock, blown to and fro by the wind : 
 his manhood deserted him, and he deserted his friends.''' 
 
 ‘‘ Nahoclishy father ! — we^ll make Limerick pay the 
 piper and redeem the Boyne,’' said Eaymond. And thus 
 conversing, the band keeping close together, and all in- 
 terested in the discourse and joining in it, the distance 
 was shortened, and the ruggedness alleviated, till they 
 reached the goal, where Toole succeeded in getting not 
 only a loan of the horse and cart for seven or eight miles 
 more, but some provisions to refresh them on the way. 
 
 With heart sad for her friends, and spirit pining from in- 
 action, Eveleen 0*Byrne, stealing from the circle gathered 
 round the cavern fire, awaiting the return of Toole with 
 some tidings or none, as the case might be, of their kins- 
 folk and neighbours, crept unperceived to the mouth of the 
 cave, and began to climb the rocks upward, guided by the 
 stream of fresh air blowing down the dait gullet. She 
 eontinued clambering and winding upward, till at length 
 she caught a view of the starry sky, serenely shining down 
 upon the sleeping land. Beholding the fair smiling earth 
 once more, and inhaling the balmy, broom-scented air, a 
 sense of rapture that no care could repress awakened in 
 her bosom, which, rebounding, heaved off a load of sorrow. 
 A wild sense of freedom thrilled through her fiuttering 
 veins : I shall not stay much longer immured like a pri- 
 
 soner here," her fearless spirit suggested, as she stood look- 
 ing abroad over the reposing landscape. The owl from 
 his ivy canopy hooted above her head, and a solitary raven 
 croaked upon his perch in a blasted yew-tree a little space 
 beyond ; but Eveleen felt no awe. Standing upon the 
 lonely, dew-sprent heath, in the full light of the shining 
 Piooubeams, with folded arms, unbraided tresses, and softly 
 
362 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 draping vesture of pearlrtinted gray, superstition might 
 have hailed her as a being alighted from the orb to which 
 her face now was turned, as it shone in still calm beauty 
 above. Some minutes she lingered, enjoying the delightful 
 midnight panorama, and giving free scope to thought and 
 fancy, when, far on the horizon, she spied some moving 
 objects. Intently she watched their progress, and saw 
 they were coming in her direction. Retreating into the 
 orifice of the cave, she continued her observation, till 
 proximity, developing their personality, she darted for- 
 ward with a cry of joy, scattering the dewdrops with fly- 
 ing feet. 
 
 May, Bella ; — I’m so glad ! And ; — nonsense. 
 
 Raymond, is that you? — And the Fitz Adelms, I declare ! — 
 Is Dublin blown up? — Where’s Adorine and the rest ?” 
 Father O’Mara laughed : Between kissing and ques- 
 
 tioning there’s not much space for answering. May I 
 inquire, since I take it you are the guide sent to conduct 
 us, have we much further to go, for our pilgrims are very 
 weary ?” 
 
 Just into this hole here,” exclaimed Eveleen, believing 
 Toole had acquainted them beforehand with their destina- 
 tion, which, in order to surprise them, he had not done. 
 So May and B^lla cried out indignantly at what they con- 
 ceived a most unseasonable jest in their jaded plight : 
 
 ‘‘Ah, Eveleen, do have sense ! — Where are we to go?” 
 “ Mercy on us ! — not down there ?” exclaimed the Fitz 
 Adelms, who saw Eveleen was quite serious. 
 
 “ Faix, we might as well have stayed an’ be kilt, as be 
 burrid alive down there,” murmured Cathleen. “ Shure I 
 thought it was an illigant place o’ yer own ye wor bringin' 
 us to, Brian Toole ? ” 
 
 “ The place is mine, alanah ! an’ yer welcome to a good 
 share of it. If ye warn’t so quick at purvidin’ yerself ye 
 might have had the whole of it, wid the owner.” 
 
 “ Bad cess to yer impidence ! I wondher ye aren’t 
 ashamed afore his raverence ; — an’ to keep the ladies an’ 
 the childhre stanin’ here in the night.” 
 
 “Get on, colleen! — I’m not keepin’ ye stanin’. It’s 
 manners to let the quality go first/’ 
 
THE FUGITIVES OF SLEIBHTACH. 
 
 363 
 
 What sort of place is it, Eveleen cried Eaymond, 
 impatiently. Will we smother in it 
 
 ‘‘ No, you won't ; — there's plenty of room. Can't you 
 come on?" responded Eveleen. 
 
 ‘‘ Come, we’ll follow our pioneer,” smiled the Dominican. 
 ‘^My faith is not'limited to objects perceptible and tangible, 
 hence I am willing to believe in a subterranean elysium as 
 in a terrestrial Eden, or a heavenly paradise.” He fol- 
 lowed Eveleen, now descending into the chasm; the 
 others, encouraged by his words and example, followed 
 close ; and in twenty minutes they were standing be- 
 wildered in a flood of light and blazing glory that dazzled 
 their winking eyes, hearing around them a babel of wel- 
 coming voices, and greeted by enthusiastc friends. 
 
 “ Well, acuishleh^ is this illigant enough for ye ?” said 
 Toole, addressing the astounded Cathleen. 
 
 By Saint Brigid, it’s fairyland !” exclaimed Eaymond, 
 thunderstruck. 
 
 Oh ! if we had father and mother here we’d be in 
 heaven,” cried May and Bella. Oh, nurse, isn’t it beau- 
 tiful ? — How did you And it, nurse ? — there was nothing 
 buf a black hole on the top ? — Father, isn’t it lovely ?” 
 But the Dominican, conducted by Eveleen to a space 
 behind a screen of baize, forming a separate chamber, 
 approached to look at an invalid lying on a low couch of 
 blankets and fern. There be found the object of his long, 
 anxious search — Maud Fitz Eustace. 
 
 From the Fitz Adelms, the De Courcys, Eaymond 
 O’Byrne, and the nephews of the badly-wounded and 
 much suffering Daly, Father O’Mara had heard, as they 
 journeyed along their route, each one’s respective history. 
 He had now to learn that of Maud’s, so far as Eveleen 
 could acquaint him with it. A busy time the good father 
 had, and plenty of responsibility, which made one thing 
 clear to him — that he must abide with the little community 
 so destitute, bereaved, and helpless, to strengthen them by 
 his protection, and to guide them by his counsel, till time 
 should enable him to transfer them safely to their friends. 
 
364 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ATHLONE; — SIR ULIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 
 
 “ Now, while the burning spirit of the brave 
 Is roused to energies that yet might save, 
 
 Even now enthusiasts ! while ye rush to claim 
 Your glorious trial on the field of fame. 
 
 Your king hath yielded ! Valour’s dream is o’er. 
 
 Power, wealth, and freedom, are your own no more ; 
 
 And for your children’s portion but remains 
 That bitter heritage — the stranger’s chains.” 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 The failure of the contest at the Boyne was so well under- 
 stood by the Irish champions, leaders, and soldiers to have 
 been the natural result of the bungling policy of govern- 
 ment in the too proximate past ; the inadequacy of field 
 equipments, and the pusillanimity of James, that, nothing 
 daunted or disheartened, they rallied forces under com- 
 mand of their own native chiefs, in whom they had just 
 confidence, put forth their energies with stimulated ardour 
 to retrieve their loss, and resolved, with unanimous voice, 
 to make Athlone and Limerick the standpoints of future 
 effort in cause of fatherland and freedom. Leaving 
 Leinster in the hands of the enemy, the national squad- 
 rons moved southward and westward, and all eyes were 
 now turned to the Shannon districts. Colonel Grrace, a 
 Catholic royalist of 1641, stricken in years, but retaining 
 the bold spirit, clear head, and sound judgment of middle 
 age, was appointed to defend the town of Athlone, against 
 General Douglas, with twelve thousand inen, a train of 
 twelve cannon, and two mortars. 
 
 The Sarsfield and Tyrconnel regiments having dis- 
 charged their trust and protected King James in his fiight 
 to Kinsale, finding their return to Dublin cut off, held 
 council, and decided also to march and add their force to 
 strengthen the main body of their compatriots. 
 
 On the seventeenth of July, Douglas arrived before 
 Athlone and demanded immediate surrender of the gar- 
 rison. Drawing a pistol from his belt, the governor fired 
 over the head of the envoy : Sirrah, this for your answer ; 
 
 now beware of renewing your summons 
 
SIR ULIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 365 
 
 Next day the batteries opened, and for forty-eight hours 
 played with main and might upon the castle of the old 
 Irish town. The gallant defenders withstood the bom- 
 bardment spiritedly, hurling back their missiles of de- 
 struction and defiance. The foiled enemy then thought 
 to convert the assault into a blockade, but at the end of 
 the week the scouts brought intelligence that the redoubted 
 Sarsfield was marching in full force from Limerick to the 
 relief of the town. Hasting to anticipate the tidings 
 being communicated to the besieged, Douglas again made 
 overtures for capitulation, and in answer, the Connaught 
 hero hung out the red flag, betokening resistance d out- 
 ranee. Again a furious cannonade was opened, and a storm 
 of iron and fire beat upon the unyielding towers and 
 ramparts of Athlone. In vain, and dreading the near 
 approach of Sarsfield, Douglas withdrew his forces amid 
 shouts of scorn and derision that waked the echoes of the 
 western shore. The smoke of shielings, hamlets, and vil- 
 lages, the wailing of multitudes in lordly hall and peasant’s 
 hut, tracked the devastating march of the ruthless and 
 baffled army, while old Governor Grace, making a tri- 
 umphal circuit of the walls of the town he had so nobly 
 defended, amid the enthusiastic ovations of the garrison 
 and people, rode out to meet General Sarsfield. The greet- 
 ing among the royalist offleers of the several regiments was 
 cordial and full of animated interest and hopeful prognostic. 
 
 “ Go braghy my friend ! We have made a good be- 
 ginning,” smiled Sarsfield ; for even as the sage Romans 
 blotted the date of the battle of Pharsalia from their annals, 
 even so let us give the whole tide of Lethe to flow over 
 the disastrous field of the Boyne, and expunge it from our 
 thoughts for ever.” 
 
 “You saw a a hocca safe on his voyage?” returned 
 Grace, with reddening brow. “ Woe the hour that brought 
 such heart of aspen to our shore. Much it doubts me if 
 hitherto our kern ever looked upon a man that quaked at 
 the onset of men in battle, or turned his back upon the 
 unproven field.” 
 
 “ A spartan mother had not prided in such son ; hence 
 his Irish lieges may be excused a blush,” smiled Sir Ulio 
 
866 
 
 LEiXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 de Burgh, lifting his morion from his heated brow. *‘IIow 
 shall they deem of him in Versailles 
 
 He’ll inform Louis, his majesty will, as he did me, 
 that he lost a crown by his Irish subjects,” laughed 
 O’Ferrall of Longford, with mirthful irony. 
 
 What’s that you say demanded Colonel Grace, 
 sharply. He lost a crown by the Irish, did a hocca 
 ‘‘ Ay, good sooth ! in the rush of embarkation a gust 
 of wind carried away the royal hat.” 
 
 Little import, faith,” whispered O’Sullivan, aside to 
 Harold Sigurd; '^the whizz of the first shot carried away 
 his head at the Boyne beforehand.” 
 
 I presented him mine, as I happened to be nearest at 
 hand ; he coolly accepted it, with the gracious acknowledg- 
 ment, That if he had lost a crown by the Irish, he had 
 gained a hat by them !” 
 
 Colonel Grace turned to the chieftain Mac Mahon, with 
 a short laugh : He can turn court fool and jester to the 
 
 French king, and live by his wit henceforth,” sneered the 
 Milesian ; and as he spoke the cavalcade, in the midst of 
 wildest acclamations, entered the town of Athlone, and 
 proceeded to the Castle, where a hastily improvised 
 banquet waited them. They were also met by a depu- 
 tation of the principal townspeople. A few days were 
 spent in resting the march- wearied troops, repairing the 
 damages caused by the enemy’s guns, strengthening the 
 defences and fortifications, and taking council for future 
 plans. 
 
 One morning before sunrise. Sir Ulic de Burgh walked 
 out upon the ramparts to view the progress of the works. 
 At a little distance he spied Harold Sigurd, leaning with 
 folded arms upon a parapet wall, and evidently immersed 
 in thought ; Sir Ulic sauntered towards him unperceived : 
 Emulating the lark, Harold ? How beautiful the sun- 
 rise upon the undulating plains and the sweeping waters 
 of the Shannon yonder !” 
 
 “ Yes. Have you heard the last news come in 
 ‘‘ That William is marching with twenty-eight thousand 
 men to Limerick ? Glorious tidings ! There is some- 
 thing inspiriting in the clash when ‘ Greek meets Greek/ 
 
SIR tiLIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 367 
 
 I love to combat with lions, not with wolves. So, cead 
 mile faille, William ! I expect we shall be on the march, 
 forthwith.’^ 
 
 IVe got a week’s leave of absence,’’ said Harold. 
 
 What for ?” demanded Sir Ulic, surprised. 
 
 ‘‘ To go up to Kildare. I don’t like the intelligence 
 fetched by your man Daly concerning our friends.” 
 
 Neither do I ; — yet what can we do ? As for Adorine, 
 she is safe enough.” 
 
 ‘‘ I do not hold so.” 
 
 What ! — you are not jealous? — you have no need to 
 be of Athelstane.” 
 
 Athelstane, having changed sides — gone over to 
 William — has forfeited my opinion. I can have no con- 
 fidence in a pervert to principle. He is attached to another; 
 I know ; but that other is lost to him ; — and — and, who 
 knows he may even, had he no thought himself, favour 
 some rival claim. I must see Adorine.” 
 
 “ Well, but how will you contrive it ? What convoy or 
 passport will ensure you safe transit through the enemies’ 
 posts to Leixlip ?” 
 
 That’s what I’ve been meditating. It were no easy 
 task in this uniform to choose routes whereby to elude 
 vigilant sentinels ; — and I don’t think Sarsfield would lend 
 me a regiment.” 
 
 ‘‘ To be cut to pieces on the way ? — I think not.” 
 
 Then, your Serene Highness, I have hit upon an ex- 
 pedient that suits me. I shall condescend for once to act 
 Proteus, and appear in character of a Hessian black- 
 guard. — What say you ? You know I had always a 
 genius for adventure and a propensity to harlequinade ; — 
 so it’s just the thing; — I shallfeel quite at home. I got my 
 man last week, in view of this exploit, to strip a fellow of 
 his regimentals on the trenches where he fell ; he was 
 about my calibre, between six and seven feet. I shall 
 submit myself for inspection when full-rigged. All I shall 
 have to apprehend then will be from the fiery zeal of our 
 own hot marksmen ; — but against that the cotaynore envelop- 
 ing my disguise will guard. — What say you ? For valour, 
 is not love a Hercules ?” 
 
368 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Still climbing trees in the Hesperides/ quoth 
 Shakespeare. So reiterate I ; nevertheless, Harold, it 
 seems an ingenious device, and one, I bethink me, that 
 might admit a partner. — How say you 
 
 With all my heart . But what’s your object in risking 
 such a venture ? There’s no fair lady, so far as I am 
 aware, to be lost or won on the issue. What a stoic you 
 are. Were you ever in love Sir Ulic laughed with 
 careless abandon, 
 
 A sudden sally to spring a mine and effect an entrance 
 into the impregnable fortress where I hold my secrets. 
 I am, you ought to suppose, anxious concerning the fate 
 of those poor children, Eveleen and Raymond, the young 
 He Courcys ; and though that is more Athelstane’s busi- 
 ness, yet the Fitz Adelms claim some thought. I should 
 like to make some inquiries, to use some exertion, to ascer- 
 tain tidings of them. Once we go hammer- and-tongs to 
 tlie forge again, heaven knows what work cut out, may 
 chain us to it for many a day. Yes, I should wish to 
 accompany you.” 
 
 Evim! Provide your requisites. I daresay some of 
 these camp followers will take gold in exchange for a suit 
 of some defunct Williamite ; and then for the road, Don 
 Quixote.” 
 
 ‘‘ ril set Daly about the job forthwith,” said De Burgh ; 
 ‘‘ he’s a shrewd fellow, miserable about his own little wife, 
 and might be useful on the way.” 
 
 Why, hang it, Ulic, have you got a slate knocked 
 off?” cried Sir Harold, testily. Equip that fellow in 
 what disguise you would, his Connaught brogue would 
 be the ruin of our enterprise. Only fancy him jabbering 
 French, or trying his tongue on Dutch, and he’d be con- 
 ceited enough for the venture.” 
 
 ‘‘ No, no,” said Sir Ulic ; I did not mean that ; but 
 that Daly, as himself, should accompany us. It would 
 not be out of place, if questioned, that strangers in the 
 country should employ a guide, would it?” 
 
 ‘‘ No ; it will strengthen our position,” replied Harold. 
 ‘‘ Give him his lesson ; he is, as you say, a sharp-witted 
 
SIR ULIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 369 
 
 fellow, and may be of use. There goes Sarsfield with 
 Grace to the outworks ; — follow and get your permit ; — he 
 won^t like to give it, but he'll not refuse.” 
 
 Sir Ulic, without delay, proceeded to meet the General 
 and proffer his suit. That afternoon, having made all 
 necessary arrangements, they set out, well-armed and 
 mounted ; and, skilfully acting their parts of officers travel- 
 ling with despatches, they passed the several outposts 
 without hindrance, gleaned much information of the 
 enemy’s movements, and safely arrived as personal friends 
 of the Governor at Leixlip Castle, to hear with concern 
 that Fitz Adelm had been transferred to active service in 
 William’s own corps ; that Sir Harvey de Eivers had been 
 appointed in his stead Seneschal of the Castle ; that 
 Adorine, with the De Courcys and Lady Fitz Stephen 
 had departed secretly at midnight : their escape being 
 effected, it was supposed, through the agency of the 
 Franciscan Friar O’Ouin, and that the incensed Governor 
 had, when made aware of it, despatched scouts and patrols 
 in all directions to overtake the fugitives. Harold and 
 Sir Ulic gazed at each other in silence ; then, withdrawing 
 a space from the ear of the sentinel. Sir Harold addressed 
 his friend : 
 
 What do you counsel in this strait, Ulic ? What 
 course are we now to pursue ?” 
 
 ‘^'Tis very grievous,” responded De Burgh. ‘‘Time, so 
 limited, leaves us no choice of action, else I should suggest 
 our going on to Dublin. However, it mitigates any un- 
 easiness I might feel otherwise on account of our friends 
 to know that Father O'Cuin is interesting himself in their 
 fate. I feel more unhappy about the others.” 
 
 “But if they be taken!” cried Harold, impetuously, 
 taken, carried back, and at the mercy and in the power of 
 a consummate fiend ? Which way could they have gone, 
 do you think ? At any risk I'd pursue them.” 
 
 “ If I might make so free, sir, to spake,” said Daly, who 
 stood near enough to hear the conversation, and who 
 sympathised with them for double motive, “ ’tisn’t up 
 to Dublin they’d go, as is in the innimy’s hands ; — 
 they’d most loike to go down south, where they know 
 
 25 
 
S70 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 their friends is. Father O’Cuin, Grod bless 'im, knows 
 every fut o' the way, an' ^id be sure to fetch 'em safe ; — 
 most likely keepin’ the lonesome counthry through Kil- 
 kenny, on to Watherford an' maybe, if we wint back 
 the same way, keepin’ close by Dunmore, we might fall 
 in wid some gossoon or sthacau that could give us some in- 
 sinse of the crathurs that escaped from the wreck of 
 Lacy’s an' my father’s shielings — barrin' they warn't all 
 slaughthered ; — an' my poor little girl, henacht Dhia eruiv ! 
 I’d walk on my bare knees from this to the land's end 
 to know the best or worst o’ ye, Cathleen, a chorra machreeT 
 What do you say, Harold ? — methinks Daly reasons 
 well," said Sir Ulic. 
 
 ‘^Forward — since we can do no better," replied the 
 young man, gloomily. It was a mishap, Ulic," he 
 added, in accent of sharp vexation, our taking so long to 
 rest at the farm on our last stage. You might have stayed ; 
 but I never saw the day two hours would not recruit me 
 after the heaviest hunt or the stiffest labour. Had I come 
 an hour earlier I would likely have fallen in with them." 
 
 ‘‘ But the horses, Harold, required rest ; — you forget 
 we have to return,” said Sir Ulic, kindly, though in tone 
 of rebuke. Let’s on." 
 
 About five weeks had elapsed since the fugitives of Dun- 
 more, chased by birds of prey, had taken refuge in the womb 
 of earth. It was Sabbath eve ; and while the glorious sunset 
 gilded with beauty the fair upper world, and gladdened the 
 millions basking in its beams, the fairy lamps of Dunmore’s 
 subterranean halls shone upon a group, no less busied 
 with the interests and the cares of life than the dwellers in 
 security of day and freedom, and though differing in 
 condition, bound in ties of common sympathy, cemented 
 by mutual necessity and danger. After a long and 
 doubtful struggle with death, Maud Fitz Eustace re- 
 covered, and was able to leave the darkened recess of her 
 cave-chamber. Propped on cushions, she reclined at 
 ease between the Fitz Adelms, who, warned by Father 
 O’Mara of the close espionage maintained by the garrisons 
 and cordon of spies prowling between Carlow, Kildare, 
 and Kilkenny, had not dared to venture forth, and had no 
 
SIE TJLIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 371 
 
 means of communicating, as yet, with their brother or 
 friends. Strangely brought into contact with scenes and 
 associations so new, and at variance with all their tastes, 
 ideas, and habits, the proud Fitz Adelms humiliated, but 
 not humbled, writhed in impotent rebellion — thankful, in- 
 deed, for their great escape from a direful fate, but thank- 
 less for the uncongenial shelter and association vouchsafed 
 to their need. They mourned in gloomy silence and 
 corroded their hearts with fretful impatience to quit their 
 temporary haven of shelter. Their only solace was in 
 Father 0 ’Mara’s social intercourse, and sorely they taxed 
 the time of the good Dominican by their exactions, and 
 tried his patience by their murmuring discontent. Maud, 
 now convalescent, became indeed a source of new interest ; 
 but she, at all times placid and submissive to exigence, 
 at present too weak and languid to feel more than a 
 blessed sense of relief for her own deliverance, scarcely 
 entered into their sentiments with a particle of condolence. 
 She thought it such happiness they had all escaped such 
 misery. She thought it fortunate they had found so 
 sweet an asylum : she would not mind to stop a long time 
 in it, if she could but know what became of her aunt and 
 uncle, Adorine, Sir Athelstane, and the rest. If they 
 could be all together, indeed she would not think it bad to 
 have to live always in that brilliant dwelling. 
 
 You know,” she wound up by saying, tlie early 
 Christians had to live in the Catacombs, and I daresay it 
 was not so unpleasant when they got accustomed to it.” 
 Eleanor and Adela did not coincide in this notion. They 
 shrugged their shoulders in expression of dissent, and 
 thought that papists were at least very poor-spirited, and 
 easily pleased. In general, Eveleen O’Byrne was an ex- 
 ception. Indeed, in her they found some comfortable 
 sympathy, and more than once the untamed spirit and 
 wild flights of the restless captives, yearning for liberty, 
 had diverted their brooding sorrow, and extorted unwilling 
 mirth. Such had been the case that afternoon, when Eve- 
 leen, whom Father O’Mara, after a brief acquaintance, had 
 found it necessary to take very seriously in hand to control, 
 came up with a sort of reckless, plodding air, and delibe- 
 
372 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 rately accosted the Dominican, who was replacing his 
 soutane by a coat : 
 
 Are you going out, father 
 
 Yes ; I Ve a long way to go to a poor sick man in 
 Waterford.’^ 
 
 ’Tis well for you. May I take a run out over the heath 
 for an hour 
 
 “No, indeed, you may not; — ^just to get yourself into 
 danger and mischief. Can^t you have patience until I 
 return 
 
 “How long are we going to be cooped up here, like 
 chickens fattening to be killed 
 
 “Just so long as God wills. Can’t you have patience 
 like your cousin Maud, and be thankful for the blessing of 
 a comfortable and safe home in such time of peril 
 
 “A nice home it is, half-a-mile below the earth. I 
 wonder what would Uncle Ulic and Adorine think 
 of it. I wish I were among the lakes and hills of Urris- 
 more. If it last much longer, I tell you, I’ll run away, 
 and go home. I’m sorry I asked leave now, but didn’t 
 go out ; — I wonder what made me ?” 
 
 “ Obedience, of course.’’ 
 
 “Well, but I don’t want to be obedient to any 
 but my own priests, Father Birmingham and Father 
 O’Cuin. Of course, Father O’Mara, I like you very 
 well, and I wouldn’t do anything bad that you bid 
 me not ; — but you’re more a stranger, and that was the 
 way Uncle Ulic, and Uncle Cornal, and Adorine got, 
 because I gave into them. At first they let me have 
 my way, and then it was : ^Eveleen, don’t do that ; and, 
 Eveleen, you must do this,’ and I dare not say “ Yes” or 
 “No.” My father never teased me, but just let me do what 
 I would ; — and, oh ! what’s become of him ?” She gave a 
 piteous cry, and then resumed : “ There’s Raymond and 
 all the others out from dawn till dark, and often whole 
 nights, and what harm befalls ?” 
 
 “ You forget what hairbreadth escapes they have ! — how 
 often they are chased, and compelled to fiy miles away 
 from their pursuers.” 
 
 “ That’s great fun ; — wouldn’t I love it ? I’ll ask Ray- 
 
sin ULTC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 373 
 
 mond to lend me his dress. He oughtn’t mind to stop in 
 for one day, or grudge me a spree ; — only boys are so selfish.” 
 That will do nicely ; — be sure to borrow the gun also. 
 You can set off to Limerick ; and, from what I know of 
 Sir Ulic, I can imagine with what sensations he would 
 receive his visitant.” 
 
 I daresay Uncle Ulic would be very glad,” returned 
 Eveleen, with most serious expression, as if a new idea had 
 been most opportunely suggested. I think he was fonder 
 of me than anyone, — except, perhaps, Adorine and Harold.” 
 No,” shouted May de Oourcy from a corner near the 
 fire, Sir Ulic liked Bella and me just as well.” 
 
 “Get out; — no such thing!” was Eveleen’s indignant 
 retort. “ And I would have gone with Cathleen, only she 
 can’t go now, on account of the baby — little, squalling brat ; — 
 what a time it should come ! But when she’s able to travel 
 I’ll go with her ; — and you might just as well try to hold 
 the wind as keep me.” 
 
 “ Dhia as Mhuire goith cried Father O’Mara, making 
 his exit in a perfect hurricane of laughter from all, save 
 the disconsolate Eveleen. 
 
 As to the Fitz Adelms, they had to hold their sides, 
 while the tears streamed down their cheeks, at the vivid 
 picture of Eveleen in martial equipment, with a musket 
 on her shoulder, introducing herself, in the unconscious 
 hardihood of innocence, to the stately Sir Ulic. 
 
 Alas ! that burning tears should furrow the glistening 
 track of those evanescent dewdrops, and that fitful swell of 
 mirth be chilled and drowned in fioods of aaguish 1 
 
 Father O’Mara had been gone some hours when Norah 
 Toole, rousing from a reverie of some duration, cried out, 
 looking uneasily about : “ Why, then, Moia Lacy, a 
 
 suilish ! I wondher what keeps ’em out so long to-night. I 
 doubt but if they stop much longer we’d best go to bed 
 an’ lave ’em to get their own supper. That fine salmon 
 '11 be spoilt keepin’ hot, and the mushrooms an’ hare-stew 
 ye’d best put aside on the hob, Mrs. Lacy, acliorra ; the 
 potatie loaf is roasted dhry, an’ the mashed peas ’ll want 
 another lump o’ butther an’ some milk, to soften ’em. 
 
 * God and Mary be with you. 
 
374 
 
 Leixlip castle. 
 
 The boys isn't used, all of 'em, to be so long. Heaven sind 
 no misfortin’, I pray ! " 
 
 To explain the cause of Norah’s solicitude it is only 
 necessary to say that since they had taken up their abode 
 in the cave the male portion of the fugitives, cut off from 
 all industrial pursuit by which bread might be earned, 
 were wont to sally forth nightly in quest of provender, and 
 to obtain odds and ends of intelligence for the community. 
 According to custom, the preceding night they had thus 
 set off, but the next day had brought no straggler to the 
 rendezvous; yet, for some time, Norah, Mrs. Lacy, her 
 daughters, Oathleen, and such of the women as were aware 
 of the mission of the enrolled band, whose primary object 
 was to abolish, where they could, distinctions of meum and 
 tuum^ reserving merely the clause of exception of prey, 
 Cromwellians and Williamites being set down as legiti- 
 mate booty. For some time they took no note of the pro- 
 tracted absence of their friends, whose knight-errantry 
 had imparted unenviable reputation to three border 
 counties ; but now, waked to a sense of uneasiness, they 
 whispered their fears as they gathered round the fire and 
 learned by Eleanor's watch that it was nearly nine o’clock. 
 Beads were taken out, and murmured prayers were heard ; 
 then Eveleen said : I might go so far as the entry to 
 
 look out ; maybe I should see someone." 
 
 Norah made no answer, and Eveleen lingered in doubt. 
 Meanwhile, let us trace the route of the outlaws, for such 
 they now were branded. Lacy, furnished with a pair of 
 horse-pistols, a supply of powder and ball, a fiask of 
 potteen, and accompanied by three or four others equally 
 well-armed, took the way to Ardmore. Dwyer, Brady, 
 and some others, penetrated into the suburban wilds of 
 Kilkenny ; Toole, with Raymond O’Byrne, who had been 
 prevailed upon by Father O’Mara to defer his journey to 
 Limerick, hied away to patrol the bleak Carlow hills and 
 reconnoitre the surrounding country. Perched like night- 
 birds on the peak of Mount Leinster, they gazed to right 
 and left, now scanning the starry firmament, then casting 
 their eyes upon the ruins of Ballymoan Castle, shrouded 
 in shadow at the foot of the hill. At length, having sur- 
 
SIR ULIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 375 
 
 veyed their ground, they hallooed to the dog, shouldered 
 their guns, and trudged along. ^Twere bootless to tell 
 what heaths they traversed, and what ground they 
 measured on their homeward route, when the sound of 
 voices was borne upon the wind to their ear. 
 
 Whist cried Toole, catching up his dog and hitting 
 him on the head with his knuckles, a warning to lie still. 
 ‘‘D’ye hear, Masther Raymond 
 “ Ay, I hear a man’s voice, and not a musical one, to 
 my notion ; — riding, too, and coming our path. Let’s get 
 through the hedge and into the ditch, and we may track 
 them a piece of the way, and see what they’re about. ” 
 ‘‘By my patron, St. Laurence O’Toole, a troop of William- 
 ites ! ” whispered Toole, as they crossed the boundary and 
 stepped into the furrow ; an’, — by my throth, along wid ’em 
 the big galoot we missed sending up like a rocket into the 
 sky along wid his comrades.” 
 
 “Is it Grub?” asked Raymond, eagerly. 
 
 “ Ay, is it ; — the very yahoo the priest was so tindher for. 
 Here he comes, ridin’ alongside o’ the colonel, Bruen ; — 
 goin’ to Kilkenny, I hould ye. Mark my words, Masther 
 Raymond, as sure as peas is peas, the scorpion ’ll sting the 
 hand that saves him yet. Christians is Christians, an’ 
 many a one won’t be too good for all ; — but what’ll come of 
 a crab-stick but crabs ? Don’t varmin breed varmin ? 
 Cat afther kind coomes nat’ral; — an’ his Reverence might as 
 well look for blackberries in June or apple blossoms in 
 January, as for good to come o’ one o’ their gineration. 
 Whist ! — listen to ’em a-talkin’.” 
 
 “ And so Jonas lost his prize in that way ? Ah, these 
 priests are sad mar-plots, and it proves the necessity of 
 clipping their wings, which, trust me, if ever we have a 
 chance again, we’ll do effectually. No doubt they put 
 their foot into your business as well. Major Grub.” 
 
 “ I tell yer ’ow ’tis, colonel, it’s my belief the priests is 
 sorcerers,’ an knows things by the black art, an’ counter- 
 hacts ’em by the power o’ Beelzebub. Wot else could ha’ 
 got the Fitz Adlems out o’ the secure net I had fixed ’em 
 in? ’Owelse did they know J)e Rivers, Tudor, arid I ’ad 
 laid any scheme to entrap ’em at all ? An’ then the 
 
376 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 infernal blowing-up bisiness in the ruin, where nine fellars 
 lost their lives, an’ one is a hobject for the rest o’ his days; — 
 worn’t it all a planned thing ? The gals there for a decoy, 
 an’ the priest,* an’ a lot o’ partirsans, an’ a woice speakin’, 
 as Bradly tells, all unseen, beguilin’ ’em on to doom, an’ 
 they, poor hinnercents, not up to the willainy, walkin’ right 
 into the pit ; an’, as yer know yerself, from that day to 
 this, no more soign or soight o’ the perpetrators than if they 
 ’ad vanished into hair, tho’ we ’ad the troops out a-scourin’ 
 the country miles upon miles by day an’ by night ; an’ 
 now, o’ top o’ it, coomes the noose from Leixlip, as ’ow De 
 Rivers prisoners ’ave escaped, thro’ a friar wot brought 
 disguises, an’ fetched ’em off, Lor’ knows where.” 
 
 You see, Grrub,” returned Colonel Bruen, these vil- 
 lians have an advantage of us : they know the country so 
 well, and they are so backed up by the enemy, their sworn 
 allies, on every side, who are so stubborn in their partisan- 
 ship, that neither gold will bribe them nor chastisement 
 daunt them to betray these outlaws. I have seen them 
 shot, hanged, scourged, burned out of house and home by 
 the score, without avail. The very children are impracti- 
 cable to deal with, and so tricky and insolent. It was 
 only the other day I fell in with a barefooted, ragged 
 young savage, on the Wicklow side of us. ‘ What’s your 
 name, my lad, said I, civilly ?' ^ Thady, yer ’ anner,’ he 
 
 answered, scrutinising me with a most indescribable mix- 
 ture of fear, cunning, and defiance in his wild physiog- 
 nomy. ‘ Thady, what’s your surname ?’ ‘ I’m no sir, yer 
 
 ‘anner — I’m a poor goshoonJ ^ Where do you live ?’ ‘ Is 
 
 it where do I live, yer ’anner ? — och, on the hills beyant, 
 whin I’m at home, an’ on the mountains fornint ye whin 
 I’m away/ ‘ Where do you go to Mass ?’ ‘ To Mass, is 
 
 it ? — shure, wherever the priest gives it, yer ’anner.’ 
 ‘ Where does the priest live ?’ ‘ Musha, begorra, like a 
 
 bird on the bush, he lives every where, yer anner.’ ‘ I 
 want to see him, badly I want to go to confession,’ said 
 I, feigning to be a papist ; ‘ I’ll give you this gold piece to 
 bring me to him.’ ‘ Come along, yer ’anner ; I’ll show 
 ye where his house is ; — but to make sure yer not desavin’, 
 gie me the goold into my fist.’ I complied, deeming con- 
 
SIR ULIC AND SIR HAROLD SEEK FRIENDS. 
 
 377 
 
 fidence would beget confidence, and that I could more 
 easily attain my end. Well, to shorten the story, I 
 believe that rascal walked me over twenty miles of hills 
 and moorland, till, coming on night, we stood, I don’t 
 know where, but he pointed to the town of Carlow, lying 
 in the distance. ^ There, yer 'anner, is where the priest’s 
 house is, barrin’ the sodgers haven't took it, or his Reverence 
 isn’t out ; — I darn't go farther, lest I be murthered for 
 bethrayen’ it to ye.’ With that he took to his heels, and 
 was out of sight before you could wink, gold piece and all ; 
 — no matching them, you see. During the hours I plied 
 that boy with adroit questions, put in every form, I could 
 not extract from him one straightforward answer ; and, if 
 I pressed him hard, or had him at disadvantage, he took 
 refuge in simulating idiotcy. I believe De Rivers’ sugges- 
 tion a good one : that to snare our game, to capture our 
 runaways, our only hope henceforth lies, not in pursuit or 
 chase, but in stratagem ; to turn outlaws and rebels our- 
 selves, ha, ha, ha ! and so appeal to the sympathies of 
 the knaves, enrol ourselves among them, and so fathom 
 their plots and unravel their mysteries.” 
 
 ’Ron my conscience, yer right. Colonel Bruen,” ex- 
 claimed Grrub, in tones of exhilaration. Lor’, aint my 
 friend De Rivers fit to be proime minister. He’d show 
 ’em a thing or two, I vow, an’ ’ow to circumwent furrin’ 
 policy, I tell yer.” 
 
 What else the Major added was unheard by Toole and 
 Raymond, as they had arrived at the end of the hedges, 
 and further progress would have discovered them. 
 
 “ Go yer way, an’ bad luck to ye, ye seaming delud- 
 herers, and crafty spalpeens ; — maybe yees haven’t put the 
 ind o’ the rope that ’ll thrip yees, or hang yees, into 
 our hands, louersha /” muttered Toole, as the band passed 
 out of sight, while he and Raymond struck off into another 
 path through the country. 
 
378 
 
 lEI^LlP CAStLP* 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 “ Ay, with their ashes hath the wind been sown, 
 
 And with the wind their spirit shall be spread, 
 
 Filling man’s heart and home with records of the dead.” 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 IsN^T this a poor case ; — not a sign of ^em, an^ it close 
 upon midnight?^' grumbled and murmured Norah, for 
 the tenth time. These dumplins is as stiff as a poker ; — 
 an', Lord betune us and harm, I dhread we’ll have bad 
 news. Arrah, musha, Misthress Fitz Adelm, aroon, why 
 don’t ye go lie down, an' you, Misthress Eveleen, alanah. 
 The rest of 'em is asleep this two hours, an' there yees 
 two sit like white blossoms, ready to dhrop off. Can’t yees 
 go to bed; — I'm used to sittin' up an' watching, avourneen. 
 Hist ! — bedad, I hear some clatterin’ an’ scramblin’ down 
 the rocks ! Ay, sure enough, it’s some of 'em, Grod be 
 praised." 
 
 ‘‘ ’Tis Lacy and the Kennedys ; I hear their voices,” 
 cried Eveleen, jumping up with gleeful alacrity, and run- 
 ning forward to meet them ; — I told you, nurse, there was 
 no fear of them." 
 
 I'm so glad ! " sighed Eleanor. All this day I have 
 had over me a sense of uneasiness. I’m glad they have 
 come." 
 
 But more came than these ; for, as Eleanor ceased to 
 speak, entered Lacy, the Kennedys, Father O’Mara, Toole, 
 Raymond O’Byrne, Brady, and with them a stranger, a 
 gaunt man, of majestic presence, and aspect of savage 
 grandeur, leading by a chain, a strange companion — a 
 young wolf — which he dragged along, and held in powerful 
 mastery. Silently he stood, and grimly stared upon the 
 fugitives, all now awakened, and gathered in a group, with 
 the exception of Maud, to listen to the account given by 
 Lacy of their protracted absence. 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DFlATH. 
 
 m 
 
 They had fallen in with a troop of soldiers ; been pur- 
 sued, and all but captured ; were rescued by the timely aid 
 of an unknown friend, who, homeless, wandered like them- 
 selves. They besought him in return for his timely service, 
 to share their hospitality, and become one of their band. 
 The former proposal he had accepted, but the latter he de- 
 clined. On their homeward return they had met Father 
 O’Mara, and subsequently Brian Toole and Raymond. 
 Having briefly explained so much, the famished and 
 weary party were soon set at an ample and savoury meal, 
 laid upon planks of board, resting upon turf kishes, while 
 the wolf crouched at his master's feet, slyly eyed askance, 
 with greedy vigilance, the dog Bran gobbling his mess upon 
 the hearth. By-and-by, as hunger and thirst became ap- 
 peased and slackened, converse grew strong, and each party 
 related their adventures with glee ; Brian and Raymond 
 told of theirs, and laughter and hilarity rose loud and 
 high, and daring exploits were vaunted, and others pro- 
 posed and discussed with animation. Raymond, Toole, 
 and Brady, planned on the morrow to go in search of the 
 fugitives from Leixlip, and old Daly, now quite strong, 
 with Lacy and the Kennedys, proposed to lie in wait for 
 some of the prowling enemy, and try sterner conclusions, 
 than flight. Sole exception to the general exhilaration 
 was the stranger ; vain was every appeal to woo response 
 from features cast in mould of iron, or eyes riveted in 
 sullen gloom. He ate sparingly, drank freely, but no word 
 sprung spontaneous from his lips ; nevertheless, his 
 observing gaze rested with evident interest upon each 
 outlawed form. The wolf at his feet, and the dog at his 
 master's knee, the while scowled, and seemed to blink in 
 meditative surmise of what chance had thrown them into 
 each other's undesirable company. Raymond, propped on 
 a pail turned upside down, his elbows rested upon his 
 knees, and his cheeks cushioned between his hands, alter- 
 nately surveyed the shaggy monster and his canine com- 
 panion. At length, his ideas shaping themselves in words, 
 he said : 
 
 “ I say, friend, how did you come by that ugly m 
 
380 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 I^d as soon travel myself in company with a young tiger 
 lugged by the whisker.'’ 
 
 Musha, what good’s the beast for ?” chimed in Toole ; 
 
 ax his opinion, an’ I darsay, if ye give him his choice, 
 he’ll say his master’s as good as any mutton.” 
 
 He would so,” replied the stranger, in tone sonorous 
 and deep. I got him a cub, among the hills of the 
 West, at risk of my life, tore him from his dam, and put 
 a bullet through her heart. He has been my comrade 
 since.” 
 
 A strange fancy,” said Father O’Mara ; I should 
 have liked a more amiable pet.” 
 
 Fancy !” retorted the stranger, scornfully. ^‘Do you 
 hold me for a child, subject to fancy r’Tis for use I 
 keep and train him.” 
 
 Wouldn’t a dog sarve yebetther ?” put in Toole. 
 
 ‘‘Nay, not for my need and purpose,” returned the 
 stranger, with suddenly blazing eye. 
 
 “Good Lord!” ejaculated Toole, “how’s such a devil 
 fed ? I wouldn’t venture to be his sarving-man for the 
 world, inagh /” 
 
 “ No need I” returned the stranger, harshly; — “ Phooka 
 feeds himself. His master’s foes are his meals ; — to-day the 
 brute has had a surfeit. He picked the bones of the 
 leader of the troop that assailed ye, when my gun picked 
 him down.” 
 
 “ By the saints in glory I” muttered Raymond, while 
 the rest all visibly shuddered, and gazed with mingled 
 feelings of awe, dread, or aversion upon the dark stranger, 
 whose intensity of woe or hatred had so seared in heart 
 and bosom the merciful instincts of humanity, and caused 
 him to gloat with satisfaction upon the fell revenge his 
 moody brain had conceived to execute upon his foes. 
 
 “ Whatever, my friend, be your name, your race, the 
 provocation that goads you,” observed Father O’Meara, 
 in grave, expostulating tone, “ it befits not a Christian 
 thus to foster and satiate direful thirst of vengeance. In 
 fair combat for life man is justified to wield brand and 
 weapon, but not to retaliate wrong for wrong ‘ in cold 
 blood.’” 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 381 
 
 EeturniDg the Dominican’s gaze of compassionate yet 
 deprecating rebuke with fierce, though not defiant stare, 
 and aspect ruggedjuncompromising, and hard, the stranger 
 reared his haughty port, tossed back the masses of sable and 
 grizzled locks from his ample brow of brownish hue, where 
 the black veins now swelled and stood out like knotty cor- 
 dage, infiated by the tide of passion surging in his bosom, 
 and made stern response : 
 
 “ Sog garth j the name I bear may vouch I come of illus- 
 trious race, and Christian birth, yet full forty years and 
 more have I not bent my knee in Christian temple, or 
 knelt at the feet of ghostly father. Miles de Cogan hath 
 before him a chase he must follow, and a quarry he must 
 hunt to death, from which not mediation of saint or 
 angel, prayer of intercession, or denunciation of doom 
 must turn him with softened bt)som or daunted soul ! 
 Soggarthj ’tis not for rivulets running in the sun all soft 
 and pure, and limpid, albeit darkened by transient clouds, 
 and ruffled by blustering winds, to know of the tempest 
 that lashes the ocean wave to madness, or the wintry deso- 
 lation that freezes and congeals the throbbing tide of the 
 mighty deep into a waste of icy rock ! Sog garth, when 
 the lightning fiashes, and shatters to its inmost core the 
 oak of the forest, leaving it a blighted, blackened skeleton, 
 wouldst thou seek foliage and fruit to germinate from the 
 sapless trunk, henceforth the haunt of the raven and bird 
 of prey ? Soggarth, I have suffered woes too mighty to 
 be mourned in lamentation : loss of heritage, home, and 
 name — that I count for dross ; — loss of all that made life 
 dear — wife, children, kindred, friends — I’ve endured, and 
 yet lived on, a wanderer and an outlaw in my own land, 
 sustained by the one purpose that has borne me triumphant 
 over every calamity, for which I have invoked the furies 
 of the abyss to my aid: to wreak full measure of vengeance 
 upon them who have desolated my heart and rifled my 
 dwelling.” 
 
 ‘‘Friend,” resumed Father O’Mara, sadly, “deem not 
 that I lack sympathy in your great tribulation, and just 
 cause of sorrow, if yet I must, bound by my duty, announce 
 the truth, and warn thee thou art assuming to thyself a 
 
382 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 terrible responsibility in taking from His hand the shaft 
 of vengeance, whose province alone it is to wield it. You 
 are an educated man, you have read the story of Phaethon, 
 who besought his sire to suffer him to drive, for one day, 
 liis chariot of the sun. What followed the rash essay ?— 
 destruction to many and to himself. Such allegory may 
 symbolise the fate of those who would, with temerity, 
 usurp the attribute of divine right, wrest from the hand 
 of God, as it were, the scourge, and wreak it, not by the 
 balance of even justice, but measured by the standard of 
 his own vindictive passions upon his enemy. Moreover, 
 my friend, bethink you by what retributive action you may 
 yourself have been destined as an object of expiation. Our 
 history tells us there was a Miles de Cogan of Norman 
 fame, who, five centuries ago, burst, sword in hand, with 
 his panoplied warriors, like a destroying angel of wrath, 
 over Dublin’s broken ramparts, and filled the city with 
 bloodshed and wailing, even while its mitred prelate held 
 treaty of peace with the invader. What hearts did not 
 the victor pierce ; what homes did he not desolate ; what 
 wanderers did he not cast forth, even as Cromwell and his 
 myrmidons of later date ? The deeds of men pass not 
 away. For good or for evil they stand engraven on the 
 recording angePs page, awaiting the appointed hour of 
 requital, punishment, or reward, here or hereafter.” 
 
 8oggarth, thou sayest well and truly,” responded De 
 Cogan, with gloomy firmness of unaltered purpose. Nath- 
 less, my deaf heart giveth no ear ; my dead soul stirs to 
 no impulse. Fate beckons me on; the phantom looms 
 before. It is my destiny to foltew. Deemest thou not 
 divine justice may work through human agency, and 
 manifest its will through humble ministry ?” He rose as 
 he spoke, with saddened brow, and deeper intonation : 
 “Perchance in some future, dark with danger, it may be 
 mine once more to shield the distressed with weapon that 
 bids my foeman die. Come, Phooka” (he jerked the 
 chain and roused his shaggy comrade) “ we must be off ; 
 the way is long before us, and dark and deary; — but the 
 end will repay the toil. Adieu, and banacht lhaty good 
 friends !” 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 383 
 
 Heedless of the Dominican’s further remonstrance, and 
 disregarding all other solicitation to stay, the stranger 
 clambered up the crags with his wolf and disappeared. 
 
 The last rays of the setting sun were slanting from 
 bannered clouds of crimson, purple, and orange, athwart 
 the blooming heath that covered, unknown to travellers’ 
 ken, the spar- lighted halls of the subterranean home of the 
 homeless in Dunmore, and in the dusky splendour of the 
 autumnal eve, the inmates having heard from old Daly, 
 who had reconnoitered the ground, that all was tranquil, 
 and no sign, far or near, of living creature, came forth, 
 some to depart on their noctural predatory rambles, others 
 to inhale the balmy atmosphere and imbibe new life and 
 vigour from brief commingling in the fair scene of more 
 congenial creation. 
 
 I’d like to stop out all night,” said Eveleen. How 
 one envies the hares and rabbits running about, and dis- 
 porting in such freedom.” 
 
 ‘‘ But their freedom is ofttimes cut short,” said Father 
 O’Mara, and there’s an end of it.” 
 
 How mis^able it is to be condemned to such asylum 
 because we can contrive no means to communicate with 
 our friends, who would so soon come to our help,” mur- 
 mured Eleanor Eitz Adelm. 
 
 How much more miserable to be without an asylum at 
 at all, in needful plight,” smiled the Dominican. Oh, 
 ingrate repiner, how much worse might it not have 
 been ?” 
 
 Eleanor laughed, Adela took up the word: You mor- 
 
 tified ascetics, inured to cold stone cells in gloomy monas- 
 teries, and to hardships and austerities of every kind, may 
 not estimate the privations felt by those habituated to all 
 the comforts of rational life — how could you?” 
 
 Dear child, you are mistaken,” replied the Dominican, 
 feelingly. “ Do not imagine that because we are called 
 apart from the world to serve our Maker in more perfection 
 we do not still retain our human hearts, thoughts, feelings, 
 affections, and sympathies for our fellow-creatures ; nay, 
 while passions are crushed out, the very obliteration of 
 self, in selfis'h human nature, enlarges our charity, and 
 
384 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 compels deeper interest in all that concerns our neighbour’s 
 welfare. Be assured we deplore the vicissitudes that bring 
 reverse of fortune or bereavement to any, sickness, suffer- 
 ing, or sorrow, even while we bow down in resignation and 
 adore the divine will that decrees it. Think you I would 
 not gladly surrender my life at this moment, were the 
 sacrifice to ensure the life, safety, and happinessj of any 
 here ? Surely, I would.’^ 
 
 The moon, in solemn beauty, came forth, as, with un- 
 covered head, the Dominican spoke ; its beams shone upon 
 his pale, upturned brow, and upon the white habit and 
 black mantle that picturesquely draped his statuesque 
 form. The Fitz Adelms, gazing upon him, were awe- 
 struck. They thought how grand his mien, how inspired 
 his air, how much above ordinary mortals his aspect of 
 contemplative abnegation. With enforcing reverence he 
 seemed to sway and command the homage — the reluctant 
 homage — of their heart and mind in a measure they had 
 never bestowed, and could not have believed it possible in 
 them to yield to. Standing in the dreamy, magical moon- 
 light, bathing in its mysterious effulgence the weird-look- 
 ing landscape, which, like a temple deserted, re-echoed no 
 sound of life, while the stars, like lamps unquenched, 
 glittered in the dome above, and shone down upon the 
 solemn scene, unconsciously an indefinable sense of pain, 
 a presage, as it were, of ill, descended, like the damp chill 
 of approaching night upon their souls. Again they looked 
 upon the Dominican, but he saw them not. Far away 
 in spirit his thoughts were communing with those no eye 
 saw, no ear heard, no tongue addressed in that hour but 
 his. In the invisible world was his home, his treasure, his 
 all : with that he was engaged in prayer, upon that he was 
 intently meditating. 
 
 Precursor of change in the 'feather, and a coming 
 storm, a low moaning murmur woke, as though a spirit 
 sighed through the solitude, and a shadow fell upon the 
 brightness of the moonlight. 
 
 Father, it is getting late, and rather cold ; shall we 
 return to the cave?” said Eleanor, anxious to’ break the 
 
J’AITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 385 
 
 solemn stillness that had fallen upon the group, an hour 
 before so gay and full of life and motion. 
 
 Eecalled to earth, Father O’Mara gazed around upon tlie 
 band, some standing, some crouching in various attitudes. 
 His own face wore an impress of deep solemnity. 
 ‘‘ Yes,’’ he made answer ; I think we had better go in 
 now. Where are the children ?” 
 
 ‘‘Musha, the crathurs is ?iii\i(dir pishrogues playin’ hide- 
 and-seek in the broom an’ the fern/' said Norah, rising up 
 from the sward where she had been sitting. Do ye see 
 the childhre, Cathleen 
 
 Call them, and insist upon their coming/’ said Father 
 O’Mara ; “two hours’ play is more than sufficient.” He 
 gave his hand to Maud, and all wended towards the cave. 
 
 May and Bella De Oourcy soon came bounding to the 
 call of Cathleen, but Eveleen did not respond, and the 
 children said, laughingly : “ Never mind ; she’s hiding to 
 make-believe she’s lost, and keep us out on the search. 
 She’ll come after us.” 
 
 The autumn sun had sunk behind his gorgeous curtain 
 to rest, and the moon, ascending in silver beauty the va- 
 cated throne of the deity, reigned supreme, and lighted 
 the devious way of three horseman journeying through the 
 wold, the rearward of whom had been accosted an hour 
 before by a mounted patrol scouring the Kildare frontier. 
 “ Halt, sirrah ! — who be your masters ?” 
 
 “ The Count Von Sachard, an’ Mounseer — faix, myself 
 can’t rightly spake his outlandish name — carryin’ despatches 
 to the camp for King William. If ye want to know more, 
 ma boiichal^ ye must up an’ ax ’emselves, as they ain’t the 
 sort as is apt to make the likes o’ Paddf their prime 
 ministher and the keeper o’ the sales. Anyhow, I’m to get 
 a good lob for guidin’ 'em safe ; — an’, but for that, begorra, 
 ye might have the fetchin' o' ’em yerself, an’ welcome.” 
 The patrol looked hard and suspicious at his informant ; 
 but, deceived by his easy swagger, and the cool confidence 
 of his simple look, as well as by the specious, off-hand 
 story, with another shrewd glance at the Williamite officers, 
 Count Von Sachard and Mounseer, he gave the word “pass 
 on,” and on sped Daly with willing alacrity, till, at the end 
 
 2G 
 
386 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 of four or five miles, lie reined-in his steed with sudden 
 impetus, took a long, distant survey of some point towards 
 which they were approaching ; then, setting spur to his 
 horse, he dashed madly forward, overtook his master, and 
 arrested him, with the cry : Sir ! — sir ! — for the love o’ 
 
 the dear Vargin, don’t go on; — let’s take another cut.” 
 Why, Daly, what’s the matter said Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh, turning and looking at his valet, whose distorted 
 features, bedewed with drops of terror, and scared eyes, 
 too plainly evidenced his alarm. Is it an enemy ? — are 
 we pursued ?” 
 
 Worse, yer honour, worse ! Who’d care for the spal- 
 peen of an inimy, wid a gun in his fist ? Yer honour,^’ 
 sinking his voice to a whisper, it’s the good people, the 
 fairies, is abroad in the moonlight : I seen ’em wid my 
 
 own eyes forninst ye, on the heath o’ Dunmore, min an’ 
 women, big an’ little, an’ they cuttin’ all manner o’ 
 capers — jumpin’, runnin’, leapin’, an’ dancin’, for bare life. 
 For a while I couldn’t belave my sinses while I looked at 
 ’em ; — but it’s thrue as the Grospel ; — an’ ill-luck is sure to 
 folly ’em as meddles wid the gentles, or intherferes wid 
 their gambols in the moonlight. Let’s go another way.” 
 Daly, have you got any more of the bottle left ? I 
 think I’d like a pull myself. This sort of travelling is 
 lonesome, and apt to breed whimsical fancies,” smiled Sir 
 Harold. “ Is there mandrake hereabout ?” 
 
 Now, Masther Harold, yer always for yer joke, Grod 
 bless ye, an’ why not ? Howaniver, it isn’t no joke. Wid 
 my own two eyes I seen ’em hoppin’ an’ jumpin’, an’ more 
 lookin’ on, whin, my jewel, all of asuddint, one afther another, 
 down they goes undher the hillock into the fairy-house, 
 an’ not a sight o’ em ; — but never fear there’s some cute 
 ones on the look-out to watch us ; — an’ mighty oijlucky it’s 
 counted to look upon ’em, or meddle wid ’em at all. For 
 love o’ the Vargin, let’s ride away from ’emc” 
 
 ‘‘Now, Daly, I thought you were a more sensible man 
 than to believe such old women’s stories — mere hobgoblins 
 to frighten children,” said Sir Ulic. 
 
 “ Easy now, masther, jewel ; — ^ye may be talkin’, but ye 
 can’t bate the sight out o’ my eyes ; — an’ I wondher at ye. 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH; 
 
 387 
 
 axin’ yer honour’s pardon, that’s all as one as ourselves, 
 not to have more knowledgeable ideas. But it’s a cau- 
 tion !” And Daly, with an aggrieved air, added : ‘‘ Faix, 
 it’s meself could tell yees things about the same as come 
 undher my own knowledge that id bate the consate out o’ 
 thim hodach Sassanach, that doesn’t believe in the good 
 people no more nor they believe in the Mother o’ Grod or 
 the Eucharist, by reason they niver seen ’em, as if they’d 
 condiscind to show-off to the likes o’ ’em that has no reli- 
 gion but goold. Didn’t they change my brother’s wife’s 
 sisther’s first child in the cradle, an’ left a puny thing, one 
 o’ their own, that squalled from morn’ till night, in its 
 place, as I seen meself? An’, more betoken, didn’t I iver 
 tell yer honour what happened to Jack Grorman of Naas? 
 One morn’ he wint out, an’ the first thing he seen was a 
 white hare runnin’ for her life before a pack o’ hounds, an’ 
 she half dead, the crathur. Wid that he opens the doore o’ 
 his cabin, an’ in she runs an’ hides in a corner behind the 
 turf-kish. ^ Did a hare coome by this way, honest man ?’ 
 sez the hunther, cornin’ up, mighty civil. ‘ Shure, an’ there 
 did; but she flew like the wind, an’ is out o’ sight by this; — 
 it’s hard-set ye’ll be to folly her,’ sez Grorman. Wid that 
 away wint the hunther an’ dogs. Thin Jack opens the door 
 and sez, ‘Now, ye crathur, off wid ye, an’ don’t let the 
 grass grow undher yer feet.” Me jewel, the hare was off 
 while ye’d wink, an’ Jack wint to his day’s work in the 
 fields. Well, what would ye have o’ it, but that night 
 Jack dhramed a white hare comes to him, an’ sez, 
 ‘ Honest man, folly me, an’ I’ll shew ye where to find 
 a crock o’ goold to reward ye for savin’ my life to-day.’ 
 Well, Jack didn’t pay much heed, for he was sleepy, an’ 
 thought it was only a dhrame ; howaniver, the next night 
 it come agin, an’ still he paid no attintion, for he wasn’t a 
 ready warrant to believe everything no more than yer 
 honours. So the third night she comes an’ sez, ofiinded 
 like, ‘Jack Gorman,’ ses she, ‘there’s thim wouldn’t 
 take fortune, if it wor thrown afther ’em. This is the 
 last chance I give ye ; get up an’ folly me to where the 
 crock o’ goold is burrid.’ So up he gets an’ follys the 
 white hare, an’, my jewel, where does she bring him but 
 
388 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 to an’ ould desarted forge at Dundhrum, near Dublin. 
 ‘ Here it is/ sez she, ‘ undher the anvil.' So wid that 
 he removes the anvil, an’ there, sure enough, was the 
 crock o’ goold ready to his hand.'’ 
 
 Well, what followed?” said Sir Harold ; — ‘‘did Jack live 
 like a king thenceforth ?” 
 
 “ No, yer honour, for some people’s born to no luck. It 
 was the time o’ the war wid Cromell ; Jack had to hide 
 the goold agin, an’ fly to save his life. Anyhow, he 
 was killed in battel, but not before he had tould his 
 gossoon the secret. Well, the gossoon was an omadaun o’ 
 a fellar, that took sarvice wid an English masther, an’ wint 
 to England wid him. Bedad he blabbed the sacret whin 
 he got soft wid a dhrop, an’ boasted as how he would be a 
 rich man whin he’d go back to ould Ireland. My jewel, 
 sarve him right : the masther picks all out o' him, pur- 
 tinds to dhrame the same dhrame himself, comes over an' 
 buys the forge for a song, lifts the anvil, an’ carries off the 
 crock o’ goold that the queen o’ the fairies showed Jack.”* 
 “ Well, Daly,” said Sir Ulic, who saw it was useless to 
 contest the matter, “ we cannot lose time by diverging from 
 our route ; — but see: here is an amulet will protect us from all 
 the power of fairy — a relic of St. Patrick and St. Bridget ; 
 —hold it flrmly in your hand, make the sign of the cross, 
 and invoke the saints, as we pass the Shefro, no harm shall 
 befall us ; — and if by good luck some of the gentle folk 
 show you where to find a crock of gold it will be a nice 
 present for Cathleen when you meet again — Forward.” 
 
 All Daly’s objections thus skilfully combated, his safety 
 ensured, and his cupidity awakened, the party resumed 
 their progress. 
 
 The last of the fugitives had descended into the cavern, 
 save Eveleen ; — where was she P Playing at hide-and-seek 
 among the broom and the fern, running to-and-fro in all 
 the exuberant spirit of the wild enjoyment of freedom and 
 apparent safety. Their merry laughter had waked the 
 echoes of the wilderness wide and far. Fleetest in the race, 
 and least timorous, the mountain-reared child outstripped 
 her companions by hundreds of yards ; and on, still on, no 
 * This story is told of Mount Anville, Conyent of the Sacred Heart. 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 389 
 
 Alpine goat revelling in unshackled strength of limb and 
 mirth of mood, bounded with a more lithesome foot its native 
 crags and heath than she tripped over the sward and heather 
 banks around. One more race, one more, yon distant 
 copse, where wild fruit-trees cluster, is her goal. Thither 
 she speeds with undiminished pace, crashes through the 
 brushwood, and emerges, breathless, at the opposite end, in 
 full view of two converging parties of horsemen, bearing 
 down in sight ofeach other from opposite quarters. Thelarger 
 and more proximate group, in evident amazement them- 
 selves at the unexpected apparition, reined up their steeds 
 and accosted the startled Eveleen, whose very tongue 
 cleaved tg her palate, dry and motionless with terror. 
 
 So, ho, witch, fairy, wood nymph ! exclaimed the 
 foremost rider, a thick-set man of middle age, with fair 
 complexion, red mustache, heavy lips and chin, broad, 
 low forehead, and square, florid cheeks. Where, i’ the 
 name o’ the sphynx, have you come from ? Is this your 
 sylvan bower, eh 
 
 Eveleen was silent ; yet the high courage which had 
 ebbed away was now tiding up again in her swelling 
 heart, and with unquailing mien, she stood fronting her 
 interrogator. 
 
 Is the fairy dumb continued the speaker, coming 
 nearer, and laying his gauntleted hand upon her head. 
 
 Prithee, sweet, let’s hear the tone of your voice, if it is as 
 lovely as your face you shall be a siren.” 
 
 What do you want ?” was the blunt rejoinder, in no 
 particularly harmonious accent. 
 
 The officer smiled ; but ere he could reply, a gruff voice 
 behind him vociferated: 
 
 “ By all the fiends in Limbo, Colonel, it’s the rebel Hugh 
 O’Byrne’s child ! Dang it, we’re in luck; — now we 'ave the 
 ’ole ’ornet's nest ; — seize, ’old her fast ; — doan’t let her escape 
 no ’ow, till she shows us the foxes’ ’ole, an’ where my son’s 
 intended and my own is a-hidin’ ” 
 
 ‘ An’ where the houtlaws is a-lurkin’ wot stole my 
 gun and blew hup my father an’ the rest o’ ’em in the 
 hold rewin, an’ maurauds o’ nights a-plunderin’ our cattle 
 
390 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 an’ asses, shouted a voice in the rear. Make her speak, 
 Bruen !” 
 
 Colonel Bruen evidently did not approve of the tone in 
 which he was addressed by his low associates ; same time 
 equally intent upon gaining the desired information, he 
 sought to arrive at it by means more conciliatory than 
 compulsive. With bland smile and insinuating accent he 
 returned : 
 
 This fair sprite is no rebel’s child, nor companion of 
 outlaws, Major Grub. Her free-born air and noble 
 mien deny it. Give us the pleasure, little lady, to see you 
 safe across this lonely moor to your dwelling 
 
 As Colonel Bruen spoke, the second group of horsemen, 
 who, having been spied in the distance, deemed it wiser to 
 hail their supposed comrades in the Williamite service 
 than attempt a doubtful escape, which would entail sus- 
 picion and pursuit, rode up with visors drawn over the 
 upper part of their face, and the lower part muffled in 
 kerchiefs from the night air. 
 
 Great was the surprise of Harold Sigurd on discovering 
 Eveleen in such a situation ; but the shock that thrilled 
 through the breast of Sir Ulic was indescribable and not 
 forgotten for many a long day. Aware that to doff dis- 
 guise could only involve himself and Harold in peril, 
 without succouring the object of his solicitude, he mechani- 
 cally dropt his bridle rein, and, erect on his saddle, with 
 arms akimbo, sternly looked on, while Colonel Bruen, 
 having passed salutation as to a brother offlcer, resumed : 
 
 ‘‘ Forward, little one ; — show where you live ; — we will 
 conduct you safe.” 
 
 “ You needn’t take the trouble ; I know where to go 
 myself,” abruptly returned impolitic Eveleen, now, in the 
 desperate crisis of fate, rigorously wound up to one in- 
 flexible resolve, happen what would to herself, not to be- 
 tray the asylum of her friends to foes thirsting for their 
 blood. On that one idea every other was merged : dark 
 brow% sullen eye, compressed lip, bold response, disclosed 
 not the agony that preyed upon her heart, but indicated a 
 spirit resolute to suffer and withstand, to endure and 
 triumph. 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 391 
 
 But you don^t mean to stay all night on the moor V' 
 said Colonel Bruen. “ Where are your companions 
 
 Gone home long ago/^ saidEveleen, with open glance 
 at the interrogator, and in secret terror lest May or Bella 
 might adventure into her path and ruin all. 
 
 Then it was to meet me you lingered behind ; — how 
 flattered I must be V' 
 
 ‘^No, indeed, it was not. I don’t know you at all, and 
 right sorry' I am to have met you ; — but you may as well 
 go on, for youhe only losing time to stay. If you think to 
 come round me to tell where my friends are, I haven’t the 
 smallest notion.’’ 
 
 Why, you little termagant, I don’t want your friends.” 
 Well, if you don’t, the Grubs and Bradlys do.” 
 
 ‘‘ Ah, ha ! I see you know some of us ; — then let Grub 
 and Bradly And them, and you come with me ?” 
 
 No ; what would I go with you for ?” 
 
 Why, if you will promise to be very good I’ll marry 
 you.” 
 
 Eveleen, speechless with wrath, turned away her head ; 
 Colonel Bruen took her arm to lift her to the saddle ; 
 Eveleen caught hold of the foreleg of his charger, and 
 swung herself from his grasp. 
 
 You may as well go on ; I wouldn’t marry you, not if 
 you were the Orange Prince and a blazing mass of dia- 
 monds from head to foot ; and you needn’t think to beguile 
 me to show you where I live, to set Are to it the way you 
 did to Lacy’s and Daly’s shellings. I’m not an amadaun.^' 
 Put a’ hend to this tomfoolery !” cried Major Grub, in 
 answer to Colonel Bruen’s appealing look ; ‘‘ it’s clear she 
 knows where the rebels is lurkin’ ; an’ if she woan’t hinform 
 by fair means, we’ll try others. Look yer wench, if yer 
 doan’t tell this hinstant. I’ll put this soord through yer.” 
 So you may,” as stoutly retorted Eveleen, and you’ll 
 just get as much out of me as if you put it through this 
 apple-tree. I’m not one bit afraid to die, and I’ll die 
 before I’ll tell — there.” 
 
 Just a brag, my dear ; yer doan’t know wot the taste o’ 
 cold steel is loike ; just give ’er a taste o’ it, Grub, an’ my 
 
392 
 
 LEIXLI? CASTLE. 
 
 loife on’t, she^ll speak/’ cried Samuel Bradly, drawinghis 
 sword and stepping forward. 
 
 Sir Ulic, spurring his horse, speedily interposed, and 
 with the end of his musket dashed the weapon from the 
 assailant's hand, but too late ; for turning, he beheld Eveleen 
 lying where she had stood, a stream of blood flowing from 
 her neck; and Major Grrub, who had dealt the assassin’s 
 stroke, also prostrate, flung to the earth by the powerful 
 hand of Harold Sigurd. 
 
 Serve him right ; that was a dastardly deed ; — but hold, 
 don’t slay the ruffian, comrade ; we can’t afford to lose men,” 
 cried Colonel Bruen, arresting the flashing steel of the 
 infuriated Harold. 
 
 At that instant Daly, who, loitering in the distance, 
 beheld weapons drawn and indications of conflict, fancy- 
 ing his master and Sir Harold to be in jeopardy, hurried 
 forward, shouting and gesticulating like a madr^an. 
 
 What's the matter, fellow?’' exclaimed I|arold, ex- 
 citedly brandishing his blade. / 
 
 “ The inimy — the rebels, yer honour — a scorejbf ’em, men 
 an’ women. King James flying off on the Wicklow side o’ 
 Cartath.'’ 
 
 To horse ! to horse !” yelled Colonel Brufen. Come 
 on, gentlemen, come on ; — well overtake theip. The very 
 rogues we’re in search of. 111 be sworn.” 
 
 ‘‘Excuse us,'’ said Sir Harold, “we are oh our way to 
 Limerick, and may not dally.'’ / 
 
 Away scoured the band on the false ^cent given by 
 Daly, himself leading the van, to ensure iheir protracted 
 route, till his friends should be far beyond their reach. 
 Sir IJlic and Harold, left alone, gazed in ^orrowful silence 
 upon the senseless Eveleen, weltering in gore at their feet. 
 Sir IJlic dismounted presently, bent down, raised her, and 
 seated himself upon a low bank. Cmnged to a more 
 horizontal position, Eveleen opened hei eyes, with a wide, 
 straining stare on every side. In th/ir strange uniform 
 she did not recognise her uncle or SirMarold, but sternly 
 fixing upon them a glazing eye, muimured : 
 
 “ I told you true, You see I canMie/’ 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 393 
 
 Eveleen, Eveleen, dear child, how came this to pass 
 cried Sir TJlic, in profound distress ; and now, bethinking 
 him of casting off his helmet and disguise : ‘‘ Look up ! — 
 See ! — I am-^^ — . Do you know me 
 
 Yes, Uncle Ulic. Where were you so long sighed 
 Eveleen, resting her head wearily upon his shoulder. 
 Where's father ?” 
 
 You are hurt, dear,^’ he returned, holding his hand- 
 kerchief to staunch the stream more languidly flowing 
 from the w^ound in her neck. 
 
 Yes, uncle, they wanted me to tell where I lived ; 
 but they would have put all belonging to us to death, and 
 Maud and the FitzAdelms would have been taken away 
 
 again, so I wouldn’t, and then 
 
 Do you suffer pain, my precious one 
 ‘‘ No, uncle, not much — only weakness. I’m glad you’ve 
 come ; — youfll take care of them now. Where’s Adorine ? 
 I'm grieved not to see her— before — before I die.” 
 
 But you won’t die, Eva,” said Sir Harold, with tears 
 in his eyes. ‘^You shall live to laugh at all this yet. 
 — She’s not in any serious danger ?” he whispered to Sir 
 Ulic. 
 
 She’s going fast,” returned Sir Ulic, choking with 
 emotion. Eveleen, shall I take you home ?” 
 
 The child languidly raised her head and looked around. 
 Yes, please, Uncle Ulic ; — but how will you ? ’Tis a 
 good way off, and — oh ! must I die ?” 
 
 ^^Hold my horse, Harold.” — Sir Ulic mounted, and took 
 Eveleen before him. — Which way now, love ? 
 
 Straight on before you to the right; — hold me up and 
 I’ll show you where to stop.” — They rode along at a 
 gentle pace, and in silence, for a quarter of an hour ; then 
 Eveleen, who was growing restless and uneasy, said, 
 waving her hand, There it is, uncle.” 
 
 Sir Ulic and Harold looked at each other ; they thought 
 she was raving, and they halted, in perplexity. 
 
 ‘‘ No sign of a roof-tree to shelter a mouse, so far as my 
 vision can extend,” said Sir Harold, prying in all direc- 
 tions. They rested till Eveleen, again rousing up, spoke, 
 with faltering breath : 
 
394 
 
 LETXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 You needn’t be afraid to go down, uncle ; for though 
 the way is long, and dark, and rugged, ’tis all bright and 
 beautiful below ; and they’re all there. ’Tis well they 
 didn’t come to look for me, or they'd have been caught. 
 Keep the right-hand passage all along, for the left brings 
 to the river cave.’’ 
 
 I have it ; ’tis a cavern, and she must mean we go down 
 here,'’ said Harold. 
 
 Is that it, Eveleen ; — is it here we are to descend 
 said Sir Ulic, holding her up, and pointing forward to the 
 mouth of the cave. 
 
 Yes,” she feebly answered, with drooping head and 
 closing eye. 
 
 Strike a flint, Harold, and get up some light, that we 
 may see our way. Tie the horses at a little distance, and 
 go before.” 
 
 Harold did as directed, and soon essaying the toilsome 
 descent, they were diving deep into the womb of earth, 
 lighted by the glimpse of Harold’s taper, and still 
 gided by Eveleen’s voice from time to time saying : — 
 ^‘Mind the slippery rocks, uncle; — you must be very 
 tired; — but we’ll soon be there now, and the brightness will 
 dazzle you.” They had descended about midway, when a 
 large flame of light diffused by someone bearing a torch 
 upwards, showed all the yawning, gulf-like passage and 
 shining crag in hideous perspective. But little time had 
 they for comment. They halted and stared, as one stand- 
 ing before them in the garb of a Dominican, barred their 
 progress. A few words, however, explained all : the un- 
 known intruders referred to Eveleen, of whom the father 
 was now going in quest, alarmed at the length of her ab- 
 sence, fearing she had met with some accident, and des- 
 tined to And his apprehensions realised. Little heeded 
 Sir Ulic or Harold the scene of light and wonder, and 
 eager faces that crowded round them, claiming remem- 
 brance, as they stood at length within the subterranean 
 precincts. Eveleen was fast dying ; but she was conscious 
 and knew it. Beside the heap of fern upon which she was 
 laid knelt the Dominican in his stole to administer the 
 last rites, while the awed inmates of the cave, as yet in 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 395 
 
 ignorance of ^he circumstances of her death, stood round 
 in trembling circle. She had made her confession, brief and 
 simple ; and now reconciled to the impending change, at 
 first so full of terror to the human mind, and to the part- 
 ing with friends, so bitter to the heart, she lay tranquil 
 and tearless, seemingly absorbed in thought or in prayer. 
 
 ^^Can nothing be done to save her?’^ cried Sir Harold, 
 with anxious vehemence of intense feeling. 
 
 Nothing ; — the wound is mortal,’^ said the Dominican ; 
 and the deep lull of stillness that ensued was broken by 
 Eveleen murmuring in accents rather stronger and more 
 distinct — 
 
 Father, what do you think will heaven be like 
 
 A happy home, dear child.'' 
 
 And, father, do you think I will have long to be in 
 purgatory ? I'm afraid I will, for I can’t feel half sorry 
 enough for my sins, and I know I’ve been very wicked, 
 stubborn and cross, and idle and disobedient.” 
 
 God help us !” murmured the Dominican. 
 
 Tell me, will I be forgiven; — you must know And 
 immediately she added : ‘‘I think father must be dead or 
 he would have come to me. I wouldn't be so sorry to die 
 if I saw him and Adorine. How sorry Eaymond will be 
 when he comes back — but no use.” — Soon her mind began 
 to wander, and she raved of tJrrismore, and Elphin, 
 and Owen Mao Carthy, and pleasant scenes far away. 
 — ‘‘Uncle Ulic, look at all the beautiful white lilies,” 
 more brokenly she articulated ; “ they are everyone going 
 to be taken away and planted in that lovely garden full 
 of fiowers, and sunshine, and music. They told me 
 mother was dead, but she isn't, for I see her in the crowd ; 
 and she has got such a nice new dress on, a queen might 
 wear it ; and, father, Uncle Cornal wants to get in. There 
 he is, standing at the gate, but the briers have caught him 
 and he wants help ; — will you go to him ; you can help him, 
 by pulling them away — they’re only little ones. Now I 
 must go — mother is calling me, and we’re going to have a 
 feast.” These were the last words she spoke ; a murmur, 
 a sob, a gasp, and all was over. 
 
 “ Another beam of immortality infused into the world 
 
396 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 of light, another flower added to the garden of paradise,’’ 
 said the Dominican, as he closed her eyes. “ Requiescat in 
 pace ! 
 
 Eveleen, Eveleen ! exclaimed Sir TJIic, while his tears 
 fell down like silent rain upon the white cold face of the 
 dead child. Brave men and strong men, true men and 
 noble, have fronted the bayonet on battlefield, and with 
 their lives defended each post of danger — the broken ram- 
 part and the stormed battlement — yet on listed field or 
 leagured tower never braver, truer, nobler heart beat ’neath 
 martial panoply, or defended with its last drop holier cause 
 than thine this day. Requiescat in pace^ Eveleen 
 
 This is not a death to mourn, but to rejoice for,^^ said 
 Sir Harold, dashing the tear from his own eye, and for 
 the first time taking note of his surroundings, while a 
 chorus of wailing, led by Norah and the De Courcys, arose 
 on every side, and defied alike expostulation or reproof to 
 assuage. Of all the band the Fitz Adelms alone were calm 
 and tearless; but not less deep for that undemonstra- 
 tive show was their hearts’ unspoken sorrow. It shone in 
 the mournful gloom of their eyes, and the ashy hue of their 
 cheeks, low, suppressed tone, and pensive air, which not 
 even the hope-inspiring presence of Sir Ulic or Harold 
 could dispel. As for the Dominican, abstracted and silent, 
 he was busy making preparations to say Mass, for which 
 sacrifice, daily offered, he had from the first, assisted by 
 Toole, provided all the necessary requisites ; and as the 
 first beams of the rising sun were gilding the green world 
 above them, deep, deep below, in the caverned abyss, no 
 eye but those of God and the angels to look on, no ear but 
 theirs to listen, no memory but theirs to record, the vested 
 priest with lifted hands stood before the altar. In tearful 
 prayer a suppliant group knelt around. Draped in white, 
 Eveleen’s bier was laid in the centre. It was this solemn 
 scene upon which the eyes of Eaymond, Toole, Lacy, and 
 the other outlaws lighted as, after some hours’ marauding, 
 they returned, laden with booty and provisions to the cave. 
 Transfixed, with questioning eyes they gazed in mute sur- 
 prise upon the one central object — the bier and the dead. 
 None broke the awful stillness. Raymond, unperceiving 
 
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 397 
 
 his uncle and Harold, whose eyes the while rested upon 
 him, stood bewildered, with uncovered head, leaning upon 
 his gun ; Toole, behind him, bent under the weight of a 
 young hart hanging upon bis shoulder ; Dwyer and Brady 
 had a sheep slung between them ; Lacy and the Kennedys 
 had sacks full of other spoil, and there they stood, in gro- 
 tesque group, surveying the unwonted scene, till, the final 
 benediction being given, Eaymond strode forward, and 
 pointing with his finger, cried aloud : What means this ? 
 
 What befell Eveleen 
 
 Sir Ulic rose and advanced. Their eyes met, and with a 
 cry of joy and sorrow, the boy fiung himself into the arms 
 extended to receive him, and wept and sobbed passionately 
 upon his uncle’s bosom. Then all came gathering round, 
 and voices broke forth in question, and the short, sad story 
 was told amid renewed lamentations ; then, amid mur- 
 mured ejaculations of emotion, Dwyer, leaning upon his 
 pike- staff, said : 
 
 Thon a mon Dia I I’d give, did I own the same, the 
 gift o’ a crown o’ goold, an’ a kingdom broader than the 
 whole earth’s span, an’ a life o’ more years than Mathu- 
 selah counted, an’ every hour o’ it filled with the joy o’ 
 the angels, to be where ye are now,A5 suilish machree inghean 
 ban^ ma caileen oge, Eibhleeriy amid the angels in light 
 an’ glory. Go vioch a Dia urio 
 
 Solemnly the Dominican, now unvested, came forward, 
 while Cathleen wept convulsively over the bier, and said : 
 
 Dear children, death decreed as a penalty must be at all 
 times terrible. It imports little the time, form, manner or 
 circumstance of the dread summons. Infancy, youth, age, 
 wealth, poverty, the bumble and the great, all alike, have 
 to yield the same tribute of suffering and sorrow to his 
 sceptre. Yet, in truth, viewed with eyes of faith it is 
 not a punishment, but a blessing. What is the action of 
 death P It frees our imprisoned spirits from walls of cor- 
 ruption, from chains of earthly bondage, from the soil and 
 the stains of earthly contamination. It gives back the 
 ethereal fiame — the spark of life breathed into dust — to the 
 
 * God look down on us. 
 
3&8 
 
 LEiXLlP CASTLE. 
 
 bosom whence it came in the beginning, to revel in the 
 kindred freedom, light, glory, and immortality of which it 
 is a part. No more bound by laws of magnetism confining 
 it to space, limiting its flight and curbing aspiring range 
 within contracted sphere of rigorous attraction, the uni- 
 verse is its boundless empire : space and time are annihi- 
 lated. Superb, supreme, it exists for evermore in the 
 essence of life, perception, conception, thought, power, all 
 that animates mind below — intellect, knowledge, under- 
 standing, purified intensified, refined from every dross, are 
 now its attributes. Have you ever seen a dewdrop 
 exhaled from the bosom of a flower? The flower perishes, 
 withers, returns to dust, but the dewdrop soars into the 
 sunbeams, and glitters in the rainbow, fit emblem of the 
 soul emancipated from earth to ascend in glory. No; 
 death is not terrible, save but to one of all— the impenitent 
 sinner. Hence, my dearly beloved, it matters not when, 
 where, how, on what occasion, through what means, by 
 whose agency we may be called on to obey the divine 
 mandate to go forth at any hour of the day or night, on 
 long notice or short, in much suffering or in less, let it be 
 our care so to guard our souls in faith, hope, and charity, 
 and our baptismal robe white and unsullied from stain, 
 that, with peaceful conscience and smiling resignation, we 
 may be ready to welcome the messenger sent to convey us 
 home, and change his aspect into smiles by clasping him 
 to our hearts. Let there be no more tears. I am glad. 
 Sir Ulic ’’ — he turned to De Burgh, standing beside him 
 with folded arms — am glad of the good Providence that 
 has conducted you hither by means so singular and yet 
 so fateful, to cheer with good tidings, I trust, some of our 
 friends who love not this uncongenial life and dwelling. 
 He smiled at the Fitz Adelms, and retreating from what 
 they called the chapel recess of the cave into the outer 
 chamber, all the others following, in brief space the visitors 
 sat before the cavern fire listening, with deep interest, to 
 the narratives of their newly recovered friends. 
 
THE DEFENCE OE LIMERICK. 
 
 399 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 THE DEFENCE OF LIMERICK. 
 
 “ They fail not now, the generous band that long 
 
 Have ranged their swords around a falling throne ; 
 
 Still in those fearless men the wills are strong, 
 
 Hearts such as rescue empires are their own. 
 
 Shall those high energies be vainly shown ? 
 
 No ! from their towers the invading tide is driven — 
 
 Shout, warriors of the Cross, for victory is of heaven !” 
 
 — Hemans. 
 
 The full moon stood in wan majesty in the starry firma- 
 ment over the ruined Dominican abbey of Kilkenny, and 
 the recording angel looked down in silence, as of yore, 
 upon the unthinking world, with shrouded hand tracing 
 on mysterious tablet chronicles of human life, actions 
 registered on annals to be unfurled before the great tri- 
 bunal in characters of fiame, or blazoned in tints of glory, 
 when the great curtain that separates the two worlds shall 
 be withdrawn, and behind it all earth shall view long- 
 forgotten things garnered up with jealous vigilance in the 
 archives of eternity. Bound a new-made grave, with 
 head uncovered, stood a small silent group. When the 
 sound of the shovel that had laid the last sod on the green 
 mound was heard no more, old Daly raised his voice, and 
 said : 
 
 “There, ye blessed one, sleep yer long sleep, an' sweet 
 be yer rest in the arms o’ the angels, o’ J esus, Mary, an’ 
 Joseph; in the name o’ the Holy an’ Blessed Trinity, 
 Father, Son, and Holy Gihost, one Grod now an’ for iver- 
 more, amin !” 
 
 “Amen !” re-echoed in deep response through the roofless 
 wallsof the ivy-embowered ruin. Then sadly and solemnly 
 rose and came forth the mourning train. Sir Ulic de Burgh, 
 mounting his horse, rode silently on, his head sunk on his 
 breast in mournful abstraction of thouglit. Eaymond, 
 mounted upon the horse of Cormac Daly, who had returned 
 after having led Colonel Bruen and his ])arty a wild-goose 
 
400 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 chase, and had been conducted to the cave by Toole, 
 stationed to watch for him, followed close beside his uncle, 
 his youthful sorrow soon evaporated in a boy’s wild glee at 
 the prospect of war and adventure. Sir Harold lingered 
 in the rear, and taking leave of Father O’Mara and the 
 others, said : 
 
 ‘‘ Fear not, friends; the aid we may not now give shall 
 soon be afforded you. Keep close, meanwhile, to your safe 
 quarters. These prowling dogs, be sure, will return to 
 sniff their prey ; beware their track and scent, and doubt 
 not the first thunder shout of victory we send forth from 
 old Limerick shall be the tocsin of your deliverance, if we 
 may not earlier contrive to inform Fitz Adelm of his 
 sisters' situation. Farewell! Get on, Daly; I suppose 
 having seen Cathleen, your young son, and your father, 
 you will feel stout enough in heart and limb to trudge 
 along till we can provide you a mount.’' 
 
 “ Faix, yer honour, gi’ me the hard word, an’ I'll be in 
 sweet Limerick afore yerself. Shure I ought to be as hearty 
 as a cock at a barn door, barrin’ for seein’ my masther so 
 low, an’ thinkin’ o’ my poor mother, an’ little misthress 
 Eveleen, that thim dragoons, thim villans murthered. 
 Och, savin’ yer Reverence’s prisence” — Cormac clenched 
 and brandished his fist — “ won't I be the death o’ some o’ 
 ’em ? Throth, it’s absolution I’ll be cornin’ to yer Reverence 
 for.” 
 
 Get on, man, get on,” shouted Harold ; benediction 
 you mean. The more you slay of the enemy the more 
 you shall have of mine, anyway. Once again, father, 
 farewell, and your blessing.” 
 
 My blessing and the benison of heaven rest on you 
 and your glorious cause, and each one leagued in it, my 
 son I” said the Dominican, with uplifted hand. God 
 speed you I — Farewell !” 
 
 Waving his hand, Harold passed out of sight. The 
 Dominican returned with the Lacys and old Daly to Dun- 
 more, the latter much cheered by his son’s affectionate 
 promise to bring him a bayonet, a soord, and a variety of 
 relics of the inimy from the field o’ slaughther.” 
 
 Upon their arrival, without further adventure of any 
 
THE DEFENCE OF LIMERICK. 
 
 401 
 
 note, at their destination. Sir Ulic and Harold found that 
 the tide of war was fast surging upon Limerick. William 
 the day before had reached Cahirconlish, seven miles south- 
 east of the city. His force consisted of twenty-eight 
 thousand men, augmented to thirty-eight thousand by the 
 junction of Douglas’s ten thousand that had been repulsed 
 from Athlone. Stern tidings those ; and now in war’s 
 wild roar must be drowned all softer thoughts — love, grief, 
 regret, compassion handmaids of peaceful bower, fly far ; 
 domestic cares and kindred duties all give place ; one 
 thought, one duty paramount steels the soldier’s breast — 
 high throbbing to front the foe and mingle in the clash of 
 arms. Thus felt Sir Ulic de Burgh and Harold Sigurd 
 as, with lofty port, warlike step, and kindled eye they 
 entered the hall where council of war was being held 
 among the officers in command of the army. Stationing 
 themselves in convenient positions, their attention was 
 at first engaged by the Duke of Tyrconnell exclaiming 
 warmly, as, with right foot advanced and arm elevated, he 
 sought to impress his auditors with his own conUction : 
 
 Ten thousand infantry and four thousand cavalry en- 
 camped on the Clare side is all our miserable force to meet 
 this overwhelming host of thirty-eight thousand well- 
 drilled, well-equipped veterans, and with this ” — turning 
 to Sarsfield — you would have us risk an engagement. 
 Bah ! my hot-headed countrymen don’t calculate odds 
 when their blood’s up.” 
 
 And see the defences of the city,” chimed in the Count 
 de Lauzun. “No outworks, glacis, or fosses ; an old wall 
 flanked by a few towers without moat or bulwark ; no 
 guns, no batteries — Oiif! the place could be taken with 
 roasted apples. Let it be surrendered on any terms.” 
 
 “ What says gallant Sarsfield ?” demanded the young 
 Duke of Berwick. “For my part, having had a sample 
 of Irish valour at the Boyne, I’d adventure my Lord 
 Tyrconnell at the head of ten thousand of your hot-headed 
 countrymen to charge the whole phalanx of the enemy, 
 and come through with flying colours.” 
 
 “Your Grace speaks well,” responded Sarsfield, with 
 energy. “I knowmy countrymen, and prize in them the bold 
 
 27 
 
402 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 spirit that recks not of calculation when a good fight has to 
 be fought. It only remains to say that those who honour 
 me with their confidence I will stand by, and while one 
 man follows his banner, Sarsfield will not lose hope or turn 
 from the field/’ 
 
 Qae tu es brave enfant /” cried De Boisseleau, a French 
 officer of engineers, tapping Sarsfield on the shoulder with 
 patronising commendation. ^‘Mon bon gargon tu asraison\ 
 'tis a poltroon von’t make fight. I've seen de little chien 
 fight for his bone, and hold him, too, from de great mastiff. 
 Ve’ll mount batteries, an’ cut counterscarps, an’ put de 
 walls in defence ; an’ if de enemy vill have de city, 
 begar it von’t be vid roasted apples. Courage^ mon 
 enfant ! ” 
 
 ‘‘ By St. Patrick ! my French cousin,” smiled Mac 
 Mahon, ‘‘the growl of the lion makes pleasanter music to 
 my ear than the moan of the jackal ; and if we mount the 
 ramparts of Limerick, and fling out our banner, fear not 
 but our Celtic blood will boil over, and then let Pande- 
 monium ring out its joy bells, there will be more demand 
 for beds in Hades than in Limerick, inagh ! What says 
 Sullivan More, and what say De Burgh and O’Ferrall ?” 
 
 “ To the field! to the field I to the field I ” shouted each 
 stentorian voice in response. 
 
 “ What say the inhabitants? Let’s have but one heart 
 and mind amongst us,” cried Sarsfield, looking round at 
 the Mayor and delegates of the city, grouped at the lower 
 end of the hall. 
 
 “No surrender! Man the walls, and defend old 
 Limerick from the foe !” burst forth in a tremendous roar, 
 and wild cheers resounded again and again in prolonged 
 chorus, taken uj) and re-echoed from the crowded streets, 
 blended with the shouts of “ Sarsfield !” and “ Berwick !” 
 
 “Very well, gentlemen, be it as you please,’'' said the 
 Duke of Tyrconnell, with haughty coldness. “ If it suit 
 you to oppose your own opinion to the judgment of this 
 sagacious officer, the Count de Lauzun, and myself, be 
 assured we are not going to sacrifice our lives, or those 
 of the French and Swiss contingent entrusted to our 
 care, in a frantic venture based on egotism and super- 
 
THE DEFENCE OF LIMERICK. 
 
 403 
 
 cilious confidence, overweening estimate, I may say, of 
 valour, without foundation or resource to prop it up. 
 Lauzun, we shall withdraw, and with what stores of 
 arms and ammunition as are under our control, we 
 depart at once for the port of G-alway.’^ Saying this, 
 Tyrconnell, in dead silence, left the hall, followed by 
 Lauzun and a few partisans. Passing Sir Ulic do 
 Burgh and Sir Harold Sigurd with courtly suavity, he 
 returned their respectful salute, and paused to address 
 them : Do you go in for this wild enterprise, gentle- 
 
 men, or are you more wisely minded to retain your 
 places, and share our better fortune ? ” 
 
 ‘‘Please your Grace,^’ returned Sir Ulic, “the claim 
 of duty admits no option. Our country demands our 
 aid : unworthy were we to be counted her sons if in the 
 hour of danger we stood not among the ranks of her 
 defenders/' 
 
 Without reply the Duke of Tyrconnell retreated, and 
 Mac Mahon, coming up to Sir Ulic, said : 
 
 “ Now, soldier, what do you think ? Is it not base, 
 this desertion of the Viceroy? Do you hold our cause so 
 desperate ?’’ 
 
 “I do not,’^ responded Sir Ulic. “Let his Excellency 
 depart in peace, he can’t have been made conversant with 
 the histories of Greece and Eome, else he could not de- 
 spond with such examples of heroic deeds achieved by 
 prowess, had we given no proofs even of our own to inspirit 
 him.’' 
 
 “ Louersha^ cowardice is infectious,” said O’Sullivan, in 
 a whisper, and looking carefully over his shoulder, “ a 
 hocca has, I fear, inoculated a few with the odious 
 malady.” 
 
 “ He doesn’t appear to have transmitted it as an heir- 
 loom, though,” said Sir Harold Sigurd ; — “ Berwick seems 
 plucky enough.” 
 
 “The fewer to share it, the more glory,” said Sir 
 Gregory O’Byrne. 
 
 “ Yes,” said Sarsfield, “let’s set to work at once,De Bois- 
 seleau : a good beginning is the best guarantee for a good 
 ending.” 
 
404 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 With this the officers, a small and chivalrous band who 
 remained steadfast in their resolve to defend the city, 
 withdrew to make all the necessary arrangements. Sars- 
 field was appointed commander of the horse, De Boisseleau 
 governor of the city, and to conduct the engineering 
 operations for the defence ; while Sarsfield, posted on the 
 Clare side of the Shannon, was to guard the bridges of 
 communication, and prevent the enemy from crossing at 
 the fords. 
 
 Early on the ninth of August, William withdrew from 
 his encampment at Cahir-Conlish, and having selected 
 favourable sites for his batteries to command the city, he 
 sent on the following day a summons to surrender. Un- 
 like his brusque confederate of Athlone, the courteous De 
 Boisseleau replied to the i herald that he hoped he should 
 merit opinion more by a vigorous defence, than a shameful 
 surrender of the fortress with which he had been entrusted. 
 
 The siege at once began, but William’s bombardment 
 was replied to so vigorously by the Limerick gunners, he 
 was under the necessity of shifting his field-train out of 
 range, and the day following, Sarsfield, viewing with in- 
 tense anxiety, the splendid action of the batteries on either 
 side, was informed by De Burgh, with exultation, that the 
 Dutch prince had been compelled to remove his own 
 quarters also from the iron storm that rained destruction 
 and endangered the safety of his own tent. 
 
 Don’t crow too soon, my friend,” said a voice from 
 among a group of officers adjacent ; — ‘‘ William has a 
 tremendous battering train, with immense stores of ammu- 
 nition coming up from Waterford, and a vast number of 
 pontoon boats, to enable him to cross the river.” 
 
 At this intelligence all turned and gazed upon the 
 speaker, a broad-faced, broad-shouldered, short man, with 
 fair complexion, sandy hair, light prominent eyes of no 
 definite colour, and countenance more animal than intel- 
 lectual, yet handsome in features, though of unwinning 
 expression. 
 
 Ha ! these foreigners are sharp ones.” 
 
 May we demand if these tidings be authentic, and 
 upon whose authority communicated?” asked Sarsfield, 
 
THE DEFENCE OF LIMERICK. 
 
 405 
 
 acutely scrutinising the stranger, who made response with 
 a low bow : 
 
 The tidings are authentic, and delivered upon the 
 authority of Manus O^Brien, whose name alone may be a 
 passport to your confidence/^ 
 
 “ Oh, indeed cried Sarsfield, and he glanced hesita- 
 tingly from the speaker to De Burgh, as if unconfirmed in 
 trust. 
 
 The name is good, and should be a warrant to our 
 favour,' ’ said Sir IJlic. And yet, neither your accent 
 nor your physiognomy are of Milesian type.'^ 
 
 To which of the O^Brien families do you belong 
 exclaimed a tall, slight, muscular individual, w^ith dark 
 piercing gray eyes, more shrewd than handsome in ex- 
 pression, lank black hair, bronze complexion, and visage 
 inclined to oval, with high cheek bones, and air of firm 
 character, too harsh to be pleasing, yet frank enough to 
 engage esteem, and sufficiently noble to command respect, 
 coming up and closely scanning the stranger, who, in 
 presence of this new interrogator, seemed somewhat shaken 
 from his centre, hemmed twice, coughed huskily, and said : 
 I am proud to claim affinity with all the O’Briens.'^ 
 ‘^Fhon-fhon!^ I am myself an O’Brien, yet there be 
 O’Briens I would spurn like reptiles from my path. Answer 
 straight, man : to what house of the O’Briens do you 
 belong, and what is your name 
 
 My name is Manus O’Brien, and I belong to the 
 Inchiquins,’’ glossing his decaying courage with an air of 
 bravado, made answer the intruder. 
 
 ‘^To the Inchiquins you belong ! Degenerate recreants 
 to faith and fatherland ; spurious mongrels, tainted with 
 foreign blood, selling their birthright of Milesian nobility 
 to purchase the title of Cromwellian butchers, and spill 
 the blood of their countrymen, priests, and people ; ac- 
 cursed race branded with the mark of Cain, and the 
 abomination of sacrilege ; — blush to own them ! Prithee, 
 General Sarsfield and brother officers, father not upon 
 Clare or Thomond the atrocities of this apostate, anglicised 
 
 Stop-stop. 
 
406 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 family, which we have razed from our escutcheon. What 
 brought you hither, sirrah ? Came you as a friend, to 
 redeem the disgrace of your line, or as a spy, to obtain in- 
 formation for your allies ?’* 
 
 I came as a friend, but since you receive me in this 
 fashion,’^ muttered he of Inchiquin, with crestfallen mien, 
 ‘‘I take my leave. You can, no doubt, in your vast 
 strength of position, afford to dispense with my poor service.” 
 
 Louerslia^* returned he of Thomond ; better miss a 
 doubtful friend than give hand to a traitor ; and, by the 
 glory of my patron, I misdoubt the truth of any man with 
 Cromwellian blood in his veins. His hereditary instincts, 
 experience hath proved to our detriment, and ofttimes 
 shame, are sullied ; the mean and grovelling attain the 
 ascendant, and displace the nobler elements of his nature. 
 We’ll hear more of Manus, or I’m mistaken.'’ 
 
 O’Brien of Thomond was right. The discomfited spy 
 returned without having gained the object for which he 
 had visited the Irish camp, namely, to ingratiate himself 
 with Sarsfield, and win his confidence by a show of service 
 in the patriotic cause, to smooth the way for overtures 
 from his employer to betray his high trust, or, if not, to 
 facilitate his defeat. These are the evil geniuses that in 
 every land mar the patriot’s struggle for freedom ; the 
 upas-trees whose baneful breath poison the air from which 
 they inhale vitality, and that blight and ruin all within 
 their infiuence that is not of kindred noxious growth. 
 
 But,” said Sir TJlic, after brief silence in the tent, 
 addressing Sarsfield,” what about the siege-train and 
 the pontoons ?” 
 
 We’ll soon learn if the story be true or no,” said the 
 General. What, ho ! where’s Galloping Hogan ?” 
 
 “ The rapparee chief,” said Sir Harold Sigurd ; — he 
 came in this morning from Tipperary. I was speaking to 
 him awhile since with Sir Gregory O’Byrne.” 
 
 Let him be summoned hither, or the wild horseman, 
 who, I believe, like the albatross on the wing, sleeps in 
 his saddle, will be off again to the Keeper Mountains,” 
 cried Sarsfield. 
 
 The General’s mandate was obeyed, and promptly dashed 
 
THE defence of LIMERICK. 
 
 up to the tent, mounted on a princely charger, without any 
 other accoutrement than saddle and bridle, a man whose 
 bearing and aspect of wild grandeur were simply indescri- 
 bable, as, seated like a stalwart Colossus on his powerful 
 steed, with flowing cotamore hanging loosely round his 
 form, enveloping in its ample folds horse and rider, he 
 waited the general’s orders. Doffing his rustic sombrero 
 of coarse plaited straw, he wheeled round his charger 
 with the grace and ease of a flnished equestrian, as Sarsfield 
 appeared. With his black locks flowing in wavy profusion 
 over a massive brow of noble outline, rising dome-like over 
 eyes dark, roving, flashing, and well-moulded features of 
 Roman contour, he looked like a superb Spanish leader of 
 a bold guerilla band ready bound for foray. 
 
 ‘‘Hogan,’' said Sarsfleld, benignly smiling upon this 
 congenial spirit, “we’ve just got tidings of a siege- 
 train and pontoons coming up to the enemy.” 
 
 “ Yesterday they were at Cashel ; — they’ll reach Bally- 
 neety to night, I count,” returned Hogan, quickly. 
 
 “Broad Munster dialect; — no mixed twang-making 
 brogue here,’' said O’Brien, aside to O’P'errall, who 
 nodded assent. 
 
 “ So, it is true, then ?'’ returned Sarsfield, with flushing 
 cheek and brow. 
 
 “Phew! — within twelve or fifteen miles of their desti- 
 nation,” whispered Sir Harold, with dismayed looks at 
 Mac Mahon. “ Limerick may give up the ghost ; — she’ll 
 be smashed like crockery.” 
 
 “Hogan,” said Sarsfield, whose fertile brain and bold 
 heart had briefly conceived and decided his purpose, “ we 
 must intercept them." 
 
 De Burgh, who seemed unable to withdraw his gaze of 
 admiration from the rapparee, now bent his eyes on Sars- 
 field in, silent conjecture : “ Intercept the siege-train ! 
 What I did the General mean to march from his station 
 and leave the city exposed and open to the enemy ? ’' 
 
 But soon surmise was set at rest, for looking round 
 upon his officers, Sarsfleld continued : “ Who will volun- 
 teer to share my enterprise? That siege-train and the 
 pontoons must not proceed another mile ; — they must 
 
408 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 be blown up and demolished.^’ — Here was a daring exploit 
 proposed, and all the more welcome. Every officer and 
 soldier within reach cheered for the enterprise. Slowly, 
 slowly. I can take but a few picked men of cool 
 courage ; — nor must the wind of heaven whisper of my 
 absence from the camp, nor get scent of my designs,^' 
 said the General. De Burgh, you are an active and vigi- 
 lant oflScer ; — to you I coramit the charge of the troops and 
 the defence of the Shannon in my short absence ; — Sigurd 
 will aid my lieutenant. Mac Mahon, O’Brien, O’Ferrall, 
 O'Sullivan, and O’Driscoll, pick out a few sharp-shooters, 
 and follow me ; — Hogan, you show the way. To horse ! 
 to horse ! — and if we make a good job of it, we’ll send the 
 pontoons to Charon to ferry his cargoes over Styx ; — he’ll 
 need them, methinks. Forward, O’Byrne.'’ 
 
 General, may I ride with you shouted Raymond, 
 rushing forward with bare head, and wild, eager eyes, as 
 the troop spurred along. 
 
 You, boy— you, Raymond ?” exclaimed Sarsfield, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 “ Raymond ! ” cried Sir IJlic, authoritatively, in wonder 
 at his nephew’s audacity, and glancing at Sir Gregory. 
 
 ^‘Let the youngster come,” cried Galloping Hogan. 
 
 That decided it. Raymond sprung upon his horse, waved 
 his cap to his half-displeased, half-amused kinsman, and 
 dashed on the route. He and Hogan were sworn friends 
 from thenceforth. 
 
 The following day Manus O’Brien entered the Wil- 
 liamite camp, and, accosting Sir Athelstane Fitz Adelm, 
 Plantagenet Tudor, and other officers, acquainted them 
 with the intelligence that the night before Sarsfield, at the 
 head of five hundred picked men, had ridden off in the 
 direction o Killaloe. 
 
 “ Pooh ! ” returned Fitz Adelm, carelessly, what if he 
 have ? Killaloe concerns not us.’' 
 
 Sarsfield is not one to career on a spree by moonlight, 
 I warn you,’' returned O’Brien. He’s on some scout ; 
 and, from what I know of the man, nothing is too hot or 
 heavy for his venture. By George ! were it practicable, I 
 hold he would be capable of scaling the moon.” 
 
THE HEEENCE OF LIMERICK. 
 
 409 
 
 Then he must be moonstruck/' smiled Plantagenet 
 Tudor, who had, with the keen discernment of rivalry, 
 noticed that Manus O'Brien had been studiously paying 
 court to the Orange Prince, and conceived that he was on 
 some new dodge to curry favour. But while they were 
 speaking that potentate came into the tent, and O'Brien, 
 with low salams, and sycophantic subserviency of look 
 and manner, made known his tidings- William calmly, 
 sedately, eyed the informant. For some moments he 
 pondered in meditative silence, then slowly spoke : 
 
 “To Killaloe!” — he stroked his chin in thought. 
 “ Sarsfield is a man of weight, not likely to move on light 
 impulse, or be swayed by a feather," ruminated the plod- 
 ding Dutchman, who knew his opponent, and had, with 
 accurate precision gauged his depth. “ Had Sarsfield been 
 my father-in-law," he solidly mused, giving wonderful 
 scope to very limited power of imagination, “ it would 
 never have entered my head any ambitious thought of his 
 crown — Killaloe ! What’s in Killaloe ? And yet, Sarsfield 
 does not ride for a whim. The pontoons and battering 
 train came by Waterford, and so are out of his reach. 
 And yet, these Irishmen are bold, enterprising, and in- 
 genious beyond belief; — their wit has no parallel. Sir 
 John Lanier! Ho, Sir John Lanier!" he called aloud. 
 “ Take five hundred horse, and set out to meet our convoy. 
 Better be sure than sorry." And with this trite aphorism, 
 so often uttered, the Prince withdrew with Plantagenet 
 Tudor. 
 
 Sarsfield rode to Killaloe in hot haste, crossed the 
 Shannon at Ballyvally, and entered Tipperary, now in 
 possession of the enemy ; but, safely conducted by Hogan 
 through the intricate passes of the country, so well known to 
 him, they turned into the deep gorges of the silver mines, 
 bivouacked next day in a wild ravine of the Keeper 
 Mountains, and at nightfall sallied forth to meet the ad- 
 vancing siege-train. Keeping southward by ways and 
 mountain roads, at three o’clock in the morning they fell 
 in with a peasant, who informed them the convoy was not 
 more than a mile or two distant. “ Forward !" — the caval- 
 cade resumed its rapid march, and now — “ softly," they 
 
410 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 are in sight of the weary convoy bivouacked at Bally- 
 neety. 
 
 Halt ! ’’ cried the Q-eneral, and despatch a few trusty 
 scouts on foot to reconnoitre.” 
 
 The order was executed, and wdthin a short time the 
 scouts, among whom were Hogan and Raymond, returned, 
 the former accompanied by a female wrapt in a cloak, to 
 say that, beside the sentries there were on guard but a few 
 troopers drowsing beside the watch-fires, and that the rest 
 of the convoy were deep in slumber. 
 
 ‘‘ So deep,” grinned Hogan, ‘‘ that they heard, or heeded 
 not the scuffle when I laid hold of this woman to fetch her 
 out of danger. She ought in thanks to reward us for our 
 trouble.” 
 
 Fear nothing, my good dame : you are safe, and shall 
 be well treated among us, and free to go your way, once 
 we have achieved our object, which is merely to obstruct 
 and demolish the siege-train and pontoons. Where have 
 I seen you before : your face is familiar to me ?” 
 
 Sarsfield was of the few of those whose vision once 
 grasping an object retained it. He never forgot a face he 
 had looked on, yet he might now be excused for wavering 
 in doubt. But the female in question, believing herself 
 identified by the probing glance and the accompanying 
 speech, muttered some words, upon which he led her apart 
 to hear her story. Then Jael Grub, no way abashed, con- 
 fessed that she had bribed a sergeant of William’s to con- 
 duct her to Limerick ; that, for protection and appearance 
 sake, she had travelled in the character of his wife ; but 
 that her ultimate object was to arrive in the city to meet a 
 friend, in whose interest she was much concerned. 
 
 ‘‘ You made a bold venture, lady,” said Sarsfield, with 
 an admonitory shake of his head ; nathless, it has had 
 good success. Limerick is our route also ; — but I warn you, 
 it will be a flight for life ; for once we have attained our 
 end, you will need to be a good horsewoman.” 
 
 I can ride the wildest horse that ever was broke,” 
 stoutly responded the amazon. 
 
 ‘‘ ’Tis well ; — one word more : can you tell me the pass- 
 word with yonder convoy ?” 
 
THE DEFENCE OF LIMERICK. 
 
 411 
 
 ‘‘ ^ Sarsfield ^ is the word,” said Jael, unhesitatingly. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ Sarsfield ! ^ ” reiterated the General. Are you sure 
 of that? How singular! One word more, Demoiselle 
 Grubb : retain your disguise, and still pass for the ser- 
 geant^s wife ; — leave the rest to me ; — 1^11 see you safe.” 
 
 Eeturning to his men, Sarsfield gave the command, 
 ‘‘ Silence or death,” till they were on the sentries ; then, 
 
 Forward like a lightning fiash upon the guards.” One 
 of the Williamites fancied he heard the beat of horses 
 hoofs, but thought it was one of their own patrols. He 
 saw the figure of an officer through the gloom, and still 
 imagining it to be a friend, he challenged and demanded 
 the word. We cannot do better than give the sequel in 
 the historian’s narrative : 
 
 ‘‘ Suddenly, as if from the spiritland, and with a wild, 
 weird shout that startled all the sleepers, the ‘ phantom 
 troop ’ shot past like a thunderbolt, the leader crying, as 
 he drew his sword, ‘ Sarsfield is the word, and Sarsfield is 
 the man 1’ The guards dashed forward, the bugles 
 sounded, the sleepers rushed to arms, the broadswords of 
 Sarsfield^s five hundred were in their midst. Short, 
 desperate, and bloody was that scene so short, so sudden, 
 so fearful, it seemed like the work of incantation. The 
 whole of the convoy were cut down or dispersed, and the 
 siege-train was in Sarsfield ’s hands. But his task was only 
 half-accomplished; — morning was approaching. William’s 
 camp was barely eight or ten miles distant, and thither 
 some of the escaped had fied. There was scant time for 
 the work to be done. The siege-guns and mortars were 
 filled with powder, and each muzzle buried in the earth. 
 Upon them were piled the pontoon boats, and waggons of 
 ammunition. A train of powder was laid to this huge 
 heap, and Sarsfield, removing the wounded of the enemy to 
 a safe distance, drew off his men, while the train was being 
 fired. There was a flash that lighted all the heavens, and 
 showed with dazzling brightness the country for miles 
 around. The ground rocked and heaved, and with a 
 deafening roar that seemed to rend the firmament ; the 
 vast mass burst into the sky, and suddenly all was gloom 
 again 1 The sentinels on Limerick walls heard that awful 
 
412 
 
 leixlip castle. 
 
 peal. It rolled like a thunder-storm away by the heights 
 of Oratloe, and wakened sleepers amid the hills of Clare. 
 William heard it, too, and needed no interpreter of the 
 fearful sound : he knew in that mpment his splendid 
 siege-train had perished, destroyed by a feat that only one 
 man could have so planned and achieved — an achievement 
 destined to surround with unfading glory the name of 
 Patrick Sarsfield! 
 
 Sir John Lanier’s party coming up, in no wise rapidly, 
 saw the flash, and felt the ground shake beneath them as if 
 by an earthquake. Bushing on he sighted Sarsfleld’s rear- 
 guard ; — but there were memories of the Irish cavalry at the 
 Boyne that did not encourage an encounter. From the 
 camp two powerful bodies of horse were sent out instantly, 
 on the explosion being heard, to surround Sarsfleld and 
 cut him off from the Shannon ; — but in vain ; and on Tues- 
 day evening he and his flve hundred rode into the city, 
 amidst a scene such as Limerick had not witnessed for 
 centuries. The whole camp turned out ; the citizens 
 came with laurel boughs to line the way, and, as he 
 marched in amidst a conqueror’s ovation, the gunners on 
 the old bastions across the river gave a royal salute to him 
 whom all hailed as the saviour of the city 
 
“ THE QUEEN CITY OP THE SHANNON.” 413 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 “ THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.” 
 
 “We are brave men’s mothers and brave men’s wives, 
 
 We are ready to do and dare; 
 
 We are ready to man your walls with our lives. 
 
 And string your bows with our hair. 
 
 “ Ask not the mothers w^ho gave you birth 
 To bid you turn and flee : 
 
 When Sparta is trampled from the earth, 
 
 Her women can die, and be free.” 
 
 But the jubilation occasioned by the successful enterprise 
 of Sarsfield was brief. The indomitable William rallied 
 from the disappointment caused by this mighty disaster, 
 and with extraordinary energy, within a week later, 
 another siege-train of thirty-six guns and four mortars, 
 brought up from Waterford, poured a hurricane of devas- 
 tation upon the devoted city. Bombs, ‘‘fire-balls,” 
 grenades, and carcasses, rained fire and ruin upon the 
 town which, in several parts, was frequently in fiames. 
 In the now serious aspect of affairs, a council of war was 
 hurriedly convened by De Boisseleau and Sarsfield, 
 wherein one of the first orders decreed was, that all the 
 women and children should withdraw into the Clare 
 suburb, there to shelter from present menacing peril. 
 But when the mandate was promulgated, through the 
 excited city rose a loud murmur of mutiny ; and, as in 
 days of yore, when Sparta’s queen, sword in hand, entered 
 the hall of chiefs to protest against the women being re- 
 moved to Crete upon the advance of Phyrrus against the 
 city, so the daughters of Limerick rose, and with clamour 
 and remonstrance, rushing into the council-chamber, 
 vehemently declared they would not obey : that as already 
 they had aided in erecting the defences, behind them they 
 
414 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 would stand, resolved to aid their kindred and townsmen, 
 or die in the breach, or on the walls beside them. 
 
 At this bold manifestation of spirit, the officers were 
 struck dumb, and gazed upon each other in silence. 
 Prominent among the magnanimous throng of different 
 .degree, from the humble menial, or the intermediate 
 vendor of wares, to the patrican dame, and of every age 
 from the j uvenile pupil to the settled matron tired with 
 zeal in the holy cause. Sir Ulic de Burgh noticed one who 
 engaged his liveliest interest ; for there was much in her 
 appearance and manner that reminded him of Eveleen. 
 Her garb was of the peasant class, but her port and mien 
 were far above it ; the glance of her black eye was sharp 
 and bright as a falcon^s, the expression of her tirm-set 
 mouth and young face — for she did not appear more than 
 fourteen — was sweet, grave, and intelligent ; and her 
 manner was characterised by a tone of decision and energy 
 quite distinct from the impulsive motions of youth. A 
 lad stood beside her, two or three years apparently her 
 senior, but so like in physiognomy that one easily dis- 
 cerned the relationship. Neither of them had raised their 
 voices in the chorus of tongues, but their expressive 
 gestures showed the eager interest with which they marked 
 the proceedings, and the smile of satisfaction that lighted 
 their features when De Boisseleau and Sarstield’s objec- 
 tions utterly vanquished by the determined heroines, they 
 yielded to their petition to remain and share the fate of 
 kinsmen in that dreadful hour, was touching in the 
 extreme. Sir IJlic, who had long been observing the 
 youthful pair with attention, now came forward with the 
 purpose of addressing them, but was interrupted by De 
 Boisseleau accosting him in a paroxysm of excitement. 
 Throwing up his arms the Frenchman exclaimed, enthusi- 
 astically : Mon Dieu quelle harcUesse ! A ce qui me 
 
 Kemble Capitaine quenous aurons lavictoire: cest femmes sont 
 des soldaisT 
 
 Sir Ulic smiled sadly, and turned to a middle-aged 
 Dominican of prepossessing demeanour, whom he had seen 
 speaking to the young boy and girl as they stood among the 
 crowd, evidently not of it, and seeming strangers, inquired : 
 
^^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.’’ 415 
 
 Are you, Father, in favour of this display of high 
 feminine valour ?” 
 
 ‘‘Yes, yes,” answered the Dominican, with strong Con- 
 naught accent. ‘‘ Circumstances justify, and ofttimes 
 necessitate, exception to rules. Having some recollection 
 of the siege of Drogheda in Cromwell’s time, and the 
 massacre at Wexford, I am of opinion it is better choice 
 of evil for our true-hearted women to stand or fall side-by- 
 side with their natural protectors, fathers, husbands, 
 and brothers, than survive to endure the horrors of defeat. 
 I have come up from the West myself with some others, 
 bent upon throwing their weight into the scale for gallant 
 Limerick, and I am in hopes, like Monsieur De Boisseleau, 
 we shall carry the day.” 
 
 “We are justified in being sanguine of the issue, 
 witnessing such display of heroic bravery and dauntless 
 fortitude among these noble women,” said Sarsfield. “ It 
 all but beggars our manhood. Come, gentlemen, to work, 
 to work ; — the enemy are active ; — every instant is pregnant 
 with fate.” 
 
 Such was the fact. The whole of the surrounding 
 suburbs on the southern side was being cut by the Wil- 
 liamites into a vast maze of zig-zags and galleries. On 
 the 26th their trenches were within a few feet of the 
 palisades, and a breach had been made at St. John’s Grate. 
 The mining proceeded rapidly, but the Irish, on their 
 part, were not idle, and counterworked the besiegers, ex- 
 hibiting a “ scientific skill, a fertility of engineering 
 resorts and devices seldom surpassed. The miraculous 
 magic of devoted zeal and earnest activity, transformed 
 the old city-wall into a line of defences such as Todleben 
 himself in our day might gaze upon with admiration.” 
 
 On the 27th of August, the breach having been enlarged 
 by a furious bombardment, William gave orders for the 
 assault. Ten thousand men were ordered to support the 
 storming-party, and at half-past three in the afternoon, at 
 a given signal, five hundred grenadiers leaped from the 
 trenches, fired their pieces, flung their grenades, and 
 mounted the breach. The defenders were not unprepared, 
 for De Boisseleau had caused an entrenchment to be 
 
416 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 made inside the breach, upon which he planted a few 
 pieces of cannon, and from these a cross-fire opened with 
 murderous effect upon the assailants. For a moment 
 they halted, staggered by the fatal surprise, then rushed 
 forward like lions unchained. A bloody hand-to-hand 
 struggle ensued, spear and dagger, sword and musket-end 
 alone could be used. The instant William found his 
 storming-party had fastened upon the breach, the supports 
 were flung forward in thousands, and with a tremendous 
 rush, the assaulting foe burst through their opponents, 
 and poured into the town. A rocket thrown up announced 
 the terrible tidings on the Clare side. 
 
 Mount horse and forward shouted Sarsfleld to a 
 detachment of cavalry stationed in readiness at the bridges 
 to meet such contingency, and Sir Ulic de Burgh, the 
 officer in command, dashed into the town, the pavements 
 blazing beneath the horses’ hoofs as they galloped to Bull’s 
 Bridge, where dismounting, and casting their horses loose, 
 they charged into Broad-street, and, sword in hand, joined 
 in the melee while down through street, lane, and alley, 
 poured the citizens, women and men : the butcher with his 
 axe, the shipwright with his adze, each man with such 
 weapon as he found most ready to his grasp. The women, 
 like liberated furies,” flinging stones, bricks, bottles, 
 delf-ware, and other missiles with fury on the foe. 
 ‘‘ They* rushed boldly into the breach, hurling stones and 
 broken bottles right into the faces of the attacking troops, 
 regardless of death by sword or bullet, which many of them 
 boldly met.” Even the phlegmatic William, under whose 
 eye the assault was made, became excited as he gazed 
 upon the struggle from Cromwell’s fort, and ordered for- 
 ward additional troops to support the assaulting column. 
 For three long hours the conflict in the streets and at the 
 breach, went on — and what tongue may describe, what 
 pencil may depict the scene ? The shock of onset, 
 the shout of rage, the shriek of death, the clash of 
 weapon, broadswords ringing on shields and helmets, 
 the cheers of the victor, the yells of the vanquished; 
 
 ^ Story’s (the Williamite chaplain) account. 
 
“the queen city of the shannon.” 417 
 
 frenzy goading the struggle for life or death ; the crash of 
 shivering spears, streets choked with dead, and flowing 
 with blood ; smoke, tumult, and darkness presiding over 
 the Aceldama. 
 
 Sir Ulic^s sword did good work that day : no feeble 
 stroke dealt his stern hand. Like a meteor of destruction 
 his course was erratic. His. presence seemed ubiquitous. 
 Wherever his sword lightened death followed. Once, 
 twice his eye caught transient view of that young girl hi^ 
 had noticed in the council-hall, always beside her brother 
 That Dominican priest, too, seemed like a tutelary spirit, 
 never far away, though he was busy among the wounded. 
 But that young boy and girl, they were in the thick of 
 the fray. The boy wielded a pike with astonishing 
 celerity and strength of arm for one so young ; and his 
 companion, armed with a sling, plied it with deadly effect. 
 On raged the contest, limbs were lopped, and the slain 
 were piled ; and now Sir Ulic^s course seemed well nigh 
 run. He had cut down a Huguenot, cloven the sculls of 
 two Hessians, pierced the breast-plate of a Dane to his 
 heart, inflicted wounds innumerable, had just despatched 
 a Swiss antagonist, and was drawing his sabre from the 
 body, when a huge Brandenburgher, with uplifted sword^ 
 wielded in both hands, came full swing upon him. Sii 
 Ulic, taken at a disadvantage, started with sudden recoil, 
 and had half lifted his unready blade, in vain resistance of 
 the formidable assailant. Harold Sigurd, engaged in a 
 ring close by, saw the deadly danger of his friend, but 
 could interpose with no aid ; with arm restruug with 
 horror, he blindly dealt his frantic strokes, and closed his 
 eyes, not to witness the awful sequel. But other aid was 
 near. Arrested in mid-course, the weapon dropped harm- 
 less on Sir Ulic’s helmet, and the Brandenburgher lay 
 mortally wounded at his feet. A short-bladed knife, 
 hurled by a strong hand, with unerring aim was buried to 
 the haft in his temple, and Sir Ulic turning, saw the young 
 girl pause an instant triumphant ; then giving him one 
 bright glance of congratulation, she hurried with her ready 
 missiles to attack another foe, while her brother, equally reso- 
 lute, with the pike made clear space on ev’ery side he turned. 
 
 sy 
 
418 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 In the wild confusion of the struggle, the Branden- 
 burghers now pressed back upon the breach as the last 
 remnant of the Dutch battalions amid shouts of victory, 
 seemed driven into their own trenches, or hurled from the 
 walls, got in at the rear of one of the batteries, over which 
 they swarmed in a dense black mass. Soon, however, the 
 struggle was terminated by the crowning feat of the 
 defence. At the instant they were exulting at their new 
 success the ground on which they stood, every rood a 
 mine, heaved beneath their feet; “ and with a roar like 
 thunder, mingled with a thousand despairing death shrieks, 
 battery and Brandenburghers went flying into the air ! 
 For a moment there was a pause, each side seeming alike 
 to feel the awfulness of the fate that had so suddenly 
 annihilated the devoted regiment. Then, indeed, a shout, 
 wild and high, went up from the walls, wafted from the 
 city to the Thomond shore ; and a flnal salvo from the 
 unconquered battlements proclaimed that heroism and 
 patriotism had won the day 
 
 But at the moment when the overwhelming rush of the 
 garrison and inhabitants swept the assailants before them, 
 in the impetuosity of the onset it was discovered that the 
 Williamite hospital was in flames, and hundreds of 
 wounded ofl&cers and soldiers were doomed to destruction. 
 Instantly a trumpet sounded, called the pursuers from the 
 flying enemy, and foremost in mercy, as they had been 
 unrelenting in warfare, Sir Ulic de Burgh and Harold 
 Sigurd rushed amid the conflagration, to snatch the 
 wounded from its jaws, while others hurried to their aid, 
 and many more applied themselves to the task of quenching 
 the Are. 
 
 Ho ! friends, bear a hand here cried a well-known 
 voice from one of the beds at a little distance, through the 
 smoke and din of uproar and confusion. The tired 
 warriors could see no face ; but guided by the voice, they 
 rushed forward, seized a wounded man from a burning 
 couch, and bore away in haste the half-stifled, half- 
 insensible Sir Athelstane Fitz Adlm. Ordering the men 
 to continue their work, with a detachment to go before 
 l^nd clear their way back to the city, the victors gently 
 
419 
 
 ^^THE OEEEN city of THE SHANNON.*' 
 
 bore their helpless burdeu. Behind them marched a file 
 of pikemen also conducting several prisoners to the same 
 destination. Entering the gates they swiftly passed by 
 Be Boisseleau, surrounded by the acclaiming citizens, to 
 convey Fitz Adelm to the citadel, and send for a surgeon 
 to attend to his wounds. This being done, and Sir Athel- 
 stane pronounced not dangerously hurt, but required to 
 keep still and rest for some days, Sir Ulic and Harold, 
 considerately forbearing all converse calculated to excite 
 or worry the feverish patient, left him in quiet, while they 
 went to refresh and remove from their persons by ablution 
 and change of garment, all the terrible stains and traces 
 of war. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, Ulic/* said Sir Harold, grasping his friend’s 
 hand in a fit of exuberant enthusiasm, and eyes beaming 
 with tender affection, ‘‘ at one time to-day methought 
 your sand was run ; — I wouldn't have given this soap bubble 
 for your life." 
 
 Sir Ulic smiled. ‘‘The fatal shears had, in sooth, well nigh 
 cut the thread in twain ; — but did you see my preserver 
 
 “ No ; how could I, desperately engaged as I was cutting 
 my own way through ? All I know is that, having 
 breathed a requiem for your soul's repose, to my infinite 
 joy and relief I found I was premature — that you had 
 stretched the Brandenburgher." 
 
 “Not I," said SirUlic. “ A child, a mere child, a little puny 
 sprite I could hold as a child would a doll, put forth her small 
 hand, felled one giant and saved another. I always had 
 respect, as you know, for the daughters of my native land, 
 but henceforth it must be more ; and that child I must 
 find. I must see again her brother, too. It shall not bo 
 my fault if I do not promote his fortune. I must haste 
 away now to report myself to Sarsfield, or he will mourn 
 me among the slain. I expect, too, I shall have no 
 friendly greeting from my boy Hayrnond for interdict- 
 ing him this day's gambol. He will not be considerate 
 enough to prize the solicitude that would not suffer 
 him to risk his life in such a conflict. The lad was ever 
 harum-scarum, and the acquaintance of Galloping Hogan 
 has not improved him." 
 
420 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 You may as well wait ; I shall be with you/^ said 
 Harold. “We had, indeed, a stiff bout of it to clear 
 the city ; yet is our work, I apprehend, but begun. 
 Those British swarms, with their foreign legions, seem 
 to be inexhaustible. Right well prove they the mettle 
 and resources of our small island arrayed in death struggle 
 for life and honour against them. I never beheld anything 
 more glorious and inspiriting than the gallant conduct of 
 the women, young and old, in the fray. They recked less 
 of life even than the stoutest warrior. In the full tide of 
 carnage and horror I could scarce refrain from mirth, 
 seeing your man Daly doing the amiable, and standing to 
 the defence of a hardy matron, whose brisk movements 
 his well-meant civility rather impeded, till she told him in 
 sharp language to ^ mind himself, an' lave her to settle 
 the inimy her own way.' And certainly her missiles did 
 more than the javelins of the foe to spoil the visual beauty 
 of the soldiers. Noses and eyes lips, and teeth will, I 
 take it, be scarce among the Williamites after to-day, and 
 their absence be a perpetual memento of Limerick. 
 Ready now. — Forward ! " 
 
 The champions left the apartment, descended the steep 
 stone stairs, looked in on their way at Fitz Adelm, upon 
 whom they had left suitable attendance, saw that he was 
 as easy and comfortable as, under the circumstances, he 
 could be made, and then sallied forth to repair to the camp 
 at the Clare side. As they passed through the streets of 
 the disordered city, now a perfect Babel of confusion and 
 wilderness of chaos, what sounds of commingled wailing and 
 rejoicing, lamentation and condolence, laughter and jest 
 fell upon their sympathising ears, from what sights and 
 scenes their eyes turned sickening away. The exhausted 
 soldiers were sorting the dead : in one quarter burying 
 the enemy in the trenches, on the other side delivering over 
 the bodies of countrymen and women, as they came upon 
 them, to surviving friends, to be borne away and interred 
 in the cemetery. In the melee ^ among the debris of broken 
 ramparts and ruined dwellings, wives were calling for their 
 husbands, husbands seeking their wives, children clamouring 
 for their parents, friends and neighbours hurrying to and 
 
421 
 
 ‘^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.’^ 
 
 fro in quest of each other, but in almost every instance to 
 see but the cold, mutilated remains of those they loved. 
 But in stern dint of war who takes note of scenes like 
 these ? The soldier recruited his strength with his unfail- 
 ing and much-needed elixir — the contents of the flask — 
 dashed the tear from his eye, wielded the dexterous shovel, 
 his sceptre, over the dead, laughed back some comrade^s 
 joke, or cried aloud in rough sympathy with some 
 mourner^s woe. Arrah, musha, where’s the use o’ it ? 
 Sorra hap’orth o’ good if ye war to keen from this till 
 Christmas, acuishleh. Didn’t we bate the inimy, an’, plaze 
 God, we’ll give ’em a taste more o’ it afore we’re done 
 wid ’em, jist by way o’ tachin’ ’em betther manners, the 
 negurs ? ” 
 
 Through all this scene rode Sir ITlic arid Harold 
 till they gained the bridge, over which they were 
 passing, when Sir Ulic’s eye lighted on a female flgure, 
 draped in gray hood and mantle, such as was worn by the 
 rustic class. Her head was turned away as she leaned 
 upon the parapet, gazing down upon the river sweeping be- 
 low ; so he discerned not her features ; but somehow the 
 figure riveted his attention. It was small and childlike, 
 and small figures had now an interest for him. He reined 
 up his steed beside her. The solitary occupant of the spot 
 turned and stared at the intruder with inquiring look. 
 
 Instantly Sir Ulic dismounted. I thought so ; I am 
 right,” he uttered, in low tone ; then took the child’s hand 
 and pressed it to his lips. “ Little one — my preserver — I 
 owe you, under heaven, my life to-day ! ” 
 
 The child smiled, and exclaimed with frank, open look, 
 and free manner : Musha, maybe so ; — I hit out every- 
 
 where I kim across one of thim furriners.” 
 
 ‘‘ And tell me, my child : had you no fear for yourself 
 of being hurt or killed, as hundreds around you were, by 
 gunshot, or sword-stroke, or being trampled down in the 
 rush ? 
 
 ‘‘ Och, musha, I didn’t stop to think about it ! I was 
 only afeard for Ownie.” 
 
 “ That’s your brother ? Was he hurt ? ” 
 
 “No; I’m waiting for him. He’ll soon be here to come 
 
422 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 home with me. He went to help a woman where we lodge 
 to look for her father.^^ 
 
 Are yon a native of Limerick ? 
 
 No, Dinnasal. I belong to Connaught ; but Ownie 
 and some of the neighbours would come to fight, and 
 Father John wid them ; so I wouldn^t stay behind, and we 
 all came together three days ago.^^ 
 
 Well, my heroine, Limerick has to thank you, as well 
 as I, for valuable aid in needful hour. On my part, is 
 there anything I can do — any service I can render to testify 
 my grateful sense of personal obligation ? If so, come to- 
 morrow to the camp yonder with your brother, and ask for 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh.’' 
 
 Ulic de Burgh ! — is that your name ? " suddenly ex- 
 claimed the young girl, fiinging back her hood, and with 
 open eyes and mouth, staring in wonder at the now equally 
 surprised De Burgh.” 
 
 Yes, little one, that’s my name. Do you know me ? " 
 No, I don’t know you ; but now I know who you are,” 
 said the little girl, with tone, look, and manner swiftly 
 changed from careless insouciance to profound awe and 
 respect. And my name, please sir, is Elphine — Elphine 
 Mac Carthy. And, sir, may I see her — may I see 
 Eveleen ? ” 
 
 Sir Ulic stood as one petrified — silent, speechless — his 
 dormant heart-pulse again vibrating to the keen touch of 
 pain. Elphine Mac Carthy ! This, then, was the young 
 friend of whom Eveleen was wont to speak in terms of so 
 much afiection, and whom in death she still thought of 
 with yearning regret. Poor child ! But the anxious face 
 and pleading eyes demanded an answer, and what shall he 
 make ? Were you very fond of Eveleen, Elphine ? ” he 
 sadly asked. 
 
 “Yes, Dinnasal ; she and I loved each other better than 
 anything in the world. We went to school together, an’ 
 got into all sorts o’ mischief together, an’ we stood by each 
 other in trouble ; an’ if she’d known I was here, she’d 
 have been with me in the fight to-day an’ it’s myself will 
 be glad to see her.” As she was speaking, Owen, her 
 brother, came up. 
 
^^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.^^ 423 
 
 Sir ITlic mounted his steed in haste. Children, seek 
 my tent yonder to-morrow. — Come on, Harold.’’ They 
 rode swiftly on in silence ; De Burgh’s heart had failed 
 him; he could not steel himself to tell his sad story and 
 witness the sorrowful disappointment it should bring to 
 that young child’s affectionate bosom. 
 
 In the camp, which was all astir with bustle and life, 
 they met Sarsfield, who complimented them upon the 
 success of the day, to which their prowess had contributed 
 its quota, and, invited by the General, they dined with 
 other officers in his tent. 
 
 The following morning, as they sat at breakfast in their 
 own quarters, a letter, conveyed by an orderly, was handed 
 to Sir Harold. He held it up, looked at the address, then 
 turning to Sir Ulic, said : Do you know this handwrit- 
 
 ing?” 
 
 Sir Ulic glanced at, and broke his egg. It is a Grub 
 facsimile, if I be not mistaken. Bead.” 
 
 Sir Harold broke the seal, and with varying expression 
 of countenance, perused the contents as follows : — 
 
 ^‘Dear Sir ’Arold, — 
 
 I was in ’opes, to ’ave ’ad the great ’appiness of 
 seeing you — [she had learned to substitute you, for yer] — 
 before now, as the General promised me to make beknown 
 to you as ’ow I ’ad braved hall for your pressious sake, and 
 come. But in the press o’ business, I suppose he forgot ; 
 and I ’opes as ’ow you may not ’old it a unbecoming hact 
 ov a young woman ; but beleefe it war out ov pure love to 
 the choice of her ’eart. So no more till we meet at one 
 o’clock, after the ’errors of yesterday, from your lovin’ 
 and devoted 
 
 Jael.” 
 
 Sir Harold gave a low whistle, but turned very white. 
 
 Sir Ulic noticed it. Prithee, soldier, what^s in that 
 epistle to alarm one who never struck his colour to the 
 foe ? ” 
 
 ‘‘Confound it ! ” cried Harold, starting up from the 
 table, upsetting his cup of chocolate, and tossing the letter 
 
424 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 to his friend ; — that woman haunts me. Did I ever give 
 a shadow of encouragement to warrant such a step, to incite 
 such an idea on her part ? What, in the name of all the 
 gods at once, shall I do, Ulic? I won t see her. What | 
 must Sarsfield think of it ? I 
 
 1^11 enter no bail, Harold, that stout warrior as you are, 
 you will not be carried oflP, laid violent hands upon, and | 
 run away with, like some of our less strong-limbed friends,^’ I 
 laughed Sir Ulic; but immediately his sombre visage / 
 clouded, ‘^Nay,don't beirateor deem that I treat with levity , 
 what, in sooth, is of critical consequence. I see clearly;/ 
 through this manoeuvre. The programme is this: The' 
 lady has, as I tong since hinted, fallen in love with you, 
 as Cathleen of yore pursued St. Kevin. She must ha^ 
 heard the story, and shaped her course from it. She fol- 
 lows you with like intent, resolved to woo and win. No^, 
 warned by the fate of innocent Fitz Eufus, you will hive 
 to be cautious and firm. See her you must. Let her kijow 
 decisively you are engaged to another, and be not profuse 
 of speech, which might be put to your disadvantage."^ 
 
 “ I tell you what, Ulic,^^ exclaimed the exasperated 
 Harold; ^^111 not see her alone. Impudent huzzy !— ^what 
 an immodest creature she must be ?" 
 
 I would not say that, either,’" returned calm Sir Ulic. 
 
 Harold interrupted with an explosion of wrath : No, 
 
 oh, no ; so merciful to judge are you : so slow to condemn. 
 
 If it be not outrageous effrontery, what’s your notion of 
 modesty 
 
 Sir Ulic went on buttering his toast. Natures and 
 characters vary. Education, too, claims a large share in 
 the formation of the model. I should not expect to find 
 among the lowly born and bred, coarse by nature, wild 
 and barren from lack of culture, the instinctive delicacy of 
 perception, and the refinement of mind we look for in 
 those of better descent. Hence, it need not shock one 
 that this Demoiselle Grub, in all simplicity of heart, though 
 -finesse of design, sets out confidently upon an expedition, 
 from the impropriety of which we should see Maud Fitz 
 Eustace, the Fitz Adelms, or others of their class, shrink 
 abashed, and with dread.” 
 
^^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.’* 425 
 
 But pride — has the woman no pride ? ” thundered 
 Harold. 
 
 ^‘1 can’t tell you that ; — I daresay she has. Few of us 
 are devoid of that adjunct of frail humanity, and the 
 weaker our nature the greater our infirmity, precisely the 
 more of it we need to bolster us up. But pride, too, dis- 
 ports in variety — pride of courage in a soldier, pride of 
 learning in a scholar — and so, what is pride of birth and 
 station in a patrician will be pride of wealth, ostentatious 
 parade, self-esteem, and power, in a parvenu. I daresay 
 Demoiselle Grub has some pride.” 
 
 Harold had by this cooled down, and resumed his seat ; 
 but his temper only smouldered. Inly he chafed, and inly 
 he ruminated. If only, like St. Kevin, he had that woman on 
 the airy cliff above the lake, he would give her brief notice 
 to quit or dip. And now, all on thorns, he fumed away 
 the intervening hours in and out of the tent, cross with 
 himself, cross with Sir Ulic, impatient and out of temper, 
 till the appointed time had borne, and Daly, with suppressed 
 smirk, came to announce the lady’s compliments, and that 
 she was waiting on him. Then Harold’s spirit evaporated, 
 and he cast an imploring look at his friend. 
 
 Go in first, Harold,” said Sir Ulic ; I’ll follow in a 
 few minutes. And one word more — control yourself ; be 
 not rough, as I see you inclined, but firm.” 
 
 Harold, plucking up heart, strode forward to meet his 
 visitor, and presently with air of extreme hauteur, he stood 
 stiffly bowing in the presence of Jael Grub, whom, im- 
 proved in complexion by the assiduous application of 
 washes and cosmetics, he thought looked handsomer than 
 he had hitherto considered her. 
 
 Smiling and simpering, she accosted him with the 
 eager haste of conscious embarrassment. ‘^La, Sir’Arold, 
 I’m enchanted to see you, and I ’ope as ’ow I ’aven’t for- 
 feited your good hopinion by coming so far ; — but it was a 
 good opportoonity, an’ so as my ’eart was set on’t, I 
 couldn’t ’old hout.” 
 
 But what was your inducement, fair lady, to adventure 
 into scenes fraught with risk and danger — the arena of 
 war ? You have mistaken also your goal, I ween, since 
 
426 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 all your friends are ranked on the opposite side/’ said 
 Sir Harold, coldly. 
 
 ‘^’Ave you got my letter ? ” demanded Jael, blushing, 
 and with downcast eyes. 
 
 I got your letter this morning ; and, Demoiselle^ I 
 did not understand the drift of its contents. Pray, 
 explain.” 
 
 Sir ’Arold, ’ave I ever hoffended you, or shown you 
 slight, or one of my friends, that you speak to me in that 
 ’aughty manner whimpered Jael, taking out her dainty 
 lawn handkerchief and applying it to her eyes. Sir 
 Harold winced. ’Ow can you be so uncommon ’ard of 
 ^eart. Sir ^ Arold ? I’m sure I. ’ate prudery, an’ was never 
 one to ’ide my feelings. Pd scorn a mask ; an’ I never, 
 to yourself or others, made any secret of loving you with 
 my ’ole ’eart ; an’ you knew it well, an’ yet you went on a 
 trifling, as wasn’t ’onerable, an’ let me believe as ’ow you 
 might ’av hoflPered your ’and an’ ’eart, but for the differ- 
 ences of religion between us, which, as I told you in a 
 former epistle, need make no difference, has I’m quite 
 agreeable to go your way, an’ my father would come 
 down ’andsome for my fortune ” 
 
 Here Sir IJlic entered, and, evidently to the confusion 
 and annoyance of Jael, made a low bow, and accosted 
 in a tone of banter, saying : Is it, indeed, possible you. 
 
 Demoiselle Grub, came all the way to help us to fight, 
 and win our laurels yesterday ? How kind !” 
 
 Don’t count your chickens before they are ’atched, 
 as the proverb says,” was the rejoinder, more irate than 
 courteous. I ’opes as you don’t think I’d so forget 
 my sect as to make a Belloner of myself to fight as I 
 was lookin’ hout of a winder at these Hirish females, 
 as don’t deserve the name of women, adoing, with 
 stones an’ bottles, crocks, an’ pots, an’ all sorts, 
 astrikin’ the military, an’ laying them by scores, as I 
 see myself. Lor ! it were ’orrifyin’ an’ soandelos, an’ I 
 ’ad to take wine frequent to bear the soight; an’ Sir 
 Ulic, as Sir ’Arold an’ me are engaged private, I make 
 bold to ask you for your company at another, more con- 
 venienter time, if it’s the same to you,” 
 
427 
 
 ^^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.^’ 
 
 Sir TJlic, with a bow, was retreating in obedience to 
 the mandate, when Harold interposed : 
 
 Stay, Sir Ulic ; there’s no need for you to go ; our 
 business is not so close. Now, Demoiselle^ I have but one 
 answer to make respecting your address to myself, and, as 
 you may perceive, our camp life leaves us little leisure, it 
 must be brief. I’m sorry you could have interpreted 
 those courtesies, which are the right of every lady, into 
 a tacit admission of my accepting any kind preference 
 on your part. I’m sorry I should have engaged your 
 affections, since it is out of my power to requite them. 
 In one word, to set the matter at rest, I am engaged to 
 another.” 
 
 Yes, that’s your plausible excuse, Sir ’Arold,” cried 
 Jael, raising her voice to a shrill key; ‘‘doan’t I know 
 ’ow it is ; an’ for that namby-pamby thing, that bedizened 
 doll, that takes upon her the airs of a queen, an’ ’asn’t as 
 much love in ’er whole ’eart as I in my little finger for ye, 
 ye throw me over, an’ leave me to my fate, an’ be immo- 
 lated by the Major, my father, when he comes to ’ear wot 
 I’ve done, an’ ’ow I’ve demeaned myself hout of love to a 
 papist. Oh, the ’ard ’eart of you, Sir ’Arold ! — the ’ard, 
 cruel ’eart.” 
 
 “ But, Demoiselle said Sir TJlic, coming to the relief of 
 his bewildered friend, you surely are too noble, too 
 high-minded to wish Sir Harold to break his engagement 
 to another lady ?” 
 
 Doan’t be cornin’ your soft sawder over me. Sir Ulic. 
 It is barbaros and disonerable of ’im ! ” screamed the now 
 infuriated Jael, showing hysterical symptoms. I ’ave 
 been cruelly treated ; but it’s a balsam to my bosom 
 to know that the hobject for which Sir ’Arold slighted 
 my love never will be his. Doan’t suppose as ’ow ’Arvey 
 de Hivers is one to be fooled, an’ let go ’is own grip. 
 His mother. Lady de Eivers, ’as told me hall, an’ she’s 
 ’igh for the hintrest of her son, as is nat’ral. No, no ; 
 among them they’ll ’old wot they please to consider as 
 a prize, though, lack-a-day, I cant see the value of it.” 
 
 Harold, without reply, took up his morion and left the 
 tent. 
 
428 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Sir Ulic said to Jael: ‘^Then, Demouelle^ Adorine 
 O’Byrne is with Lady de Eivers ?” 
 
 I’m not going to hanswer any questions, or give you 
 any news,’* sullenly answered Jael. ‘^All I know is, 
 ’Arold shan’t "ave ’er, an’ that’s a comfort. An’ see wot 
 my father the Major ’ll say w’en he knows ’ow I’ve been 
 deceived. I’ll trouble you to give me safe convoy to the 
 Williamite camp at once.” 
 
 You shall have it at the earliest opportunity, Demoiselle 
 Grub,” said Sir Ulic, glad at the idea of being so soon 
 freed from so bold and dangerous a visitor. Groing out he 
 saw Harold at a little^ distance, leaning disconsolately upon 
 a paling that enclosed the tent. He went up to him, and 
 Harold raised his head. 
 
 Oh, Ulic ! I am sick at heart ; — she’s lost, lost, lost ! ” 
 and his brow reclined again upon his open palm. 
 
 Don’t anticipate evil,” responded Sir Ulic, anxious to 
 alleviate his friend’s distress, yet not feeling very san- 
 guine of heart himself. If Adorine be the girl I con- 
 sider her, she will continue faithful through every trial.” 
 
 But impossible, Ulic! — she’s beset by danger; — she 
 cannot help herself ; locked in yon tiger’s lair defenceless, 
 helpless, she must fall his victim. Oh, Ulic 1 I shall go 
 mad for thinking of it ; — but I’ll have his heart’s blood. 
 I’ll set out at once for Dublin,” and Harold rose, towering 
 like a giant incensed. 
 
 Do nothing of the sort,’’ said Sir Ulic. I’m going 
 over to FitzAdelm; wait till I’ve seen him, if indeed 
 you can curb your passion for an hour. I’m not quite 
 inclined to take on trust all Demoiselle Grub’s insinuations. 
 I know to what length jealousy may goad a malignant, 
 unscrupulous mind, and of what ingenuity, malice, and 
 envy are capable,” and Sir Ulic withdrew. 
 
 In less than twenty minutes he was by the bedside of 
 Sir Athelstane, whom he found considerably better, and 
 able to sit up, taking a bowl of soup. The greeting be- 
 tween the former friends was, on Sir Ulic’s part, cordial 
 and easy, on that of FitzAdelm stiff and constrained. 
 De Burgh smiled. He imputed it to the natural expres- 
 sion of a defeated soldier s wounded pride, 
 
^^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.^^ 429 
 
 I cannot be ic sincere enough to condole with you, my 
 friend, that your side has sustained overthrow, nor not to 
 express a hope that in future engagement we may not 
 haul down your standard. What bewitched you to desert 
 your cause and turn over to William 
 
 “ My heart never v as in the cause ; you know that,’' 
 gruffly responded Fitz Adelm, pushing fromjbefore him the 
 empty bowl. “ It was only a traditional, blind allegiance, 
 a chivalrous sense of the duty of loyalty that listed me in 
 the cause of a popish king. When he ignobly fled I held 
 myself absolved from further claim, and joined gallant 
 William, with whom, I fear not, we'll turn the tide yet, 
 and establish a Protestant succession on the throne. I 
 thank you for having, as I hear, risked your life and sus- 
 tained some hurt, a scorch or bruise, for having rescued me 
 from the hospital Are, yet would it were any other to whom 
 I had stood indebted.” 
 
 “ Well, well,'’ said De Burgh, we were once friends ; 
 let us not now, in religion's name, or that of country, 
 strangle sweet charity, and chafe ourselves into bad blood. 
 You may cancel any obligation you hold yourself under to 
 me, by granting a favour I ask on the part of Harold 
 Sigurd, which is, to give me some information of Demoiselle 
 Adorine O'Byrne, whom, with Lady Fitz Stephen and the 
 De Courcys, you had held in ward in Leixlip Castle ?” 
 
 ‘‘ I can tell you nothing of her, save that after I had 
 been displaced, and De Rivers, through the interest of 
 Dr. Dopping, appointed governor, and my charge became 
 transferred to him, she effected her escape with the others. 
 Now, can you tell me of my sister Eleanor ?” 
 
 “ I can ;~yes, I can.” And Sir Ulic, with pre-occupied 
 air, paused, in deep perplexity and pain. Ilis thoughts 
 were upon Adorine. 
 
 “You can?" cried Fitz Adelm, with harsli intonation 
 and a severe, cutting look of wrath in his cleni% c(»!d eyes. 
 
 Sir Ulic glanced in doubt. Aihelstane was, Jio saw, 
 terribly excited. Would it be well now to increase his 
 feverish state by entering into a detail of all that had 
 transpired ? He thought not, so made answer : 
 
 “Calm yourself, my dear Athclstane; Eleanor is well, and 
 
430 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 quite reconciled to her present temporary condition and all 
 its inconveniences. She is, indeed, a noble creature, and 
 will merit the queenly position she shall be restored to 
 grace, all the more for the suffering she has endured with 
 so much patience and heroism.’’ 
 
 There was a long protracted silence after this, at length 
 broken by Fitz Adelm exclaiming, in low, scornful tones, 
 and with a look of unutterable contempt at Sir Ulic : 
 
 ^^De Burgh, albeit fostered by Jesuits and imbued with 
 all their Machiavelian spirit, I had deemed you an honour- 
 able man. Yes, even though a papist, I had held you an • 
 exception to your fraternity hitherto.” 
 
 I am not aware of having given you just cause to 
 change your opinion,” said Sir Tllic, drily. Bray, ex- 
 plain ?” 
 
 No need to explain that of which you are cognisant,” 
 coldly answered Fitz Adelm, and between his teeth he 
 hissed : Consummate hypocrite !” — Sir Ulic conjectured 
 
 Athelstane was in raging fever, and gazed on him com- 
 passionately, but Athelstane soon dispelled the illusion, as 
 sternly he said: You need not have acted the part of 
 
 the thief or the highwayman in the matter ; Eleanor loved 
 you. You had only to ask her hand. I should not have 
 thwarted my sister. But to carry her off thus ! ” 
 
 Up to this Sir Ulic de Bur^h, serenely great in the 
 majesty of self-command, the dignity of reasoning mind, 
 and the display of every virtue, looked up to as a demi- 
 god superior to frail humanity, and above all petty failing, 
 must come down from his exalted pinnacle and prove his 
 share in the common lot, give weak testimony to the 
 fallibility of clay, the instability of dust. Sir Ulic could 
 gracefully yield submission to authority, and defer to a 
 superior ; his spirit could affably bend to an inferior, or 
 cede to the imperious will of a friend, a woman, or a child, 
 but his pride would not brook collision with an equal, or a 
 breath against his honour. Now he is up in arms, thunder- 
 clouds looming on his brow, electric flashes playing in his 
 eyes, crimson and livid streaks mantling his features ; still 
 he spoke not, and his silence was the more ominous. 
 Little it recked had he known the truth, that long since 
 
^^THE QUEEN CITY OF THE SHANNON.” 431 
 
 De Rivers and Plantagenet Tudor had fixed upon him the 
 odium, and accused him to Fitz Adelm of being the guilty 
 principle in carrying off Eleanor, the deceitful invader of 
 his domestic hearth. Sir Ulic would not, could not, reason 
 now, or admit excuse to palliate or extenuate crime against 
 himself : not merely unpardonable suspicion, hut outspoken 
 charge, branding him with infamy. Had any temperate, 
 unprejudiced third party, been present at this juncture, the 
 trifling error, soon investigated, had been explained and 
 all set right. But no : enraged Sir IJlic would demand 
 no explanation ; he would give none. Sir Athelstane 
 could suspect his stainless honour, his unimpeachable in- 
 tegrity, could launch against him shafts of contumely and 
 vituperation ; — he would not clear himself ; he would not 
 disabuse Fitz Adelm’s mind of its error ; he would leave 
 him in ignorance to enjoy his foul feast ; — never should 
 they two meet again as friends. Without a word, he left 
 the chamber ; then, on the threshold turned, and said, in 
 accents, toned down to deep, sonorous echoes : Sir Athel- 
 
 stane, you are our prisoner of war. Nathless, as you may 
 harbour painful apprehension of being murdered in cold 
 blood by the atrocious papists in whose power you now 
 are, for the sake of our friendship, past and gone, I shall 
 endeavour to procure from the governor of the citadel your 
 discharge and safe convoy to the Williamite camp, to which 
 destination we are also sending a daughter of Major Grub. 
 Farewell !” 
 
 De Burgh went his way, and in less than an hour Fitz 
 Adelm, strangely disquieted by his brief interview with 
 Sir Ulic and its results was en route to his own quarters in 
 company with Jael Grub. Arrived in the camp, Harold 
 eagerly sought tidings of his friend. 
 
 ‘‘ There are none, Harold, beyond what we have,” said 
 De Burgh, briefly. 
 
 ‘‘ Then I go up at once to Dublin,” said the impetuous 
 younj? man, striding some paces in agitation. 
 
 You shall not,” was the stern rejoinder. We canT 
 spare men now to set out on knight-errantry.” 
 
 ’“But I will go, my brave dictator. Harold is not 
 Raymond in leading strings.” 
 
432 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 1^11 report your intention, and order your arrest.’^ 
 Harold paused, astounded, and stared at his friend with 
 dubious eyes. Hallo ! my sage Ulysses, what’s up ? — 
 I didn’t know the fairies took liberties with children out 
 of the cradle. So Telemachus is not to budge, but at your 
 pleasure ? I gainsay that.” 
 
 “ Bear with me, Harold,” smiled Sir Ulic, grimly; ^^you 
 don’t often see me out of temper.” 
 
 As he spoke the curtain of the tent was drawn aside by 
 Daly, when Elphine and Owen Mac Carthy were ushered 
 in. Small trouble it gave the ruffled warriors to smooth 
 their brows before their young, smiling visitors. Elphine, 
 foremost in right of previous introduction, advanced with 
 a modest courtesy, and simply said : ‘‘ We couldn’t come 
 any sooner, Dinnasal, for Father John wasn’t ready, there 
 were so many wounded to be shrined ; and he bid us not 
 go without him to the camp.” 
 
 Where is he?” demanded Sir Ulic, taking the child’s 
 hand and drawing her near him. 
 
 “Walking up and down without, sir.” 
 
 Harold, go ask him in,” said Sir Ulic, surveying young 
 Mac Carthy with attention. ‘^And so” — he turned to 
 Elphin — “you and Eveleen were such friends ?” 
 
 “Yes, Dinnasal.” 
 
 “ Sir Ulic, call me,” he interrupted her; — “ we must be 
 friends, too. Little Eveleen was very fond of you ?” 
 “Yes, Sir Ulic ; she promised she’d come back toUrris- 
 more the day she went away, and I was breakin’ my 
 heart cry in’. She gave me all the chickens, and ducks, 
 and lambs, and kids, to keep for her; — and many’s the 
 morn we climbed the hill to see was there any sign of her, 
 an’ many a time we went miles down the road, thinkin’ 
 we might meet her ; an’ sometimes we’d fancy her cornin’ 
 on us hy surprise. But no ; she never came ; and often I 
 was sad, thinking could she have forgot Ownie an* me in 
 the beautiful place among the grand people she went to ; — 
 but no, that wasn’t Eveleen.” 
 
 Sir Ulic’s eyes involuntarily dimmed. He turned to 
 Owen : “ Did you love Eveleen, too ? ” 
 
 The boy laughed, blushed, and candidly replied : “ Yes, 
 
‘‘the queen city of the shannon/’ 433 
 
 sir ; but Eaymond was my school-fellow. I liked him 
 best. 
 
 ‘^Tou shall see him by-and-by. We have had a quarrel, 
 my nephew and I, because I would not let him go in the 
 way of having his head knocked off yesterday ; and he’s 
 gone to seek comfort from Galloping Hogan.” 
 
 I know Galloping Hogan, sir ; he’s a fine fellow.” 
 
 “ Yes, and you’re a fine fellow, too. I saw you in the 
 battle yesterday weeding out the enemy with vigour. 
 Tell me, who was your father ? ” 
 
 “ Mac Carthy of Muskerry, sir. He owned thousands 
 of acres ; but they were confiscated by Cromwell to one 
 Corporal Powel, who sold the estate after to a Mr. Trollop ; 
 and so we had to fiy to Connaught and live by our hands.” 
 “And you held Connaught — that is your portion of it — 
 you and Eaymond, against the parsons, and the tithe-men, 
 and cess-men, I have heard ? ” 
 
 Louershcty we did, sir, an’ will again, plaze God.” 
 
 Sir Ulic turned to Elphine, watching him with earnest 
 eyes : “ My little friend, would it were in my power 
 to bring dear Eveleen to your embrace, so fond and 
 true ! She is beyond my reach, Elphine ; — yet I dare not 
 deplore it, for she is where we all hope to go.” 
 
 Dead ! ” ejaculated Elphine, sharply. 
 
 “ I wish some other word could be applied to express 
 that which is not death, but departure merely,” soliloquised 
 Sir IJlic. “ No, no ! she is not dead. The root is laid in 
 earth, but the flower blooms in heaven. Would you take 
 it from the garden to the desert back again, Elphine ?” 
 Covering her face with the hood of her mantle, Elphine 
 broke into a wailing cry, swaying herself to and fro as 
 Sir Harold entered with Father Birmingham. 
 
 29 
 
434 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 TIDINGS OF WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
 
 Giving to horror grace, to danger pride ; 
 
 Shine, martial Faith, and Courtesy’s bright star, 
 
 Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of war.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 William, undismayed by the issue of his arms, resolved 
 next day to renew the assault ; but, though he offered to 
 lead them in person, he could not prevail upon the cowed 
 and beaten troops ’’ to advance again to the charge, where- 
 upon in ‘‘all rage,^’ as recorded by the historian, he quitted 
 the camp and left for England ; his army retiring by night 
 from Limerick, leaving the royal city to make high car- 
 nival, and enjoy the immunity and freedom she had so 
 superbly won. King James, meanwhile, had represented 
 in France “ that all was lost, that the struggle was over, 
 that the Irish would not fight.'" .So in the fleet sent by 
 King Louis to carry away his men, Db Lauzun and his 
 division sailed from Gralway, to learn too late what glory 
 they had miserably forfeited by their pusillanimous mistrust 
 of native courage, and of what it was capable. Tyrconnel, 
 however, soon represented to James the error he had too 
 hastily conceived of the condition of his affairs in Ireland, 
 and exerted himself to obtain from Louis a new expedition 
 in aid of the struggle. Consequently the tidings were 
 transmitted that the French monarch was preparing for 
 the contest military assistance on a scale beyond anything 
 France had yet afforded ; and, pending the interval, the 
 Celtic defenders firmly held their ground in Limerick, 
 Athlone, and Calway, while the Williamites, in possession 
 of Leinster, were hourly reinforced by large supplies of 
 troops and ammunition from England. 
 
TIDINGS OF WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 435 
 
 It was a few mornings after the raising of the siege. 
 Limerick reposed in the serene though stern calm of vic- 
 tory. The queen city, yet girt for war, leaned upon her 
 aegis, wakeful and watchful ; sentries paced the ramparts ; 
 mailed warriors guarded her towers ; armed squadrons, in 
 panoply of war, paraded her streets ; councils were held 
 among the chiefs: all bore an attitude of defence and 
 defiance that augured of conscious power. 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh sat writing in his tent, when he was 
 interrupted by the entrance of Daly, to say that one of the 
 prisoners of war entreated an interview on matter of urgent 
 importance. 
 
 ‘‘ An* jist, yer honour, see him or not, as ye think fit,’’ 
 whispered the confidential valet, with a wink of significance. 
 
 It*8 one 0 ^ thim army chaplins o’ the inimy, an’ divil 
 another than ould Clutterbuck, the Protestan’ bishop’s 
 parson that was ; — he’s out on prole about the sthreets, 
 but so well watched, he hasn’t a chance of getting leg bail, 
 an’, I’ll be bound, that’s what the villan wants.” 
 
 Show him in, Daly,” said Sir Ulic, laying aside his 
 pen, and looking thoughtful, pale, and weary. Daly with- 
 drew, and presently entered with cowed aspect and 
 tremulous gait the anxious visitor. Sir Ulic rose, and 
 with that charming urbanity which ever distinguished his 
 free and unaflPected deportment to friend or stranger, he 
 shook hands warmly with the prisoner, who, reassured by 
 the kind accost, yet with suspicious doubt still lurking in 
 his tear-dimmed eyes, addressed him in faltering ac- 
 cents : 
 
 ‘‘ I hope you will excuse this intrusion upon your time, 
 Sir Ulic,” began the quavering voice, not of age, but 
 fear.” 
 
 De Burgh set him at rest. Sit down, Mr. Clutter- 
 buck ; — it is at all times a pleasure to me to see a friend 
 enhanced, if I can be of any service.” 
 
 “ How good of you. Sir Ulic. I did not expect, I had 
 no right to expect so much courtesy at your hands, con- 
 sidering the light in which we stand to each other, antago- 
 nists as we are in creed and country.” 
 
 Oh ! let’s wave that ; — we are not now in the arena of 
 
436 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 combat, pitted one against the other, to champion our 
 cause, but to talk of old times over a bottle of wine: — which 
 do you like — He rung a hand-bell. — Wine and cold 
 meat, Daly ? As the valet entered : Now, pray begin 
 
 by telling me of your trouble, for I can see you are dis- 
 tressed, and if I can help you I will.^’ 
 
 Clutterbuck broke down and wept aloud : Yesterday 
 
 I got bad news from Dublin. My wife, just confined, is 
 dying. I applied to the Governor for one week’s leave on 
 parole to go see her and my little children and was re- 
 fused.’’ 
 
 ‘‘Is that all?*’ demanded Sir Ulic, as Clutterbuck 
 paused. 
 
 All! Isn’t it everything to me. Sir Ulic ?” 
 
 “ Yes, of course. I only meant was there nothing more 
 you required. Drink your wine, eat heartily. I will 
 undertake to procure your hona fide release within a couple 
 of hours. — How are you off for travelling resources ?” — 
 Clutterbuck’s heart was too full to vent itself in words. — 
 “Well, never mind; I will see to that, also,” said Sir 
 Ulic, rising. 
 
 “Noble, good-hearted man!” exclaimed Clutterbuck, 
 pressing his hand with great emotion ; “ how shall I repay 
 my obligation ? Oh ! if ever I may be so fortunate ! ” 
 
 A sudden thought seemed to strike Sir Ulic. He paused, 
 turned, looked earnestly at the Williamite chaplain, and 
 said : 
 
 “You could, indeed, confer a double obligation upon 
 me, and yet I am loath to trespass on your time and 
 trouble to propose it.” 
 
 “Name it; — name it, I pray!” cried Clutterbuck, 
 eagerly. 
 
 “It is simply this: WiU you take your route to Dublin 
 bj" Kilkenny, and charge yourself with the responsibility 
 of conveying some mutual friends of ours, the Fitz Adelms 
 and a few others, to their friends in the city ? I cannot 
 now enter into their history : you shall hear it from them- 
 selves ; and if you will do me this favour, I shall go at 
 once and send forward notice to them to be prepared to 
 meet you at a given rendezvous.” 
 
TIDINGS OF WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 437 
 
 I will do it/' replied Clutterbuck. I am your slave 
 for life.'^ 
 
 Then excuse my absence while I go to prepare all.'’ 
 Sir Ulic's first visit was to Raymond, whom he found 
 with Owen Mac Carthy practising some feats of horseman- 
 ship shown them by Galloping Hogan. 
 
 Raymond/’ said De Burgh, accosting the youth, who 
 was still in such high dudgeon as to vouchsafe but an 
 aflFrontish look in response, “come hither, my boy; — don’t 
 cherish anger ; for your young laurels, being curbed in 
 sprouting, they will mature all the better in season. I 
 want to engage you now on a service not devoid of risk, 
 and that will require tact and promptitude to execute.” 
 Raymond’s face brightened, and the clouds dispersed 
 from his brow. “ Say on, uncle ; I’m at your beck.” 
 
 “ You must take Hogan and a score of sharp-shooters, 
 without loss of time, to Dunmore. I have found a safe 
 convoy going to Dublin. You remember Parson Clutter- 
 buck ? Seek the Fitz Adelms, the De Oourcys, and 
 Maud Fitz Eustace, with any others willing to leave their 
 asylum, and give them in charge to him at the Church of 
 St. Canice, where you will wait till he arrives ; — but take 
 care that you don’t discover the retreat that sheltered 
 them. Who knows ; — the issue of war is uncertain, and 
 others might need such refuge ? Caution them also, for 
 like reason, to be careful of the secret. I go now to procure 
 your pass, and shall depend upon your conduct of this 
 business.” 
 
 “So you may, uncle ; I’ll sink or swim in it. Owen, 
 you’ll come ? — won’t he, sir ? ” 
 
 “ He may be one of your band,” said De Burgh. “ Go, 
 find Hogan, and send him to me ; — I daresay he is about 
 Sarsfield's tent,” turning away to seek the Governor de 
 Boisseleau, while Raymond and Owen scampered off in 
 pursuit of the rapparee. 
 
 De Burgh easily obtained from his courteous friend the 
 favour he sought ; and in about a couple of hours, having 
 taken leave of Parson Clutterbuck, and seen him depart, 
 well mounted on a good steed, and attended by Daly as 
 far as Kilkenny, there to meet the advance party led by 
 
438 
 
 T.JIIXI.IP CASTLE. 
 
 Raymond and Gralloping Hogan, he stood looking after 
 the retreating horsemen, probably meditating the success 
 of the expedition and the unexpected fortune that had put 
 it in hi§ power to eflPect the deliverance of the fugitives 
 from their long incarceration, when the stentorian voice of 
 Harold, who, having taken umbrage at the high-handed 
 bearing of De Burgh, already described in their former 
 meeting, he had not since seen, fell on his ear. 
 
 ‘‘So ho. Deputy Governor, or if it please you more, 
 Caesar, Sultan, Emperor, will your mightiness vouchsafe, at 
 my humble suit, to revoke your decree, and permit your 
 subordinates, De Boisseleau and Sarsfield, to grant me a 
 week^s furlough, which to pleasure you they have denied, 
 or subject me to the alternative of being shot as a deserter 
 for taking it myself? cried the junior oflS.cer, sauntering 
 up and bearding his comrade, who laughingly made answer: 
 
 “ You prefer your humble suit to majesty in a very 
 arrogant tone. Now, be temperate, my dear Harold, and 
 listen to reason. It has been my misfortune for the last 
 few days to be, I think, in the hands of an evil genius 
 that embroils me in quarrel with everyone. First comes 
 Raymond, whose impertinent ears I came well nigh to 
 boxing; then Fitz Adelm, against whom I have graver 
 cause to wage hostility ; to cap the climax follows my 
 best beloved friend, who, because I would not hear with 
 patience of his rushing headforemost into a hydra^s den, 
 as Dublin now is, swarming with enemies to whom your 
 blood would be as unction, Harold, you turn upon me, 
 too, the edge of your wrath. Well, cut away ; I am invul- 
 nerable.’' 
 
 “ But, Ulic,” said Harold, somewhat softened, “ it is I 
 who have more to complain. You know how miserable I 
 was, and am, for her ; how envenomed my spirit, how sore 
 my heart. Was it meet, then, to grasp the rein with 
 rough hand, to cast water on fire, to tell me in tone stern 
 and high you would have me placed under arrest : in a 
 word, to act unlike yourself, unlike a friend ? Nor when 
 I besought some blessed, hopeful speech, to soothe my great 
 agony, did you deign other than exasperating, laconic 
 answer of barren import.' 
 
TIDINGS OF WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 439 
 
 Say no more, say no more, Harold, your reproach is 
 just. I might have prevailed by argument where I irri- 
 tated by violence. Will you accept my apology T ' — He 
 held out his hand. — That I was not myself — that I, too, 
 was myself smarting under the lash of vexation most 
 galling.^^ 
 
 Ho, ho ! glad to see this paragon of faultless excellence 
 descend to the level of ordinary mortals/^ said Harold, 
 warmly returning his friend’s grasp. “ What bombshell 
 knocked you off your centre ? You said awhile ago you 
 were invulnerable.” 
 
 Like Achilles, I suppose I have a vulnerable part,” said 
 De Burgh, and his cheek flushed dusky red. 
 
 ‘‘ So I see,” smiled observant Harold. But who inflicted 
 the wound ? — not Fitz Adelm, I trow.” 
 
 Sir Ulic bit his lip and maintained brief silence, then 
 said : I have betimes met with affront, yet never any I 
 
 could not dismiss with a frown, till Fitz Adelm that day 
 wounded me with an insult to which I flung down my 
 gauntlet, and stand henceforth arrayed against him in 
 personal antagonism.” 
 
 ‘^For heaven’s sake!” ejaculated Harold, amazed, 
 What did he ?” 
 
 “ Harold, you are my bosom friend ; every thought of 
 my heart, every act of my life is known to you, and I 
 blush to avow the crime of which he to my face accused 
 me of ; — the act of a thief — a highwayman ; — his own 
 words; — in brief, that I had carried off Eleanor his sister!” 
 
 Sir Harold flrst looked stunned, then amused, at this 
 recital. Proves, Ulic, how little he knows you, or he’d 
 as soon have suspected the Eoman Pontiff for taking such 
 a flight. Faith I deem it more worthy laughter, than ire. 
 But what did you say ; disabused him, of course, of such 
 error ?” 
 
 I disabuse him 1” exclaimed Sir Ulic. I did no such 
 thing ; I was not tempted to use my poinard against a 
 wounded and unarmed man ; I did not commit myself to 
 words, to express my indignant sense of outraged honour : 
 I gave him a look of contemptuous scorn, eloquent of 
 the disdain with which he had inspired my popish spirit 
 
440 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 for his self-righteous consequence, and withdrew, having 
 the satisfaction of leaving the Pharisee under his erro- 
 neous impression to be set right in due time. Condescend, 
 indeed, to disabuse him! I leave that to others. He might 
 not trust a Papist's truth. But 1^11 drag the proud Saxon 
 to his knees yet — I will.” 
 
 Sir Harold gazed in wonder upon his friend, whom he 
 had never hitherto known exhibit in such phase as this. 
 He was about to rejoin when, as they walked leisurely 
 along, a young sergeant of dragoons came riding by. 
 With military salute he presented arms to the oflS.cers, and 
 Sir Ulic, halting, addressed him : So Costume, am I to 
 
 wish you joy? I hear you were married the day after 
 the battle.” 
 
 Yes, Sir Captain,” replied the young soldier, smiling. 
 
 ‘‘Was your wife among the city^s brave defenders?” 
 
 “That she was. Captain ; — fought by my side the whole 
 time ; — and if I saved her life once, she saved mine twice,” 
 smiled the young man, with a proud, fond look in his soft, 
 earnest eyes. 
 
 “She’s worthy to be a soldier’s mate. Is she a native of 
 Limerick ?” 
 
 “ No, sir ; Cork is her place.” 
 
 “ I’m glad of it. I would not that Limerick only could 
 bear off the bay wreath. What’s her maiden name ?” 
 
 “ Anne Hennessy, sir.” 
 
 “ Anne Hennessy 1” The officers glanced at each other ; 
 — that name waked a chord in their memory. 
 
 “ Have you long known her ? Where does she come 
 from? Had she been in service ?” were the questions 
 asked in swift rotation by the eager querists. 
 
 “ I haven’t known her long, sir. She came from Dublin 
 and Leixlip, both, where she was own maid to a lady of 
 quality. The priest, Father Roche, sent her to lodge at 
 my sister's ; it was there I met her. Here she is, sir; — this 
 is herself coming down the street with the basket.” 
 
 Harold and Sir Ulic turned, and recognised Adorine's 
 maid, Anne Hennessy. The young soldier rode on to his 
 quarters, while they proceeded to meet his wife, whose 
 sudden bright glow of pleasure at the greeting soon passed 
 
TIDINGS OF WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 441 
 
 away, and left her sad and thoughtful as she responded to 
 Sir Ulic’s address, wishing her joy and expressing his 
 pleasure at seeing her. 
 
 ‘‘ Thank ye, Sir Ulic ; it’s very good of ye to say so. 
 ril be happy as the day's long ; for he’s so good.” 
 
 But, Anne, can you tell me anything of your lady — of 
 Demoiselle O’Byrne ?” put in impatient Harold. 
 
 ‘‘ She’s dead, sir !" was the solemn response, and tears 
 stood in the young woman’s eyes. Harold staggered back, 
 like one shot, and leaned with fixed, staring eyes against 
 the angle of a shop front. 
 
 ^‘Dead!” reiterated Sir Ulic, in accents of pathos. 
 “ Poor child !” and then all three stood silent. 
 
 Anne was the first to speak again : She was drowned, 
 
 sir. Oh, Sir Harvey de Rivers is a bad man. He came 
 down as Governor to Leixlip Castle, after Sir Athelstane. 
 We didn’t know of the change, itwas so secret and sudden, 
 till Father O’Cuin sent a note by a crazy old woman that 
 knew the ways of the place, and wint in and out among 
 the servants fortune-telling, and the like, to bid them 
 escape at once, before Sir Harvey would get down. An’ 
 sure, so we did, easy enough. The party was to divide, to 
 make it more safe : LadyFitz Stephen and Lady de Oourcy 
 were to go with Sir Reginald to Dublin, where there was 
 no fear of them. So they set ofl‘, without axin’ by your 
 leave, as they were accustomed to go to and fro. Later 
 on, Demoiselle Adorine, with my cloak on, to pass for the 
 maid, wint out wid the page, while the changin’ sentries 
 was talkin’ careless one to another. Whin they change 
 again, which was every two hours, out I came wid the old 
 woman, an’ no one hindered us, as we were known well 
 enough ; the old woman dawdled about, but I made on to 
 where my lady said she would wait for me ; an’ then we 
 were to go on to meet Father OUuin, who was to see us 
 safe to Galway, where wo were to embark for France ; but 
 as luck would have it, we were pursued ; for Sir Harvey 
 came soon after we left, an’ heard of our escape ; he sent 
 his men chasing on all sides, an’ he himself come on our 
 track. AVe fled, the three of us, into a bush beside the 
 river to hide, an’ might have got off but for the blood- 
 
442 
 
 LEIXLiP CASTLE. 
 
 hound. You remember Nero, sir? Well, the dog tracked 
 us, an’ Sir Harvey come to the spot ; an’ all I can remem- 
 ber after that was hearing his wild-beast’s laugh, an’ 
 seeing him kick the little page into the river. When I 
 got out of the faint I had fallen in, all was dark an’ silent 
 round, except the river flowing by. I called my lady, but 
 no answer, an’ then I crawled away an’ made for where 
 the priest was waiting, not very far distant, an’ told him 
 all.” 
 
 Well, my dear child,” said Sir Ulic, “ that does not 
 say your lady is dead or drowned. It is quite clear that she 
 was carried off by Sir Harvey.” 
 
 Wait till I finish, sir. Father O’Cuin and I said the 
 same : that she was gone ; an’ we went looking up and 
 down the river for the little page, thinking he might have 
 crawled out and was perishing on the bank ; — we had no 
 need to hurry then ; — but no sign of him, living or dead ; 
 he went clean down. So when we were giving up and 
 coming away, there was all of a sudden a great hullabaloo 
 in the distance, over towards the castle. We knew 
 something had happened, but couldn’t guess, so went our 
 way, and behold ye, in a little while a man cornin’ our 
 way luggin’ a wolf overtook us. ^ God save your Eeve- 
 rence,’ says he to the priest, an’ taking off his cap 
 respectfully, though he was a hulking bear himself to look 
 at, with his wolf. ‘ That was a pitiful thing happened 
 there below,’ sez he, ‘ where the deep water joins the 
 Salmon Leap.’ ^ What ?’ sez the priest. ‘ I don’t know 
 much about it except what I heard the soldiers an’ people 
 talk,’ sez he. ‘ A lady, brought prisoner a few hours ago 
 to the castle, escaped in the disguise of a minister. The 
 Bishop of Meath was at supper with his new chaplain, 
 Parson Sharkey — I knew him by sight, sir ; a little, 
 wizzened, sallow-faced man, — an’ the Governor, an’ 
 Lady de Eivers, an’ some more. So the prisoner took the 
 notion to put on the minister’s cloak an’ hat, an’ with his 
 prayer-book in her hand, out she wint, the guards makin’ 
 way as civil as possible, thinkin’ it was the bishop, an’ 
 down straight to the deep water ; an’, och, the rest is 
 short : they missed her soon, an’ set up the hunt ; nor 
 
tlDINGS OF WEAL ANt) WOE. 
 
 443 
 
 loDg was it till they found the hat and cloak floatin’ down 
 the stream, an’ the Bible, or whatsumever it was, lyin’ on 
 the bank.’ But,” continued the young woman, after a 
 pause, wiping the streaming tears from her face, maybe 
 it didn’t matter so much, after all, that she died then, for I 
 doubt if she’d have lived long” — she glanced reproachfully 
 at Harold ; — ‘‘ she never raised her head from the day she 
 heard Sir Harold went off an' married Mistress Adela 
 Fitz Adelm,” 
 
 Here Harold, roused from the torpor of benumbing 
 misery, rose and stood forward, still silent, but with 
 interrogating eyes. 
 
 ‘‘Was it Sir Harvey spread that report, and did she 
 believe it ?” demanded Sir XJlic. 
 
 “ Oh, no, sir ; she wouldn’t have believed it coming 
 from any of them. But, one day, just as she was 
 recovering from illness, lying on the sofa with Lady de 
 Courcy sitting by her, in comes Dr. Hopping to pay a 
 visit, with Sharkey the chaplain that came in place of 
 Clutterbuck. Well, sir, as the serving man was out I was 
 called to fetch in luncheon, and I heard the bishop ask 
 Lady de Courcy had she heard the news, that Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh and Sir Harold Sigurd had gone off with the 
 Demoiselles Fitz Adelm and got married to them. Sez 
 Lady de Courcy, in her own quiet way : ‘ That’s a story, 
 your Grace, don’t believe a word of it.’ ‘ Indeed,’ sez he. 
 ‘ At first I thought myself it was ; for Sir Ulic and Sir 
 Harold seemed so superior, so much above any base or 
 dishonourable act. But white-washed sepulchre merely, 
 all made up to the eye ; give me after all the honest 
 sinner that parades his iniquity ; you are forewarned, and 
 can steer clear of him ; but these smooth-faced, oily- 
 tongued hypocrites I fear.’ Then sez Demoiselle Adoriiie, 
 very calm and indifferent like : ‘ Of course your Grace, 
 without evidence clear and undeniable as Holy Writ, 
 would not lightly defame the unblemished reputation of 
 two gentlemen standing high in the opinion of the world 
 for worth and honour?’ ‘Not I,’ sez the bishop ; ‘what 
 would be my object? My chaplain here can tell you 
 more about it ; it was from him I had the news.' ‘ Yis,’ 
 
444 
 
 LElXLlP CASTLE. 
 
 sez the Parson, ^ it’s all true. 1 had a letter from a friend 
 of mine, the Eeverend Hungerwell Maw; he married 
 them, and they went straight down to Limerick.’ Well, 
 sir, whin he said that, what would ye have. But Sir 
 Athelstane, who left word he wasn't at home, and ran to 
 hide in a closet from the bishop, forgot himself an’ burst 
 into the saloon, and gev the lie to both the bishop and 
 the parson ; an’ there was high words among ’em, an’ 
 the bishop an’ parson left in a huff, sayin’, ^ If he didn’t 
 believe them, he might others.’ It was the bishop got 
 him put away after that, an’ Sir Harvey put in his place. 
 Anyhow, the rumour spread ; everyone had it that you 
 and Sir Harold were married to the two ladies.” 
 
 “ And, of course, the lady Adorine believed it then?” 
 said Sir Ulic. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, she did, sir ; an’ strove to make excuses for ye. 
 She said she knew the Lady Eleanor liked ye, an’ there 
 was nothing to object to but the difference of creed, which, 
 perhaps, made ye doubt of Sir Athelstane’s consent ; or 
 you nor she wouldn’t have put yourselves to the trouble 
 of being clandestine about it. Then she didn’t either 
 blame Sir Harold, but laid all the blame to herself. She 
 said, ^It must be that he didn’t think she cared ‘for him ; 
 seeing that she gave her first love to Sir Harvey. But 
 now,’ sez she, ^ that I’ve got over that childish affection 
 and admiration so misplaced, as my dear father and Sir 
 Ulic full 6ften admonished me, I can better discern the 
 worth of Sir Harold. How happy I might have been with 
 him, but I was not worthy one so noble, and Adela will 
 make him a wiser and better wife.’ So one day after that 
 she says to me : ^ Annie, would ye mind to come with me 
 back to France ; for the weeping skies of this sad country 
 seem to rain down desolation : there is only horror, war, • 
 bereavement, and wailing, everywhere. I will go into a 
 convent in France, and end my days there in peace.’ 
 Ocliy musha ^nachreey it was in the Eye water a week later 
 ye war to end thim !” And the devoted maid sobbed and 
 bitterly wept, then added : “ Father O’Ouin fetched me 
 part of the way here, sir ; then we met two Jesuit fathers 
 coming along from Drogheda ; so as he had to go back, 
 
TIDINGS OF WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 445 
 
 he gave me in charge to thim, an’ we came safe. An’ I 
 went to lodge at Mrs. Grrady’s, where I met Sergeant 
 Costume, an’ I liked him, an’ so we got married, an’ 
 there’s the end.” 
 
 Of a sad, sad story !” said Sir Ulic, drawing a deep 
 sigh, and bending a look of mournful sympathy upon his 
 mute companion, brooding forlorn over the unutterable 
 wreck of the treasure hoarded to bless the future of his 
 life, then continued : Thank you, Anne ; I shall see you 
 
 again ; — where do you live ? Meantime, hear me say, the 
 story you heard of Sir Harold and me was a vile fabrica- 
 tion, for what end concocted, so far as I am concerned, I 
 know not. The Fitz Adelms are well, we have had but 
 one brief interview with them since we left Dublin, and 
 that accidentally brought about by a sad event — too long 
 a history now to rehearse — to-morrow I anticipate they 
 shall have returned to their home in town, when they can 
 make their friends acquainted with their history. We 
 shall nat detain you longer at present, so good-day till I 
 see you to-morrow.” 
 
 Taking the arm of Harold, who, passive in the calm 
 resign ation of despair, suffered himself to be led as a child, 
 Sir Ulic took his way, not to the noisy, bustling camp, 
 but for a quiet stroll through the suburban country ; 
 judging wisely that thought communing with thought in 
 tranquil repose, would have a more beneficial influence in 
 soothing the heart aching with sorrow, than the jarring 
 discord of turbulent activity, or a plunge into the vortex 
 of business or occupation, now void of all interest. 
 
 Long in silence, each musing upon his own theme, they 
 wended through green lanes, shaded from the burning sun 
 by hedge-rows and moss-grown trees of ancient growth. 
 At length upon the bole of one of these felled by storm, 
 and lying slantways across their path, Harold listlessly 
 flung himself, for the first time speaking as Sir Ulic seated 
 liimself beside : “ I can’t help thinking what a jolly fine 
 time the pagans had of it, Ulic. They got all the good 
 out of life that was to be had, then when the ocean 
 grew boisterous, capsized their bark and heaved the ca-rgo 
 overboard ; a small puncture of the stiletto let out at once 
 
446 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 their blood and misery, and consigned them to perpetuity 
 of fame for the deed. We poor Christians are sadly 
 manacled and fettered with restrictions of every sort/’ 
 Despite his own sorrow, De Burgh smiled compassionately 
 upon the eccentric path Harold was winding to. philoso- 
 phise himself through his affliction. ^^But you know,” 
 he made response, “ the destiny of the pagan, so distinct 
 from that of the Christian, afforded him such latitude of 
 thought and action, to which we can lay no claim. He 
 walked in darkness, we in light ; for him there was no 
 knowledge of his beginning or his end, to us the page has 
 been thrown wide open ; for him there was no definite 
 future ; like the Protestants of to-day, he might speculate, 
 and reason, and argue himself into strong opinion — but 
 that was the ultimatum ; no divine voice ratified, no 
 authentic hand endorsed his convictions ; — the seal of doubt 
 and silence rested upon the dark mystery ; — for him tribula- 
 tion meant despair, death was escape from trouble through 
 annihilation ; with us the word is, ‘ Pass on the flame 
 from the opaque vase of earth to the crystal lamp of 
 immortality.’ Brutus, Pompey, Cleopatra, and all those 
 Old World celebrities whom history has eternalised to 
 posterity, did well, following their light, to sip the sweets 
 of life, and gather its flowers while the sun shone upon 
 their day. When the night fell they dared the plunge into 
 the abyss, unconscious that, allied to perishable matter, 
 was a subtile spirit that would not die — that should 
 survive the wreck, over which annihilation had no power, 
 unconscious of the future morrow that should dawn, and 
 the future sphere in which that element of immortal being 
 should exist henceforth.” 
 
 Tour words fall like drops of balm upon my soul, 
 Ulic,’' sighed Harold, with rueful visage ; I wonder you 
 never embraced the Church. You ought to have been a 
 priest.” 
 
 I was not called to it. I felt no vocation.” 
 
 Nor to marry ? What a vagrant kind of life you lead. 
 Why don't you settle down in happy domestic life ? Is 
 it that you are a cynic, a misanthrope, an ascetic, or what ? 
 
 ^‘No, Harold, none of these; — I think not,” responded 
 
TIDINGS OF WEAL AISD WOE. 
 
 447 
 
 Sir TJlic, with solemnity of tone and feature. I am not 
 insensible to the sweetness of love, or the fascinations of 
 beauty ; but — his voice took a deeper tone of sadness — 
 ‘^all my life has been haunted by a spectral phantom, 
 born with my birth in hour of woe, else engendered by 
 scenes of horror and anguish upon which my young eyes 
 first looked, and in which the first years of my life were 
 passed. Blood, tears, and death, days of dread, and nights 
 of terror, warned by this foreboding presence I fear to 
 touch a fruit lest I find it ashes ; and I walk the earth in 
 some sort as one in a dream, feeling more like one behold- 
 ing it as a mirage ; — a phantasm less real, less solid than 
 the changeful skies above us ; thus it is I have no heart 
 for the joys, the pleasures I see around me and pursued 
 by others.” 
 
 ween you are right,” said Harold, wearily rising. 
 Had I been as wisely informed, I had not gathered a 
 flower to see it withered in death. It is in sooth a rickety 
 world where there is no sure footing — a camera obscura 
 full of garish illusions, which, like children, we pay a high 
 price to grasp. I’m sick and tired of this war. For what 
 are we fighting and blood-shedding ? I’d like to go into 
 some quiet sequestered spot and dwell in peace ; for the 
 light of the morning has died out of the sky, and my days 
 henceforth shall be drear and sunless. Ulic, how I must 
 bother and plague you ; but I was ever a headstrong, 
 selfish fellow. I wonder at your patience in bearing with 
 me ; — ’tis worse than the old man tacked to the back of 
 Sinbad, for at least the creature didn’t grumble.” 
 
 “ Oh, come on, dear boy ; there’s balm in Gilead yet.” 
 ‘‘Not for me,” groaned Harold: “unless, indeed, 
 unless, indeed,” he suddenly exclaimed with animation, 
 “ I get it out of De Hivers’ heart. Yes, yes, and I will 
 so ; — fear not. What a tame lion you are after all, Ulic. 
 Athelstane, you see, was not to blame ; he was befooled 
 by the diabolical story invented for our defamation, and 
 she died — she died believing me a heartless deceiver. I’ll 
 proclaim the lie in Harvey’s blood ! ” 
 
 “ Hush,” said De Burgh, “ here comes Mac Mahon, 
 with O’Sullivan and Sir Gregory O’Byrne.” 
 
448 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 •CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ATHLONe’s laurels bloom again ; — A GLAD SURPRISE. 
 
 Wake ! wake ! they come from sea and shore ascending 
 In hosts your ramparts — arm for the day ! 
 
 Who now may sleep amid the thunders rending 
 Through tower and wall a path for their array.” 
 
 F. H. 
 
 A LATE September sun was setting behind the western 
 hills, and tinging the variegated horizon of blue and purple 
 with deep lines of gory red, converging into one mass of 
 umbered clouds piled densely tier over tier ; through a 
 rent in the mass streamed out, keen, dazzling, effulgent, 
 a glory of solar brilliance, and mantled with lustre the 
 form of Sir Ulic De Burgh, as with bowed head and con- 
 centrated visage, he stood in attitude of deep musing upon 
 the ramparts of the citadel, remote from guards and 
 sentries, in solitary self-communion. After a long, long 
 interval of meditation, he raised his bent brows, gazed 
 pensively upon the closing splendour of the day, and 
 murmured in tone low and solemn : How many a sigh 
 
 must swell the choral symphony of human woe, ere the 
 great organ peal forth the last diapason of the dirge, and 
 be silent for ever ! Alas ! Folding his mantle round 
 him, with slow and measured step he descended from the 
 airy turret, and went in quest of Harold Sigurd. The 
 billows of war retreating from Limerick were culminating 
 at all points, and flowing back upon Athlone. Ballymore 
 Castle was held by Lieutenant-Colonel Ulic Burke, a near 
 kinsman of De Burgh, to augment whose garrison to 
 twelve hundred men Sir Ulic had been despatched by 
 Sarsfleld with a company of infantry a few days before ; 
 but as yet no action seemed immediately proximate. The 
 Wiliamites had got enough to cool their ardour for a time. 
 
ATHLONE g LAURELS BLOOM AGAIN* 
 
 449 
 
 and the Irish were in no hurry to engage in skirmish, or 
 renew conflict on a scale of magnitude, till the expected 
 aid should come in. Sir Ulic found the young man in 
 his chamber, composedly reading a meditation of St. 
 Francis upon death. 
 
 ‘‘Are you scandalised at my unsoldierly occupation ? 
 he quietly demanded, as De Burgh, curious to know what 
 volume so absorbed him, looked over his shoulder. 
 
 ‘^Certainly not,'^ replied Sir Ulic. “The Knights 
 Templars, and the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, were 
 soldiers in the truest sense ; yet I dare affirm they read 
 much, and meditated deeply on religious truths. What 
 so gravely interested them we cannot say — is no concern 
 of ours. The uncertainty of life, the certainty of death, is 
 made obvious every hour. A man bound for a foreign 
 land would naturally feel inclined to speculate something 
 about it.’' 
 
 “ Do you believe in ghosts by day ? asked Harold, 
 lifting his subdued eyes to Sir Ulic’s face. 
 
 “ Not much. I am prone to what men call superstitious 
 credence in spiritual apparition ; — but ” — he smiled — “ it 
 must be at the legitimate nocturnal hour. The fact is, 
 Harold, I believe we are surrounded by the world of spirits. 
 I believe it is but a slender line — a line as slender as that 
 which separates reason from instinct — that divides the 
 supernatural from the natural world. I believe in mysteries 
 because our birth, our life, our death, all the agencies by 
 which we are encompassed, matter, intellect, light, dark- 
 ness, thought, feeling, pain, pleasure, time, eternity, and 
 the great Constructor of all, are mysteries unfathomable 
 in their immensity ; and the mystery of all to me is the 
 clod, whose mind is so embedded in earth, the film over 
 whose eye is so dense, that, understanding not, seeing 
 not, in lieu of bending in submission the little intelligence 
 with which he is endowed, he dares to reason, and diverges 
 from the lighted and beaten track, to grope his own way 
 through an intricate labyrinth of theory. But why did 
 you ask the question ? 
 
 “ Because I saw Adorine to-day,” 
 
 30 
 
450 
 
 lEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Where ? — when ? You saw someone that resembled 
 her, and deceived your morbid imagination. 
 
 Harold smiled coldly. How often, TJlic, have I heard 
 say the peerless Adorine was your perfect ideal of 
 winning grace that ceded not in charm to the perfect 
 beauty of Maud Fitz Eustace, and in which, distinguished 
 and alone, none save Maud bore to her any comparison. 
 Do you remember 
 
 Yes ; well ; — go on.^^ 
 
 I went after drill this morning into the church to have 
 a quiet hour from distraction. I knelt in the nave. Many 
 thoughts were wandering through my brain; — I dare 
 not say all were given to prayer. All at once I lifted my 
 eyes. A dark-robed figure, holding in her hand a bouquet 
 of flowers, was passing under the sanctuary-lamp, be- 
 tween me and the altar. Well I knew the gliding step, 
 the regal port, the symmetrical figure. My pulse throbbed 
 high ; — she turned her face. It was Adorine ! I could not 
 stir ; I was spellbound in a trance ! She passed into the 
 vestry, still with bright, pallid visage, looking towards me ; 
 then hastily I sprung up and followed her. The vestry 
 was empty, the outward door of exit was locked, and so 
 I returned bootless.’^ 
 
 ‘Ht is a strange story,*’ mused De Burgh; and the 
 two relapsed into a long, pondering train of thought. 
 At length Sir Ulic said, diverging to other theme : 
 
 ‘‘ Sarsfleld’s enterprising and successful forayer, O’Oarroll 
 of Nenagh, who so adroitly led the garrison of Birr into 
 ambuscade, and took them prisoners, with their com- 
 mander, Colonel Palliser, is en route to Athlone, having 
 been compelled by General Levison to evacuate the dis- 
 mantled castle he so bravely held ; — but not before he set 
 fire to, and burned down the town.” 
 
 “The musters are gathering fast ; we shall have a stub- 
 born bout of it ere long,*' said Harold. “And so you have 
 had letters of exuberant gratitude from the De Courcys 
 upon the restoration of their children, and from the^ 
 Fitz Ad elm girls, but not a line‘from Athelstane, now 
 made aware of his error in your regard? — that’s odd.” 
 
 “ Not a whit ! — not a whit ! Just of a piece with the 
 
athlone’s laurels bloom again. 451 
 
 contracted littleness of mind, engendered by illiborality 
 that perverts even the most educated and noble to wave 
 the ordinary courtesies of society rather than brook 
 the humiliation of confessing fault to one branded as 
 inferior. I should think, however, he must feel abased in 
 spite of himself. Clutterbuck acted much better ; — I’m glad 
 the poor man’s wife is out of danger, and his young 
 church brood thriving. 
 
 Come out and have a walk ; Eaymond is gone with Gal- 
 loping Hogan to meet O’Oarroll ; the boy is improving : he 
 conducted that business at Dromore very well. I’m 
 sorry the Dominican and the others were prevented avail- 
 ing themselves of the means of escape by the recent illness 
 of Maud, consequent upon the shock of poor little Eveleen’s 
 death ; — we must contrive another expedition by-and-by 
 for their deliverance.” 
 
 Yawning and stretching, Sir Harold rose up, put away 
 his book, and the two friends sauntered out for a stroll. 
 
 Time went its course; glowing autumn, with its gor- 
 geous banners of blue, crimson, purple, and gold, melted 
 into the cold gray of winter ; wailing winds sounded dis- 
 mally through frozen marshes, over beds of ice, where 
 once sweet flowers bloomed, and rivulet dimpled by the 
 touch of zephyrs, fled sparkling and sportive, as babbling 
 children at play through glades and meadows ; roaring 
 storms swung the leafless woods and wrestled with the 
 groaning giants of the forest, and shrouds of snow man- 
 tled the dead earth ; wreaths of snow waved like hearse- 
 plumes upon the yew-trees in the churchyard, and flak<-s 
 of snow falling dim and drear through the darkened at- 
 mosphere, seemed like tears wept from the pallid morning 
 sky over the bier of lifeless Nature. Then stirred in the 
 tomb the warm pulse of resuscitation, the thrill of new 
 life went through the earth : the crocus and the tender 
 blade of green put forth ifk peeping face to meet the soft, 
 warm breath of the maternal spring wooing its caress ; the 
 soft bud germinated in the relenting sap, and the unchained 
 waters flowed musically, rejoicing in their new holiday. But 
 to Harold neither smile nor promise of spring brought re- 
 vivifying beam, nor waked tuneful echo, nor called into bloom 
 
452 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 one tiny Llossom in his heart, where winter, cold, bleak, 
 torpid still reigned undisturbed. Yet his grief was mute as a 
 deep lake, into which a stone flung returns no sound. Silently 
 he brooded over the ruins of his fallen castle of promised 
 bliss. Sternly calm in exterior bearing, none, save one, 
 could divine the venom of the arrow launched deeply into 
 his heart. The name of Adorine henceforth never passed 
 his lips ; the great bereavement was his alone — alone he 
 would support it, nor intrude upon others the weari- 
 some effusions of anguish sympathy had no nostrum of 
 power to heal ; and so, with unrepining voice, turning his 
 back upon the Eden towards which his thoughts and steps 
 had wended, he now threw himself into the labour and the 
 struggle before him : renown, fortune, glory, not as once 
 his high aim ; — duty’s voice, and it alone, was the sum- 
 mons he obeyed. 
 
 On the 8th of May, the French fleet, with arms and 
 ammunition only, arrived in the Shannon. It carried, 
 however, a French ofiicer of great bravery, ability, and 
 energy, to take the chief command of the Irish army, and 
 the advent of the vain and lieadstrong, though gallant, St. 
 Rutli, like the fatal gift of the Genii, doomed the downfall 
 of the cause he came to aid. 
 
 During Tirconnel’s absence, the patriot army, under the 
 leading of the valiant, skilful, experienced, and well- 
 beloved Sarsfleld, soared high to victory, and flouted 
 triumphant banners in the face of every foe. Ill could they 
 brook an appointment which reduced him to the flfth 
 subordinate position in the army who had rallied all the 
 military energy of the country, and organised and headed 
 the splendid defence that still upheld the standard 
 and its freedom. But Sarsfleld was a patriot, in the old 
 vocabulary sense of the word ; in him love of country was 
 not a means for self-aggrandisement — the base speculator’s, 
 the dishonest politician’s stepping-stone to wealth, stations 
 and power. Chiding the murmurs that resented so bit- 
 terly the displacement of their trusted chief, the hero 
 withdrew cheerfully to his post, and, under the auspices of 
 St. Ruth, the struggle was renewed. 
 
 The Williamite army rendezvoused at Mullingar, to- 
 
athlone’s laurels bloom again. 453 
 
 wards the end of May, under Generals De Ginckle, Talmash, 
 and Mackay. On the 7th of June they marched for Ath- 
 lone, ‘^the ranks one blaze of scarlet, and the artillery 
 such as had never before been seen in Ireland/’* Ten 
 days they spent besieging Ballymore Castle, defended by 
 Lieutenant-Colonel IJlic Burke, with a force of twelve 
 hundred men against thirteen thousand. On the 18th, 
 Ginckle was joined by the Duke of Wirtemburg, the 
 Prince of Hesse, and the Count of Nassau, with seven 
 thousand foreign mercenaries. On the 19th, the legions 
 appeared before Athlone, and summoned the town to sur- 
 render. Colonel Fitz Gerald, now Governor of the gar- 
 rison, consisting of only three hundred and fifty men, 
 knowing how much depended on holding out till St. Euth 
 could come up with the array from Limerick, did not wait 
 for Ginckle to advance, but sallied out to guard the ap- 
 proaches to the town, thus retarding the enemy by some 
 hours. At length De Ginckle planted his guns, and to- 
 wards evening the walls of Athlone, near the river, on the 
 north side, being levelled, the English side of the town 
 was assaulted by a storming-party of four thousand men, 
 headed by three hundred grenadiers, to meet which Fitz 
 Gerald had but three hundred and fifty men, exhausted 
 after forty-eight hours’ constant fighting ; two hundred of 
 these fell in the breach, while the remainder fell back 
 upon the bridge, pressed by four thousand foes. ‘‘From 
 the Williamites shouts now arose on all sides of ‘ The 
 bridge! — the bridge!’ and a furious rush was made to 
 get over the bridge before the retreating Irish. In this 
 event all, of course, was lost, Fitz Gerald and his handful 
 of heroes knew well. Turning to bay, they opposed them- 
 selves, like an impenetrable wall, to the enemy, while above 
 the din of battle could be heard sounds in the rear that 
 needed no explanation : the Irish were breaking down 
 the arches behind, while they fought in front !” 
 
 “ They are destroying the bridge,’’ shouted Mackey 
 “ On I — on ! — save the bridge 1 — the bridge 1 ” 
 
 “Flinging themselves on the few score men, the stormers 
 sought to clear the way, giving their lives four to one ; but 
 
 * Macaulay. 
 
454 
 
 LtllXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Eitz Gerald and liis companions stood like adamant ; and a 
 few paces behind, wielding* pick, spade, and crow-bar, were 
 the Engineers of the Irish Garrison. Soon a low, rumbling 
 noise was heard, followed by a crash. A shout of triumph 
 broke from the Irish side, and a yell of rage from the 
 assailants. Two arches had fallen, but the bridge was still 
 passable, and again a wild shout from Mackey called : 
 
 ‘ On ! — on ! Now ! — now ! — the bridge !" But still stood 
 the decimated defenders resolved to die, but not to yield. 
 Suddenly rose a cry from the Irish rear : ‘ Back ! — back, 
 men, for your lives ! ’ The brave band turned and saw 
 the broken arches behind them tottering ; they rushed 
 with lightning speed over the falling mass, but the last 
 company, which even at that moment had wheeled found 
 to face and keep back the enemy, were too late ! The 
 mass of masonry heaved over with a roar into the boiling 
 surges, leaving the devoted band on the brink in the midst 
 of their foes ! There was a moment’s pause, and almost a 
 wail burst from the Irish on the Connaught side ; but just 
 as the enemy fell upon the doomed group, they flung away 
 their arms, dashed forward, and plunged into the stream. 
 Like a clap of thunder broke a volley from a thousand 
 guns on the Leinster shore, tearing the water into foam ; — 
 a moment of suspense on either side, then rang out a cheer 
 of exultation, deflance, and victory, as the brave fellows 
 were aided to the bank by a hundred welcoming hands.^’ 
 St. Euth heard next day, at Ballinasloe, that the 
 English town had fallen. He instantly set out at the 
 head of flfteen hundred horse and foot, leaving the main 
 army to follow as quickly as possible. On his arrival he 
 encamped two miles west of the town, and appointed 
 Lieutenant-General D’Usson Governor in place of Eitz 
 Gerald, as being best skilled in defence of fortiflcations. 
 Now came the opportunity for that splendid artillery, 
 the like of which,’^ Macaulay has told us, was never seen 
 in Ireland. Eor seven long midsummer days there poured 
 against the Irish town such a storm of iron from seven 
 batteries of heavy siege-guns and mortars, that by the 27th 
 it was a mass of ruins. On that day a hundred waggons 
 arrived in the Williamite camp from Dublin, laden with a 
 
ATHLONE^S LAtJRELS BLOOM AGAIN. 
 
 455 
 
 further supply of ammunition for the siege-guns. That 
 evening the enemy, by grenades, set on fire the facines of 
 the Irish breast-work at the bridge, and at night, under 
 cover of a tremendous bombardment, they succeeded in 
 flinging some beams over the broken arches and partially 
 planking them. Next morning (Sunday, 28th), the Irisli 
 saw, with consternation, that a few more laid on would 
 complete the bridge. Their own few cannons were now all 
 nearly buried in the ruined masonry, and the enemy had 
 battery on battery ; — it was death to show in the line of 
 the all-but-finished causeway. 
 
 This is a bad business,^^ said Sir Ulic de Burgh, ad- 
 dressing an officer in Colonel MaxwelFs regiment ? ‘‘We 
 shall have to deplore the fall of Athlone.^’ 
 
 “ Are there ten men here who will die with me for Ire- 
 land ? cried a voice clear as the toll of a bell hard by, 
 and Sir Ulic saw the young sergeant of dragoons dis- 
 mounting in haste from his steed. 
 
 “ It is a forlorn hope ! Certain death. Costume ! said 
 De Burgh. 
 
 “ Ay ! ay ! shouted a hundred eager voices. 
 
 “ Then we will save Athlone ; — the bridge must go 
 down,^^ cried Costume. 
 
 Grasping axes and crow-bars, they dashed forward ; — 
 a peal of artillery, a fusilade of musketry from the other 
 side ; — the space was swept with grape-shot, and bullets. 
 When the smoke cleared away, the bodies of the brave 
 Costume and his ten heroes lay on the bridge riddled with 
 balls ; — they had torn away some of the beams, but every 
 man of the eleven had perished ! 
 
 Out from the ranks of the same regiment dashed as 
 many more volunteers, crying : “ There are eleven more 
 men who will die for Ireland ! 
 
 Again the bridge is swept by a murderous fusilade. 
 The smoke lifts from the scene ; — nine of the second ban<l 
 lie dead upon the bridge ; — but the work is done ! The 
 last beam is gone, and Athlone once more is saved ! 
 
 De Ginckle, thus a second time defeated in striving to 
 cross the Shannon, resolved to renew his approaches by 
 means of a close gallery, and to support the new mode 
 
456 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTt:^. 
 
 of attack by several others in different directions. The 
 whole of that day he cannonaded the town with great vio- 
 lence, as I believe town never was/’ writes a spectator ; 
 nevertheless, the Irish continued to form new defences 
 as fast as the old were levelled, and Ginckle was at his 
 wits’ end what to rely upon if his close gallery should 
 fail/’ 
 
 A council of war in the Williamite Camp decided that 
 on the morning of the 29th the passage of the river should 
 be a third time attempted in greater force. A bridge of 
 boats was to be thrown across some distance below the 
 old structure, and it was suggested to try sounding for a 
 new ford as the summer had been exceedingly dry. 
 
 Three Danish soldiers, under sentence of death for crime, 
 were offered pardon if they would undertake the enter- 
 prize. They consented, and entered in armour in three 
 several places. The English in the trenches were ordered 
 to fire, seemingly at them, but in reality over their heads; 
 whence, concluding them to be deserters, the Irish did not 
 fire till they saw them returning successful, having dis- 
 covered that the deepest part of the river did not reach 
 their breasts. Thereupon it was decided to assail the town 
 next morning by surprise at three points : — one party to 
 go by the close gallery,” a second by the bridge of boats, 
 and a third by one of the fords. Mackey was to lead the 
 assault, which was fixed for ten o’clock next morning, 
 and again, as at the Boyne, each soldier was to mount a 
 green sprig in his hat ; — the word was to be Kil- 
 kenny.” 
 
 That night a deserter swam the river below the town, 
 and entering the hall where St. Euth was surrounded by 
 Maxwell, De Burgh, Fitz Gerald, Grace, Harold Sigurd, 
 and several officers, revealed that an assault was to be 
 made by a boat bridge and close gallery *’ early in the 
 morning. Thus timely warned by some secret friend 
 among the enemy, the main army of the Irish were poured 
 into the town under arms, and detachments were stationed 
 at every point to contest the assault which was to have 
 been a ‘^surprise.” Thus baffied, the enemy proceeded with 
 the assault, and the storm of grenades began to fiy. It 
 
ATHLONE^S LAURELS BLOOM AGAIN. 457 
 
 had been decided to begin the conflict close to the broken 
 arches of the bridge, np to which the close gallery had 
 been advanced, and upon the attack at this point the 
 other operations were, to defend. After an hour’s hot 
 work the Irish set on Are the facines of the English breast- 
 work ; — the flames spread rapidly, the breast-work had 
 to be abandoned, the close gallery ” was almost de- 
 stroyed, and the storming columns were called off. The 
 Williamite assault upon Athlone a third time had proved 
 a total failure. 
 
 Great was the exultation on the Irish side at the 
 triumphant defeat and abandonment of this, the flnal 
 attempt, as they regarded it, of the foe. After waiting till 
 near flve o’clock to behold the last of the Williamites 
 called to the rear, and every sign of defeat exhibited on 
 their side, St. Ruth drew off the victorious army to the 
 camp, three miles distant, and over-confidently declaring 
 the siege as good as raised, he invited the resident gentry 
 of the neighbourhood and the officers of the army to a 
 grand ball at his quarters that evening. 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh and Harold Sigurd were among the 
 earliest honoured by the General’s invitation to the 
 banquet ; but Harold, once the life and soul of every 
 festive gathering, declined, preferring to refresh himself 
 after the dint and turmoil of the day with a quiet ride 
 into the country with his dog Broder, his constant 
 follower in every campaign. Sir Ulic, not feeling more 
 disposed to mingle in the gay scene, so inconsonant with 
 his present graver mood, proposed to accompany his friend, 
 and they set out after a short refection. 
 
 The evening was warm, the skies were blue, a golden glory 
 gilded the vernal plains, the ripening corn waved in the 
 passing breeze, and the air was fragrant with the smell of 
 new-mown hay, cut by the peasant women of the neighbour- 
 hood. Farther, as they advanced from the arena of strife 
 into the tranquil solitude of the green country, the milk- 
 maid was singing as she milked the kine, and the air was 
 musical with the lowing of herds, the song of feathered 
 warblers, and the piping voices of children at play in some 
 sequestered dell. Sir Ulic unconsciously smiled ; the 
 
458 
 
 LEiXLtP CASTLE* 
 
 ineffable charm of the soothing hour was infusing its 
 subtile essence into his bosom, and imperceptibly the hard 
 lines of his toil-worn visage relaxed. Harold, too, seemed 
 to have imbibed some of the ambrosial draught that lulls 
 the soul to rest, and renews the vital power ; his softened 
 features wore an air of placid sadness, and a thoughtful 
 smile rested on his lips as his meditative companion said, 
 glancing upward and around him : 
 
 “ Methinks, Harold, how many bright spirits have gone 
 to-day to add new beams of glory to yon brilliant empy- 
 rean ; and among the most dazzling surely that ever 
 soared from mortality into the regions of light was the 
 soul of Patrick Costume. In sooth, in noble cause and 
 good, the soldier's death-bed is a grand one 
 
 For zeal, valour, devotion, fortitude, and unsparing 
 toil, our men are prodigies,’^ said Sir Harold. ‘‘ Were I 
 monarch for one hour the land should teem with monu- 
 ments commemorative of Celtic bravery, that should cast 
 into eclipse the most vaunted of Greek and Roman heroes. 
 The three hundred of Thermopylae should yield the palm 
 to the three hundred that stood in the gap of Athlone, to 
 break down the bridge before the enemy ; but for the 
 twenty who defended the pass with their lives to-day the 
 niche has yet to be found in the temple of fame, where they 
 may worthily stand alone ! In sooth ’tis an emanation 
 from the font of fire, that fiows in the veins of a posterity 
 whose ancestors worshipped the sun in orient climes, and 
 imbibed a nurture of glowing inspiration from the fostering 
 luminary of their great deity. St. Ruth is in high spirits 
 for the day^s glorious issue.’^ 
 
 I don't like St. Ruth,'’ said Sir Ulic, with expressive 
 gesture ; — a good officer, if you will, but a frivolous, 
 vain, self-opinionated egotist. What a contrast to our 
 own magnificent Sarsfield, than whom I would ask no 
 better, nor rely on none surer, to tide us to victory. With 
 any other men than Irish, I dare affirm St. Ruth would 
 have lost this day, competent though his hand may be to 
 wield the helm of war." 
 
 “ Have you any conception of the friend among the 
 Williamites who sent us the timely notice of the intended 
 
ATHLONE^S LAtJllELS BLOOM AGAll^. 459 
 
 surprise?''* asked Harold; — ^‘methinks it was Fitz 
 Adelra.^’ 
 
 No ; Fitz Adelm’s sense of honour would, methinks, 
 spurn what he would hold a treason, even in friendship’s 
 cause. It was Clutterbuck ; — I intercepted the deserter 
 and questioned him, was the chaplain come down to attend 
 the Williamite army? The fellow, understanding me, 
 gave me a knowing wink and a grin. It is to the grati- 
 tude of the good parson we are indebted for service so 
 great. It is getting late ; — had we not better return ?” 
 
 They wheeled round their horses, and with light hoof 
 pacing the sward wended townward. The moon in 
 mellower radiance was bathing, in soft amber light the 
 now sleeping, drowsy world, and a solemn, listening 
 presence seemed to fill the hushed earth and claim the 
 mute orison of Nature’s rapt adoration. 
 
 “ See yonder, Harold,” said De Burgh, pointing with 
 his sword to an extensive ruin of some ancient abbey, 
 lifting its hoary turrets and broken belfry through tangled 
 masses of ivy and brambles. ‘‘ How picturesque the effect 
 of the wan moonlight resting in light and shadow upon 
 yonder fane, half-dimly obscuring, half-dimly revealing, 
 the gray walls and mysterious recesses of cells and cloisters, 
 all the more mystical for the silence that seals record, and 
 the shroud that envelops all tradition of each sainted 
 inmate, leaving imagination free to revel in her banquet- 
 hall of phantoms. I never can look upon a ruin, whether 
 of holy pile or feudal castle, without repeopling the empty 
 void with life and light, conjured by the magic touch of 
 fancy. Again I see the cowled monk bending before the 
 shrine, the abbot officiating at the lighted altar; I hear the 
 organ pealing and the sigh of prostrate worshippers. In 
 the ruined chieftains’ hold I see again warriors arming 
 for the conflict, I hear the portcullis fall, I hear the 
 trumpet’s thrilling breath, I see the defenders on the 
 battlements, and then victory or defeat, the shout of 
 triumph rings out upon my ear, or the wail of woe is 
 knelled upon my soul, A ruin to me, of whatever kind, 
 is a volume of romance ; and lo ! while I speak, is this 
 one haunted ?” 
 
460 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 They had, in their homeward progress, diverging from 
 their path to take a nearer view, approached the dis- 
 mantled fane; and now, sufficiently proximate, they could 
 distinguish wild, sad notes of vocal melody swelling in the 
 distance, now rising sweet and clear, now faintly sinking 
 with vibrating thrill ; betimes floating nearer, anon fading 
 far away in quivering cadence like a wail of lamentation 
 dying upon the air over the tombs of the departed. 
 
 Were Daly with us he would And a ready interpreta- 
 tion of this exquisite melody in the caoine of the banshee^ or 
 fairy music,’^ said Sir Harold ; — but it is the sublime 
 strains of the Stabat Mater ^ en toned within yonder ruin by 
 one endowed with voice of cultivated sweetness. It wakes 
 melancholy echoes in my bosom. Why do you stop ? 
 Have you a mind to seek adventure within the spectral 
 precincts ?” 
 
 Just hold my horse a moment, and stay where you 
 are,’^ said Sir Ulic, with such a look of intense concentrated 
 expression as to engage Harold’s notice. Stealing along 
 with soundless tread, till in the distance his own shadowy 
 form bore a weird spectral aspect, he entered the ruin, 
 glanced to and fro, guided by the voice, proceeded onward 
 to an open cloister, through whose chinks and gaping 
 roof the moonbeams shining, revealed a female form 
 seated on a low monument; still, unconscious of other 
 ears or other presence, pouring forth her own heart's 
 sorrow in strains of holy sympathy with that of the Queen 
 of Sorrows,” to the ear of night, waking again among the 
 dwellings of the dead, echoes which, perchance within the 
 same precincts, the living had once heard enchanted. Sir 
 Ulic, a stranger to visionary terrors, drew softly near and 
 stood close beside the veiled form till the song had ceased, 
 and she rose with the intention of retiring ; then laying 
 his hand upon her arm he said : Adorine ! ” 
 
 Yes, it was, indeed, Adorine. For some moments, so 
 great, so stunning was the unexpected surprise, she could 
 not speak, but sank back upon the monument. 
 
 Sir Ulic, controlling his own amazement, gave her some 
 moments to recover herself, then said : ‘‘ Fair lady, I 
 know not which of us has most cause to be startled by 
 
ATHLONE^S LAURELS BLOOM. AGAIN. 
 
 461 
 
 each other’s apparition in such a spot, at such an hour. 
 Pray restore my confidence by speaking and assuring me 
 you are not a ghost ; though I admit you are so pale you 
 look like one.’^ 
 
 Adorine laughed — the old, bright, yet not ringing laugh. 
 
 It is I, indeed, Sir Ulic ; and I am very glad to see you, 
 though, I must own, at the cost of a great fright ; — had 
 it been any other face than yours I should have fainted. 
 
 And, dearest child, where have you come from ? Why 
 are you here at this lone hour ? Are you by yourself? 
 
 Yes, Sir Ulic,” she said, in accents that had a tone of 
 sorrow ; I come here sometimes ; it is, I think, a safe 
 j)lace. I am not afraid, and it does me good. I take 
 pleasure in dreaming and musing among ruins.” 
 
 I had believed that was my exclusive privilege, since 
 I never could hitherto find in any the same taste,” said 
 Sir Ulic; — ‘‘ but, waving all present question to more fitting 
 hour, come with me to Harold, who waits without.” 
 
 Adorine shrunk nervously away. ‘^No; pray, don^t ask 
 it, Sir Ulic ; — hereafter, perhaps ; but now it would give 
 me pain.” 
 
 ‘‘Pain, demoiselle ! he returned, with suppressed smile, 
 quite comprehending the drift of the allusion, but feigning 
 ignorance. “ Neither you nor Sir Harold stand committed 
 to any error that should convert a meeting of unalloyed 
 j)leasure to one of pain ; and, I flatter myself, I am suffi- 
 ciently honoured with your confidence to believe that your 
 love for him is as warm and unchanged as I know his is 
 for you.” 
 
 Adorine looked up, in doubtful surprise as to Sir Ulic’s 
 meaning ; a tear sprung to her eye, which she tried to 
 smile away, then said, calmly in exterior while combating 
 with a gush of impulsive feeling : “ Oh, yes, Sir Ulic, I 
 understand ; — but you gentlemen, I think, do not convey 
 what you mean to express quite according to our duller 
 sense. You say justly, sir, Harold is unchanged in every 
 friendly sentiment. We must ever meet on a footing 
 of esteem and friendship ; — that it cannot now be more, 
 I have only myself to aocuso.” 
 
 “Oh, come,” returned Sir Ulic; — “I see you don’t 
 
462 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 understand. Pray, fake my arm, and let me assist you 
 over the stones.^' With imperative, resistless hand, he 
 led her, reluctantly, to where Sir Harold, patiently waiting, 
 was humming over some stanzas of the Stahat MateVy 
 while Sir Ulic’s horse champed the bit, and tossed his 
 arching neck, and the hound under command lay crouched 
 beside him. The warrior knight doffed his casque and 
 bowed, as he saw Sir Ulic approach, accompanied by a 
 lady ; then, as they drew nearer, with long, incredulous 
 stare, his eyes were riveted upon the latter. Sir Ulic, 
 who was intently observing his unutterable emotions, 
 cried gaily : Now, sceptic, doubt no more of the necro- 
 
 mancer’s power to recall departed visions, since here I 
 bring a trophy of my skill from yonder repository of 
 momentoes; — but, what! — have you no word of greeting 
 to welcome 
 
 Harold was from his horse ere the sentence was finished. 
 ‘‘ Adorine, Adorine, is it you ? Oh, speak I Hold me not 
 in suspense; — say it is no illusion I We had mourned you, 
 darling — we had mourned you dead. How is it ? Say — 
 say, is it my own, own Adorine, and no mocking phantom 
 of her so dear, sent to craze and wilder my brain. 
 
 ‘Ht is I — it is Adorine, Harold, she said, half laughing, 
 half in tears, as she gently strove to disengage herself 
 from his clasping caress. 
 
 Harold came to a standstill, and stared at Sir Ulic. 
 
 Heavens ! I can scarcely believe it yet ; — my very 
 rapture is pain, for I feel not assured that it is not the 
 illusion of a dream, that will vanish in my waking I ” 
 
 ‘^Prolong the dream, then, while Adorine and I have 
 a chat,” smiled Sir Ulic. Tell me, fair lady, how did 
 you a second time escape captivity ? We heard you had 
 been drowned.’’ 
 
 “ Oh, no. Sir Ulic,” sighed Adorine, her thoughts 
 reverting in painful retrospect to that terrible hour, that 
 eventful phase of her life ; — I was, I believe, reckless from 
 terror, and in desperation essayed what else I might have 
 lacked thought or courage for. I escaped from Leixlip 
 Castle in the hat and cloak of the parson, while he sat 
 with Sir Harvey and Lady De Rivers at supper. I think 
 
athlone's laurels bloom again. 463 
 
 my good augel must have helped me. and blindfolded the 
 guards, for I met no hindrance. Knowing I should be 
 missed and pursued, I ran straight down to the river, 
 and flung the hat and cloak upon it instead of myself ; 
 hoping that if found, as I judged they would, it would 
 mislead and end all further inquiry, as indeed it did. 
 Having done this, I retraced my steps in an opposite 
 direction. After some time I met a poor woman returning 
 home, having buried her husband and sons, who were 
 killed at the Boyne. I did not know where to go, or what 
 else to do, so, with her leave, I joined her, and came to 
 this neighlDourhood, where I have dwelt ever since ; — it is 
 not far, the house of Widow Magennis ; — you can see the 
 roof above the copse in yonder glen. That is why I come 
 here so often ; — I know the place and the people all about, 
 and no one would harm me.^^ 
 
 ‘‘ Tell me this, Adorine,’^ said Sir Harold, now sobered 
 down to a state of more tranquil bliss ; ‘‘ were you, one 
 day, in the little Carmelite convent chapel near the Castle 
 of Ballymore ? 
 
 “ I was, Sir Harold ; — I had come to bring flowers to 
 the altar.’^ 
 
 ‘‘You saw me there, did you not ? 
 
 “ Yes, I did.” 
 
 “And without a word or sign you passed away. Where 
 did you go ? 
 
 “ Out by the vestry door.’^ 
 
 “You locked it after you?’' 
 
 “ No ; I met the clerk and he locked it.’^ 
 
 “ Oh, Adorine,” continued Harold, feelingly, “ did you 
 but know what a probation of anguish you inflicted in 
 that hour. Why did you — why did you try me thus ? 
 
 “I did not think you cared for me any more,” murmured 
 Adorine, then faltered in lower tone : “I thought perhaps 
 Adela ” 
 
 “ Oh, confound Adela ! ” vehemently retorted Harold. 
 
 “ Then you credited that absurd Action, concerted, 1 have 
 no doubt, by De Rivers and his gang ; — but there, there, 
 
 I don’t mean to reproach or chide my own precious one.” 
 
 “Come, come; — when Jove thunders we must needs 
 
464 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 expect rain/’ laughed Sir Ulic. ‘‘ Prithee, let your 
 godship not forget time waxes on ; — we have three miles 
 smart ride to bring us to the camp, and heaven knows 
 what work cut out for the morrow. Let us just see your 
 fair lady home ; — by-and-by there will be leisure to adjust 
 all these lovers’ quarrels — flying clouds through which the 
 sun shines the brighter.” 
 
 “ You heard of our success, to-day, Adorine ? ” said 
 Sir Harold, as giving his arm they all turned and sought 
 the humble roof of the Widow Magennis. 
 
 “ Yes, Harold, with unspeakable pleasure ; — but when and 
 where will it end, and when and where shall all who have 
 been scattered meet again ? How little we thought when 
 last we parted of such vicissitudes, and such a haphazard 
 reunion, in circumstances so strange as this to-night.” 
 Now, catagorically, I shall reply to your questions,” 
 said Sir Harold. “ Our conflict, which I understand you 
 to mean, shall end when our country is free, or its last 
 defender laid low. Presuming the first of these, they 
 who have been scattered shall meet again in the light of 
 the temple, to join hands and hearts in a union that shall 
 abide for ever, and we two shall take the lead. Ulic, I 
 bespeak you for my best man.” 
 
 ‘Uan you tell me aught of dear Eveleen, Sir Ulic?” 
 cried Adorine, in hasty confusion, to divert the theme ; 
 
 how I have missed her ! And Lady De Courcy’s children : 
 she has been so unhappy about them ? Comal’s Court, 
 we heard, was burned to the ground, but they had escaped ; 
 — and Haymond and Uncle Hugh; — is it not very sad ?” 
 
 ‘‘I have no time to tell you more now, dear child,” 
 said Sir Ulic, as they stood at the threshold of the widow 
 and knocked, than that Lady De Courcy has recovered 
 her children ; the Pitz Adelms, who with Harold and me 
 ran away, so goes the story, are safe at home ; Raymond 
 is with me ; Uncle Hugh, I am sorry, I can tell you 
 nothing of ; dear Eveleen is gone to Cod ; Anna, your 
 maid, has been to-day made a widow ; I had not heart 
 myself to break to her the sad news. Soon we shall meet 
 again, I trust, and enter upon detail. Now, good- 
 night ; — here’s your hostess.” With kind and warm adieus, 
 all parted. 
 
- ATHLONE^S tAttEELS BLOOM AGAIN* 46o 
 
 Each engaged with his own thoughts. De Burgh 
 and Harold spurred their steeds to a brisk trot to over- 
 take time, unconscious of the anxious eyes that still 
 pursued them, till they were out of sight, and main- 
 taining a silence, which was first broken by Harold, saying, 
 as he slackened rein: ‘‘Methinks, Ulic, in the wide 
 creation, and amid all the stupendous works of the Al- 
 mighty hand, there is scarce a greater mystery than man. 
 Why need it marvel us that he baffles the skill of the 
 physiologist to interpret the abstruse cabala of his nature 1’^ 
 He cannot fathom his own heart or decipher his own 
 mind; — behold in me a case in point: Yesterday the 
 world was to me a void wilderness, deprived of the sun 
 that had filled it for me with light, and transfigured dull 
 earth into a very paradise of beauty ; — now the lost beam 
 has unexpectedly been restored, absolutely to my as- 
 tounded senses, like one miraculously given back from the 
 tomb. Adorine, in the warmth and beauty of life, rises 
 again before me ; — and yet, after the first delirious thrill 
 of ecstasy, my bosom subsided in weary languor, akin 
 to apathy. And now that she is absent, a strange melan- 
 choly pervades every pulse, a yearning to be near her, yet 
 a consciousness that though I were, my happiness would 
 not effervesce in transport. How is it ? 
 
 Sir Ulic mused a moment, then made answer: In sooth, 
 
 Harold, I ween the enigma is easy of solution. Excessive 
 grief, ’tis said, kills itself — the same observation may 
 apply to any passion ; — so joy and pleasure react upon the 
 system in proportion to their intensity ; rapture gives a 
 shock human nerves are too weak to bear ; and were the 
 beatitude of heaven poured out upon us, in this our mortal 
 state, trust me, the effect upon us would bo as that of the 
 sunstroke that withers the flower on which its splendour falls, 
 or the lightning flash that consumes in its fire the abject oi 
 its embrace. 1 can well understand your feelings ; — in tlio 
 first instance, it is not tlie apathy, but the heart’s rebound 
 from despondent sorrow, and the soul lulled to rest in the 
 blessed calm of peace, while the melancholy is simply the 
 natural sequence of your present circumstanca ; a chasm 
 yet yawns between you and the realisation of your bliss; 
 
 31 
 
466 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 the jewel whose glitter dazzles, is yet not yours ; fate you 
 dread, without confessing it, may snatch it once again 
 from your grasp and leave you more wretched than before. 
 But truce, with airy speculation, and hope, cheerily, for 
 the auspices, are fair and good. Nor was it by erratic 
 chance, I hold, our truant steps were guided to meet our 
 lost fawn sheltering in sequestered bower so far away, 
 beguiled by her tuneful song to the spot where I own — 
 he smiled — ‘‘ she scared me at first sight as an appari- 
 tion, and had she not reassured me of her frail mortality 
 by similar evidence of consternation, I had scarcely been 
 emboldened, even for your sake, to break the spell and 
 capture the fair siren to bear her to your arms. Prithee, 
 accelerate speed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FALL OF ATHLONE AND BATTLE OF AUGHTIIM. 
 
 Oh ! had she known how those who’re gone 
 Stood where the brave were falling ; 
 
 How sabres clashed, how cannons flashed, 
 
 And death -groans rose appalling ! 
 
 How burst to-day the fierce hurrah, 
 
 When martial foes were flying, 
 
 A wreath she’d weave th’ unburied brave, 
 
 To bloom in song undying ! ” 
 
 Aughrim. 
 
 Sir Ulic and Harold, setting spurs to their steeds, now 
 rode swiftly onward and soon arrived in Athlone. De 
 Ginckle, foiled in his assault upon the gallant town, 
 nfter many conflicting impulses, had at last decided to 
 raise tlie siege ; but still in apprehension of the dissatis- 
 faction that would meet him in Dublin and London, a 
 council was convened to discuss the point, and, after a 
 stormy altercation, a resolution was adopted by the 
 majority to try, that very evening, a sudden dash across 
 the river by the fords, it being conjectured the Irish, 
 
THE FALL OF ATHLONE AND BATTLE OF AIJGHlllM. 467 
 
 flushed with victory, would now be off their guard ; • 
 hence, without delay, they commenced to put in e3:ecution 
 their plan^ 
 
 As De Burgh and Sir Harold rode past the outposts, 
 they were accosted by the officer on duty (O’ Carroll), who 
 drew their attention to the opposite bank, and said he 
 feared there was some insidious movement among the 
 ememy. 
 
 “ Yes, yes ; there is,” said Sir Ulic, taking a rapid 
 survey of the lines ; they are forming companies ; and, 
 my knightly sword to a yeoman’s staff, they are meditating 
 the fords, and to take us by surprise. Send off at once 
 notice to St. Euth, and ask for some squadrons to be 
 sent in ; — the few regiments left in the town may not be 
 equal to the emergency.” 
 
 I have done so,” returned O’Carroll, wrathfully, ‘‘ and 
 received for answer : ‘ De grace mon enfant ne soyez pan 
 si pressi il n^y a rien acraindre. C^est Virnagination qni 
 vous a fait tort,^ 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh at once turned his charger’s head 
 and galloped at full speed to the quarters, where he found 
 the IVench officer revelling in all the confidence of 
 security. Painfully the banquet lights glared upon his 
 eyes, and the sprightly music of the dance jarred upon his 
 nerves, stung to their utmost tension by the magnitude of 
 the danger which he knew to be looming near. Brushing 
 swiftly through the dazzling scene, which at such a 
 moment waked his contempt and ire, he reached St. 
 Kuth, and with what patience he could command, said, 
 respectfully, but emphatically: ‘‘ Q-eneral, I have sped 
 in haste to let you know there is some movement going 
 on among the enemy bodeful of danger. O’Carroll en- 
 treats you to credit the fact that they are about to renew 
 the assault, and begs some troops may be sent into the 
 town without delay.” 
 
 “ Malepeste r exclaimed the irrascible Frenchman. Is 
 it after the beating we have given them? No, no, mon 
 enfant; they will employ to-night applying salves to 
 their wounds, and if O’Carroil be afraid of theii’ attack, 
 let him transfer the post of danger to another.” 
 
468 L'ETXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 Sir Ulic glanced imploringly at Sarsfleld, who stood 
 by, and whose bosom caught from that glance the elec- 
 tric spark of alarm. ‘‘St. Ruth/’ he cried, hastily, ‘‘at 
 peril of all we have to lose or win ; don^t disregard the 
 warning, so urgent, of one of our bravest officers. Let us 
 not wait for sterner summonses in the cannons roar.'’ 
 
 “ Monsieur retorted St. Euth, angrily, “ but that I 
 have been eye-witness to your courage to-day, I would 
 term you Irish all cowards. I pray you not quake now 
 for shadows.” 
 
 “ Shadows, sir,'’ returned Sarsfield, “ are the reflex of 
 substance ; — and beware lest we rue that for which we 
 spurned to quake.” 
 
 Parhleu! monsieur; I, and I alone, am responsible in 
 the affair,” said St. Euth, imperiously. “ You must learn 
 to know your place, and forbear unwarrantable dictation 
 to your superior.” 
 
 The flush of wounded pride glowed redly on Sarsfield’s 
 sallow cheeks, while he bit his lip to curb his chaffing 
 spirit and bridle the hot reply gushing to his lips. Sir 
 Ulic’s yet warmer temper, a moment, flared up in a burn- 
 ing glow upon his brow, and a swell of indignation 
 heaving his bosom. The interrupted dance was resumed, 
 the music struck up. Sarsfield and De Burgh, the short- 
 lived flame now burned to ashes, stood side by side, with 
 pale visage, presaging the impending ruin their fettered 
 hands were powerless to avert. 
 
 St. Euth was in the act of leading off a minuet, 
 with a lady of distinction, the daughter of O’Sullivan 
 More, when, all breathless, strode Sir Harold Sigurd 
 and Sir Oregory O’Byrne into the hall, with intelli- 
 gence that the English were across the river and into 
 the defences of Athlone ! St. Euth, for a moment stag- 
 gered back stunned, and his heart stood still ; — it was but 
 a moment. Inflated with high valour, but overweaning 
 self-confidence, superciliously he smiled, while the tolling 
 of St. Mary’s bell smote ominously upon his ear : “Then 
 let us drive them back again ! Forward, messieurs ! 
 — Quick march! To arms I — to arms !” 
 
 Ah, then and there was hurrying to and fro.” 
 
THE FALL OF ATHLONE AND BATTLE OF AUGHRIM. 469 
 
 Sudden panic, swift farewells, white faces from whence 
 the smiles and the bloom had faded ; hushed music, 
 dimmed lights, and murmured sounds of fear and sorrow. 
 Appalled by that mysterious sense, that instinctive prog- 
 nostic of fate, that foreshadowing of evil that betimes 
 haunts the human breast, and lifts the shroud from the 
 skeleton of doom, Sarsfield, De Burgh, O’Byrne, and 
 Harold Sigurd were foremost in the van to reach the goal 
 but too late ! — too late ! — the Williamite lodgment had 
 been made in force. Athlone was lost !* 
 
 A prey to conscious, guilty feeling, St. Ruth at once 
 marched to Ballinasloe, on Ginckle’s road to Galway, one 
 of the most important cities now in possession of the Irish. 
 Mortified by the disaster, for which he knew well that 
 Sarsfield held him answerable, jealous of the ever-growing 
 popularity of the Irish chieftain, and the idolatrous devo- 
 tion of the army to their former commander, their con- 
 fidence and trust in him, uncontrollable jealousy fired 
 the bosom of St. Ruth ; and the estrangement of the General 
 from one who should have been his colleague and right 
 arm in the strife wrought ruin to the destiny of Ireland. 
 
 At a council of war in the Irish camp it was at first 
 resolved to give battle in the strong position which the 
 army had now taken up ; but St. Ruth moved off to 
 Aughrim, three miles distant on the road to Galway. 
 The new position was not less strong than that which had 
 been quitted. In truth, its selection, and the use to which 
 St. Ruth turned its natural advantages, showed him to bo 
 a man of consummate ability. 
 
 Close to the village of Aughrim — destined to give name 
 to the last great battle between Catholic and Protestant 
 royalty on the soil of Ireland — is the Hill of Kilcommedan. 
 The hill slopes upwards to a height of three hundred feet 
 from its base, running two miles in length from north to 
 south. On its east side, looking by the way Ginckle must 
 march westward to Galway, the Irish army encamped, 
 having on its right flank the pass of Urrachree, and its 
 left resting on the village of Aughrim. A large morass 
 
 * In this coufUct was slain the ex-governor Grace, at the age of ninety. 
 
470 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 lay at the foot of Kilcommedan, on the east, which might 
 be crossed in summer by footmen, but was impracticable 
 for cavalry. Through its centre ran a stream which, with 
 winter rains, flooded all the surrounding marsh; two 
 narrow roads ran across the morass to the hill, one at 
 Urrachree, the other at the town of Aughrim ; — the latter 
 one being defended by the ruins of Aughrim Castle, at 
 the hill base ; along the slopes of the hill, parallel, ran 
 some lines of hedge-rows, affording admirable position 
 for musketeers. It may l3e questioned if the genius of a 
 Wellington could have devised aught that St. Ruth had 
 not done to turn every feature of the ground to advantage; 
 yet by one sin he hazarded all the fortune of the day on 
 his own life : he communicated to no one his plan of battle. 
 Sarsfleld was next entitled to command in the event of 
 anything befalling the General ; and he in particular was 
 kept from any knowledge of the tactics upon which the 
 battle was to turn ; — nay more, he was posted far away 
 out of sight of the fleld where the main struggle was to 
 take place, with the imperative instructions not to stir 
 from the position thus assigned him without a written order 
 from the General. 
 
 The advanced guards of the Williamites came in sight of 
 the Irish on the 11th of July ; and the following morning, 
 which was Sunday, while the army was assisting at 
 Mass, the enemy drew up in line of battle on the high 
 ground to the east, beyond the morass. As nearly as the 
 strength of the two armies can be estimated, that of the 
 Irish was flfteen thousand, horse and foot, with nine fleld 
 pieces ; the Williamites numbered twenty-five thousand 
 troops, with numerous artillery. Ginckle, knowing his 
 great superiority in artillery, hoped, by aid of that arm 
 alone, to dislodge the Irish centre from their advantageous 
 ground; and, as quickly as his guns could be brought into 
 position, he opened fire upon the enemy. He also directed 
 some cavalry movements on his left, at the pass of Urra- 
 chree, with orders that the Irish should not be followed 
 beyond the Pass,” lest any fighting there should force on 
 a general engagement, for which he had not then made 
 up his mind. His orders on this point were not punctually 
 
THE FALL OF ATHLONE AND BATTLE OF AUGHRIM. 471 
 
 obeyed, the consequence being hot skirmishes, which 
 brought larger bodies into action until three o’clock, when 
 the Williamites retired from the Pass. 
 
 Ginckle now held council of war, and the opinion pre- 
 vailed that the attack should be deferred till next morning; 
 but the final decision was for immediate battle. At five 
 o’clock, accordingly, the attack was renewed at Urrachree, 
 and for an hour and a half there was considerable fighting 
 in that quarter ; several attempts to force the Pass having 
 been made in the interval, and the Irish cavalry continuing 
 to maintain their ground gallantly against double their 
 numbers. 
 
 At length, at half-past six, Ginckle, having previously 
 caused the morass in front of the Irish to be sounded, 
 ordered his infantry to advance on the point where the 
 fences projected most into the marsh, and where the morass 
 was narrowest in the direction of Urrachree. The four 
 regiments of Colonels Erie, Herbert, Creighton, and 
 Brewer were first to wade through the mud and water, 
 and advance against the nearest of the hedges, where they 
 were received with a smart fire by the Irish, who then 
 retired behind their next line of hedges, to which the 
 assailants approached. The Williamite infantry were 
 thus drawn up the slope from the morass, to a greater 
 distance than was contemplated in the plan of attack, 
 according to which they were to hold their ground near 
 the marsh until they could be supported by the infantry 
 in the rear and by cavalry on the flanks. The Irish retired 
 by such short distances, that the Williamites pursued what 
 they considered to be an advantage, until they found 
 themselves face to face with the main body, who now 
 charged them in front, while, by passages cut through 
 the line of hedges by St. Ruth, the cavalry rushed down 
 and attacked them in the fianks. In vain did Colonel 
 Erie endeavour to encourage his men, crying out there 
 was no way to come off, but to be brave. They were 
 thrown into total disorder, and fled towards the morass, 
 the Irish cavalry cutting them down in the rear, and the 
 infantry pouring in a deadly fire, until they were drive?!, 
 beyond the quagmire which separated the two armies. 
 
472 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Colonels Erie and Herbert were taken prisoners ; the 
 former, having received some wounds, was finally rescued. 
 
 Whilst this was going forward towards the Irish right, 
 several other Williamite regiments nearer to Aughrim 
 were in like manner repulsed ; but, not having ventured 
 amongst the hedges, their loss was not so considerable ; 
 although they were pursued so far in their retreat, that 
 the Irish/’ says Story, got almost in a line with some 
 of our great guns ; in other words, had advanced into 
 the English battle-ground. 
 
 At this moment St. Euth cried aloud with enthusiasm : 
 The day is ours, mes enfants ! 
 
 “ The manoeuvres of the Dutch General on the other side 
 evinced consummate ability, and the peril of his position 
 obliged him to make desperate efforts to retrieve it ; his 
 army being much more numerous than that of the Irish, 
 lie could afford to extend his left wing considerably be- 
 } ond their right. This causing a fear that he intended 
 to fiank them at that side, St. Euth ordered the second 
 line of his left to march to the right, which left a weak 
 j oint, observed by the enemy. St. Euth had fatal confi- 
 dence in the strength of his left, owing to the extent of 
 log and the narrowness of the causew^ay near Aughrim 
 Castle. The Williamite commander perceived, and re- 
 solved to take advantage of it ; hence his movement at the 
 opposite extremity of his line, a mere feint, the troops 
 not firing a shot through the day, while some of the best 
 regiments of the Irish were drawn away to watch them. 
 The point of weakening the Irish left having been thus 
 gained, the object of doing so became apparent. A move- 
 ment of the Williamite cavalry to the causeway was 
 observed ; horsemen were seen crossing, two abreast, with 
 much difficulty. St. Euth still believed the Pass impreg- 
 nable. But soon artillery came to their aid, and as the 
 men crossed, they began to form in squadrons on the 
 firm ground, near the castle. What were the garrison 
 doing the while, and what the reserve cavalry beyond ? 
 An unlucky circumstance had rendered the efforts of the 
 former nugatory. It was found that while the men were 
 armed with Erench firelocks, the balls served to them 
 
THE FALL OF ATHLONE AND BATTLE OF AUGHRIM. 473 
 
 were cast for English muskets of larger calibre, conse- 
 quently useless ! In this emergency the men cut the 
 small, globular buttons from their jackets, and used them 
 as bullets ; but their fire was ineffective, and few of the 
 enemy’s horse were hit. Secondly, the officer. Colonel 
 Luttrell, * when ordered with reserves to the right wing, 
 removed a battalion from the left centre, which act was 
 immediately followed by the crossing of the morass, at 
 that weakened point, by three Williamite regiments, who 
 employed hurdles to facilitate their passage, and succeeded 
 in making a lodgment in a corn field on the Irish side. 
 
 ^^It was, however, easy,” as the historian just quoted 
 remarks, to remedy the effects of these mishaps, thus 
 threatening to render questionable the victory already 
 substantially won, and St. Ruth, for the purpose of so doing, 
 left his position on the crest of the hill, and placing himself, 
 in joyous pride, at the head of a cavalry brigade, hastened 
 down the slope to charge the confused bodies of Williamite 
 horse gaining a foothold below. Those who saw him 
 at this moment say that his face was aglow with enthu- 
 siasm and triumph. He had, as he thought, vindicated 
 his fame, and shown what St. Ruth could do. Indeed, 
 never had he doubted the result of this battle, or antici- 
 pated any other issue than victory. He had attired him- 
 self, we are told, in his most gorgeous uniform, wearing 
 all his decorations and costly ornaments, and constantly 
 he told those around him lie was about to win a battle 
 that would wrest Ireland from William’s grasp. 
 
 About half way down the hill he halted, to give some 
 directions to the artillery men at one of the field batteries. 
 Then drawing his sword, and giving the word to advance 
 for a charge, lie exclaimed to his officers : — ^ They are 
 beaten, gentlemen ; — let us drive them back to the gates of 
 Dublin.’ With a cheer rising above the roar of artillery, 
 which from the other side was playing furiously on this 
 decisive Irish advance, the squadron made reply, when 
 suddenly louder at its close there arose a cry — a shriek from 
 
 * Tlie traitor Luttrell, subsequently discovered to have been long 
 working out the betrayal of the cause. 
 
474 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 someone near the Greneral. All eyes were turned upon the 
 spot, and for an instant many failed to discern the cause 
 for such a startling utterance. There sat the glittering, 
 uniformed figure upon his charger. It needed with some 
 a second glance to detect the horrible catastrophe that 
 had befallen. There sat the body of St. Euth indeed ; 
 but it was his lifeless corpse — a headless trunk. A cannon 
 shot from the Williamite batteries had struck the head 
 from his body, as if the Tyburn axe and* block had done 
 their fearful work. St. Euth the vain, the brave, was 
 no more ! 
 
 The staff crowded around the fallen commander in sad 
 dismay. The brigade, ignorant at first of the true nature 
 of what had happened, but conscious of some serious 
 disaster, halted in confusion. Indecision in face of the 
 enemy and under fire of his batteries has ever but one 
 result. The brigade broke ; no one knew on whom the 
 command devolved ; Sarsfield was at a distant part of the 
 field, and he was unacquainted with any of the lost 
 Generals plan. The confusion spread. The Williamites 
 soon perceived something fatal had happened on the Irish 
 side, which, if taken advantage of promptly, might give 
 them victory in the very moment of defeat. They halted, 
 rallied, and returned. A general attack in full force on 
 all points was ordered ; still the Irish centre and right 
 wing maintained their ground obstinately, and the fight 
 was renewed with as much vigour as ever. The Irish 
 infantry were so hotly engaged that they were not aware 
 of the death of St. Euth or of the fiight of the cavalry, 
 until they themselves were almost surrounded. A panic 
 and confused fiight were the result. The cavalry of the 
 right wing, vs^ho were first in action that day, were the 
 last to quit their ground. Sarsfield, with the reserve horse 
 of the centre, had to retire without striking one blow. 
 St. Euth fell about sunset ; and about nine, after three 
 hours’ hard fighting, the last of the Irish army had left 
 the field. The cavalry retreated along the high road to 
 Loughrea ; and the infantry fied to a large, red bog on 
 their left, where numbers of them were massacred ia 
 cold blood.’^ 
 
THE FALL OF ATHLONE AND BATFLE OF ATJGHRIM. 475 
 
 The peasantry to this day point out a gorge on the hill- 
 side still called Gleann-na-Fola, the Grien of Slaughter, 
 where two of the regiments, deeming flight vain, or scorn- 
 ing to fly, halted, and throughout the night waited their 
 doom in sullen determination. They were found in the 
 morning slaughtered to a man. The slogan of the con- 
 queror was No quarter.’^ 
 
 Five hundred prisoners, with thirty-two pair of colours, 
 eleven standards, and a quantity of arms, fell into the 
 hands of the victors, whose loss in killed and wounded 
 was about three thousand ; the Irish lost over four thousand. 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh was among the prisoners, but where 
 was Harold Sigurd ? 
 
 There is,” says the Williamite chronicler, a true and 
 remarkable story of a wolf hound* belonging to an Irish 
 officer. The gentleman was killed and stripped in the 
 battle,t whose body the dog remained by, night and day ; 
 and, though he fed upon other corpses with the rest of the 
 dogs, he would not allow them or any else to touch that 
 of his master. When all the corpses were consumed, the 
 other dogs departed ; but this one used to go in the night 
 to the adjacent villages for food, and presently return to 
 the place where his master’s bones only were then left. 
 Thus he continued from July, when the battle was fought, 
 till January, when one of Colonel Foulk’s soldiers, being 
 quartered nigh hand, and passed that way by chance, the 
 dog, fearing he came to disturb his master’s bones, flew 
 upon the soldier, who unslung his piece and shot the poor 
 dog. He expired,” adds Mr. O’Oallaghan, ‘^with the 
 same fidelity to the remains of his unfortunate master as 
 that master had shown devotion to the cause of his un- 
 happy country. In the history of nations there are few 
 spectacles more entitled to the admiration of the noble 
 mind, and the sympathy of the generous and feeling heart 
 than the fate of the gallant men and the faithful dog of 
 Aughrim.” 
 
 Eyes may grow dim with tears and vigil ; the true 
 hearts that loved him, the noble, the generous, and brave, 
 
 * “Greyhound,” he has it ; but it was a wolf-dog. 
 t The English camp followers stripped all the dead. 
 
476 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 may bleed and break ; spirits of kindred sympathy may 
 mourn and languish in desolation ; affection’s thirst, uu- 
 slaked by one more draught from the deep fount, the 
 broken cistern ; the breast lies cold and still that was wont 
 to throb responsive to each kindly impulse ; hands that 
 clasped in friendship have loosed their grasp. Perchance 
 the village children, next returning summer, gathered 
 flowers springing from the unburied dust, guarded from 
 desecration by the faithful Broder ; but to the summons 
 of tlie archangel’s trumpet alone, gathering the nations, 
 wiU Harold Sigurd lift his head, and answer “ I come ! ” 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 
 
 “ It was a sad and solemn task, to hold 
 
 Their midnight watch on that beleagured wall ! 
 
 As the dark wave beneath the bastions rolled, 
 
 A sound of fate was in its rise and fall. 
 
 The heavy clouds were as an empire’s pall ; 
 
 A low mysterious call 
 
 Breathed in the wind, and from the tented plain 
 A voice of omens rose with each wild martial strain.” 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 Galway surrendered on favourable terms ten days after 
 the battle ; Sligo, the last western garrison, succumbed soon 
 after, and its Governor, the brave Sir Tiege O’Regan, the 
 hero of Charlemont, marched his six-hundred survivors 
 southward to Limerick, Thus once more all eyes and 
 hearts in the British Islands were turned towards the 
 city of the Lower Shannon. 
 
 On the 25th of August, Ginckle, reinforced by all the 
 troops he could gather in with safety, invested the place 
 on three sides. It appears he had urgent directions from 
 William long previously to let no hesitation in granting 
 favourable terms keep him from ending the war, if it could 
 be ended by such means, and it is said he apprehended 
 censure for not having proclaimed such dispositions before 
 he assaulted Athlone. He now resolved to use the powers 
 
THE TREATY OF LIMERICH. 
 
 477 
 
 given to him, in the hope of averting the necessity of 
 trying to succeed where William himself had failed be- 
 neath the walls of Limerick. Accordingly, proclamation 
 was issued by Ginckle, offering full and free pardon to all 
 ‘‘treasons^' so called, meaning loyalty to the king and 
 resistance of foreign emissaries, with restoration for all to 
 their estates “ forfeited by such treason,’^ and employ- 
 ment in his Majesty’s service for all who would accept it 
 if the Irish army would abandon the war. 
 
 It is not to be wondered at that this proclamation 
 developed on the instant a “ peace parley ” within the 
 Irish lines. Not the most sanguine could now hope to 
 snatch the crown from William’s head and replace it on 
 that of James. For what object, therefore, if not to secure 
 honourable terms, should they prolong the struggle? And 
 did not this proclamation afford a fair basis for negotiation ? 
 The Anglo-Irish Catholics, nobles and gentry, whose estates 
 were thus offered to be secured to them, may be pardoned 
 if they exhibited weakness at this stage. To battle further 
 was, in their opinion, to peril all for a shadow. 
 
 Nevertheless, the national party, led by Sarsfield, pre- 
 vailed, and Ginckle’s summons to surrender was refused. 
 Once more glorious Limerick was to brave the fiery 
 ordeal. Sixty guns of twelve-pound calibre opened their 
 deadly fire against it. An English fleet ascended the 
 river, hurling missiles right and left ; by land and water 
 bombardment showered destruction upon the city in vain. 
 Ginckle now gave up hope of reducing the place by 
 assault, and resolved to turn the siege into a blockade. 
 Starvation must, in time, effect what fire and sword had 
 vainly tried to accomplish. The treason of an Anglo- 
 Irish officer (Luttrell) at this crisis betrayed to Ginckle 
 the pass over the Shannon above the city ; and one 
 morning, to their horror, the Irish beheld the foe upon the 
 Clare side of the river. Ginckle again offered to gr.iiit 
 any terms if the city would capitulate, for even still he 
 judged it a forlorn chance to await its capture. The 
 announcement of this offer placed further resistance out of 
 the question. There was a party within the walls so 
 impressed with the madness of refusing such terms, that 
 
4fS 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 they might of themselves attempt to hand over the city. 
 Accordingly, on the 23rd of September, after a day of 
 bloody struggle from early dawn, the Irish gave signal for 
 parley, and a cessation of arms took place. Favourable 
 as were the terms offered, and even though Sar^field now 
 assented to accepting them, the news- that the struggle 
 was ended was received by the soldiers and citizens with 
 loud and bitter grief. They ran to the ramparts from 
 which they had so often hurled the foe and broke their 
 swords in pieces. Muskets that had scattered fire and 
 death amidst the British Grrenadiers were broken in a 
 phrensy of desperation, and the tough shafts of pikes that 
 had resisted William’s choicest cavalry crashed across the 
 knees of maddened rapparees. The citizens, too, ran to 
 the walls with the arms they had treasured proudly as 
 mementoes of last year’s glorious struggle and shivered 
 them into fragments, exclaiming with husky voices : We 
 
 need them no longer ; — Ireland is no more ! 
 
 On the 26th September, negotiations were opened, 
 hostages were exchanged, and Sarsfield was invited to 
 dine with Oinckle and several officers in the English 
 camp. That morning, Fitz Adelm, who had arrived the 
 night before in Limerick with his regiment from Sligo, 
 entered the quarters where Sir Ulic de Burgh, still a 
 prisoner, vigilantly guarded, awaited the denouement of 
 his destiny. Two months of rigorously enforced con- 
 finement had, along with much care and anxiety of mind 
 concerning all those in whose weal he took so lively an 
 interest, left their harsh impress in sunken eye, furrowed 
 brow, haggard cheek, and raven hair, intermingled with 
 threads of gray ; — yet was his port lofty, and his mien, as 
 wont, majestic, and courteous, as he rose ceremoniously 
 and in silence to receive his visitor. 
 
 My dear friend, how is this hastily exclaimed Fitz 
 Adelm, coming forward and unheeding the cold and formal 
 air of De Burgh, clasping him in warm greeting. >‘I have 
 been misled ; — I was under the impression that my 
 suit in your behalf to De Ginckle had been granted, and 
 that you had been set at liberty. How is it ? 
 
 I have been refused liberty on parole,” said De 
 
THE TREATY OE LIMERICK. 479 
 
 iBurgii, 4oftily ; but now, in the exchange of prisoners, I 
 shall be, I hope, set free.'^ 
 
 ‘‘ Humph ! I can’t understand it,” muttered Fitz 
 Adelm, nibbing the end of a toothpick; then he re- 
 sumed aloud : “ Ulic, plague on’t, get off your high horse* 
 I know I have given you cause of oj0Pence, but, hang it, 
 what can a fellow do more than ask pardon ? I had 
 hoped my letter had done the business, and spared me the 
 pain of further humiliation ; — but you were ever an inex- 
 orable despot.” 
 
 All I know is. Sir Athelstane, that you have wounded me 
 very grievously on my tenderest point,” returned Sir Ulic, 
 with hauteur ; and no word of apology came to soothe my 
 exasperated feelings — even after you must have been made 
 aware by your sisters of your great error.” 
 
 ‘‘Now, by Jove, this puzzles me much,” said Fitz 
 Adelm, lost in thought. “You got no letter ! Well, Ulic, 
 
 you must hold me for I will not say what. When I 
 
 got a letter from my sisters, telling me of their indebted- 
 ness to you, but reserving particulars till we should meet, 
 which shall be soon now, I wrote at once praying your 
 forgiveness, and sent the letter by courier. The fellow 
 must have lost it. Plantagenet Tudor, who was standing 
 by, can, if you doubt me, certify the fact.” 
 
 “ Doubt you, Athelstane ! Oh, no, I am satisfied,” said 
 De Burgh. “Can you tell me anything of Harold?” 
 Sir Athelstane was silent : “ He is dead ! — dead, I know.’' 
 “ My dear, dearly-beloved Harold, friend most true, 
 brotlier in heart and soul ! ” mournfully soliloquised 
 De Burgh, with long-drawn sigh. “ I saw him fall in the 
 thick of the hot fray when we charged with St. Ruth down 
 the hill. Yet, peradventure, I hoped against hope that 
 he might have yet escaped ; — but no, he would have sent 
 me some tidings. Poor Harold ! heaven rest your gallant 
 soul. I never shall know again your like ; — it is one more 
 ^link of the few that bind me to earth broken.” 
 
 “ Nonsense; — don't give way so !” cried Athelstane, with 
 rough sympathy-tears swelling in his own eyes the while. 
 “I loved Harold myself, and this will say, he has left no 
 nobler soul behind him ; but a soldier’s career is safe to end, 
 
4^0 
 
 LEtXLlP CAStt:0. 
 
 as I expect mine will some day, on the battle-field. Would 
 you have had him show the white feather and fly ? 
 
 Can you tell me aught of Eaymond or Adorine, all I 
 have now to care for?” demanded Sir Ulic. 
 
 ^ ‘‘In sooth, I cannot,” said Sir Athelstane. “But now 
 all this unhappy strife is at an end, and we may breathe 
 in peace, we can And leisure to look after our dear ones. 
 There is Maud ; — my sisters tell me they have seen her, 
 and that she is safe; — and, oh, yes, all shall go well 
 yet ! ” 
 
 Sir Ulic cast a sad glance upward. “It was a sad 
 scattering, Athelstane : what home circles have been 
 broken, what hearth- Ares quenched and how many 
 shall meet in the gathering, when the storm has lulled?” 
 “Come, a truce with the subject,"' cried Fitz Adelm. 
 “ You are invited to dine with Sarsfleld and some others 
 at De Ginckle^s ; — nay, hush now ! — donT say nay. Nego- 
 tiations have been already entered into, and Sarsfleld and 
 your Catholic cause may need every auxiliary to prop 
 them. De Grinckle is disposed to be open and liberal ; — 
 but, I warn you, there are those of a clique, such as De 
 Divers, Tudor, Bruen, Vereker, Grub, Luttrell, who sold 
 us Limerick, and one O’Brien, who reverses the old Nor- 
 man vaunt, and swears he is more Saxon than the Saxons 
 themselves. Maybe the poor devil is in fear of his father- 
 in-law’s whip : — you know he has married one of the 
 formidable Major Grub’s ogresses — Johanna, I think, her 
 name is.” 
 
 “ Has he ? — I did not know it,” said De Burgh, with in- 
 difference. 
 
 “He has; — and that, with a Cromwellian mother allied to 
 the distinguished family of Bullock, rag and bone dealers, 
 gives him a high claim to boast of English blood. These 
 will strive to fetter the treaty with clauses, or embarrass 
 proceedings with subtle equivocation ; so it necessitates 
 everyone interested in the issue to stand on guard and be 
 present to watch and circumvent any underhand action.” 
 
 “ I’ll go,” said De Burgh, at once decided by Fitz 
 Adelm’s representation. “At what hour?” 
 
 “ Five, sharp but come earlier, so that flrst musters 
 
THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 
 
 481 
 
 may not engross De Ginckle’s ear. Adieu then, au revov% 
 and let me hear you say once again I stand absolved for 
 that confounded error into which I was trained by De 
 Eivers and Tudor. 1 have no notion of striking my 
 breast and crying ^mea culpa ^ for their fault ; — call them 
 to reckoning, if so it please you ; — but unfeignedly I am 
 sorry for having given you pain by my too credulous and 
 rash conclusion.’^ 
 
 “ Say no more, Athelstane ; you stand fairly acquitted,” 
 said De Burgh, extending his hand in amicable assurance, 
 and they parted. 
 
 Sir IJlic de Burgh arrived early at the quarters of 
 Greneral de Ginckle ; yet as he entered, he found a large 
 company already assembled, and a high tide of animated 
 discussion flowing on every side. Fitz Ad elm, who was 
 on the watch for his arrival, introduced Sir IJlic to De 
 Ginckle, with whom he stood high in favour, as the friend 
 for whom he had been so interested; upon which De 
 Ginckle was profuse in apologies to De Burgh, assuring 
 him that he should have long since been set free were it 
 only in requital of his own act of courtesy upon a similar 
 occasion to one of the Williamite officers — -he bowed to 
 Fitz Adelm — and, in fact, as he had, upon Sir Athelstane's 
 application, given to Sir Plantagenet Tudor the order for 
 it, he did not understand how it had not been carried 
 out. 
 
 “ Explain, Tudor,” said Sir Athelstane, turning to 
 Plantagenet, who stood by, keen and observant, and made 
 cool, deliberate answer : 
 
 “ An oversight, I take it, moi ami. I gave the General's 
 order to someone to have it conveyed to the proper authori- 
 ties ; — but, really, in time of wild turmoil and confusion, 
 one can hardly be held accountable for mistakes or omis- 
 sions. I know De Burgh will readily excuse me, if I did 
 not make it my duty to see, as I should have done, to his 
 emancipation.” 
 
 “ But you wrote me he was out on parole ?” said Fitz 
 Adelm. 
 
 Yes, on the assumption that he was.” 
 
 You saw the letter I wrote and delivered by courier,” 
 
 32 
 
482 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE, 
 
 said Fitz Adelm, expressing my contrition for the egre- 
 gious blunder which had brought bad blood between us, 
 and to which I was instigated by the inuendos and repre- 
 sentations, so groundless, of you and Harvey. How do 
 you account for it 
 
 My good friend, call me to no account for carrying 
 reports I hear,^’ exclaimed Plantagenet, waxing uncom- 
 fortable at allusion to the letter, obtained by bribe from 
 the courier. ‘‘As for Harvey, let him justify himself; he 
 has this morning arrived from Leixlip, and, no doubt, in 
 fit time and place, he will be ready to do so, and shift the 
 onus of guilt, if guilt there be in quoting rumours, to the 
 party amenable.’^ 
 
 “ Enough ! I am now satisfied as to the bearing of the 
 whole case,’’ said De Burgh, anxious to terminate what 
 threatened wordy war and recrimination, tending to hos- 
 tile results. Exchanging a smile of meaning with Sir 
 Athelstane, he approached Sarsfield, who stood a little 
 apart from the several groups around, apparently listening 
 to the Babel of discourse around him, but taking no part 
 in it.'^ His eyes and Sir Ulic’s met. There was a brief 
 pause, but in that interval mind spoke to mind, and heart 
 throbbed to heart. Eesponding to his officer’s salute, 
 Sarsfield spoke : 
 
 “ Grlad to see you, Sir Ulic. You are aware of our late 
 and final measure ?” 
 
 ‘‘Yes, General,’' returned He Burgh, with downcast 
 brow ; “ and our confidence in your judgment assures 
 your friends that you have acted the most expedient 
 part.” 
 
 “ I’d have held out,” said Sarsfield, with bated breath, 
 and drawing closer, “ I'd have stood out, for our soldiers 
 were all staunch ; but when traitors ” — he glanced at 
 Luttrell in the distance, laughing among a knot of con- 
 genial spirits, among whom were De Rivers, Tudor, and 
 Manus O’Brien — “when traitors showed themselves in the 
 camp, I knew too well the sequel : at any hour of the 
 night treason would have thrown open the gates and de- 
 livered the unfortunate inhabitants over to butchery. So 
 to save bloodshed and rapine, I deemed it wiser to be 
 
THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 483 
 
 beforehand with the traitor, and baulk him by honourable 
 capitulation/^ 
 
 It was LuttrelFs treason, more than the death of St. 
 Ruth, lost us Aughrim,"' said De Burgh. 
 
 It was/^ reiterated a deep voice, joining the speakers, 
 and Sir Grregory O^Byrne continued, with bending brow : 
 I saw him, when ordered by St. Ruth to march with his 
 left division to support the right, take a battalion from the 
 centre, opening up there an easy avenue to the enemy, 
 which they soon profited of, to our overthrow.’’ 
 
 “ By the hand of Boroihme !” added O’Brien of Tho- 
 mond, advancing into the circle, I’m not by nature a 
 Nero, or much given to blood, and yet I say I would, 
 were such an ojQfice in vogue, petition for the post of hang- 
 man to all the traitors in the world, and consider myself 
 honoured by the appointment.” 
 
 “All the while, Oeneral,” said O’Ferrall of Longford, 
 approaching with O’Sullivan, “ how easily could have 
 turned the scale the swords of your cavalry, but for the 
 strange tactics of the unlucky St. Ruth ! What was his 
 motive in having stationed you out of sight of the field, 
 with injunctions not to quit your post without his order?” 
 “ Envy — jealousy,” cried O’Sullivan ; — “ he would have 
 no rivalry, no competitor to share his glory. Sarsfield’s 
 presence alone, inspiring the men who fought under his 
 eye, had abstracted one leaf from his garland. It is in 
 public, as in private life and affairs, the same : envy and 
 jealousy bear but one result, to weaken, disunite, and 
 ruin. No man possessed of these baneful vices can found 
 a prosperous family, no man cursed with them can be a 
 patriot or a staunch friend.” 
 
 Dinner being announced broke up the discussion, and 
 the company repaired in marshalled order to their places 
 at the table, where, after some time given to amicable in- 
 terchange of civilities and good-fellowship over wine and 
 viands, the courses being removed and replaced in due 
 form by lighter entremets ^ conversation took a more general 
 and unconventional form. De Ginckle courteously began 
 pledging the health of Sarsfield, and extolling the valour 
 of that ofiicer and the bravery of his men. lie drank to 
 
484 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 their future amity. Sarsfield replied in appropriate 
 speech, and complimented De Ginckle upon his gallant 
 conduct throughout the whole conflict, and the generous 
 moderation with which he, the victor, had used his con- 
 quest, deporting himself towards the vanquished in a spirit 
 calculated to establish and cement future kindly relations 
 on both sides. Then toasts and pledges circulated freely ; 
 and De Ginckle, rising again, drank to the success of the 
 Treaty of Limerick, which should in all its articles be 
 drawn out, ratifled, and signed, as soon as the Lords Jus- 
 tices came from Dublin to affix their signatures ; — and he 
 drank to the future prosperity of the fertile, salubrious 
 island and valiant nation, said to be the oldest in the 
 western hemisphere 
 
 “And most barbarous!’^ laughed Plantagenet Tudor. 
 There was a moment’s dead silence, during which eyes 
 kindled, brows flushed, bosoms swelled, and Angers ner- 
 vously tingled ; but none seemed ready-armed to rebut 
 the sudden and unexpected charge, till Fitz Adelm, flred 
 with generous zeal for the honour of the country in which 
 he claimed a part, drily retorted : 
 
 “ Is that certain ? ” 
 
 “ To be sure it is; — don’t we know the mere Hirish is 
 savages,” cried aloud, with exulting look at his son-in-law 
 O’Brien, who sat next him. Major Sir Clotworthy 
 Grub ; — “ don’t we hall know the Hirish is a uncivilised 
 people.” 
 
 The magnates still were silent in astonishment. The 
 minnows rushed into deep water, and Manus O’Brien,* 
 simpering, smirking, drew up his head, brimful of self- 
 conceit as it was empty of understanding or knowledge, 
 and launched his petty arrow, dipped in the gall of a 
 bad heart at the mother’s breast who bore him, whose 
 bread he ate, and to curry favour with Sir Clotworthy, 
 and his high friends, De Rivers, Tudor, and others, he 
 cried : “ Yes, ’tis true what my father-in-law says. The 
 ancient Irish — I except those of to-day who have improved 
 by intercourse with the English — were rude, uncultivated 
 
 * It is probable this man was ancestor of O’Brien the informer of ’98. 
 
THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 
 
 485 
 
 aborigines, and I appeal to the well-informed Sir Ulic De 
 Burgh if I be not right 
 
 ^^1 am sorry you have appealed to me, sir,’^ said De 
 Burgh ; ‘‘ since my utter contempt of recreant, who could 
 pride himself in defaming the source from which he sprung, 
 the fountain-head of his race, must preclude my giving 
 him the answer I would accord to enlighten a foeman or 
 a stranger of more noble and unperverted disposition.'’ 
 O’Brien collapsed and vanished. 
 
 De Eivers came to the solace of the down-tumbled 
 pigmy, and addressing himself ostensibly to Sarsfield, said, 
 with a glance at Luttrell : But where are the evidences 
 
 of Ireland's boasted ancient civilisation ? There are none 
 to show, hence we must conclude O'Brien speaks impartial 
 truth.” 
 
 Sarsfield, more skilled in the field of Mars than that of 
 the Muses, although he knew sufficient of his country’s 
 history to warrant her claim to remote renown, was not 
 yet an adept in argument of defence ; he looked helplessly 
 indignant, but gave a shrug of satisfaction as he saw Mac 
 Mahon snatch up the gauntlet and rush armed cap-a-pie 
 to the lists, while profound stillness attested the deep 
 interest of all the guests in the encounter between two 
 such adversaries. 
 
 Where are the evidences of ancient Ireland's civilisa- 
 tion?” cried the Northern chief. ‘^I answer: in our 
 ancient monarchy, gloriously presiding over a free and 
 enlightened people, when all the rest of Europe was 
 buried in the night of ignorance, barbarism, and slavery ; 
 in our institutions, our brehon laws, our music, and monu- 
 mental remains, transmitted to the present day in every 
 province of the Isle.” 
 
 “ But you have no remains of cities to corrobo ate 
 this ?” sneered De Eivers. 
 
 ‘‘ Ptolemy, the Grreek geographer of the second century, 
 marks nine cities of note in his map of Ireland, consider- 
 able remains of which are yet to be seen. Who has noted 
 a wooden hut or a stone fence in England before the 
 time of the Eomans retorted Mac Mahon, with disdain. 
 
 Well, admitting the cities such as they were, or what 
 
486 
 
 LETXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 you call cities,’^ said Plantagenet Tudor, you had not 
 the first element of civilisation — the wealth that fiows 
 from commerce. You had no navigation, no manufactures, 
 no material of export.'’ 
 
 Go to school again !” here exclaimed O’Brien, fuming 
 with impatience to league his spear of defence ; Tacitus 
 will tell you our harbours were better known to mer- 
 chants than those of Britain, proving we had materials 
 of commerce wherewith to trade for import and export. 
 We traded with Greece, Eome, and in chief with Spain, 
 and our kindred Phoenician stock.” 
 
 ^‘If the Phoenicians,” said De Eivers, ‘^had formed 
 settlements in Ireland, might we not infer their traditionary 
 splendour had attended them and left some traces 
 
 In Spain where they flourished,” put in O’Sullivan, 
 there are now no remains to be found of Phoenician 
 cities no more than of Nineveh.” 
 
 You boast,” said Plantagenet, scornfully, ‘‘ of your 
 ancient proficiency in art, science, and luxury, where are 
 the records giving testimony thereof ?” 
 
 ‘^Abundantly exhibited in every form,” said O’Ferrall. 
 “ In architecture, view our Cyclopean buildings, identical 
 with those in the Isles of the Mediterranean and the 
 Persian land of the Ghebres : these alone are imperish- 
 able records of our pretension to science in ages long 
 anterior to the Christian era. In art, take our cinerary 
 urns, ornamented with mouldings in bass relief, and sepul- 
 chral chambers that have no parallel in the British Isles ; 
 our gold crowns, collars, bracelets, anklets, fibulae and 
 seals, swords, shields, helmets, spurs of gold and 
 bronze, and domestic utensils, of which spoil the teeming 
 land incessantly yields up some disinterred relic in 
 memoriam. In presence of these vouchers, you cannot 
 deny the claims we assert.” 
 
 “ Well, after all,” persisted Tudor, “ savages have been 
 known to excel in barbaric skill of wrought ornament 
 and domestic implements. It is in truth the literature 
 of a country that best proves its advance in civilisation, 
 and of that you cannot vaunt.” 
 
 A people intimate in intercourse with the early Greeks 
 
HE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 
 
 487 
 
 and Romans could not have been unacquainted with the 
 literature of the day, such as it was,’’ observed Sir Ulio 
 De Burgh, and the world is cognisant of the fact, that 
 from the breaking up of the Roman Empire, in the fifth 
 century by the Huns, Groths, Vandals, and all the barbarous 
 hordes 'of the North, it was Ireland, and Ireland alone, 
 that reillumed the world and shed the lights of her schools 
 and her temple upon darkened Europe.” 
 
 I don’t know about your literature,” put in Luttrell ; 
 
 but I have heard it affirmed on competent authority, 
 the Irish had no skill in architecture previous to the in- 
 vasion of the Danes.” 
 
 ‘‘And competent authority yours must be,” scoffed 
 O’Sullivan. “ It happens our annals afford us another ver- 
 sion. Y our lawless, unchristian, roving Danes made their way 
 to peaceful Innisfail, the “ Insula Sanctorum,^ the holy. 
 Isle in the close of the eighth century. They came not to 
 found, but to raze ; not to build up, but to pull down ; 
 they saw the fair land covered with stately temples 
 erected to a Grod they knew not, and with glittering gem- 
 laden shrines of gold dedicated to saints they scorned. 
 Fired with cupidity, they began the work of wreck and 
 spoliation, which, after three hundred years of warfare, 
 you Saxons, in iDrief space, completed in the exhausted 
 country, made easy of access to you by their inroads. To 
 bear out my assertion, a few samples may suffice out of 
 thousands. Take Mellifont Abbey,* with its Chapel of 
 St. Bernard, its crypt of elaborate workmanship, its arches 
 springing from clustered demicoliimns, all richly carved 
 with designs of foliage ; its mullioned windows with 
 pillared angels resting on grotesque heads of sculptured 
 stone ; its octagonal baptistery ; its arched doorways, 
 reeded pilasters and columns, uniform to all appearance, 
 yet no two corresponding in detail, and wrought with such 
 unrivalled skill as to seem not cut in stone, but of the 
 finest moulding ; its grained roof and corbels of finished 
 art : the whole architectural beauty of this edifice, the 
 earliest specimen of Giothic to be found in the British 
 
 * Mellifont, the Fountain of Honey. 
 
488 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 islands, and unique of its kind, the work of native artists, 
 and founded by Donogh O’Oarroll, Prince of Oriel, a. t >, 
 1142, at the solicitation of St. Malachy, for Cistercian 
 Monks from Clairvaux. Take the great church of Armagh, 
 erected by St. Patrick in 445 ; the splendid monastery 
 and town of Kilmallock, founded by St. Malock in the 
 sixth century, and that of Swords by St. Dolough, in 901. 
 Who destroyed and plundered the churches, founded by 
 St. Patrick, of Finglas and Banagher, and plundered many 
 a shrine dedicated to the early saints ? The Danes. Who 
 founded the sumptuous cathedrals, monasteries, and 
 churches of Cashel, Limerick, Holy Cross, Kilkenny, 
 Dungiven, Moylurg, Mellifont, Jerpoint, and Killaloe ; 
 and the Celtic piles, the chieftain towers of Tuam, Dun- 
 severi, Tyrone, Tyrconnell, and countless others covering 
 the land? The native princes, O’Briens, O’Cahans, 
 O’Carrolls, O’Cuins, Mac Carthies, O’Neills, O’Donnells, 
 O’Connors, O’Euarcs, Mac Dermotts. Who desecrated, 
 pillaged, burned, and overthrew them? The English 
 invaders, who annihilated our precious archives, the records 
 of our nation and of others, our ecclesiastical chronicles, 
 our family biographies, our nationaL annals, as far as they 
 could. Who wiped out all traces of our ancient literature, 
 our illuminated manuscripts and testimonies of art and 
 science ? The Anglo-Norman and Saxon invaders, who 
 came to instruct us, not in civilisation, but in barbarism, 
 and commenced their mission by passing statutes to forbid 
 the mere Irish, the men whose fathers had evangelised the 
 world when the capitol of Pome was in flames, and civil- 
 ised it and enlightened it from the lamp of her own 
 temples and colleges when every vestige of ancient art and 
 science, reflnement and luxury, had been swept away 
 before the rushing flood of Are and sword, pestilence and 
 famine, that attended upon the march of destroying 
 angels — Atilla, Alaric, the Odoacer, the Ostragoths, and 
 countless swarms of the northern hordes. The Anglo- 
 Normans and Saxons commenced their mission by ex- 
 cluding these holy ones from participating with them a 
 cell in a cloister, and all intercourse based on foundation 
 of friendship or equality ; but they acted in this logically ; 
 
THE TREATY OF LIMERICK. 
 
 489 
 
 for as darkness is antagonistic to light, as beauty is a 
 censure upon deformity, as virtue is a reproach to vice, as 
 the base and ignoble may not stand upright at ease with 
 unflinching mien and unblushing cheek before the great 
 and noble, as self-accusing and self-condemning bosoms 
 may not endure the silent rebuke of fair example, so, 
 lacking merit to cope with the shining contrast of Celtic 
 virtue, our invaders, flred with spirit of jealousy, envy, 
 and rapacity, entrenched themselves within a pale and 
 insurmountable barrier, where, unmolested and without 
 danger of rebuke, they might dwell in peace, riot in 
 rapine, and engraft upon the soil the bitter fruit which, 
 still germinating and disseminated, diffuses its baneful, 
 prolific seed, and will till the last flbre be eradicated 
 from the land.” 
 
 Methinks, sir,’^ said Lord Galmoy, taking up the 
 thread as O’Sullivan let it drop, prejudice carries you to 
 an undue extremity. Admitting that many of the laymen 
 who came over as adventurers, as wild and reckless des- 
 peradoes, soldiers of fortune, laid themselves open to 
 invective, surely the Church element, the ecclesiastical 
 portion of the colonists, are not open to such impeachment. 
 History tells us many churchmen of the day were models 
 of sanctity and learning, founded abbeys, and so forth.” 
 ^‘Had they all been Thomas of Canter burys, St. Anselms, 
 and Venerable Bedes,” replied O’Sullivan, ^^your retort 
 were just. Unfortunately, we have on record the fame of 
 Scorch Villeyn de Londres burning the leases of his 
 tenants; and John Ross, Prior of the Benedictines in 
 Down, where no Irishman was permitted to profess, and 
 his successor, John Sely, licensed by the English king,* 
 for so many gold marks, to pursue a career of notorious 
 crime and excess in the^ Priory of Kilcliff.” 
 
 “ I regret, sir, deeply regret,’' said Colonel Fulkes, 
 you should have any reason to entertain impression so 
 unfavourable of the country of which I am an unworthy 
 member. I fear it will go far to preclude possibility of 
 amicable relations between us.” 
 
 ‘‘ No, sir,” responded O’Sullivan ; far be it from us, such 
 * Archdall, 
 
490 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 narrow-minded, small-hearted disposition. While boldly 
 I stand up to maintain the honour of our defamed land 
 and people, while fearlessly I snatch up the gauntlet of 
 challenge, and refute the charges brought against us, I 
 am compelled to state unequivocal truths, to trample down 
 the brazen lie, tear into shreds false assertions, dissect 
 and lay bare the skeleton that jibes and jeers, and so doing 
 have been necessitated to prove that our invaders in every 
 age were not men of refinement, but barbarians, were not 
 men of noble impulse or Christian instinct; — whether 
 Pagan Dane, English Catholic, or Saxon Puritan, sunk in 
 darkness or enlightened by reformation, it was all the 
 same. They came not in love or mercy ; they came not 
 to bestow, but to rifie ; they came not to beautify, but to 
 deform. They came, not as the Incas of the Mexicans, 
 or the god of the Grhebres, to scatter full-handed blessings 
 over a smiling land, but to sweep all they found away, 
 to leave in their fell track hideous ravage, ruin, blood, and 
 wreck. Yet not for all this damning charge as regards a 
 nation can we be so unjust as not to discriminate : in many 
 a wilderness blooms many a fiower. England can well 
 boast of her Alfred, her Edward, her Dunstan, her 
 Fisher, More, and Pole, with innumerable others, great and 
 good — noble hearts, souls of light, whose lustre should 
 glorify any land from whence such constellations rose. 
 Yes, we can separate the wheat from the tares, and confess 
 that individually England abounds with those whose 
 integrity stands unblemished, whose worth and honour 
 might redeem the shame of millions. But, unfortunately, 
 not of these has our experience been, since none of these 
 would have compromised their high principle in such 
 atrocities as were needful in the career of those with 
 whom they would not be accomplices ; hence we see no 
 name of Howard, Montague, Tunstall, written in our long 
 roll of blood-stained annals. Prithee, Colonel Fulkes, 
 let us pledge to our future amity. 
 
 The colonel drank, and Major Pollock next spoke : — 
 By St. Greorge, there’s one quality possessed by you 
 Irish, about which none of us will cavil, and that is your 
 courage and military genius. Your first defence of 
 
THE TREATY OF LIMERiCK. 491 
 
 Limerick was a splendid thing: — and as for Athlone, by 
 Jove, had we lived in the days of the old Grreeks or Romans, 
 before gunpowder was in vogue for such things, some 
 Homer or Virgil would have transmitted you, soaring on 
 the wings of immortality, to the end of time ; and the 
 names of Hector, Ancus Martins, and many an ancient 
 hero had shone in a paler halo beside those of Sarsfield, 
 Fitzgerald, and Grace.’’ 
 
 We lacked one good thing they had,"* growled Mac 
 Mahon, with a significant undertook at Luttrell : we 
 
 lacked the Tarpeian rock.” 
 
 Wot’s that ? Cuss me, if yer han’t rocks enough in 
 in this ere country,” said Sir Clot worthy Grub, who began 
 to think he was too long out of the conversation, and his 
 presence therefore in danger of being ignored. 
 
 But, disregarding the speaker, Sarsfield returned, with 
 gesture of pointed significance : — 
 
 ‘‘ There be other means of dealing with traitors, as our 
 modern Themistocles may yet learn to his cost ; — and so 
 deems his Grace of Tirconnel.” 
 
 ^‘Psha!” contemptuously replied Colonel Luttrell; — 
 what do cow-boys know of Themistocles?” and he 
 bestowed a sneering smile upon the Earl of Lucan, who 
 calmly returned : 
 
 Whom do you apostrophise cow-boys ?’* 
 
 There was no response, and Sir Gregory O’Byrne, in- 
 terrupting the deep pause, said, in caustic tone : ‘‘ In good 
 sooth, the kine and the kineherd have well-nigh been ex- 
 terminated; and in the Arcadian pastures which they 
 once adorned and beautified they have been succeeded by 
 the swine and the swineherd : grovelling, unclean animals, 
 beneath whose uprooting and destroying instincts the land 
 has long ceased to be the Eden of olden time, and will so 
 progress to ruin that Erin’s former glory will in time to 
 come be held as a mythical legend, and the pretensions of 
 Innisfallen, the inmla sanctorum et doctorum^ become the 
 derision of scoffing knaves and ignoble miscreants of future 
 years.’* 
 
 ‘‘Ah, ha, ha. Sir Oracle! — that’s a neat bit of elocu- 
 tion,” tittered Colonel Luttrell. “ But at whom, prithee. 
 
492 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 is levelled the poinl. of the satire — to whom may apply 
 the inuendo conveyed by your elegant simile, swine and 
 swineherds?” 
 
 I have not been elected to the ofBce of censor,” coldly 
 responded Sir Gregory ; I have merely sketched a pic- 
 ture. If any man recognise in it an applicable resemblance, 
 his own identity, I can’t help it.” 
 
 ‘^Certainly not ” said SirUlic de Burgh, who, with eyes 
 riveted the while on Major Grub, was engaged in mournful 
 retrospect of the tragical scene at Dunmore, for which he 
 had bound himself by oath to call him yet to fearful 
 reckoning at fitting time ; and Fitz Adelm, at the same 
 moment sternly contemplating the man whose son Jonas 
 prudently kept aloof beyond the reach of a hand pledged 
 to be imbued in his heart’s blood, added : 
 
 You say truly. Sir Gregory. Indeed, the goddess 
 robed in allegory has already acquainted us of the deliver- 
 ance of our island by St. Patrick from all the serpent and 
 reptile brood ; — but, in the name of every saint in the 
 Eoman calendar, to whom will it be given to drive by 
 miracle the unclean swine into the sea, and purge the land 
 of filth?” 
 
 Methought O’Byrne’s pithy declamation had included 
 you, as well as all others without the pale of Pome and 
 the royalty of Tara, in the clause of the invective ; and 
 yet you disclaim it,” said Harvey de Eivers. To what 
 party do you belong?” 
 
 Not to the swine,” haughtily replied Fitz Adelm. 
 
 ^^No, he’s a chameleon,” smiled Plantagenet Tudor: 
 green yesterday, orange to-day; — what for to-morrow?” 
 Blood-red, belike,” frowned Fitz Adelm, with a look 
 of dark menace that warned a speedy change in the con- 
 versation. 
 
 And thus the festal hours passed, till midnight closed 
 the scene. 
 
 The following day the Lords Justices arrived ; and, in 
 the presence of all, the articles of capitulation were duly 
 drawn up and signed, on the 3rd October, 1691, securing 
 civil and religious liberty and protection, among the 
 several other clauses guaranteed, to the Eoman Catholics 
 
THE BRUNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 493 
 
 of the country. The memorable spot where the several 
 contracting parties met in full state, on the Clare side of 
 the river, is marked by a large stone, which remains to 
 this day, in memoriam of English faith : 
 
 THE TREATY-STONE OF LIMERICK.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE BRUNT OF TRIAL .* A TERRIBLE SEQUEL. 
 
 “ Oh, he would rather houseless roam, 
 
 Where Freedom and his Grod may lead, 
 
 Than be the sleekest slave at home 
 
 That crouches to the conqueror’s creed ! ” 
 
 Moore. 
 
 On the morning of the 5th of October, 1691, a singular 
 scene was witnessed on the northern shore of the Shannon, 
 beyond the city walls. On that day the Irish regiments 
 were to make their choice between exile for life or service 
 in the armies of their conqueror. At each end of a rising 
 ground beyond the Suburbs were planted on one side the 
 royal standard of France, and on the other that of Eng- 
 land. It was agreed that the regiments, as they marched 
 out “ with all the honours of war : drums beating, colours 
 flying, and matches lighting,” should, on reaching this 
 spot, wheel to the left or to the right, beneath that flag 
 under which they elected to serve. At the head of the 
 Irish marched the Foot-guards, the finest regiment in the 
 service, fourteen hundred strong. All eyes were fixed on 
 this splendid body of men. On they came, amid bieath- 
 less silence and acute suspense ; — for well the English and 
 Irish generals knew that the choice of the first regiment 
 would influence the rest. The Guards marelied up to the 
 critical spot, and in a body wheeled to the colours of 
 Franco, only seven men turning to the English side. 
 
494 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Ginckle was greatly agitated as he witnessed the pro- 
 ceeding. The next regiment, however (Lord Iveagh’s), 
 marched to the Williamite banner, as did also portions of 
 two others. But the bulk of the Irish army defiled under 
 the fleur-de-lis, only one thousand and forty-six out of 
 fourteen thousand men preferring the service of England ! 
 
 A few days afterwards, a French fieet sailed up the 
 Shannon with an aiding army, and money, arms, ammu- 
 nition, food, and clothing. Ginckle, aflPrighted, imagined 
 the Irish would now disclaim the articles and renew the 
 war ; but it was not the Irish who were to break the 
 Treaty of Limerick. 
 
 Sarsfield, stunned by the tidings, was for a moment 
 silent, then said, in mournful accents ; Too late ! The 
 Treaty is signed. Forbid the expedition to land. Our 
 honour, the honour of our country, must not be compro- 
 mised. Though a hundred thousand Frenchmen offered 
 to aid us now, we must keep our plighted troth !” 
 
 The pale sun, struggling through the gray mist of a 
 cold October day, looked down upon the most woful scene 
 that ever a nation witnessed or a nation wept ! Far as 
 eye could reach, the quays lined with stately ships fioating 
 the French fiag, rocked on the swelling tide, waiting to 
 bear away to the sunny shores of France the best blood, 
 the noblest hearts of Innisfail. Soldiers and civilians, 
 nobles, gentry, and clergy, nineteen thousand and twenty- 
 five persons, headed by Sarsfield, the fiower of Erin’s 
 chivalry, took their way to the scene of embarkation, and 
 poured in long procession of unbroken lines into their 
 appointed ships. Gray-haired men were there, who had 
 grown from infancy to age in the heritage of their fathers, 
 from whence they now went forth aliens, to seek a home 
 in foreign lands. Youths of noble lineage were there, 
 heirs born to estates, going to seek their fortune through 
 the world ; and men were there whose meed it was to till 
 their native hills, and ffollow the banner of some native 
 patron, now wandering afar to climes remote, to toil for 
 bread on foreign soil, at the beck of other masters. Yet 
 for this faithful cohort what lyric strains have swelled 
 the song of fame, the voice of praise ! What thougi, 
 
THE BRtJNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 495 
 
 in future years, Eamillies, Dedington, and Fontenoy sung 
 paeans of triumph, and acclaiming nations greeted the 
 Irish brigades, and wafted from pole to pole the fame of 
 Celtic swords, the land of their birth was mute, and from 
 the riven heart of Erin naught was responded save the 
 sigh of lament, the wail that mourns the dead, as the 
 mighty chorus of the exiles’ sad farewell to kindred, 
 home, and fatherland, the buried dead, and the memories 
 and traditions of three thousand years, filled with sublime 
 pathos the sunless atmosphere, and in long reverberations 
 was solemnly rolled back from the drooping firmament. 
 The deep and long farewell ! farewell ! And from even 
 the mass of the Williamite spectators sobs arose, and 
 bosoms cased in mail quivered with unwonted emotion, as 
 the infectious sorrow, gliding through every pore, touched 
 each heaving pulse, and waked the throb of emotion, the 
 thrill of feeling, the tear of sympathy for the self-expatri- 
 ated heroes ! 
 
 Yet awhile, and vessel after vessel, with gay colours 
 flying, is ploughing the distant billows, whence weeping 
 eyes wearily strain for one last glimpse of the land they 
 shall look upon no more. The night is falling, the rising 
 wind swells every sail, and whistles in the shrouds, then 
 wakes the hills of Clare, and moaning blasts, raving and 
 murmuring through cliffs and glens, rush along the river’s 
 bosom, and in concert with the voice of the Shannon’s 
 waters shriek ‘‘ Farewell ! ” 
 
 When the last ship had weighed anchor, and the song of 
 the mariner and the wail of the emigrant had died in tlie 
 distance, a few yet lingered on the shore, with eyes still 
 riveted on the void space, looking in vain after those who 
 would give no answer back again. 
 
 ^‘Musha thin, masther, acuishleh, I dunno but we’d 
 have done best to go wid 'em, the crathurs, for all the 
 good we’ll do now in the ransacked ould counthry, for all 
 the world sittin’ like two sparras on a house-top in the 
 .snow, thinkin’ where well fly for shelther,” said Cormac 
 Daly, coming up quite fagged and exhausted, after a day 
 of intense excitement and labour, divided between taking 
 leave of everyone indiscriminately, lending a hand to help 
 
496 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 everyone promiscuously, and bemoaning and vituperating 
 by turns friend and foe. 
 
 Sir Ulic, standing with folded arms upon the wharf, 
 turned and gazed in dreary silence upon his servant, who 
 continued, as he shook his clenched fist at a group of 
 Williamite officers, headed by De Ginckle, riding into the 
 town : 
 
 “ Och, a velioon granna!"^ an’ I had my will, ’tisn’t 
 into the city we bate ye out o", like rats from a corn- 
 store, ye’d be goin’ to carouse in the homes o’ thim that’s 
 on the dark wather an’ the cowld world this night I Och, 
 blessed Pathrick, and Bridget, and Oolumbkille, just 
 think o’ it ! Queen o’ glory, is it the likes o’ thim ye 
 expect to kneel at the althar, now that thim that knew 
 ye an’ loved ye is gone, an’ yez let ’em in ?” — He looked 
 reproachfully upward. — Howaniver, that ain’t my busi- 
 ness ; — yez must know best yerselves ; — but this, begorra, 
 I will say : I’d give the skin off my back to lay my 
 clogalpeen on the backs of any mother’s son o’ thim 
 vagabones, an’ maybe I wouldn’t be afther makin’ him 
 dance a quick-step back to where he come from, bad cess 
 to him, an’ my heavy hathred to all his gineration, amin ! ” 
 Daly wound up with a sudden peroration, and sloped 
 away, as he caught sight of Fitz Adelm coming up to 
 join Sir Ulic. 
 
 My dear boy, I’m so glad ; — I feared you might have 
 been carried away by the enthusiasm of the hour to rescind 
 your purpose, and follow in the train of Sarsfield,” said 
 Fitz Adelm, taking the arm of De Burgh and leading him 
 along towards the city. ^^You must be dearer to me, 
 Ulic, than I deemed ; for, frankly I tell you, it would have 
 pained me to have come and found you fiown. Methought 
 nothing would have withheld you from following your 
 hero.” 
 
 “ That was my first intention,” said Sir Ulic, ‘‘so soon 
 as I could learn aught of those children, Adorine and Ray- 
 mond, concerning whose fate I am so anxious. Then came 
 the after-thought of paramount duty to fatherland, and 
 
 * Ugly wretches. 
 
THE BKUNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 497 
 
 that love stronger than death, in some hearts, which 
 shrinks from severing the tie that binds us to it. Was it 
 not mournful, the spectacle we have witnessed?’' 
 
 I had only just returned from Dublin in time to see 
 the end of it, and have an interview with De Grinckle, who 
 was profoundly affected by the scene. Not so the minions 
 around him : Luttrell, Vereker, Gregg, Bruen, Tudor, 
 and a score besides, who rubbed their hands exultingly, 
 and exclaimed : ‘ Now, at last, Ireland is ours, to have 
 and hold without let or hindrance. The fighting men 
 and heads of the country are all gone, and none remain 
 but a few miserable serfs to be our hewers of wood and 
 drawers of water.’ Come along this way. I have been 
 commissioned by De Ginckle to invite you to his pre- 
 sence ; — he has taken a fancy to you, and, methinks, 
 means to advance some proposals that should engage your 
 consideration. But you don’t ask me for my sisters, whom 
 I have seen ?” 
 
 I hope you found them well ? ” said Sir Ulic, me- 
 chanically. 
 
 Yes ; quite well," returned Fitz Adelm, thoughtfully. 
 They desired kind remembrance to you ; — and Eleanor 
 — well, she was not so bold as to send her love, but I give 
 it to you for her.” And he cast a side glance at De 
 Burgh, to note the impression he had made ; but Sir Ulic 
 seemed lost in a brown study that baffled observation, 
 and in silence they arrived at the quarters of the General. 
 
 De Ginckle, surrounded by a number of officers, Hes- 
 sian, Dutch, and English, and some Irish, to-wit, Manus 
 O’Brien, Captain Connor, and Lieutenant Iteilly, came 
 forward with extended hand, and warmly greeted De 
 Burgh. 
 
 I am ravished with pleasure,” said the polite General, 
 at the prospect held out to me by my good friend, Colonel 
 Fitz Adelm, of having it in my power to make advances 
 to win over to our side one whose gallant defence of a bad 
 cause has enlisted our warmest admiration. Speak, Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh, I pray, mon ami^ and let me know upon 
 what terms we may secure so brave and true a partisan to 
 our interest?” 
 
 33 
 
498 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Sir Ulic silently smiled, shook his head at Fitz Adelm, 
 standing anxiously observant beside him, and glanced at 
 De Rivers and Plantagenet, looking envenomed bitterness 
 in the rear, galled at the favour to which Fitz Adelm had 
 risen with the General, in whose good grace they had 
 worked hard to supplant and undermine him, and further 
 incensed at the anticipation of De Burgh's good fortune 
 and probable aggrandisement. 
 
 You are silent, mon amiy^ resumed De Ginckle. Is 
 it that you are too modest to stipulate conditions ? Then 
 liear me ; those gentlemen who have thought better to 
 betake them to the service of the French king, and by 
 abandoning their estates and ‘properties, have forfeited 
 them. There is Leixlip Castle and three thousand a year 
 flung away by Sarsfleld, Earl of Lucan. Now, Sir Ulic, 
 qualify yourself to step into his place as Earl of Leixlip, 
 by simply swearing allegiance to William, as King of 
 Great Britain and Ireland ; take appointment in his ser- 
 vice ; and — one more trifling clause — not that I care 
 myself in what form any man prays, or what mode of 
 faith he professes, but just, you know, to humour the 
 spirit of the day, the fashion of the time — conform, in 
 outward show at least, to the State Church observance : — 
 that will ensure you honour, patronage, emolument, and 
 every highest gift and position that the mightiest of earth 
 can bestow.” 
 
 Sir Ulic calmly, with downcast eye and musing brow, 
 heard the speaker to the end ; then lifting his eyes, dark 
 and sombre, he flxed them alternately upon De Ginckle 
 and Fitz Adelm. De Rivers muttering half aloud the 
 while: ‘^By Jove, these Papists are knowing shots, after 
 all, and set themselves up to high auction,” provoked the 
 ready smile of humour to his lips ; and expanding in the 
 mirth of the moment, he murmured : Earl of Leixlip — 
 
 Leixlip Castle — three thousand a year. I suppose I ought 
 to be content with that offer ; — many would think it very 
 liberal ; and yet ” 
 
 Why, you insatiable being, what more do you want?” 
 whispered Fitz Adelm, impatiently, while De Ginckle 
 looked on perplexed, and De Rivers was amazed. I did 
 
THE BRUNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 499 
 
 not think you were so inordinately grasping, TJlic, or so 
 ambitious/^ 
 
 Let mon ami speak : what more would he have that is 
 in my power to bestow ? said De Ginckle. 
 
 “ What I would demand in exchange for what I should 
 give up is not, I fear, in your power to bestow ; and, yet, 
 without it your high gifts were valueless/' said De Burgh. 
 
 Leixlip Castle is a good thing, with its appurtenances. 
 Can you ensure me length of days to enjoy it, immunity 
 from suffering, and all the ills that flesh is heir to, the 
 peace of a good conscience, and the hope, founded on faith, 
 of a happy immortality ? If not, my friends, you must 
 not be surprised or offended, that I decline with thanks 
 the splendid gift of your muniflcence, and the great honour 
 you have vouchsafed me." 
 
 There was a breathless interlude of a few moments, as 
 Sir Ulic ceased ; then De Ginckle said, testily : I am 
 
 sorry, mon ami, if you will stand in your own light for a 
 quibble." 
 
 The true popish spirit, by Jupiter ! " grinned Planta- 
 ganet Tudor, as he and Harvey exchanged triumphant 
 looks of relief. 
 
 But Fitz Adelm, with darkened brow and angry gesture, 
 exclaimed : For heaven's sake, don’t be a fool, Ulic, and 
 
 for some paltry utopian notion of vying with Diogenes, 
 or excelling the heroes of antiquity, half whose fame, I 
 believe in my soul is mythical, cast away a noble inde- 
 pendence, fortune, station, title, all that can make life 
 desirable ; — for what ? An idle breath of equivocal 
 laudation ; the vaunt of the cynic or misanthrope. Stay, 
 Plantaganet Tudor," continued Fitz Adelm, pitching his 
 voice to a deep bass, as he saw the latter about to with- 
 draw ; I crave speech of much import by-and-by with 
 you and Harvey. Pray pleasure me to bide my leisure. 
 And now, Ulic, while yet time is, pray think more 
 wisely, and recall your too-hasty decision. It is a friend 
 entreats." 
 
 Sir Ulic advanced liis right foot, drew up his stately 
 form, gazed earnestly upon all around, then replied, in 
 deep, pathetic tone, vibrating with emotion: ‘^My friends, 
 
500 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 impute not, T beseech you, erroneous motives to my actions; 
 believe me it is not stoical disdain, a spirit of bravado, nor 
 yet an exaggerated sense of chivalry that impels me to 
 reject De Grinckle’s proposal. Not in sooth for a mere 
 punctilio of honour, an idle breath of commendation, 
 would I decline acquisitions so substantial in themselves, 
 so beneficial to earthly interest, in the hour of sorest need ; 
 for, as I stand before you, a pauper, a beggared man, 
 whose all was given in the cause of his country, the coat 
 on my back, and the good sword in my hand are the sole 
 amount of wealth to which I can lay claim. Hence, were 
 there not some deeper spring, some supernatural motive 
 at the base, to infiuence my actions, a voice that you 
 cannot hear speaking to my heart, a finger that you can- 
 not see beckoning me onward. I am of earth — earthly 
 enough to prize its blandishments, and philosopher enough 
 to scorn the popular breath, the changeful vapour that 
 would defraud me of intrinsic good. But, oh ! warned by 
 the voice that hath spoken the words, ^ We must be fools 
 for Christ’s sake,’ I cannot conform to the humour, the 
 spirit of the day, the fashion of the time ; surrender, 
 renounce the faith, upon the foundation of which rests 
 the structure of all my future hopes ; the immortal life, 
 the everlasting bliss which alone can compensate us for all 
 we have lost and suffered here, in this our state of proba- 
 tion and endurance.” 
 
 ^‘But no one wants you to give up your faith,” cried 
 Fitz Adelm, impatiently. “Hold every dogma that 
 pleases you ; be as staunch a Eomanist in heart as you 
 will. 1 own I do not blame you. Since 1 have come to 
 know you Catholics better, you are not altogether the 
 compound of folly, superstition, and ignorance I once had 
 deemed you ; but yield in outward semblance acquiescence 
 to necessity. In other words make a temporary show, as 
 flimsy as you will of submission to exigency.” 
 
 “In other words,” smiled De Burgh, and the glow of 
 the triumphant spirit within absolutely radiated his visage 
 with glory ; and with eyes beaming joy, and his whole 
 air that of one inspired, he continued : “ Compromise 
 between God and Mammon ! See how inconsistent you 
 
 I 
 
THE BRENT OF TRIAL. 
 
 501 
 
 Protestants are. You, Athelstane, the soul of honour, 
 council me to do that which yourself would spurn, and 
 nobly condemn in others ; — to act the hypocrite in this. 
 No, no, my friend. With a moment^s reflection to recall 
 the words, ‘ He who denies me before men, I will deny 
 before my Father in heaven you had not done it. Here 
 let the subject drop. My mind is conflrmed, my heart 
 hard as adamant. Fame, title, fortune, baubles all, I 
 cast ye to the winds. Stripped of all save my baptismal 
 garment, I am willing to tread the narrow path that leads 
 to my imperishable guerdon above, which alone will 
 suffice my insatiable grasp, my inordinate ambition.’’ 
 He ceased, and silence fell upon the throng. 
 
 Fitz Adelm gazed as one awe-struck upon the speaker ; 
 De Ginckle a while paused in grave reflection ; then, 
 turning from De Burgh, and changing the theme, he 
 addressed De Eivers, who stood ironically surveying the 
 controversy, in whose isssue he was so deeply interested : — 
 ‘‘Well, mon ami^ said the General, “since Sir Ulic de 
 Burgh has declared himself so explicitly on the subject, I 
 see no competitor to bar your petition, and the claim you 
 urge to the confiscated estate and Castle of Leixlip ; hence 
 we shall give orders for the necessary proceedings to put 
 you in possession of them forthwith. As to the second 
 suit which you have preferred with respect to the lady, 
 our hostage or prisoner, foreigner and stranger as I am 
 to the laws of your country, I don’t see my way clearly 
 through it. The lady, you say, had been betrothed to 
 you ; you quarrelled ; you made advances to a reconcilia- 
 tion, but she continues obdurate. You wish me to use 
 my influence to overcome her obstinacy ; or, in failure 
 thereof, to deliver up to execution the two young men 
 charged with the murder of your friends, whose sentence 
 might otherwise be commuted at your pleasure ? This, I 
 understand, is the pith of the argument?” 
 
 “ Exactly, General. What a lawyer you would have 
 made ! ” exclaimed De Rivers, in silky accents of admira- 
 tion. 
 
 “ Well, I don’t know,” said the flattered General. “Let 
 the lady be conducted hither.” 
 
502 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Brief interval, and, attired in deep mourning, the lady 
 in question was ushered in by Lieutenant Hodgens. De 
 Burgh and Fitz Adelm exchanged looks. It needed no 
 second glance nor her veil thrown back to identify Adorine 
 O’Byrne. But how changed! Beautiful, indeed; — 
 but it was the beauty of life's sunset that bloomed upon 
 her cheek and shone brilliantly in her eyes. She had 
 become very thin, and therefore looked much taller than 
 heretofore ; and her step, no more bounding with elastic 
 spring, paced the ground with firm, measured tread. The 
 bright grace, the sparkle, the laughing mirth of life's 
 unclouded morn, had vanished, and in their stead com- 
 posed dignity and haughty self-reliance, blended with an 
 air of sorrow, and some wistful expression, half yearning, 
 half resignation, pervaded every feature. But in vain 
 they sought for trace of timid fear or broken spirit in the 
 high brow that, proudly as if invested with a diadem, met 
 the gaze of the circling throng. Sir Ulic advanced ; their 
 eyes met, and hand clasped hand in silent sympathy. 
 
 “You know this lady?’' said De Grinckle, addressing De 
 Burgh. 
 
 Sir Ulic bowed. The General turned to Adorine, with 
 bland courtesy: “Madame,” he said, smiling, “it is so 
 seldom that the pleasing office of peace-maker devolves to 
 a son of Mars, a professed belligerent, and maker of war, 
 that I must crave you to indulge me in this my first 
 essay to propitiate the milder duty. Prithee, in the name 
 of Cupid and Venus, whom we all adore, let me be umpire 
 in the case between you and one of our bravest officers; 
 come, I pray you relent, and suffer me, as arbiter of fate, 
 to end dispute and bestow this fair hand upon De Eivers, 
 Earl of Leixlip.” 
 
 Adorine drew shrinkingly back, and fixing her eyes, at 
 first aflrightedly, then resolutely upon the sinister, smiling 
 face of De Eivers, said, in tone articulate and steady, 
 though low : “ General de Ginckle, I pray forbear a suit 
 which must be vain, did an archangel plead.” 
 
 “ But I plead not, fair lady ; I command with authority 
 to enforce my will in favour of my friend,” returned De 
 Ginckle. “ By Hans Sachs ! you Irish are a stiff-necked, 
 
THE BRUNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 503 
 
 wrong-headed race. One won't take an estate because it 
 trammels him with a few conditions ; another won't take 
 a wealthy husband because, foresooth, she can’t digest a fit 
 of spleen, a hasty word, or a whim of humour. Come, 
 madame, are you prepared to accede to my just and 
 reasonable demand, to fulfil your engagement to this 
 gallant officer, else is captivity a matter of so much in- 
 difference you will prolong it 
 
 Mildly Adorine made answer : I dread not, Sir 
 
 General, my captivity being so protracted that I would 
 purchase freedom at cost so great as you would impose. 
 No, no ; — use your victor’s power. Let it be captivity or 
 death ! — in clemency, ask no more.'’ 
 
 By Queen Cunigunde ! I never saw the like,” returned 
 De Ginckle, looking utterly embarrassed, and hesitatingly 
 he glanced at De Divers, who now came boldly forward 
 and said, sneeringly : 
 
 “ For the benefit of those whom such speculation 
 amuses, we are expounding and exemplifying the theory 
 of constancy in love. Metliinks, when this our story has 
 been promulgated, the question will be set at rest in favour 
 of the masculine quality of fidelity taking precedence 
 of the feminine, but truce with jest. Look you, Adorine, 
 I doubt nothing your woman's perversity of will and 
 stubborn temper fortifying you to endure any penalty ; 
 to brave death even, rather than yield an iota when once 
 your spirit of resistance is roused ; — but know, my false 
 lady, that other lives than thine are hostage for the due 
 performance of your contract. Fulfil it, they go free ; 
 refuse, they die this day.” 
 
 I really do not know what you mean. Lord Earl,” 
 said Adorine, haughtily. Bray explain ?” 
 
 De Divers whispered some words to De Ginckle, who 
 nodded reply ; he then made sign to Lieutenant Hodgens, 
 who withdrew, and presently returned with two youths 
 in close custody — Daymond O’Byrne and Owen Mac 
 Carthy. 
 
 Adorine raised her hands with horror, and stood aghast. 
 
 “ My boys, what have you done to place yourselves in 
 this situation ?” exclaimed Sir Ulic, visibly affected. 
 
504 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ‘‘Murder, sir, cold-blooded murder, is the charge 
 against the young monsters cried De Eivers, furiously. 
 “ Two dear friends of mine and a parson, three inoffensive 
 beings, butchered by these two savages 
 
 “ Don't believe one word of it, uncle," shouted the 
 indignant Raymond. “It was in a good hot fight we 
 knocked them on the head. You remember, sir, when 
 Athlone was taken that night by surprise, and you had 
 to march in all haste to Aughrim, you sent Galloping 
 Hogan, Daly, Owen and me, to bring Adorine safe away 
 and make for Limerick, where she was to stop in the 
 convent where you put Elphine till we heard from you 
 again ? We got safe the best part of the way, and then, as 
 luck would have it, we fell in with a troop of the enemy — 
 not many, but more than we were. We had nothing for 
 it but to fight, and so we did. I gave Sam Bradly a 
 finishing lick ; — and a long score I had against him, the 
 roundhead. Owen sent Parson Mauw to preach to Lucifer, 
 and I packed off the other chap, Ludlow Knight, to see 
 what o’clock it was by Cromweirs watch. But it was all 
 fair fight, an’ we got blows and wounds ourselves in no 
 stint ; — but they were too many for us ; — we were beaten. 
 Hogan and Daly escaped after doing smart business, I 
 warrant, though nothing is said of that, and we were 
 taken off prisoners by Plantagenet Tudor and his men. 
 There’s the whole story as true as Gospel. And I hope 
 now, sir,” he added, turning to De Ginckle, “ we'll be set 
 free without more bother, seeing we have been starving 
 long enough in prison.” 
 
 Whatever De Ginckle might have thought, or his in- 
 tentions were, he disguised them beneath a stolid aspect, 
 and to the boy’s appeal made sharp, severe rejoinder : “ I 
 can do nothing, my lad, in the case. You avouch your- 
 selves the slayers of this officer’s friends ; — in cold blood or 
 hot blood it behoves not me to inquire. Judge and jury 
 for the present set aside ; you are in his hands to deal 
 with ; and I much fear, unless this lady consents to medi- 
 ate in your favour, your case is perilous.” 
 
 “ They die, and no mistake,” said De Eivers, emphati- 
 cally. “ I am not a sentimentalist, but a practical man, 
 
THE BRUNT OE TRIAL. 
 
 505 
 
 one who in dispensing justice could act unmoved the part 
 of Brutus ; so, Lady Adorine, you understand you are 
 now the arbitress of fate ; — as you decide, these culprits 
 shall live or die.” Grone was the hectic vermilion from 
 the cheek of Adorine, and faded the evanescent lustre 
 from her eye. With white face and drooping brow, she 
 stood gazing in a sort of stupor upon the merciless face of 
 De Livers. 
 
 This is unendurable ! ” muttered, with bated breath. 
 Sir Ulic, drawing closer to her side. 
 
 “ Monstrous ! cried Fitz Adelm, aloud. ‘‘ Are law 
 and justice to be suspended one hour in the land, or vested 
 in the person of one individual to favour his malignant or 
 vengeful purpose ?” 
 
 Settle that among yourselves. I have nothing to say 
 to your laws till the edicts of the higher powers, now 
 ruling and dominant, be made known in that respect,” 
 said De Ginckle. ‘‘According to my notion of justice, 
 blood not shed in the ranks is murder, wherefore De Rivers 
 fairly claims blood for blood. The boys should have sur- 
 rendered at discretion ; — and, if the lady take my council, 
 to end debate, she will purchase the ransom of the 
 prisoners, generously offered by my noble friend at the 
 price he demands.” 
 
 There was no dissenting voice raised in opposition to 
 this judgment of De Grinckle. Fitz Adelm was dumb, 
 and Sir Ulic thought, in bitterness of heart, “ Now 
 the country’s defenders are gone : Mac Mahons, O’Sul- 
 livans, O’Ferralls, O’Neills, and all the magnates whose 
 aegis had yet, in persecutions’ darkest hour, contrived 
 to shield, in some measure, the prostrate land, and the 
 people from extermination ; — all departed. Who should 
 stand between the remnant that remained, the weak mi- 
 nority and their powerful masters, if these, ignoring all 
 law and humanity, pleased to usurp every prerogative of 
 justice and become ruthless oppressors of the defenceless ; 
 to whom should they turn for redress; where could they 
 look for help ?” Sad forebodings, like falling shadows 
 foretelling the day’s eclipse and the advent of night, crept 
 into his bosom and imparted a darker hue to the sombre 
 
606 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 twilight of his physiognomy. Adorine, with hand pressed 
 to her aching brow, and with blanched lips, stood motion- 
 less : — she might have served for a sculptor’s model of a 
 carved image of Despair. 
 
 De Rivers at length terminated the painful suspense of 
 silence, speaking again in his wily accents and sardonic 
 strain : ‘‘ Good sooth, one would suppose it was the ogre 
 of some enchanted castle, some river-demon or ill- 
 flavoured God of olden mythology, to whom an unwilling 
 bride was to be immolated in druid sacrifice by fire or 
 water, instead of a comely knight in flesh and blood. 
 Come, fair lady, put aside all this stage-trick show and 
 affectation of demeanour and speak your sovereign will ; — 
 time speeds, and we may not tarry.” 
 
 Sir Ulic drew himself up in action of reply to De Rivers, 
 when Adorine interposed. Laying her hand on his, she 
 whispered : ‘‘ You cannot help me. Let me be ; — I must 
 bear as I may the penalty of my folly.” She advanced 
 towards De Rivers. Her exterior was composed, but her 
 voice was faltering, and tremulous ; after one or two chok- 
 ing essays to command it, she partially controlled her 
 emotion, and spoke : Sir Harvey de Rivers, as I neither 
 
 hope to meet in you the chivalry of a true knight, or the 
 courtesy of gentle birth, I have left no alternative but 
 that of submission to your despotic will. Let these boys 
 go free ; their young lives must not be sacrificed to selfish 
 consideration of mine ; — but hear me further: Not for an 
 
 instant am I now beguiled to deem you that I once had 
 believed you. If you flatter yourself that you shall win 
 back my love, honour, and respect, you are utterly de- 
 ceived. You will have what you take by compulsion as 
 a mere automaton — no more ; and if yet, other motive 
 actuate you in enforcing a hateful claim to one who can 
 never meet you save with detestation and abhorrence, 
 learn you take a dowerless bride. My father’s landed 
 property, his estates in Wicklow and in Dublin, devolve 
 not to me, but to his next male heir, Raymond, and other 
 near kinsmen living in France, whither they had fled to 
 escape the penal laws of the first James, and to whom ho 
 bequeathed sundry large portions in reversion again to 
 
THE BRUNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 507 
 
 their children. I share no portion of such inheritance.’^ 
 
 I am aware of all that, Demoiselle,^' returned De Rivers, 
 smoothly. ‘^Nor is it the land I care so much for, seeing 
 I am now owner of a goodly estate ; but your dower in 
 gold — thirty thousand pounds, I believe — will be useful, 
 and sujBGice for present need.” 
 
 ‘^I have assigned it all away, by bond and deed, among 
 my relations and friends,” said Adorine, with triumphant 
 smile at Sir Ulic, save a small portion in which I have 
 reserved a life interest, and which at my death goes to my 
 servants and in charity.” 
 
 I would deem that .the act of one whose head was a 
 little astray,” said De Rivers, betrayed by the unexpected 
 announcement into a savage frown. ‘‘ But no matter,” 
 he said, soon recovering his stereotyped countenance ; 
 ‘‘ we may find a way to undo the evil, and render these 
 silly bonds and deeds invalid ; — so I take you for better 
 or worse at a venture.” He approached her. Raymond 
 sprung between. 
 
 Back, back, you hound ! Do you suppose I am going 
 to let my cousin have her way, and buy my life, by giving 
 herself to a hodach Sassenaeh she hates worse than worm- 
 wood ? Inaghy I’m not such a gomeril as you take me 
 for ; — and as for dying, I dare you to lay a hand on me, 
 I do!” ^ 
 
 De Rivers, petrified, stood a moment still. De Burgh 
 smiled grim approbation, and turned his eyes upon Owen 
 Mac Carthy, who spoke next. He was a youth of taciturn 
 mood, but full of humour ; and when he launched out, 
 his words, like his deeds, were to the point. 
 
 If we had to die itself, we'd think no more of it tliau 
 stepping out of our coats for a spree, only we hope, gentle- 
 men, you’ll give us a decent wake ; — we'd like to be 
 looking on at the fun, and seeing ourselves made 
 much of.” 
 
 ‘‘ Well, I’m in no hurry to die yet, for the fun of seeing 
 my wake, I promise you,” vociferated Raymond. “ I mean 
 to live as long as I can ; — and more, I mean to have back 
 yet the mountains of my grandsire, O’Byrne of Glen- 
 malure. While he lived, and if he were alive now, I’d 
 
508 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 like to see the Sassenach would come blustering and swag- 
 gering over us in this sort.^^ 
 
 Hutchinson/^ called De Rivers to a sergeant stationed 
 at the door, ‘‘ take away these boys, and if they be ob- 
 streperous, gag and handcuff them. Now, lady — he 
 turned to Adorine — as there is no time like the present, 
 and to make all safe against future backsliding, let us on 
 this spot, in presence of De Ginckle and this assembled 
 company, ratify our compact ; — and ho ! — where's Clutter- 
 buck ; — I saw him there awhile ago. Summon the parson, 
 some of you, to solemnise the union ; — we'll leave no loop 
 in 
 
 Now came forward, in earnest. Sir TJlic de Burgh : 
 his mien was high and determined, his eye commanding 
 and bold, his step resolute and firm. He spoke, and his 
 voice was that of a deep-toned bell, clear, ringing, and 
 sonorous. I forbid the bans ! 
 
 You forbid the bans ! exclaimed De Rivers, with a 
 look of derision. Stand aside, sir; — release this lady's 
 arm. Forward, Olutterbuck." 
 
 At your life’s peril, De Rivers, move one step further 
 in the business,” cried De Burgh. Since it is evident no 
 law but that of the strong hand and the sword is now 
 uppermost, I will sheathe mine to the hilt in your bosom 
 ere I will stand by and see you two united in unholy 
 bonds ! ” 
 
 ‘‘Hoity-toity; — here’s Jesuits’ coil!” exclaimed Plan- 
 tagenet Tudor. “ Get on, Harvey ; — go through the job ; — 
 help, friends.’' 
 
 “ It is no use. Sir Ulic,” sobbed Adorine ; “ there will 
 be only bloodshed. Let me go ; — it won’t be for long.” 
 
 But Sir Ulic's sword was out, and capitulation was the 
 last of his thoughts. 
 
 De Ginckle looked phlegmatically on the while, chewing 
 the end of a quill, and thinking what mad folk Irishmen 
 were, as in answer to Plantagenet’s call, Grub, Fitz Rufus, 
 Bruen, Pollock, Hodgens, Hancock, and a score, rushed 
 in, and menaced rude scuffle which, happily, was averted by 
 Fitz Adelm coolly stepping forward, and saying : “ Truce 
 a moment, gentlemen;— stand back. Before proceeding 
 
THE BRUNT OF TRIAL. 
 
 509 
 
 further in your business, let me have a few words with 
 De Eivers on what concerns mine.'’ He had an open 
 note in his hand, and coming up as the throng made way, 
 sternly he accosted De Eivers : Do you know this 
 
 billet 
 
 De Eivers changed countenance. The sheen of his 
 satin cheek became first vivid scarlet, then ashy white : 
 
 I — I he stammered. Yes ; — what about it ?’' 
 
 ‘Ht is the note which, handed to my sisters by your machi- 
 nations and Tudor’s, decoyed them well nigh to ruin ; — at 
 best nigh betrayed Eleanor into an ill-assorted union with a 
 low-born churl she despised. — How do you account for it?” 
 It was given us by someone to hand to your sisters 
 in haste,” said Plantagenet, coolly. 
 
 Telling them I was lying badly wounded at such a 
 place, a den of infamy, and conjuring them to hurry 
 forward with speed if they hoped to see me alive. Who 
 forged my handwriting ?” demanded Fitz Adelm, riveting 
 his eyes upon De Eivers, who stoutly made answer : 
 
 I can't tell, I’m sure.” 
 
 ‘‘ I can ! ” returned Fitz Adelm, and he struck De 
 Eivers a violent blow across the mouth. Swift as light- 
 ning fiash daggers were brandished high, and wild tumult 
 raged, with clamour and outcries ; friends on either side 
 joined the desperate combatants ; the conflict was stern 
 and brief. Fitz Adelm came forth, the dagger streaming 
 with blood, the heart's blood of De Eivers. There was 
 rushing to and fro, crowding in of soldiers, and confusion 
 and crushing on every side. In the dim twilight the gaunt 
 form of a huge man was seen hurrying up and down ; he 
 approached the sergeant who had Kaymond and Mac 
 Carthy in custody. The boys almost shouted with delight 
 upon recognising their friend, Galloping Hogan. To strike 
 down the guard, to whisper : Uuick ; — run for it, lads !’' 
 
 was but the work of an instant. In the twinkling of an 
 eye, before the stunned guard had recovered his speech 
 or his legs, the rapparee and his companions were beyond 
 reach of danger. 
 
 Sir Ulic availed of the first opportunity, when the uproar 
 was at its climax, to hurry off Adorine, pale and speech- 
 
610 
 
 LEIXLI? CASTLE. 
 
 less, to some place of safety, where, keeping guard 
 himself, he despatched Daly to give what aid might be 
 needed to Sir Athelstane, and acquaint him with his 
 whereabouts. So effectually did the clever valet execute 
 his mission, that an hour after, Fitz Adelm, acquitted by 
 almost unanimous consent of the catastrophe De Rivers 
 had incurred, found his way to the place of rendezvous 
 to urge upon Sir Ulic the expediency of immediate re- 
 turn to Dublin ; and Sir Ulic, desirous himself to place 
 Adorine in the care of her friends, was too glad to facili- 
 tate by every means the project. Accordingly, having 
 learned from Daly that Raymond and Owen had been 
 rescued, and fled off with Galloping Hogan, who had 
 been for days lurking in the neighbourhood on the watch 
 to effect their deliverance, and having whispered some 
 directions to the valet in reference to the fugitives of Dun- 
 more, which he promised to obey, a carriage, with four 
 fleet horses was procured, and Fitz Adelm, with Sir Ulic 
 and Adorine, set out at break of dawn for the metropolis. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 LADY DE rivers’ TREASURES : SHE MAKES A CONVERT. 
 
 “Ye slept, 0 heroes ! chief ones of the earth, 
 
 High demigods of ancient days ! ye slept. 
 
 There lived no spark of your ascendant worth, 
 
 When o’er your land the victor Moslem swept. 
 
 And by your graves, and on your battle plains, 
 
 Warriors ! your children wear the stranger’s chains.” 
 
 Modern Greece. 
 
 It were a curious study to speculate upon the varied 
 scenes that at one and the same hour are being enacted in 
 different place and circumstance upon the stage of the 
 wide world. Thus it happened at the moment that saw 
 her son engaged in mortal strife with Fitz Adelm, Lady 
 de Rivers, in Fishamble-street, was entertaining at supper 
 her dear friends, the Fitz Rufuses. They had not seen 
 their brother since his noxious marriage, but time, and 
 
LADY DE rivers’ TREASURES. 
 
 511 
 
 the fact that the female Grubs were making headway 
 in society, had gone far to soften resentment and assuage 
 the bitterness of wounded pride. Lady de Eivers, who, 
 having become, through the instrumentality of her sons, 
 unavoidably associated on terms of intimacy at last with 
 the odious parvenues, to procure for herself countenance 
 and support among her fashiojiable set, had found it 
 judicious to change her tactics towards the objectionables, 
 to recruit the circle of their acquaintance, and, though 
 against her grain, introduce them upon a footing of 
 familiarity whenever access was in any way feasible, and 
 thus, carrying on the scheme of diplomacy, she undertook 
 to be their apologist, and mollify in their regard the at 
 first implacable anger of the Fitz Rufuses. For,’’ she 
 argued, as they sat at supper, and renewed the old theme 
 of complaint and animadversion, after all, my dear 
 girls, though the Grubs are, I own, of no recognised 
 family, outre in appearance, and grossly deficient in all 
 the parts that constitute the elements of high life, never- 
 theless you have to be immensely thankful that they 
 are not papists, and, worst of all, Irish papists.” 
 
 “ Disgusting ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth, with a curl of 
 her lip. 
 
 I should have expired on the spot ! ” cried Anne, with 
 vehemence. 
 
 “ Exactly, my dear ! ” condoled Lady de Rivers. Well, 
 thank the Lord for such a blessing. Judith is, after all, 
 a sensible young woman, pious, godly; and if she have 
 not beauty, manner, polish, and so forth, poor thing ! she 
 is to be pitied, and we can show much charity and 
 Christian spirit by overlooking her defects and excusing 
 what we may not approve. Take my advice, when the 
 young couple come to town next week, call on them and 
 give a party for the bride ; — that, you see, will make all 
 smooth again ; — and count upon my good offices to help 
 reconciliation.” 
 
 “You are very kind,” returned Elizabeth; “but I 
 don’t go in for being too sweet with them at all. If I 
 condescend to receive them, let them make the most of 
 it; — I’ll pay them no compliments, I assure you.” 
 
512 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Of course not, my dear ; they don’t deserve you 
 should. But also bear in mind, the other sisters are 
 pushing up the ladder, and many doors, at first shut, are 
 now open to them. Not, indeed, as in other cases, by 
 means of the invincible golden key ; for they are the most 
 vulgarly parsimonious creatures I know of. Ostentatious 
 to extravagance upon themselves. I have never known 
 them make a single present. Yet there was Johanna not 
 long since married to a Captain O’Brien, a young man 
 of good property, and some English blood to boast of — a 
 Protestant, too, like his excellent mother. And, a few 
 days after, I heard the younger sister, Jenny, was 
 married to a Captain Connor, of whom she has made a 
 convert. There’s another spoken of for a Lieutenant 
 O’Kelly, a papist ; — hut no doubt she will bring him to the 
 truth. And I must do some of the poor natives the justice 
 to say that, when they are enlightened and shown the 
 abominations of Popery, they are the most cheering 
 examples of Godliness, and the most violent opponents of 
 priestcraft and superstition — in fact they out-Herod us by 
 far in their zeal. Now, for example ; — take another morsel 
 of chicken ; — do. I have two servants, cook and the house- 
 maid. Treasures, my dear ; — absolute treasures. So 
 regular going to church, so orderly, so respectful, so perfect 
 in every way. As for cook ” — her ladyship uttered a 
 profound sigh — I think her like is not to be found ; — so 
 attentive to my wants ! And such soups and dishes as 
 she sends up I Well, some time ago, I picked up in the 
 street, a little ragged, shoeless girl of thirteen or fourteen, 
 .who told me she was starving, and asked for alms. I 
 remembered that cook had asked me to get her a kitchen- 
 maid to help her ; so this little one looked strong, bright, 
 and healthy. Besides, her extreme ugliness was a recom- 
 mendation ; for, after that unfortunate business between 
 Harvey and the parlour-maid, out of which we only got 
 by the young woman and the child so luckily dying, I 
 was resolved to keep no more handsome servants. Young 
 men are so thoughtless. Well, this little wench. I can 
 only describe her to you as the dirtiest, most ragged, 
 ugly creature I ever saw : hair like a wisp of dirty hay, 
 
LAEY DE rivers’ TREASURES. 
 
 513 
 
 small, cunning, grey eyes, a low, broad forehead, a nose 
 turned up like a pug dog’s, cheeks as large and red as my 
 crimson velvet toilet cushion, a mouth stretching from ear 
 to ear, ever on the grin, and teeth large and yellow as 
 dice. 1 asked her name. ‘ Biddy Butler, mum,’ was her 
 answer, oh, my, in such a brogue ! ^ You’re a papist, of 
 
 course, by your name ? ’ ‘ Yis, mum.’ ‘ If I took you 
 
 into my service, would you be a good girl, and go to 
 church?’ — for, you see, being such an ouranoutang, I 
 knew I would get her cheap as well. ‘ Yis, mum, any- 
 where ye plases.’ ‘ And would you not like to learn to 
 be a good Christian, and give up the priest, and bo no 
 more a benighted papist ? ’ ‘I’d gi’ the coat o’ my 
 back, mum.’ So I saw that here was good soil to cast 
 gospel seed into. I engaged her, stipulating her first 
 wages should go to clothe her. Well, would you believe? 
 she has been here only two months, and, save some little 
 vulgar pilfering ways she has not yet lost, in the matter 
 of food, she’s a marvel of Godliness : imbibes instruction 
 as a babe drinks milk, with greedy avidity for more, 
 denounces popery like one inspired ; — and to hear the 
 frightful things she tells of the Church she has left would 
 make your hair stand on end. Even Parson Cubbage, 
 and Sharkey, whom I had to instruct her, were astounded, 
 and said it was manifest that all papists were of the race 
 of Cain and Nabuchodonosor. Poor dears ! They were in 
 very low spirits the day they last dined here, about the 
 Treaty of Limerick having established, as they say, the 
 children of Belial on an equal footing with the children 
 of light, in the land given to the elect by the sword of 
 the Lord and Cromwell. It is very sad !” 
 
 “ Then make yourself easy,” said Elizabeth Eitz Pufus. 
 “ I was speaking to the Bishop of Meatli about it, and he’s 
 to preach again a sermon on Sunday in Christ’s Church ; 
 he will set the matter before the country. De Giiickle had 
 no right to make such terms : he can be a man of no 
 religion. Lopping, last Sunday, preached upon the same 
 subject ; but he’s to give a stronger discourse yet on the 
 sin of keeping faith witli the papists.” 
 
 34 
 
514 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ‘^But that won’t set aside the treaty/^ sighed Lady de 
 Eivers. 
 
 ‘‘ Won’t it ? I’d like to see who is to force its observance 
 if the Protestant ascendancy set their faces against it.” 
 
 “That’s very true; and so they will ! ” cried Anne Fit;?: 
 Eufus. “And, Lady de Eivers, do your other servants 
 agree with this Popish hobgoblin ? That’s the plague of 
 our house, the servants are always fighting.” 
 
 “ Biddy's a good-humoured creature ; and she takes 
 kicks and cufiPs, and does her own and some of the others' 
 work without grumbling ; and she has a wheedling way 
 with her of humouring them. I gave her a new gown, I 
 was so pleased with her, this morning, and what do you 
 think but the good-natured soul carried it down to cook, 
 wanting to make three divides of it, between her and the 
 housemaid : it . so won their hearts that cook gave her a 
 shawl, and the housemaid a pettieoat, instead of being 
 jealous. Indeed, I’m very fortunate ; — I’m thinking of 
 making her my own maid. How is Phoebe Barrington 
 going on with you ? ” 
 
 “We begin to mistrust her honesty ; and she’s not good- 
 tempered. Yours must be a treasure. If we could hear 
 of such another,* we’d take and train her: these are 
 always the best that you train young, and instil with 
 proper ideas. Perhaps Biddy may know of some humble 
 little girl we could have cheap, and that would be willing 
 to go to church ? ” 
 
 “I’ll summon her, and you can speak to her,’' said 
 Lady de Eivers, rising to touch the bell. 
 
 Biddy, ordered by the tall footman, soon made her 
 courtesy to the ladies in the saloon, and stood grinning 
 and blushing on the threshold. 
 
 “ Come hither, wench ; — this lady wishes to have a few 
 words with you,” said Lady de Eivers, superbly. 
 
 Biddy advanced. 
 
 “ I hear you’re a good girl ?” said Anne Fitz Eufus, 
 eyeing her from head to foot. 
 
 “ Middlin’, me ledy ; — it’s the goodness o’ me missus to 
 gi’ me that kracter,” returned Biddy, ogling the ques- 
 tioner with compound concentration of acuteness, inimit- 
 
LADY DE rivers' TREASURES. 
 
 516 
 
 ably disguised beneath a surface show of ignorant simplicity 
 of air, speech, and manner. 
 
 You go to church ?” 
 
 Yis, mum. Praise the Lord ! warn't it the highth o’ 
 luck the day I met the good lady as shown me the way, 
 and has been a mother to me, the Lord reward her ! ” and 
 Biddy piously turned up her eyes. 
 
 Well, you seem grateful, and you can never be too 
 
 much so, for being snatched a brand from the burning *’ 
 
 ‘‘ Och, my lady, my teeth chatters to think o’ it,'’ and 
 Biddy screwed the fat ends of her thick fingers into her 
 eyes. 
 
 What a bad lot the priests must be to have kept you 
 in such darkness.” 
 
 Worse nor Auntichrist, mum ; — sorra go wid ’em.” 
 ‘‘ Tell us something of the bad things they taught you,” 
 cried Elizabeth, on thorns to learn from the innocent 
 creature some true and frightful disclosures to retail 
 among her friends. ‘‘What used you tell at confession 
 “ I tould, mum, as how I practised sorcery.” 
 
 “ Practised sorcery ! ” screamed all three ladies. 
 “ What — how ?” 
 
 “ I tould fortunes, mum, by the palm crassed with goold 
 or silver, an’ worked spells to know things to come, an’ 
 brought the butther to the churn by the dead hand, an’ 
 sich like.” 
 
 “Good heavens! Who taught you such frightful 
 things ?” exclaimed Anne Fitz Rufus. 
 
 “ Musha, me lady, I dunna ; — it’s in the religion, I sup- 
 pose, and comes nat’ral ; — there’s thim can do more. They 
 can turn thimselves into hares, an’ cats, an' birds ; they 
 could ax ye to a feast, and ye’d swear it was all goold an’ 
 silver dishes, an’ fiagons, an’ all kings and queens for 
 company, an’ the beautifullest of music everywhere ; an’, 
 begorra, the laste taste o’ moon-dew rubbed to your eyes, 
 or a touch o’ fairy ointment made from dead min’s 
 marrow — he should be a bachelor, me lady — would show 
 you the chate : — nothing but doclaves, an’ cowslips, an’ 
 butthercups, daisies, an’ lilybells, an’ the company 
 withered ould min an’ women, red an’ hairy, the size o’ 
 
516 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 leprechauns, an’ not a screed on thim no more nor Adam. 
 But, bedad the priests can do more : they can make the dead 
 walk — that’s of their own Church, me lady — an’ thim that 
 walk without their lave, they banish in blue flames to rest 
 in the dead sea at the world’s end ; an’, och, bedad, me 
 lady, I’m afeard to tell half they could do if they had a 
 mind.” 
 
 Lord, deliver and defend us!” ejaculated Lady de 
 Rivers. 
 
 What a frightful country to live in ! ” cried Anne 
 Fitz Rufus. 
 
 Till the papists be exterminated, and such doings put 
 an end to,” said Elizabeth. 
 
 It is growing dark ; — we had better get candles ; — I feel 
 my nerves shaking,” said Lady de Rivers. 
 
 What more can these fell-magicians do ? ” inquired 
 Anne Fitz Rufus, her morbid appetite increased by the 
 horrors on which it feasted. Don't they shed blood in 
 the Mass ? ” 
 
 Yis, me lady.” 
 
 ^^But I’ve gone to look and never been able to see it,” 
 said Elizabeth. 
 
 It’s done in sacret, me lady.” 
 
 And then they hoodwink you by saying it’s the Last 
 Supper'? Goodness ! what next ? — they make you adore 
 idols, images of wood, and stone ? ” 
 
 Yis, me lady.” 
 
 What a sottish people you must be to believe such 
 folly ? ” 
 
 If we didn’t belave it, mum, Quid Nick ud have us.” 
 
 Well, you’ve escaped at any rate. Do you know of 
 any good girl that would be glad to get into service and 
 go to church and learn the truth ? ” 
 
 Yis, mum. I know Molly Casey — she’s my mother’s 
 niece ; — but I don’t think she’d go to church.” 
 
 Why ? Is she one of the bigots that won't be en- 
 lightened ? ” 
 
 Her mother was a Cavanagh, mum, an’ brought her 
 up sthrict, but mine was a Bridgeman. Her father was 
 English, an' she was a dairymaid in Captain O’Connor’s, 
 
LADY DE rivers’ TREASURES. 
 
 517 
 
 him as married Grub’s daughter, an’ when father ud 
 spake to her for not goin’ to Mass an' to her duty,* she’d 
 up an answer: ^The captain, as was a lamed gintleman, 
 an’ a Catholic born an’ reared, didn’t do it, an’ was 
 ignorant people like thim to set thimselves up to know 
 betther T an’ she bid me niver to mind my father — that 
 he was a mollycoddle." 
 
 ^‘What a sensible woman! That accounts for ;your 
 being so intelligent, child,” said Lady de Eivers. What 
 became of your parents? ” 
 
 Biddy looked crestfallen. ‘^Musha, mum, mother had 
 a wakeness for the dhrop : she and father didn’t agree. 
 He wint off and listed, an’ she got dhrunk wan night, an 
 her clothes caught fire, an’ she was burnt to death.” 
 
 ‘Wery sad! Well, that will do. — Sirfce Molly Casey 
 won’t go to church, we can’t employ her. You may go.” 
 Thank ye, mum. Shure it’s meself is in the hoighth 
 o’ luck to have got into sich an illigant place, wid sich an 
 angel of a missus. Lord love her purty face ; did the 
 likes o’ me, that’s fit for nothin’ but pickin^ pratees, iver 
 think I’d be promoted to spake to grand ladies in the 
 dhrawin’-room. Och, the luck o’ it 1 ” and giving her tongue 
 a twist in her cheek, as she closed the door, Biddy de- 
 scended to the nether regions, where, in a spacious 
 kitchen, well lighted by wax candles, and a fine fire, Lady 
 de Livers’ treasures, to wit, the cook (Mrs. Betsy Wilson), 
 and the housemaid <"Miss Jemima Crosswell), with the foot- 
 man (Mr. James Baggot), entertained, unknown to her 
 ladyship, as was their wont, a select company of their own, 
 amongst whom to-night was Miss Phoebe Barrington, 
 who, having been dismissed by the Fitz Adelms on their 
 return to town, had entered the services of the Fitz 
 Eufuses in a similar capacity of own maid ; and could the 
 unsuspecting mistresses of these hirelings have had half 
 an hour’s private survey and audience of the scene behind 
 the curtain, it had done much to dispel many a fond 
 illusion on the subject of human treasure that might have 
 been to their advantage. 
 
 * Confession. 
 
6-18 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ^^Purty patthern in that diaper,” Phoebe Barrington 
 was saying just as Biddy entered, and she held up to view 
 a corner of one of Lady de Livers' best tablecloths, on 
 which an ample supply of viands, pastry, beer, and wine, 
 were undergoing process of demolition. ‘‘ Did she go on 
 with her ado about the large damask rose-leaf ye swopped 
 for the new gown with the pedlar? ” 
 
 We’d have never heered the end o’ it,” returned Mrs. 
 Cook, if Jemima an' I ’adn’t got ’ot about it, an’ said 
 as ’ow if she misdoubted our honesty, it war best for her 
 give us notice to quit.” 
 
 Ah, see that,” returned Phoebe : a good deal can be 
 
 done if servants will stan’ by one another, an’ that ye 
 cum to know the weak side o’ a missus. When I was 
 livin' wid the Misses Fitz Adelm — it wasn’t long — I tried 
 from the beginnin’ to start high wid ’em, but soon I found 
 that was no go : somehow they had a way wid ’em that 
 put ye down. Then I took to abusin’ the papists, pur- 
 tendin’ as ’ow I was one once meself. My dear, that 
 answered : they got so fond o’ me, ye wouldn’t belave it ; 
 nothin’ but presents. So, when I found their weakness, if 
 I didn’t oil them pliant.” 
 
 ‘‘I wondher ye was sint away at the upshot,” re- 
 marked the housemaid ; there’s no depindin’ on 'em for 
 masthers an’ missuses; the turn o’ a sthraw changes 
 ’em.’' 
 
 Thrue for ye, Jemima. The Fitz Adelms, afther they 
 cum home, w^as the altherest beings in coorse. I knew they 
 was mad at my goin’ an’ lavin’ ’em on the road ; — but ’adn’t 
 I Sir Harvey’s ten pound in my pocket for doin’ it ? — an' 
 wFin I took to excusin’ meself on account o’ my fears 
 of the papists, didn’t the young one turn on me, an’ say, 
 quite sharp : ‘ Say no more. Mistress Phoebe ; though the 
 papists may not come up to your degree of excellence, 
 they possess some virtues it might serve you to imitate.’ 
 Ob, she’s a wiper as bitther, is Misthress Adela.” 
 
 Biddy, my lass, what did the missus want would ye 
 so long up stairs ? ” demanded the cook. 
 
 ‘^Arrah, musha, the ould white- washed sepulchre, 
 wasn’t it to go over the ould talk; — an' maybe I didn’t 
 
LADY DE rivers’ TREASURES. 
 
 519 
 
 gi her enough to keep her wondher hot till the next 
 time. Begorra, they're worse nor childher in the stories they 
 believe, whin it shutes their fancy, though, they won't 
 belave an angel from heaven, if he tould thim truths they 
 didn't choose to listen to ; howsomever, that ain’t nothin’ 
 to us, so long as we humour ’em an’ make vails out o’ it,” 
 cried Biddy, gnawing a bone. 
 
 Well, yer a knowin' one, ye are,” said the footman, 
 pleasantly. ^^Just run round the corner, will ye, and 
 see is Bob Smythick cornin’ to fetch the keg o’ whiskey, 
 an’ smuggle away the sack o’ hotes ; — it's a mussy to cut 
 down them ’oses as is fed too ’igli. And see, Biddy, ye 
 might as well, whin yer so far, run across to Polly Hopper, 
 an’ ax her for the fresh heggs, and the few shillin’s she owes 
 me for the coals, an’ for not to bring down her bucket for 
 more till we get in the next supply — the missus was like 
 a bleatin’ calf, for their bein’ out so soon. ‘ But, my lady,’ 
 sez I, quite cajolin’,' ^ ’owever do ye expect slates an’ ashes 
 to last ; — an’ these dishonest Hirish factors gives us short 
 weight into the bargain.’ And, Biddy Bounce,” cried the 
 footman, facetiously, ‘^step in on the way to my sweet’art, 
 Misthress Whiteside, that keeps the eatin’ tavern, an’ ax 
 her for the bottles o’ port an’ sherry we was to ’ave in 
 exchange for the cut joints an’ sundries, sent by cook in 
 the big ’amper. Ye see, marm,” he turned to Phoebe 
 Barrington as Biddy, throwing a cloak over her head, 
 made off, the light wine as my lady takes, claret, Moselle, 
 an’ sich, doesn’t agree with my constitootion, as is delicate 
 and requires stimulants.” 
 
 In coorse, sir, id do,” returned Phoebe ; ^^an’ you ’pear 
 to ’ave purty good wails ’ere, an’ wot I may say is the 
 greatest blessin’, good undherstandin’ among yerselves ; 
 now that is the cuss o’ my missus’ house, that, though 
 we’re hall o’ the one relidgion, an’ goes to church reg’lar, 
 the envy an’ spite is ’orrible, if one prigs an atom more’n 
 another; — it’s downright shameful, the tale-bearin’ an’ 
 tattlin’ as goes on : — signs on’t, no serwant stops long ; — 
 an’ the ladies ’emselves is bad enough, like cats, prowlin’ 
 an’ sniffin’ about ; reg’lar mousers they are, for watcliiu’ 
 
520 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 an’ prvin’ into ’oles an’ corners. But I wondher ye trust 
 that Hirish gal, as I’m sure is a papist 
 
 ‘‘I’d just loike to catch her cum any of her Hirish or 
 papish ways over us. She’s cute enough to know wot 
 wages she’d got,” cried the footman, with a significant 
 shake of his fiaxen head. 
 
 “ She’s a good gal, then, is Biddy,” put in’ the house- 
 maid, “sharp, an’ bright; — an’ tho’ at fust I didn’t like 
 ’er dirty nasty Hirish ways, whin I seen ’er so ready to 
 obleege, an’ put ’er ’and to every work, an’ cute to fall in 
 wid our ways, an’ ’elp us out o’ difficulties, I guessed we 
 might ’ave got worse, an’ — one does want a fag o’' some sort 
 to ’elp ’em along, an’ Biddy’s just the one for it, besides ; — 
 she aint mere Hirish, she’s Henglish on the mother’s 
 side.” 
 
 “Ha, ha, ha, Jemmy, d’ye remimber about the melon 
 an’ the grapes?” laughed cook, red in the face with mirth, 
 and giving her fellow-servant a ^oke in the side with her 
 elbow. “ Biddy was only three days in the ’ouse, an’ I 
 didn’t like ’er more nor you, an’ I was set to put plenty 
 o’ work on ’er an’ keep ’er in ’er place, low an’ ’umble ; 
 but, the day after the party me lady gave to the hofficers 
 of King William in Dublin, there was a sight o’ things 
 left ; an’, sure, we gives a party o’ our own on it the next 
 night, when she wint to the play wid Colonel Shaw. The 
 next day she coomes down to the ’ousekeeper’s room, my 
 lady does, an’ sez, ‘ Betty, we’re to ’ave some company to 
 luncheon. Bring up the melon that was left wid the 
 
 grapes, an’ the shape o’ jelly, an’ ’ ‘ Melon, my lady,’ 
 
 sez I ; I see no melon left,’ an’ I winked at Biddy that was 
 standin’ by. ‘ Did you see any melon, Biddy ? ’ May I 
 never live if Biddy didn’t turn round as hinnocent as a 
 babby, an’ say, ‘ Yis, mum ; I didn’t know wot it was for 
 an’ I ate it.’ ‘ Ye ate the whole melon ? ’ sez me lady, 
 quite scared ; ‘ I wondher it didn’t kill you ; an’ you didn’t 
 know but it was poison ! Oh, these wild Hirish !’ She 
 turned to me : ‘ Well, cook, the grapes.’ ‘ Maybe ye ate 
 the grapes, too, ye greedy baste,’ sez I, wid another wink 
 at her. ‘The grapes, mum! Wots ’em?’ sez Biddy, 
 lookin’ like a fool. ‘I seen bunches o’ little green an’ 
 
LADY DE rivers’ TREASURES. 
 
 521 
 
 purple things that I thought was English onions gone 
 bad, an’ I threwn ’em in the fire.’ ‘ 0 ye barbarian!’ sez 
 me lady. ‘ Thrue for ye, mum dear ; how would a poor 
 ignorant Hirish colleen like me, reared among papists know 
 betther. Sure, I’ll pay ye for ’em out o’ my wages,’ sez 
 Biddy, wid her tongue in her cheek at me. ‘ Very well, sez 
 me lady, ‘that’ll teach ye to be smart ; — an’ now where’s 
 the jelly ? ’ Well I thort I’d have split me sides larfin in 
 me sleeve, whin Biddy ups an’ sez: ‘0 yis, me lady, that’s 
 safe enough ; I threwn it into the can o’ soup ye gave 
 Friday last to ould Nancy Taylor an’ her childhre for their 
 dinner, to make it good for ’em, the crathurs.’ Well, the 
 tears ran down my eyes whin she goes on an’ sez : ‘ Och, 
 musha, me lady, ’tisn’t sinse I want, for I can tell a praty 
 from an egg as well as anyone ; but it’s the relidgion sets 
 me asthray, an’ whin I get rid o’ it, an’ learns to be a 
 good Protestun, an’ read me bible, ye’ll be plased wid me, 
 I warrant.’ ‘Indeed, I.’Dpe so,’ sez me lady, ‘for you’re 
 a specimen sufficient to shame your ignorant teachers, the 
 priests.’ ‘ Thrue for ye, mum, faix,’ sez Biddy. ‘ Aint I 
 in luck to be shut o’ ’em, wid their fastin’, an’ prayin’, an’ 
 Masses, an’ confessions, an’ gone over to the parson an’ 
 you, that ’as got all knowledge, an’, goodness, an’ gran- 
 deur, an’ ’ll set me right ?’ Oh, yis, Biddy’s a clever 
 wench ; — wot’s her country an’ creed to us, that ’as to 
 live by our ways an’ means, so long as she ’elps us? — not 
 like the ’uzzy of a parlourmaid, that set ’erself up to crow 
 over us, because ’er purty face, an’ no such beauty either, 
 except in ’er own conceit, took the fancy of Sir Harvey : 
 she plagued us hall loike as yer say of yer comrades, 
 Phoebe ; — tale-bearin’ an’ worming into the confidence o’ 
 me lady by the blind side, till the breath o’ no one was 
 sweet to her but the breath o’ Susan Dobson, till she 
 found out one day wot made ’er ’air stand on hend, that 
 the greatest saint ever she knowed brought an incrase to 
 the ’ouse. Oh, my, ’adn’t we an uproar 1 ” 
 
 “ It was short, any ’ow : the mother an’ child died 
 suddint,” said Phoebe, with a probing glance at the cook, 
 who, rendered loquacious and confidential by imbibing 
 
522 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 generous draughts of spiced and mulled port, winked in 
 turn at Phoebe, and whispered : 
 
 For yer life don^t let it escape. Sir Harvey, poor 
 dear, was driven wild among ’em, so he couldn’t be respon- 
 sible for wot he did for the best. A sleeping potion was 
 ordhered by the docthor, and thim is always dangerous ; — 
 a dhrop too much of laudanum puts one to sleep for ever ; — 
 an’ there it was, ye see ; — ugh, there’s the bell, ringin’.” 
 My ladies is goin’, I take it,” said Phoebe, making 
 ready to attend the summons. And so Sir Harvey 
 pisoned the two?” and as she said'this in came Lady de 
 Rivers’ convert, and with a knowing look whispered to 
 the housemaid : 
 
 Joe Baxter is cornin’ ; an’ if ye throw any more suds 
 on me for holy wather, I’ll be afther tellin’ somebody some- 
 thin’ ; — there’s more nor the priest a body can go to con- 
 fession to. An’ here’s the silver an’ the fresh eggs, cook; 
 an’ I seen no sign o’ Smith wic, Mr. James ; but I met Lucy 
 Brown, an’ she bid me ask ye to go out to her — she’s 
 waitin’ round the corner ; — an’ the wine ’ill be down before 
 the windy's open to-morrow ; — yer to be at the area rails 
 to take it down ; — an’, Jemima, I met Peggy Dawson, 
 an she bid me for to tell ye she’ll not haggle wid ye for 
 any ould clothes ye have to sell or swop ; an’ if ye could 
 throw in a pillow or a few handsful o’ feathers out o’ the 
 beds, or any loose chaney, she’ll take it at fair value. 
 Shure, ye might give her the chaney salad-bowl.” 
 
 Ye villan, wot'll the missus say when she misses it ? 
 an’ she values it more than gold,” cried the cook, in 
 terror. 
 
 Shure ye can say I bruk it, an’ I’ll throw the blame on 
 the cat, an’ that brakes the set, an’ we can melt the rest 
 aisy afther.” 
 
 ‘‘Well yer a clever piece,” said the admiring cook. 
 “ Here’s a thrifle for yerself.” 
 
 “ Thankee, mum.” 
 
 “ But the missus ’ll send ye away if ye brake the china,” 
 cried the housemaid, in alarm. 
 
 “ Sorra fut, Jemmy. I’ll turn up my eyes more nor 
 ever, an’ pray harder, an’ carry the bible undher my arm. 
 
THE BISHOP OF MEATH. 
 
 523 
 
 an^ curse the priests, an'' make out fine stories to divart 
 her ; for I've just as much wit in my little finger as other 
 folks in their whole body.” 
 
 OHAPTEE XXXIV. 
 
 THE BISHOP OF MEATH DENOUNCES THE SIN OF KEEPING 
 FAITH WITH PAPISTS. 
 
 ’Tis eve. The storm hath died, the valiant rest 
 Low on their shields ; the day’s fierce work is done ; 
 
 And blood-stained seas and burning towers attest 
 Its fearful deeds. An empire’s race is run. 
 
 Sad, midst his glory, looks the parting sun 
 Upon the captive city. Hark ! a swell 
 (Meet to proclaim barbaric war-fields won) 
 
 Of fierce triumphal sounds, that wildly tell 
 
 The Soldan comes within the Caesar’s walls to dwell,” 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 Time and tide ran their course, and brought round the 
 next Sabbath day, when that erudite paragon of bishops, 
 Dr. Dopping, was again to ascend the pulpit to charm 
 and instruct, with elegant Latin quotations, profound 
 Scriptural knowledge, and fearful denunciations, ful- 
 minated in choice phrase, against popery, a select and 
 most evangelical congregation, assembled with pious zeal 
 to hear the Word ; and, furthermore, to enlighten them 
 by his own learned views, and convert them to his own 
 strong opinions, by the unanswerable argument of logical 
 acumen brought to bear upon the subject of his proposi- 
 tions. The day, in league and sympathy with the intention 
 of the godly man, though, like him, wearing the moody 
 and uncertain aspect of November, yet was smooth, un- 
 ruffled, meditative, and even menaced a smile like that 
 which wandered over his sleek visage, as complacently he 
 looked down from the high place where he stood, clothed 
 in fine lawn and righteousness, and shod in morocco 
 leather and holiness, upon the crowd of upturned faces, 
 full of keen expectation, on the alert to catch each drop of 
 manna that fell from his lips. Nor did the courtly orator 
 keep them long in suspense ; — he began : 
 
524 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 My brethren, children of the saints, it devolves upon 
 me the duty of addressing you, the small number of the 
 elect, upon a theme painful to my heart, and which comes 
 home, I believe, no less to that of each one of you here 
 present who honour me with your attention. Alas ! my 
 brethren, what can I say, how shall I begin the subject? 
 We have fallen upon dark and evil days. Oh ! that the 
 sword of the Spirit and the tongue, which I unworthily 
 wield to-day, may do some little, may go some little way, 
 to sweeping them far hence, and reinstating us again in 
 the glory of light, and giving us a fair, unblemished, a 
 gospel-illumined land, on which to dwell in love, and 
 peace, and joy, and plenty ! 
 
 “ Beautiful ! whispered Lady de Eivers, leaning across 
 her pew, to the Fitz Rufuses. 
 
 Divine ! — inspired ejaculated Elizabeth and Anne, 
 
 in an ecstasy. 
 
 ^‘Do you hear him well, Bridget ?^^ continued her 
 ladyship, addressing the convert, whom for greater security 
 she brought, as her own maid, to hear the sermon. 
 
 Yis, mum, me lady; — -it^s a’ angel is discoorsin^ an’ 
 the music of his voice bates the bagpipes ! ” 
 
 Hush ! — be quiet ! 
 
 In my last sermon, my dear brethren,” resumed the 
 bishop, having taken a sip of wine and water, and wiped 
 his mouth in a cambric handkerchief, I spoke forcibly on 
 the subject, I animadverted freely, I pointed out emphati- 
 cally, the sin of holding faith with papists ; and to-day I 
 resume the theme with tenfold energy, to impress upon 
 you with renewed, force the vital importance of the ques- 
 tion, not only as regards the supreme interest of the Church 
 by law established, but as affecting our temporal welfare, 
 our glorious rights and liberties as free men. Let us come 
 to the fundamental point : who are the papists ? Subjects, 
 I answer, of an alien potentate, the most terrible of earth’s 
 potentates — a ruler who, professing to hold in his awful 
 hands the keys of heaven and of hell, and some inter- 
 mediate place of torment called purgatory, keeps in chains 
 more diabolical than the Sultan of Turkey, the Khan of 
 Tartary, the Shah of Persia, or a Eajah of India, millions 
 
THE BISHOP OF MEATH. 
 
 525 
 
 of victims, of groaning victims ; — for while the power of 
 all other despots ends with this life, he, the Roman Pontiff, 
 in virtue, forsooth, of divine appointment, pursues his prey 
 beyond the goal of the tomb, beyond the empire of death, 
 into the land of shadows, lays hold of the affrighted soul, 
 and, as it suits with his mood, plunges it into perdition or 
 exalts it to bliss. What are the papists ? Crouching 
 slaves of this Juggernaut, beneath the wheels of whose 
 chariot thousands would fling themselves in blind obe- 
 dience, and die in exultation beneath his sacred hand 
 waving a benediction over their mangled limbs. Have we 
 proofs of it ? Do we not behold at his command, trum- 
 peted from afar to the ends of the earth, the grim cloister 
 walls upreared, and the convent gates unclose, and the 
 grim cell shut in for aye within a living tomb, the young, 
 the beautiful, and fair ? The minions of his mightiness, 
 priest and monk, issue the word, and lo ! the heir sur- 
 renders his estate and bows his head to a cowl ; the dying 
 man defrauds his children of their inheritance, and leaves 
 the gold to propitiate the power that, did he disobey, 
 would consign him to endless flames ! They issue from 
 the Vatican bulls and edicts for fasting and confession, 
 and the people, subdued by chastisement and terror, are 
 ready tools to carry out any infamy. Is this state of 
 things to be borne in a free land ? ‘ Who is here so base 
 
 that w’ould be a slave ? ’ ‘ Who is here so vile that would 
 
 be a Roman Who is here that holds his life so cheap, 
 who would trust it to that man or to that woman who, 
 commanded by his or her priest to shed the blood of the 
 heretic, would tremble to refuse, though that heretic were 
 of his or her flesh and blood ? 
 
 What, then, you ask me, alarmed, is to be done ? 
 How are we to escape this terrible Pope, his priests, his 
 dominion over soul and body ? I answer, without com- 
 promise : Nip the evil in the bud ; pluck the last fibre of 
 popery out of the land ; kill, cut, burn the gangrene out of 
 the body, without mercy or sparing. Oh, but, you object, 
 there is the late act of treaty, signed at Limerick, securing 
 to papists equal civil rights, equal freedom, religious 
 toleration ; that the honour of England’s majesty stands 
 
526 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 committed to the due observance of the compact. I 
 answer, No ! in a matter of import so vital to the Pro- 
 testant interest as^the safety of the Church by law estab- 
 lished, we can hold no part with that dread power that 
 sprung to birth with the birth of Christianity, whose 
 sceptre overshadows the whole earth, whose hands grasp 
 the uttermost poles, whose consolidated dominion, founded 
 upon unity, is propagated by the vigour, the energy, the 
 extraordinary spirit of self-abnegation and sacrifice, more 
 fearful than the immolation of Druid victims, of its 
 enthusiastic votaries. We sinned — not we, indeed, but 
 that deluded and, I must add, less zealous minority of our 
 brethren, who, without consulting the Lord, rushed blind- 
 fold into the snare and made truce with Antichrist — 
 they sinned grievously in binding themselves by an evil 
 oath. Are we to sin unpardonably in being accomplices 
 in sanctioning and ratifying by silence their guilt ? Oh, 
 alas, my brethren ! — His Grace struck his forehead ve- 
 hemently with the open palm, clapped his hands with 
 resounding force, and cast his eyes tranquilly upward. 
 The effect was very fine. The audience was dreadfully 
 excited, some being moved to tears, and more to the acme 
 of religious phrensy. — Far be from me such complicity ; 
 at least, if all else backslide, one voice shall raise its clarion 
 blast, and sound anathema, maranatha — benedictions 
 through the length and breadth of the land ! Yes, my 
 brethren, profound have been my researches in the Scrip- 
 ture, and the logical deduction at which I have arrived 
 therefrom is, that the abomination of idolatry hath ex- 
 ceeded that of every other in the eyes of the Lord. In 
 the Decalogue it taketh precedence of every other law, 
 that interdicting false gods, and them that worshipped 
 idols and graven things were odious in his sight, and 
 implacably He laid upon them the scourge of his wrath. 
 Did He show mercy to the Moabites, the Madaianites, the 
 Shimites, whom He bade Gideon fall upon with the ex- 
 terminating sword ? or to the Philistines, or those that 
 worshipped Baal and Astaroth, the children of Ammon, 
 whose priests He gave to the slaughter, and their sacred 
 groves to the flames, and broke down their temples, their 
 
THE BISHOP OF MEATH. 
 
 527 
 
 altars, and their idols ? Did the Lord withdraw his arm 
 from the destruction of Hai till the proud city of the 
 heathen was reduced to ashes, and the inhabitants thereof 
 perished to a man ? Did not the Lord ordain the children 
 of Israel to swear eternal enmity to the Amalekites, and 
 did Moses, his servant, keep faith with. Pharaoh, or the 
 Hebrew people restore unto the Egyptians the gold, and 
 silver, and garments, and jewels of which they had deprived 
 them ? 
 
 ‘‘ Ah ! my brethren, beware that the reproach and the 
 punishment of the prevarication of Saul for suffering 
 mercy to incline his heart to spare the idolatrous Amale- 
 kites and show favour to Agag, be not brought home to 
 us, and we be delivered over in bondage to the enemy for 
 not eradicating him from the land. But it will not be 
 thus. You will follow your Moses to the promised land 
 of Canaan ; and even as the walls of Jericho fell at the 
 sound of Joshua^s trumpet, so shall the invincible walls of 
 mighty Rome quake and fall before the trumpet-blast of 
 the elect of the Lord, proclaiming the end — sounding the 
 death-knell of popery in the land. On then, my bre- 
 thren — on ; do the work of the Lord. Spare not for 
 ruth pause not for pledge ; hold no truce with Belial ; 
 crush down, stamp out the posterity of the heathen ; 
 obliterate his tracks ; erase his monuments ; scatter his 
 altars ; break down his temples ; extinguish every record 
 of his pride ; reduce him to the condition of a beast of 
 burden, a hewer of wood and a drawer of water. Let him 
 for your need exist but on sufferance ; annihilate his 
 mental power ; close against him the schools that promote 
 genius, and enlarge and cultivate his singularly aspiring 
 and brilliant intellect, elevating him to the dangerous 
 perception of the dignity of his manhood, to wrestle and 
 strive with us for mastery. Banish, destroy, above all, 
 the diabolical priesthood that fosters and supports him in 
 rebellion and insubordination, till, broken by affliction 
 and taught by chastisement, he turn from his evil ways 
 and embrace the truth and walk in the light, no more our 
 stumbling-block but our brother.'^ 
 
 The bishop, having wound up his audience to the 
 
528 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 highest pitch of fanatical abhorrence of their Roman 
 Catholic fellow-countrymen and citizens, withdrew from 
 the same hallowed precincts where, five hundred years 
 before, a Roman prelate, the sainted Laurence O’Toole, 
 had stood, the anointed of heaven, and with consecrated 
 lips intoned a benediction, and preached charity, peace, 
 and good-will among men, the glory of God, redemption 
 and salvation for all. The well-dressed and edified con- 
 gregation having no more to do, began to file out. 
 
 Lady de Rivers, who had not yet heard of the death of 
 her son — in those benighted days there were no telegrams 
 or penny posts — turned majestically to Biddy before she 
 dismissed her to walk home while she drove in her carriage 
 with the Fitz Rufuses: hope child, you liked the sermon, 
 
 and that it will make a lasting impression on you for your 
 improvement ? ” 
 
 Yis mum, me lady. Be jabers ! Fm afeard we’ll 
 have an earthquake or a corruption o’ fire from that place 
 ye was tellin’ cook an’ me of — ’Soovies’ — the devil’s 
 mountain o’ fire in the Pope’s counthry,” whined Biddy 
 with, a grimace and a crouching air of abject terror. 
 
 ^^No, child ; you needn’t fear, who have turned to the 
 Lord,” said the lady, reassuringly. 
 
 ‘^But, mum,” whined Biddy, inconsolably, shure an’ 
 the wicked papists be swallyed up an’ burnt, an’ go down 
 alive to hell ; — how’ll we escape an’ knows them as is inno- 
 cent as babbies suffers often wid the guilty, as was the 
 case wid ” 
 
 Never mind; go home. I can’t speak to you now.” 
 And Lady de Rivers ascended her chariot, while Biddy 
 made a race to outstrip time and have a gossip and a 
 naggin with a few of her own intimates and cronies 
 located in cellar habitations in one of the worst purlieus 
 of the Poddle. 
 
 Among the foremost of the crowd that issued forth 
 were the FitzAdelms. They w^ere silent till they had 
 cleared the press and throng of the fashionable mob, then 
 Athelstane, turning to his sisters, said: ‘^How did you 
 like the sermon ?” 
 
THE BISHOP OF MEATH. 
 
 529 
 
 I looked at you several times,” said Eleanor, in the 
 hope you would have risen and come away.” 
 
 So I would have, only out of respect for the church,” 
 said Fitz Adelm. ‘‘ Dopping, to my notion, is a most 
 mischievous firebrand.” 
 
 ‘‘ He seemed quite to forget,” said Adela, in the flush 
 of his zeal against the heathen, that the papists are Chris- 
 tians, and that if they worship saints and angels, and 
 grave images to kneel before and reverence, it is as to 
 the friends of God, and believing they honour Him 
 through them.” 
 
 ^^He did not tell us,” said Eleanor, ‘^how the Lord chided 
 St. Paul for persecuting Him through his members, nor of 
 the Saviour's parable of the Good Samaritan, and his pro- 
 mises alike to Jews and Gentiles.” 
 
 His experiences of papists,” said Adela, with a dry 
 laugh, must be worse than ours, for we have now seen 
 enough in every class of that maligned Church, to know 
 how false are the allegations brought against it. The 
 people may be ignorant, and defective, too, but ’tis not 
 the religion makes them so.” 
 
 Whatever you may do, girls,” resumed Sir Athel- 
 stane, I abjure from henceforth the Church by law 
 established to cast my lot in the weaker scale. I will 
 not tamely sit by and hear again such doctrine of intoler- 
 ance advocated as I to-day heard from a Christian pulpit. 
 Why, the bishop’s oration would have disgraced a rabid 
 Mussulman. We have been told over and over of the fire 
 of the auto-da-fe and the donjons of the Inquisition, with 
 all the fearful engines of terrible popish tyranny employed 
 by Rome for the maintenance of the faith ; but, as I heard 
 and understood Hopping to-day, it is only reversing the 
 picture and showing the dominant church quite as ready 
 to tyrannise, oppress and enslave, as her rival, with less 
 justification, and as much prejudiced in favour of the 
 arbitrary measure of coercion, the faggot, brand, and 
 wdiip. Ho ! here comes our model of papists, He Burgh, 
 with Sir Reginald He Courcy ; and, as it can’t rain but it 
 pours, we are overtaken by Major 0’l^)rien, Cfiptaia 
 O’Connor, and Lieutenant R^ily. Bravo ! fruuids, well 
 
 35 
 
530 
 
 LKIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 met ; thougli we muster from opposition benches. How 
 did you like the sermon, O'Brien 
 
 ‘^Well, the bishop is a very eloquent man/^ returned 
 Major O’Brien; and, stung by some lingering prick of 
 remorseful shame, his eye cowered beneath the caustic 
 irony of Fitz Adelm’s glance, as the latter resumed — 
 Ay, so eloquent, the unlucky objects of it have need to 
 tremble for the consequences ; for, mark my words, I 
 prophesy evil to the Catholics will result from his decla- 
 mation.” 
 
 ‘‘Well,” returned O’Brien, with much self-complacency, 
 
 “ it may not be amiss. Having had the fortune, denied 
 to so many others, of receiving a liberal education, I am 
 therefore competent to judge with more enlarged views 
 and mind ; and I do say, religious toleration and freedom 
 of conscience for all is a desideratumJ^ 
 
 “ Exactly,” returned Fitz Adelm ; — “but that’s the very 
 thing Dopping’s discourse insists upon : that for Catholics 
 — papists, as he stigmatises them — there must be no liberty 
 of conscience, no toleration.” • 
 
 “I don’t trouble myself about those things,” said 
 O’Brien, “ Having seceded from Borne, I don’t give ear 
 to what concerns the craw-thumpers — ha, ha ! I daresay 
 it will maintain a balance of power to keep them down a 
 little, in especial those gentlemen, the priests, who inter- 
 fere so officiously in families and do so much mischief 
 among the people, by over-zeal, and bigotry, and wrong- 
 headed advice ; — I’d have no objection to see them sent to 
 the right about.” 
 
 “What’s your opinion. Captain O’Connor?” said Sir 
 TJlic; — ^^you, not having seceded from Eome, must feel 
 with us.” 
 
 “ Excuse me, sir ; Fm proud to say I have seceded 
 from Eome. My mother, whose family was of the Dudleys, 
 the Tolers, and the Frakes, high English all, early instilled 
 me with a horror of the errors of popery. The first lesson 
 I remember her giving me was to kick and break a statue 
 of the yirgin, belonging to one of her servants, and to 
 spit at a picture of St. Bridget ; — and moreover, I beg 
 
THE BISHOP OF MEATH. 
 
 531 
 
 you, henceforth call me Connor; — I have put away the 
 handle from the pitcher, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Faith, then, you haven’t improved the patronymic,” 
 smiled Fitz Adelm ; — “ Connor sounds, to the ear attuned 
 to harmony, villainously flat and plebeian. To my notion, 
 a Celtic name without the affix is like a face without a 
 nose, so essential a part is it of the whole. You, too, 
 Lieutenant Eeily, have doffed the title of nobility, and 
 exchanged your crest and cognisance for — what ? I see 
 nothing to replace it.” 
 
 Lieutenant Eeily, whose interior spirit was portrayed 
 in his outward bearing, poor, trifling, timid, vain, and 
 weak, made faltering reply : I didn’t want to change 
 
 my name, but my wife said it wasn’t genteel to have the 
 0 : it marked us hout as too Hirish ; — and — and so I gave 
 it up.” 
 
 My poor child ! ” soliloquised Fitz Adelm, with gesture 
 of commiseration at the victim of conjugal tyranny ; while 
 his sisters smiled, and Sir Ulic, almost laughing, said : 
 
 ’Tis well to be timely warned. If ever I marry, I 
 must stipulate to be allowed to bear my name. Your 
 wife, then, I presume, is an English lady ?” 
 
 She was niece to my mother, who was daughter of 
 Cornet Tickell, one of Cromwell’s officers. Her maiden 
 name was Booth.” 
 
 Indeed ! Of course you are an Englishman, and your 
 children will be all educated in English ideas, tastes, and 
 proclivities ?” said Sir Ulic. 
 
 Yes ; — we have only three, and my wife and I have 
 agreed they are to be sent to England to learn the Englisn 
 accent and be flnished.” 
 
 ‘‘What a piebald race the land of the Grael will exhibit 
 by-and-by ! ” said Fitz Adelm to Sir Ulic. 
 
 “Yes,” indignantly responded Sir Ulic; — “these a 
 the Irishmen who in future time will bring obloquy on 
 the land, will make the name of Irishman a by-word and 
 term of reproach. This infusion of bad new blood, devoid 
 of all ingredient of religion, patriotism, nobility, faith, and 
 honour, chivalrous and hereditary instinct, mean and 
 mercenary in every phase, will be such a scandal, and so 
 
532 
 
 LEIXIJP CASTLE. 
 
 alter the aspect of the country, that the fair fame of its 
 ancient prestige will sound in men’s ears as a myth, and 
 barbarous Ireland be substituted for the ^ insula sanctorum 
 et doctorum^ as our friend O’Byrne has observed.” 
 
 Well, now, there’s the way it ever is in this accursed 
 land,” exclaimed O’Brien ; — nothing but envy, and 
 jealousy, and contention, making good the saying, ^Put 
 an Irishman on the spit, and you’ll find another to turn 
 him.’ ” 
 
 ‘‘ Exactly, my friend,” cried Sir Reginald de Courcy, 
 with the old smile of humour relaxing his broad coun- 
 tenance. Now, for instance. I’d roast you for a trifie ; — 
 how much would you take for doing me brown ? If s best 
 be open and honest on the business.” 
 
 O'Brien scowled morosely. Come along ; — jeering is 
 no argument, Sir Reginald. I wish you good-day.” 
 
 “ Good-day, major ! ” cried Fitz Adelm ; — and when 
 Popping has fanned the fiame to conflagration, and the 
 hue and cry is loud after prescribed papists, let no 
 squeamish scruples stand in the way of your loyalty 
 and liberal enlightenment. The bishop’s patronage and 
 Government munificence will more than compensate you 
 for the malediction of bog-trotters ; and if you advance to 
 fortune on the necks of slaves, so much the better ; your 
 merits will shine the stronger. So long, in sooth ” — he 
 turned to Sir IJlic — as the land grows tares, so long as 
 Luttrells, Staffords, Grubs, and every Saxon, Branden- 
 burgher, Hessian, and Dutchman, whether his name be 
 Mugs, Kettle, or Pots, Fry, Boil, or Bake, are engrafted 
 upon the soil, yet alien in race, or O'Brien, O'Neill, 
 O’Connor, or any other of the indigenous stock deteriorated 
 by foreign element, so long shall we have to deplore a 
 divided country, and to witness the anomaly of one Irish- 
 man’s hand lifted against another, and the traitor flourish 
 in his treason.’' 
 
 Well, there’s an end to fighting, at any rate, and 
 that’s lucky,” said Sir Reginald. Come home and have 
 luncheon.” 
 
 The Fitz Adelms complied. Sir TJlic gave his arm to 
 Eleanor, and laughing and chatting merrily, they all 
 
THE BISHOP OF MEATH. 
 
 533 
 
 arrived, not at the De Oourcy s former house in High- 
 street, hut at their present lodgings in Mary's-abbey. 
 
 It needed not much time to transpire before the prog- 
 nostications of Fitz Adelm were destined to be realised. 
 No sooner had the last of the Irish regiments sailed out 
 of the Shannon, than the Protestant ascendency, till then 
 coiled snail-like within its shell, put forth its horns. The 
 pulpits resounded with execrations and denunciations of 
 the Treaty of Limerick ; the inflammatory howl of the 
 ministers of religion goaded the hounds of the Reformation 
 to fury, and excited into action the worst passions of human 
 nature. The cry of ‘‘ The Church in danger was re- 
 echoed by the yell of ^‘No popery^’ through the length 
 and breadth of the startled land ; and as in days of 
 yore, when the roar of the lions in the amphitheatres of 
 Rome and Corinth caused many a Christian cheek to pale 
 and many a heart to palpitate with bodeful presage, so 
 ominous signs and threats culminating and gaining force 
 full soon awakened the affrighted Catholic minority in 
 power to a discernment of their precarious tenure of free- 
 dom, and smote the most apathetic or the most hopeful 
 with a vivid sense of impending danger. Yet, till the 
 nameless terror floating in the air, looming overhead like 
 the shadow of a bird of prey, had assumed some definite 
 form, no measure for defence or resistance could be taken, 
 and the menaced lived on in suspense and awe. 
 
534 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE SHADOWS FALL DARKEK. 
 
 “ The clouded east is red 
 As if a storm were gathering ; and I hear 
 
 What seem like heavy rain-drops, or the tread, 
 
 The soft and smothered step, of those that fear 
 Surprise from ambushed foes. 
 
 Away ! what sound’s deep swell 
 Comes on the wind ? It is an empire’s knell. 
 
 Slow, sad, majestic, pealing through the night ; 
 
 For the last time speaks forth the solemn bell 
 Which calls the Christians to their holiest rite.” 
 
 F. H. 
 
 Sir Ulic de Burgh, upon arriving in Dublin and con- 
 veying Adorine safely to the De Oourcys, had met with a 
 warm welcome from those much-esteemed friends, who, 
 equally rejoiced at meeting again, insisted upon his re- 
 maining their visitor, to which, in the present state of his 
 necessitous finances, he gladly consented for a brief period, 
 meanwhile making himself agreeable as a companion to 
 Sir Reginald, and assisting Lady de Courcy in the educa- 
 tion of May and Bella, who, in the exuberance of spirit, 
 consequent upon enfranchisement after their long immure- 
 ment in the cave, were wild as uncaged birds, and mani- 
 fested their enjoyment of liberty in divers ways trying to 
 the nerves of their tender parent, who, yet not willing to 
 check them, would stand still, aghast with terror, at seeing 
 May swinging after Bella from the top banister to the 
 drawing-room landing, thence to the parlour, and could 
 only murmur, while they stood exulting in the achievement 
 of such swift and facile transit : I fear, darling, you will 
 
 hurt yourselves,” to which came the response: ‘‘No fear, 
 mother,'^ and a retrograde progress to the top, upon the 
 same narrow slide. S^ir Ulic, alive to the peril of such 
 pastime, had peremptorily forbidden it, and forthwith 
 sunk to zero in the hitherto high place he held in their 
 favour. 
 
 It was some days after Dr. Dopping’s last sermon in 
 Christ Church, Sir Reginald was in his dressing-room, 
 
THE SHADOWS TALL DARKEH. 
 
 535 
 
 Lady de Courcy was engaged with her mantua-maker, 
 the children had gone out to walk with Gathleen. 
 Adorine, left alone, proceeded with a book to the draw- 
 ing-room ; she had just opened the door, but seeing Sir 
 Ulic seated at the centre table, his head resting on his 
 hands, supported by his elbows, apparently in deep medi- 
 tation, she quietly withdrew, and was softly closing the 
 door, when he raised his eyes, and called to her : Come 
 
 in, Adorine.’^ 
 
 ‘‘ You are engaged,’^ she answered, with questioning 
 look. 
 
 “ No, no ; — sit down and speak to me ; I feel depressed, 
 and it will do me good. What book have you there ?’^ 
 She handed it to him and sat down. ‘‘ ^ The Life of St. 
 Teresa !’ He closed the volume, and for a few seconds 
 there was silence ; then Sir Ulic, again lifting his eyes, 
 spoke : Is this true what I hear, Adorine, that you have 
 
 made up your mind to join the community of Carmelite 
 nuns, and take the veil ? 
 
 Steadily, and with wan smile, she answered : Yes, Sir 
 
 Ulic ; — did Aunt de Courcy tell you 
 
 She told me of your intention this morning as you 
 left the room after breakfast. But why ? You are yet 
 young and lovely ; you have wealth, friends ; — the world is 
 fair before you ? What though you have suffered much of 
 bereavement, disappointment, and sorrow ; — these are not 
 irreparable evils ? Why condemn yourself to a life of per- 
 petual austerity and penance 
 
 Adorine thought for a moment, then said, in soft, low 
 tone : The world is, indeed, fair to look upon, and once 
 
 I deemed it a very Hesperus, a garden of delight ; but 
 now — 0 Sir Ulic ! it is all delusion ; I could never trust 
 again to its allurements ; I could never again be happy in 
 it, or make it my home ! — never, never 
 
 The world, said Sir Ulic, ‘‘ is, in sooth, a great 
 illusion, deceiving to sight and sense. You feel as I do : 
 that nothing is worth the having that melts as a snow- 
 drop, that fades like a flower, that vanishes like a sun- 
 beam, and leaves our hands empty and our hearts a dark 
 void.*^ Adorine bent her head in assent. Sir Ulic re^ 
 
536 
 
 LEIXUP CASTLE. 
 
 Slimed mournfully : A little while ago, and those were 
 
 with us whose presence made around us an atmosphere of 
 sunshine. How very substantial seemed the hopes we 
 founded upon them ; how very real seemed the grasp of 
 their hand ; how deathless appeared the light that shone 
 from their eyes into ours ; how our hearts answered back 
 to the living music of their voice ! What are they now ? 
 A handful of dust scattered somewhere ; an ethereal 
 essence we know not where. Nought but memory re- 
 mains to assure us such once lived and dwelt amongst us. 
 To others, who have known them not, they may be 
 transmitted in name as mysteries of faith to be believed 
 in, but not realised ; and so, Adorine, when we are gone, 
 so fraught with actual being now, it will be with us. 
 What phantoms we are ! Phantoms, with all our sur- 
 roundings, tricked out in the garish semblance, the 
 painted mockery of substance. Why should any glory 
 elate, why should any calamity depress us ? And yet,^" 
 he resumed, in train of deeper musing, the human heart 
 is a mystery of mysteries ; with some a fertile garden, swift 
 as its flowers are cut off* or decayed, springing forth new, 
 from ashes watered with bitter tears, to be again blighted, 
 and still putting forth the bloom of effervescence, and 
 persevering in the work of creating till its own dissolu- 
 tion ; again, an arid waste, whence the only blossom, 
 wafted fruitless, grows no more leaf or bud of promise ; 
 and yet, again, an alembic, at which the toiler over the 
 seething crucible wears away his life in weary labour to 
 eliminate the golden ore from bubbles of dross. -0 life ! 
 what wert thou here, but for the hope of the life above ! 
 Do you ever dream of Harold, Adorine ? It is a comfort 
 to me to speak of him with one who knew and loved him, 
 as I did 
 
 ‘‘ I often dream of him,’^ said Adorine, pensively ; and 
 what is very strange. Sir Ulic, I often feel that he is near 
 and about me. At night, when I waken, the sense is so 
 strong it is some moments before I am assured no second 
 person is near ; yet never is the feeling accompanied by 
 awe or dread. I knew, before I was told it,'^ she con- 
 tinued, with a sigh, that he had been slain at Aughrim.'’ 
 
The shadows fall darker. 637 
 
 You heard the banshee/’ said De Burgh. 
 
 No, Sir Ulic ; I heard the banshee the night before 
 my father was slain ; and, when Maud wept, I laughed. 
 Brought up in France, I had believed it an idle supersti- 
 tion. I am wiser now. But it was late in the afternoon 
 of the day at Aughrim; I was saying my rosary all alone. 
 As we rested in a wood on our way to Limerick, a breath, 
 like a gush of air, cold and fragrant, wafted over my 
 heated brow : no wind was abroad or stirring ; me- 
 thought it was Raymond who had stolen upon me with 
 his boy’s tricks, and I turned my face to smile ; but no 
 Raymond was there ; no one was near me. I heard their 
 voices in the distance, and then, in the pause, came dis- 
 tinct and low, thrilling upon my brain and upon my heart, 
 a voice I knew I felt to be the voice of Harold, saying : 
 ‘ I am called away ; — I have to go ; but will soon return." 
 And then, like a mirage, passed before my eyes a vision — 
 a battlefield, squadrons charging, blood, smoke, and death. 
 It was long before they could wake me from the trance into 
 which I had fallen ; and, later on, when they strove to 
 conceal from me that I should never see him more, I told 
 them they need not, that I knew he was dead. Sir Ulic, 
 what are visions, dreams, and presentiments ? Some 
 affect to disbelieve them, to laugh at them ; — I do not, I 
 cannot ; — yet am I silent, for those I would speak with of 
 such things scoff.’" 
 
 It never would answer otherwise,” said Sir Ulic. 
 
 To profess open belief in the supernatural would lay us 
 open to be fooled and duped by knaves on the one hand, 
 and foster to our hurt a morbid imagination on the other; 
 yet, not for this, I ween, is all faith in the supernatural to 
 be discarded. I believe the spiritual world fioats as an 
 atmosphere around the globe ; I believe that spirits wing 
 their fiight from star to star, and flutter on the breeze 
 around us ; I believe their whisperings betimes speak to 
 our brain in slumber ; I believe that at the pleasure or 
 behest of Him who created essence and matter, and who 
 holds in his hands the laws that bridle nature, who can 
 clothe essence with substance as He can dissolve substance 
 into nothing ; who can direct the electric fluid and arm 
 
o38 
 
 LKIXl.IP CASTLE. 
 
 impalpable things — the intangible light and the view- 
 less air, with formidable power for good or evil, so I 
 believe unseen phantoms basking in the sun, pervading 
 the elements, speaking in the whistling and moaning 
 wind, may infuse prophetic warnings into our bosoms, or, 
 assuming shape and form, reveal their mission to our 
 optical sense. Heaven, methinks, is nearer to us than we 
 deem. In my childhood I was wont to speculate, did it 
 lie in the sun, moon, or stars. I indulge my manhood 
 with the belief that its bounds enfold the universe, and 
 each flaming orb shines but as a luminous mansion in the 
 streets of some great city, whence the enfranchised inhabi- 
 tants may roam at will into realms of space. I remember 
 once dear Harold, a little child in frock and bib, suddenly 
 saying to me, as one night we two stood alone looking out 
 of the window — he was then about four years old, I was 
 twelve or thirteen — ^ Look up there, Ulic,' he cried, 
 pointing to a brilliant star. ‘ What’s that little thing 
 shining in the blue ? ’ ^ A star,’ I made answer. ^Who 
 
 lighted it ? ’ demanded the child. ‘ God,’ was my simple 
 response. ‘ God ! Is that him we say our prayers to ? ’ 
 ‘ Yes,’ I curtly replied. By-and-by, more came out, till 
 the whole Armament was spangled. Then Harold cried 
 again : ‘ Ulic, God and the angels must be having a party 
 to-night, and that’s why they have lighted all the little 
 lamps. I’d like to go there if we knew any way. Suppose 
 we could get a ladder on the top of a big mountain, long 
 enough to reach up, would they let us in ? ’ Poor Harold ! 
 Faultless Harold ! I trust you have planted your ladder 
 well and are there now ! ” 
 
 ‘‘ Sir Ulic,” said Adorine, abruptly, how is it I 
 should have been so egregiously blind, so bewitched, I 
 think, so strangely infatuated, not from the beginning to 
 have recognised all the worth of Harold, not to have 
 been irresistibly drawn and attracted towards him. Why 
 did I yield to the influence of one so every way his 
 opposite ? What mysterious agency darkened my under- 
 standing and magnetised me, as it were, in chains I found 
 so hard to break ? I am an enigma to myself.” 
 
 ‘‘ The enigma is easy of solution,” said Sir Ulic. One 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DA.EKE11. 
 
 539 
 
 exhibited himself in genuine nature, guileless, unstudied, 
 and affecting nothing. You saw at once his faults and 
 virtues, his fair side and his dark : his heart was honest, 
 his intentioDS were straightforward; he had, therefore, 
 nothing to disguise or to fear. The other had more 
 objects than one to serve : his love — if indeed he could 
 love — was subservient to policy ; hence, to ensure his 
 design, he donned a mask of dissimulation. He appeared 
 to your fascinated eyes everything that he was not ; his 
 fair seeming, his flatteries, his blandishments, won your 
 heart. Harold stooped to none of these, yet was his pure 
 and knightly faith firm as adamant. The other — well, 
 let the dead rest; — we shall speak of him no more. Enough 
 to say, that by the miraculous interposition of Providence, 
 you have escaped what were a woeful destiny — a life of 
 unutterable misery. The present sorrow, sanctified and 
 holy, is endurable, and may be sweetened, even conse- 
 crated, by tender memories, resignation to a will wiser 
 than ours, and the blessed hopes of the future.’’ 
 
 While Sir IJlic was yet speaking, the door opened, 
 and with grave and serious mien, entered Eitz Adelm. 
 Bowing to Adorine, who rose to receive him, he ad- 
 dressed De Burgh : I thought Sir Reginald was here ? 
 
 They told me below he was in the drawing-room.’' 
 
 So he was for a few moments, but left to dress. 
 Have you heard Plantagenet Tudor came to town yester- 
 day ? How I pity poor Lady de Rivers.” 
 
 Reserve your pity for those who need,” returned Eitz 
 Adelm, bluntly. 
 
 What ! Ho you not think she will be shocked to hear 
 of the death of her son ? ” 
 
 “Very likely,” said Eitz Adelm, coolly. “Go into 
 hysterics, fill the house with shrieks and lamentations, go 
 to bed with a raging headache — heart, in fact — get all her 
 friends about her to condole, give orders for best and 
 newest mourning, live for the next month in vapours of 
 hartshorn, eaii de Cologne^ and aromatic odours, and 
 having acquitted herself in all due form of the rules of 
 etiquette, trim up again and launch out gaily into the 
 stream, oar-sweeping and pennon-flying from the topmast. 
 Ho ! ” 
 
540 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 You unfeeling wight ! ’’ exclaimed De Burgh. ‘‘ Do 
 you not believe in the natural sympathies of flesh and 
 blood ? ’’ 
 
 ‘‘Yes; where the hearts are not gizzards or flint, 
 or altogether omitted in the construction of the animal. 
 That nature disports in freaks we all know, and it is 
 my creed that the trio — mother and sons — have not 
 among them one heart ; — but they thrive all the better. 
 Affection, sensibility, love, all that forms at once the 
 pleasure and torture of others’ lives — they know it not. 
 Inflate their pride, pamper their sensuality, minister 
 to their self-love, and lo ! they are supremely blessed. 
 Comfort yourself, my friend ; Lady de Eivers’ keenest 
 afiliction will be the blow to her ambitious hopes and 
 projects, laid prostrate with her unscrupulous son — and for 
 that I have not much compassion. What about Maud ? 
 You gave me reason to hope I should soon see her. I 
 cannot understand the meaning of all this mystery.” 
 
 “We Roman Catholics, so often hunted and persecuted, 
 understand it,” said Sir Ulic ; “ nevertheless, I begin to 
 feel uneasy, Athelstane, I confess. Maud, according to 
 my calculation, ought to have been here the day before 
 yesterday with Raymond. I despatched what I considered 
 a safe convoy to lead them hither. Let us, however, have 
 patience ; every hour may bring them, or else tidings. 
 You will be glad to see Maud,” he continued, turning to 
 Adorine. 
 
 “ Have you heard of the new Test Act just promul- 
 gated ?” asked Fitz Adelm, seating himself on the edge of 
 the massive table. 
 
 “ Yes ; the flrst infraction of the Treaty of Limerick 
 to exclude Roman Catholics from a seat in the house, 
 unless they violate their conscience, foreswear their faith, 
 deny the doctrines of their Church, pronounce the Mass 
 damnable and idolatrous ; in a word, stain their souls 
 with vilest perjury. Such prevarication may suit with 
 individuals like our friends O’Brien, Connor, and Reily, 
 who feel themselves chartered by a liberal education and 
 in virtue of alien connexion to become traitors to their 
 country and renegades to their God. But trust me, no 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 541 
 
 Eoman Catholic gentleman untainted with Anglican ideas 
 will condescend to such terms. Hence, you Protestants 
 will have the house to yourselves to frame and enact what 
 laws you please against us. So what next ? It would 
 appear that we Catholics have not yet done with the rod. 
 I shall expect to hear the next measure will be a sweeping 
 confiscation, as in the days of James, Cromwell, and 
 Charles. For, trust me, human laws of honour will bind no 
 longer than suits with their humour men who are re- 
 strained by no sense of religious responsibility, by no 
 obligations of conscience. With such the law of the land, 
 and the dictates of their own evil passions, take precedence 
 of the law of God/’ 
 
 I say, what’s the best news, Athelstane, or the worst ? 
 You look like a Quaker waiting for the spirit to move,” 
 exclaimed Sir Eeginald, coming in, all rubicund with 
 smiles and good-humour, swinging a paper in his hand, 
 which he threw to De Burgh. Just read that : our 
 Protestant friends have such a regard for the interest 
 of our Popish souls they won’t leave us any superfluity 
 of riches to encumber us on the road to heaven. By- 
 the-bye, speaking of that, did Ulic ever tell you of the 
 trick he and Harold, with Cornal O’Byrne, once played 
 on Jemmy Eeilly, Bob Whally, and Will Hawkins, 
 when the regiments were quartered in Dublin before the 
 battle of the Boyne, and the three worthies had obtained 
 commissions in the ranks they afterwards deserted.” 
 
 “ No ; what did you do demanded Athelstane. 
 
 Sir Ulic laid down the paper with a melancholy smile, 
 and said : 'Tis scarcely worth the repetition. The three 
 
 recruits did not possess a valiant exterior, and, perhaps 
 sensible of it, they sought by brag and bluster to exalt 
 themselves in our opinion and that of others ; — in fact, 
 their impertinent self-sufficiency, intrusive forwardness, 
 and overbearing insolence, became unendurable. They 
 spared not to criticise Sarsfleld, and flout their opinions 
 in the face of the most experienced officers. There was 
 no end to the quarrels. Sharp rebukes brought taunting 
 retorts, till one day Cornal O’Byrne incensed, thrashed 
 Whally, and threatened to shake the other two as a mastiff 
 
542 
 
 LEIXLl? CASTLE. 
 
 would worry a pair of curs. Thus admonished, the trio 
 sneaked off, swelling with vengeance, and louder in their 
 buzz than ever ; then, seeing their courage was all a sham, 
 occurred to Harold the thought to test it, and proclaim 
 them poltroons. We had been all invited for the follow- 
 ing evening to an assembly at Lady Plunkett’s ; so off 
 we set in due time, Cornal, Harold, and I, provided with 
 truncheons, masks, and disguises. Meanwhile having 
 made up the quarrel, all got friendly again, Cornal hav- 
 ing humbled himself to apologise, and Harold solemnly 
 assuring Whally that, notwithstanding his drubbing, he 
 and his comrades held him in high opinion. Harold 
 was an adept at harmless equivocation. We got into 
 amicable discourse, conversed upon various matters, led 
 the train to anecdotes of murders committed by brigands 
 and freebooters, bemoaned the condition of the streets of 
 the city, just then unsafe from footpads and thieves, who 
 took pleasure in cropping the ears and shortening the 
 noses, as well as lightening the pockets of nocturnal way- 
 farers. To make the story brief, we so wrought upon the 
 nerves of the heroes, that, when the time for departure 
 came, we saw them examining their sword-canes, and 
 making league for the road. Away sped we with our 
 accoutrements, and, disguised as footpads, lay in ambush 
 by the way they should pass ; — for, while the wealthy left 
 in chairs and coaches, those not supplied with such re- 
 quisites had to go on foot. By-and-by up came our quarry 
 at quick trot, glancing furtively on every side, when out 
 rushed Cornal, Harold, and I from the dark laneway, 
 brandishing our clubs, and calling out : Your gold or 
 
 your life. Stop, and deliver ! ” We soon relieved the 
 redoubtable Whally and Hawkins of their rings, pins, 
 watches, and seals, they offering not the least resistance ; 
 but, while Cornal and Harold ransacked these two, 
 threatening to choke them if they squeaked even as loud 
 as mice, I attacked my man to no purpose ; — no jewellery 
 was apparent. Wondering in my own mind where he 
 had disposed of his adornments, I lustily roared : ‘ Grive 
 your purse ? ' ” 
 
 ‘ Sir,’ humbly replied the warrior, with quavering 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 643 
 
 voice and eyes starting out of his head with terror : ^ Sir, 
 my mother has the purse, and will be happy to give it to 
 you. There she is in the distance with the two gentle- 
 men.’ While I turned my head to see if it were the truth, 
 away shot my man like a dart from a bow ; the others set 
 free, followed in due course at the same high-pressure 
 speed, and we, gallantly suffering the lady to pass with 
 the purse, made our own way to quarters.^ '' 
 
 “ Capital 1 cried Fitz Adelm, greatly amused. Did 
 that lesson cure them ? 
 
 Oh, you should have seen them next day when we, 
 having acquainted the officers with our exploit, reunited 
 at mess. The poor fellows began their tale how they 
 had been assailed the night before, and robbed and all 
 but murdered by a desperate gang of freebooters, that 
 rushed upon them from Bull Alley as they were returning 
 from Lady Plunkett’s party.” 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ I saved my purse and jewels," said Eeilly : ^ had 
 them hid in my boots, and sent the robber on a false 
 scent.’ 
 
 ^ I hold you a wager,’ exclaimed Cornal O’Byrne, 
 winking at Harold and me, ‘ that these were the very 
 brigands that attacked me on my way home, whom I fell 
 on, beat, and deprived of their booty. Look here ’ — lie 
 drew out the trophies. 
 
 ‘ That’s my chain ! ’ shouted Whally. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ That’s my purse ! " cried Hawkins. 
 
 ‘ And you vanquished the three cut-throats yourself 
 without aid?’ said the astounded Eeilly, with jaw- 
 dropped in amazement. 
 
 “ ‘ Pooh ! ’ returned Cornal, with a cool effrontery that 
 nearly convulsed us all. ‘ It was no such difficult matter 
 to overcome three hulking clowns, armed only with 
 bludgeons and cutlasses. I had my fencing-sword, with 
 wljich sovereign weapon I once fought a duel for the King 
 of France, with five Spaniards, three Poles, one Dane, 
 and two Prussians, and afterwards sent his Majesty all 
 their heads on a silver shield. I’m used to that sort 
 of tiling, so it comes easy. Our bantams never crowed 
 after that day.” ’ 
 
544 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 And did they never find out the trick ? ’’ said Lady 
 de Oourcy, who had come in with the children, just re- 
 turned from their walk, in time to hear the story. 
 
 ‘^We kept it a profound secret, said Sir Ulic, till 
 one day Harold, unfortunately in a fit of waggery, let 
 the cat from the bag. We were playing a game of cards ; — 
 Reilly was churlish about trifies, niggardly in his way ; — 
 O'Neill had won the first trick, Lord Granard the second. 
 We were all putting down again, when Reilly announced 
 he would not go in for gambling. ‘ Of course not ; — how 
 could you ? ' cried Harold, in a sally of humour ; ‘ your 
 mother has the purse ! ^ 
 
 At this moment again the door was flung wide, and 
 with astonishment and inquiry depicted on every face, 
 all rose to receive the Bishop of Meath. Adorine glanced 
 at Lady de Courcy, De Burgh looked at Reginald, who, 
 making salam to his visitor, ogled him with visage agape 
 and blank ; Sir Athelstane, looking askance, seemed to 
 squint the interrogation : What’s in the wind now ? 
 
 while May and Bella, auguring nothing but friendly 
 intent, ran to order suitable luncheon (for they were be- 
 ginning to have a voice in domestic management, and 
 believed they took so much trouble off their mother’s 
 hands). When the commotion had somewhat subsided, and 
 the usual ceremonies exchanged, the dignitary, ensconced 
 in an easy chair, wiping his oily visage and recovering 
 his panting breath, surveyed at leisure the group ; then, in 
 reply to Lady de Courcy’s gracious address and hope that 
 his Lordship continued to enjoy his usual good health, his 
 Grace sighed, and made peevish answer : 'Tis verily the 
 
 spirit quickeneth, the flesh availeth nought. I am not 
 well in the spirit.” 
 
 I’m sorry to hear it, your Grace,” said Lady de 
 Courcy, soothingly, and casting an uneasy glance at Lady 
 Fitz Stephen, who being also on a visit with her, had 
 dropped in quietly and unobserved by the rest. 
 
 ‘^Yea!” resumed the bishop, elevating his voice to a 
 high contralto. So many direful manifestations of the 
 wrath of the Lord, portending the advent of the seven 
 angels to pour out the vials of vengeance upon them that 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 545 
 
 bear the mark of the beast, have filled with awe and 
 quaking the souls of the elect.’^ He paused, heaved a deep 
 sigh, knitted his brows, wrung his hands, and gazed 
 menancingly on each one. Yet, not for Jehovah’s voice 
 thundering anathema maranatha, even as once over Sinai 
 his thunders rolled and were defied by them that wor- 
 shipped the golden calf. Not for signs in the air and 
 portents, will the evil-doer leave off his iniqnity, or the 
 impenitent turn to the Lord. Hence, come I to bear tes- 
 timony of the spirit against the reprobate who will not 
 this day incline their hearts to admonition and open their 
 bosoms to the hand of the sower scattering the seed of the 
 Gospel.” His Grace paused in his exordium, turned, and 
 looked fiercely at Fitz Adelm. this true, my son, I 
 
 hear of thee, for evil tongues are busy with thy name and 
 verily save from thine own lips, I will not credit the 
 vile rumour that thou hast departed from the light, that 
 thou hast gone over to Rome and led with thee those silly 
 women, thy sisters ? ” 
 
 Quite true, your Grace,’^ coolly responded Fitz Adelm, 
 dropping his eyes, while those of De Burgh, and all the 
 amazed circle, rested upon his face with inquisitive 
 earnestness. 
 
 The bishop threw up his hands in paroxyism of horror, 
 and moaned: “I foreknew it ! I forewarned thee, un- 
 fortunate young man, what the end would be of gossipry 
 and fostering with the children of darkness, the blasphe- 
 mous progeny of Rome, the God-abandoned, the diabolical 
 minions, and emissaries of Satan.” 
 
 Here,” interposed Sir Illic de Burgh, with flashing eye, 
 
 your Grace shall please to remember that you address an 
 audience composed exclusively of Roman Catholics, whose 
 proudest boast is their union with the centre of unity, 
 their allegiance to the chair of Peter, their subjection to 
 the pontificial ruler of Christendom, their derivation from 
 the parent of Christianity ! ” 
 
 Peace, presumptuous man,” vociferated Hopping ; 
 “ ami forsooth, out of human respect or fear, to be silenced 
 from denouncing jndgm^nt upon sinners or discoun- 
 tenancing error P Fitz Adelm, 1 adjure, even as the Lord 
 
 3U 
 
546 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 adjured the demoniac possessed by the evil spirit, speak, 
 and say what damnable influence urged you to this back- 
 sliding and prevarication before the Lord ? 
 
 ‘‘ Tour own sermon last Sunday, insisting upon our 
 infraction of faith and honour with our fellow-men, and 
 demanding the wholesale slaughter and destruction of a 
 people/’ said Fitz Adelm, haughtily. 
 
 Woe be to ye, Pharisees, who will correct the word of 
 the Lord,” exclaimed the bishop, shaking his clenched fist 
 at all indiscriminately. “ In the Book of Deuteronomy 
 it is written : ‘ If thy son, thy daughter, or thy wife, 
 entice thee and say, let us serve other gods, thine eye 
 shall not pity him, thou shalt surely kill him, and thine 
 own hand shall be the first to slay him.’ Yea, and the 
 cry hath gone forth as of a mighty spirit through the land : 
 
 ‘ The blood of the contumaceous be on their own head. 
 Wilt thou return, Absalom, my son, wilt thou return ere 
 the evil day overtake thee, and thou be reputed with the 
 wicked to share in their ruin ? 
 
 Look you here, bishop,” cried Fitz Adelm, springing 
 to his feet, I have read something of the scriptures 
 also, and I find it written : ‘ I will have mercy, saith the 
 Lord, and not sacrifice.’ A while since brand and faggot 
 had not compelled me to Rome, nor all the seductions of 
 life weaned me from what I had held to be the fold of 
 the elect, but fashioned of a spirit more prone to follow 
 for love than to serve for fear; choosing rather to sip 
 honey than to extract bitter from the holy book ; seeing 
 that the devil can quote scripture and twist its sublime 
 texts to sanction murder, plunder, breach of covenant, and 
 every evil in the Church by law established, and that I 
 have come to trace this Church to its birth and parentage — 
 I must admit most ill-begotten — my ideas have chauged, 
 my spirit has suffered revolution ; a voice has spoken to my 
 heart, even as the Divine voice spoke to the ear of Saul 
 at Tarsus. Had you taken your length, had you limited 
 yourself to condemning evil and converting the sinner by 
 instruction, heart and soul I had leagued with you. I had 
 lifted my voice against error, nay, more, I had lent my 
 aid to eradicate, to disfavour, and discountenance it by 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 547 
 
 all legitimate means, but never would I suffer myself to 
 be trained into the enormity of your measures against my 
 neighbour, who 1 am divinely commanded to love as 
 myself, or against my enemy, to whom I am likewise 
 commanded to do good, not evil, and by charity heap 
 coals of fire on his head. This is the doctrine I find 
 preached in the Church you revile ; hence, it suits me 
 better than that I have abjured.’’ 
 
 ‘^Do you mean, young man, to tell me, explicitly,” said 
 his Grace, that you have made the great Babylon your 
 election ; that, like the prodigal son, you leave your 
 father’s house and go forth to herd with swine, and eat 
 their husks ? ” 
 
 ‘‘ Led by conviction, the more I see and hear,” said 
 Fitz Adelm, I have adopted the Church of Rome. To- 
 morrow my sisters and myself shall be received into its 
 fold — the one fold of one shepherd.” 
 
 Then first hear what may weaken your conviction 
 and change your purpose,” said the bishop, imposingly 
 waving his hand and drawing a document from his bosom. 
 ‘^This,” he added, glancing round the assembly, ‘^also 
 concerns each one present. The legislature, alarmed for 
 the safety of the church and realm by many late de- 
 fections from Protestantism and the growth of Popery, 
 has come to the resolution which will soon be disseminated 
 and made public, to cut the heart out of the evil, to tear 
 up the poison-tree by the root ; hence, attend to the 
 following decreed enactments of which all the prelates 
 have obtained copies.’ 
 
 The Test Act has been already, as you know, issued ; 
 then follows : — ‘ Edict 1st. No Papist shall inherit, 
 possess, buy, or lease land. 2nd. If a Catholic child wish 
 to become Protestant, the child is to be removed from the 
 custody of the father and become owner and master forth- 
 with of the estate. 3rd. No Papist shall live within a 
 walled town. 4th. No Papists shall be permitted to 
 educate their children at home or abroad. They shall 
 also be incapable of being guardians of their own children 
 or of the children of others. 5th. All Papists shall be dis- 
 armed. Gth. Papists shall bo excluded from all pursuits 
 
548 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 of business, trade, or profession. 7th. All Popish priests, 
 prelates, and teachers, shall be banished, or, if found upon 
 the soil after the passing of the Act, be treated as outlaws 
 and guilty of treason. A premium will be offered for the 
 discovery and conviction of all such preachers of sedition 
 and idolatry. The Mass and all superstitions connected 
 therewith, and all that savours of Eome, shall be solemnly 
 interdicted and expunged from the land.’ ” 
 
 There, my friends, is the preamble of the bill, and what 
 you have to expect. What do you say to it?” cried 
 Popping, with a flush of triumph, which he strove in vain 
 to disguise beneath an aspect of meekness, and a ring of 
 exultation in his voice, which an assumed drone, intended 
 for pathos, did not conceal. 
 
 ‘‘ What do we say to it ? ” cried Fitz Adelm, scornfully ; 
 ^‘why this, that my friends won’t suspect I have joined 
 their community to share in the distribution of loaves and 
 Ashes. Tell me, were there great rejoicings in Pande- 
 monium when Lucifer laid his measures for the regene- 
 ration of Ireland before the council ? ” 
 
 Peace, thou scoffer ! ” 
 
 ^^Nay,” apologised Fitz Adelm ; ‘‘1 thought your 
 
 Grace might have known. Tell me this : in the roll of 
 conflscations, which I foresee will be a long one, who is to 
 fall into my shoes, and stand Lord of Santry, that I may 
 pay timely court to his honour, doff my caubeen^ and solicit 
 the grace of being his ploughman or gardener, furnishing 
 his table with bread from my own land, and by the labour 
 of my own limbs ? ” 
 
 “Verily,” smiled Sir Ulic, “the saints are propounding 
 a new definition of the fourth commandment. Henceforth 
 we shall understand that a son is to honour his father by 
 robbing him, and reversing the law of nature by assuming 
 the mastery.” 
 
 “And we’re not to live in walled towns'?” said Sir 
 Eeginald, with a smirk. “ Well, the fresh air of the 
 country always agreed with me, so that’s no grievance ; 
 and we’ll be sure to have the eggs, milk, and butter all 
 the sweeter and fresher, which is a great matter.” 
 
 “ But your Grace does not mean to say,” exclaimed 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DAEKER. 
 
 549 
 
 Lady de Oourcy, with a glance of anxiety at her children, 
 of wrath at the bishop, and of dissatisfaction at her easy- 
 going lord, that a father or mother are not to have the 
 guardianship of their own children ? That were intolerable 
 tyranny ; — I’d rather see mine dead.” 
 
 Just so, my dear,” put in Lady Fitz Stephen. It s 
 to be again, as I’ve seen it before, when the Protestants 
 came into power, the Catholics will be only left the skin 
 on their back to call their own, and maybe not quite so 
 much.” 
 
 Oh, ho ! mighty fine ! ” shouted May and Bella, with 
 clamour of dissent. “ Dr. Dopping, you got up too early 
 this morning, and must have had a nightmare, to imagine 
 that all the laws in creation would make us leave father 
 and mother. Never fear. Mod,” cried May, flinging her 
 arms about her neck ; — here we’ll stay.” 
 
 Till husbands come and take you away,” said Sir 
 TJlic ; — “ that’s what his Grace means.” 
 
 The children laughed. 
 
 But who is to marry us ? And to whom are we to go 
 to confession? And what’ll we do if there’s to be no 
 more Masses, and the priests banished? Now, bishop, 
 are you such a fool as to think we’re going to put up with 
 all that to please you ? ” 
 
 Lady de Courcy gave a chiding look at May. Easy, 
 dear.” 
 
 I know no more than what I have read for you,” said 
 his Grace, rising and filling out half a tumbler of wine, 
 which he quaffed off, but declining to eat, took his leave, 
 in time to encounter Father O’Cuin coming in haste up 
 the stairs. Few words of courtesy passed between the two. 
 The bishop disappeared as the priest entered and was 
 greeted by all, by none more warmly than by Fitz Adelm. 
 
 So ’tis enacted,” cried the humorous Sir Reginald, 
 we are all to go for change of air to the country 
 Father O’Cuin looked very sad, and not disposed to 
 mirth. Dear friends,” he said, gravely, “ I see you have 
 got some inkling of the tidings with which I have come in 
 haste to acquaint you.” 
 
 “ ’Tis evident from what has transpired we have troubled 
 
550 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 times before us/' said Sir Ulic. And so, Atbelstane — 
 he held out his hand — ^^you have come in time for the 
 stripes and other good things that fall to the lot of 
 sinners. You will be mulcted in heavy penalty and for- 
 feiture/’ 
 
 ^‘Psha! I know that,” said Athelstane, disdainfully; — 
 “ I know the greedy sharks won’t leave me as much land 
 as would sod a lark ; and if the sleek bishop does not 
 grasp a goodly portion of the spoil, call me a donkey. It 
 is for my sisters I am concerned ; — a man with sword in 
 hand can cut his fortune through the world.” 
 
 I fear we shall have to fly the country and return to 
 France,” said Lady de Courcy. 
 
 have no doubt that will be the sequel with all those 
 who can do so ; — and what, then, is to become of the poor 
 people left upon our hands ?" said the priest, despondingly. 
 
 However, be that as Grod wills. I’ve come now to warn 
 you all, my friends, of the necessity of leaving Dublin 
 forthwith, and seeking shelter elsewhere. Sir Plantagenet 
 Tudor has arrived in town, and it has come to my 
 knowledge that he, in complicity with some evil-minded 
 persons, has sworn deadly vengeance, not only upon the 
 author of De Eivers’ death, but on all those nearly or 
 remotely connected with it; — hence you have no safety 
 here. There is no law that will protect you from violence 
 and the savage passions of a licensed oligarchy, in whose 
 hands are now vested all prerogative and power. You 
 may be assassinated in the street, murdered in your 
 chamber, outraged with impunity. In flight — immediate 
 flight — alone is your salvation. Let there be no delay 
 gathering what effects you can carry, for I will not 
 guarantee you one hour of immunity from wreck and 
 ruin. Now, the Treaty of Limerick is broken, our masters 
 can work their sovereign will, nor wait for law or edict to 
 sanction their proceedings.” 
 
 Father in heaven !” exclaimed Lady de Courcy, 
 breaking the long pause of silent consternation, with 
 clasped hands and streaming eyes, is this thy will ? 
 Must we, indeed, go forth plundered, beggared, homeless, 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 551 
 
 we know not where ? My children ! my children ! what 
 shall become of you 
 
 Do your part, lady,’' said Father O’Cuin, tears 
 glistening in his eyes, and leave the rest to Him who 
 feeds the young ravens of the desert. He will not be 
 unmindful of your sacrifice for his sake." 
 
 Come, Mod, let's make up our bundles and go,'’ cried 
 the excited children : anything is better than stay here 
 
 to be killed, and the cave is a lovely safe place.'’ 
 
 think I’ll step across, call out Plantagenet, and 
 shoot him,’' said Athelstane, looking quite seriously at 
 De Courcy, whose taste for fresh air, to judge by his 
 sobered countenance, seemed on the decline. 
 
 Better go and fetch hither your sisters, and get away 
 •all together in safety, before inkling of your purpose has 
 got abroad,’’ said Father O’Ouin. I will stay to give 
 you what help I can ; — but for God’s sake don’t delay or 
 waste time.’’ And while the Franciscan was yet speak- 
 ing, a knock was heard at the door. 
 
 Come in,’’ cried Sir Eeginald. The door opened, and 
 Cormac Daly appeared on the threshold. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, Daly, what news ; — what delayed you ? I had 
 expected you yesterday,’’ said Sir Ulic. 
 
 ^‘Plase yer honor, sir, it was onpossible,” cried Daly, 
 coming forward ; ivery fut o’ the way, betune us an’ 
 Dublin, was watched by the vagabones, howsomiver they 
 cum to have any insinse o’ our doin’s ; so Gallopin’ 
 Hogan thought*it best for the priest, Masther Eaymond, 
 Misthress Maud, an’ the rest, to go towards Limerick, an’ 
 wait till they seen the way clear ; — but they’re all well in 
 health ; an’ there’s no one left in the cave but my father, 
 the Kennedys, an’ a few o’ the boys that manes to keep it, 
 seein' their other ways an' means o’ livelihood is cut off. 
 Masther Eaymond bid me for to cum up an’ tell ye all, 
 lest ye’d be onasy." 
 
 “ I’m glad you’ve come,” said Sir Ulic ; — there’s mis- 
 chief brewing, which renders it essential for us to leave 
 Dublin, and we shall need your service. What way did 
 you come ?” 
 
552 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Through Kildare an’ by the Lucan road, yer honor ; — • 
 the Wicklow side is a regular wasp’s hive.” 
 
 I don’t suppose you have yet heard the bad news, 
 Daly continued Sir Ulic. The Treaty of Limerick, 
 which we won at so much cost, is broken. No faith is to 
 kept with the Catholics.” 
 
 Begorra, sir, the whole counthry is ringin’ wid it. 
 Father O’Mara sez there’ll be another parsecution, an’ he 
 sint word to the Dominicans, by rovin’ Barny Taff, to be 
 on their guard, an’ get all the books an’ church property 
 into the crypts, lest they be cum on suddint.” 
 
 Our brothers have been at the same work collecting 
 precious manuscripts, books, vestments, and altar plate, 
 these two days,” said Father O’Ouin. 
 
 What will they say in France when they hear of this 
 atrocious perfidy ?” said Fitz Adelm. 
 
 ‘‘ What will the perpetrators care, so as they achieve their 
 work of spoliation and infamy in the name of religion ?” 
 replied the Franciscan. 
 
 ‘‘ Ho! here comes our friend Lionel Aylmer,” cried Sir 
 Reginald, with beaming smile, as the young ecclesiastical 
 student hurried in with unceremonious speed. “ What 
 news, Lion ?” 
 
 ‘‘ Very bad, very bad !” exclaimed the young man, im- 
 petuously. Have you not heard it ?” 
 
 Well, I daresay we have — the programme of intended 
 doings,” said Sir Reginald. 
 
 “ And what our enemies intend is as good as done,” 
 said Aylmer. The Provincial sent me over to warn you 
 with speed to get out of the way with whatever property 
 in gold or valuables you can secure. Tour estate is down 
 in the list of forfeitures, and the children are to be taken 
 and made over to the Court of Wards by their Draconic 
 law. Catholic parents henceforth are not to possess their 
 own children ; while a premium is held out for children 
 to violate every law of Hod and nature, and become the 
 lords and tyrants of the authors of their being. Truly 
 the fertile ingenuity of the wicked has well nigh ex- 
 hausted invention.” 
 
 “Father, will you order the carriage, and let us fiy,” 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 553 
 
 screamed Bella, addressing her inactive sire, who said, 
 ooking much perplexed ; “I would, if I knew where we 
 are to go.’' 
 
 That won't do/^ said the Franciscan. If you mean 
 to escape, you will have to go secretly ; and, to attract no 
 observation, we must divide ourselves and travel on foot, 
 at least till we have left Dublin behind. This is my plan : 
 let us in detached parties go by different circuits till we 
 arrive all at Cnockmaroon, through the Fion Uisghe* 
 Park, thence we can take council for proceeding all to- 
 gether to Kilkenny or Waterford, which will be a con- 
 venient way to the Shannon in case of departure to 
 France becoming a matter of exigency.” 
 
 That is the best arrangement,” said Sir Ulic, as Fitz 
 Adelm and Father O'Ouin made ready to depart. “ That 
 will bring us into proximity with Hogan and the rest of 
 our friends. ‘ Union is strength.^ Will you come with 
 us. Lion 
 
 I can’t, Sir Ulic ; my post is assigned with that of 
 Father O’Ryan and Brother Laurence on the watch- 
 towers, to give timely notice of the wolf, and warn the 
 flock. I must be off, adieu !” And the young man sped 
 away as swiftly as he came. 
 
 Let’s go and pack, May, and get up all we can take,” 
 cried Bella, the most energetic and practical of the circle 
 in the present emergency.” 
 
 Again Father O’Cuin interposed : — Dress yourselves ; 
 put on as much clothes as you can carry, but take no 
 parcels to excite suspicion ; eat a good dinner to fortify 
 yourselves for the road ; — and now farewell, till we meet at 
 Cnockmaroon as soon as may be.” 
 
 The priest went out with Fitz Adelm ; the children flew 
 to dress themselves ; Sir Reginald hastened to his study, 
 saying, as he went : ‘‘ I’ll take my gun, and plenty of 
 powder and shot, come what may.” 
 
 “ And your sword, father !” shouted May, from the stairs.” 
 “ Daly,” said Sir Ulic, go you on before and see if 
 you could provide some vehicles, carts, waggons, horses, the 
 
 * Fion uisfjhey Fair water, corrupted into Phoenix, anciently belonging 
 to the Knights Templars. 
 
654 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 best you can — to be in wait for us at Onockmaroon. These 
 ladies and children never could get on without some help.^’ 
 Daly waited for no more, but withdrew ; and Adorine, 
 shaking off the lethargic apathy in which she had so long 
 stood motionless, approached Lady de Courcy, who, utterly 
 cast down and helpless, Lady Fitz Stephen was endeavour- 
 ing to comfort and rally. 
 
 Aunty, dear, don’t be so miserable about it/^ said 
 Adorine, kneeling beside her ; things are not so bad.’' 
 Sir Ulic smiled upon the heroine. 
 
 Euined ! ruined !” murmured Lady de Oourcy, in 
 despair.” 
 
 No, aunty ; — listen,” said Adorine, with look and tone 
 as unlike her former self as possible. “ I have assigned 
 over to you and my cousins ten thousand pounds, aunty ; 
 and, though that may not give you all the luxuries you 
 have lost, it will give you the comforts of life.” 
 
 Lady de Courcy burst into tears, clasped Adorine to her 
 bosom, and rushed from the room. 
 
 I never thought aunt would have borne trouble like 
 this so ill,” Adorine mused, looking after her ; then, 
 forgetful or unconscious of Sir Ulic's presence, as her back 
 was turned to him, she continued, in reply to Lady Fitz 
 Stephen, who, lovingly holding her hand, and looking 
 into her face, had said : You are liberality itself ; — would 
 
 not less have sufficed to bestow ?” 
 
 Ah, no ! Lady Fitz Stephen ; I shall not want ; so I 
 have done more. I have left five thousand pounds to 
 Maud, and now there is nothing to prevent her marrying 
 Athelstane, who loves her so much ; then I have left the 
 same to Raymond — he will need it now. And Lady Fitz 
 Stephens,” she hesitated a little, then proceeded firmly, 
 these are no times for standing upon ceremony or 
 punctilio. Sir IJlic has lost all in the general disaster : I 
 have made over to him also five thousand pounds — now, 
 hush ! Lady Fitz Stephen ; I have five thousand pounds 
 still left, more than I shall ever need ; hear what I have 
 to say : Eleanor Fitz Adelm has confided to me that she 
 loves Sir Ulic very dearly.” 
 
 ^‘She loves Sir Ulic dearly, does she?” vehemently 
 
THE SHADOWS FALL DARKER. 
 
 555 
 
 exclaimed Lady Fitz Stephen, her small withered face 
 reddening up like a torch with excitement. What if Sir 
 Ulic dearly loves another ?” 
 
 Mother ! not one word more ; I forbid it, on pain of 
 my displeasure here exclaimed Sir Ulic, hastily coming 
 forward, as Adorine, feeling rather awkward and em- 
 barrassed, stood up, and he sternly gazed on the venerable 
 relative whom he was wont to address by the title of 
 mother. 
 
 ‘^You forbid me! ha, ha, ha ! I like that,^' cried the 
 hardy old lady, not at all daunted by the wrathful 
 menace of the dark countenance bent upon her. A brat 
 that I reared at my knee ! Put away the black dog, my 
 son, from your brow ; not that I fear his snarl or bite, but 
 he does not become you.'^ Adorine laughed, infinitely 
 amused; w^hile Sir Ulic, standing crestfallen before the 
 sultana, looked, to her idea, very like a culprit that 
 had been caught robbing an orchard, and was awaiting 
 the chastisement of his delinquency. ‘‘Do I not know 
 that you loved Adorine — that you loved her from the day 
 you first met ? Then came that ill-omened being De 
 Eivers, to cross your path, whom you would soon have 
 flung like a cur from the way ; — but another came. His 
 love, vehement and outspoken, was, it may be, not so deep 
 as yours ; and yet, for the great love you bore him, mag- 
 nanimously you surrendered self, concealed even from him 
 your feelings, and left the fleld open to Harold. Did you 
 not make me the repository of all this? Did I not 
 council you, and help you, and feel for you as a mother 
 for a child, and am I to be again disappointed and 
 thwarted ? Come, Adorine, my precious one I give my 
 Ulic your hand, and let my gray hairs descend with joy 
 to the grave. 
 
 Adorine's face had undergone a good many varieties of 
 colour and expression during this brief but energetic de- 
 nouement ; now she stood looking at the betrayed and half- 
 confounded, half-hopeful Sir Ulic. A dewy light was in 
 her eye, a pleading smile upon her lip. She looked 
 sorrowfully at Lady Fitz Stephen, then said, in low tone : 
 “Once more. Sir Ulic, be generous, don’t ask to come 
 
656 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 between me and Him to whom I have dedicated the 
 residue of my days ? I know I could be happy with you; 
 I know all the worth, the love I sacrifice; yet would I 
 recall, resume the poor, the unworthy offering of myself, 
 and the inestimable bliss of the hereafter for a few more 
 days of precarious happiness in this perishable world. 
 Ah, no ! you will not ask/' 
 
 > I will not, Adorine. Now the murder is out, and my 
 confession made for me, I am glad of it. There is nothing 
 to be ashamed of in loving the holy and good ; and freely, 
 I own, albeit with some earthly taint of selfish regret, 
 you have chosen the better part. I would now as soon 
 think of appropriating one of the consecrated vessels of 
 the altar.’^ 
 
 Again Lady Fitz Stephen’s hopes were shattered, and 
 he who held his soul in his hand went forth to banish, in 
 the stir and bustle of preparation for departure, every 
 thought that had awhile held dominion of his mind, 
 leaving Adorine somewhat sad in heart, but serenely 
 tranquil in soul. 
 
THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 657 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 “ They bribed the flock, they bribed the son, 
 
 To sell the priest and rob the sire j 
 Their dogs alike were taught to run, 
 
 Upon the scent of wolf and friar. 
 
 Among the poor, 
 
 Or on the moor. 
 
 Were hid the pious, and the true — • 
 
 While traitor knave. 
 
 And recreant slave. 
 
 Had riches, rank, and retinue : 
 
 And exiled in those penal days 
 Our banners over Europe blaze.’ ^ 
 
 Davis. 
 
 On a cold, raw afternoon of a sleety day in the latter end 
 of December, a motley group were assembled round a fine 
 fire in an apartment of the Eoyal Barracks in Dublin, 
 assigned to Colonel Plantagenet Tudor ; beside them a 
 table laden with wine and fruit, dried and preserved, and 
 cigars, aided the brisk fiow of after-dinner conversation, 
 maintained among his particular friends, convened for 
 special occasion, namely, to discuss matters of interest 
 among themselves, and to take council for ultimate pro- 
 ceedings connected therewith. From such conversation a 
 better insight may be obtained into the condition of the 
 times, and a clearer understanding gained of the purposes 
 and plans of a fraternity among whom not one ennobling 
 impulse, not one principle of religion, not one gleam of 
 virtue, exalted, restrained, or purified their deteriorated 
 human nature, or animated, even faintly, bosoms hardened 
 by vicious career, or hearts in which the latent spark of 
 humanity appeared to have died completely out. Dis- 
 similar aspects, too, of the human face divine, set forth in 
 every lineament, graduating from the coarse plebeian, 
 
558 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 heavy, broad, and vulgar, to the refined aristocrat, grace- 
 ful and shapely, and characterised by every expression, 
 from open ferocity to sinister cruelty, were there, all con- 
 verging to one focus, all exhibiting the one brand, the 
 badge, as it were, of the demon lord whom they served and 
 followed. Lolling backward on his chair, his legs crossed, one 
 hand playing with his penknife on the table, the other hold- 
 ing to his lips the freshly -lighted cigar, his half-closed eyes 
 languidly resting upon the blue wreaths of incense curling 
 upward in homage to himself, Tudor Plantagenet was 
 quietly listening to the tidal ebb and flow of converse 
 swelling and extending around him. Major Sir Clot- 
 worthy Grrub, abruptly addressing him, in his peculiar 
 dialect, first invading his repose, compelled him to motion 
 without ruffling his well-bred manner : I say, Tooder — 
 
 the aristocrat shuddered, his pride was affronted at the 
 familiar tone of the low-born associate, but his good sense 
 imposed submission — yer a queer lot for managin^ bisi- 
 ness in this 'ere confounded country, ye are. Now, wot a 
 bungle yer made o' it, to let that there covey escape ; just, 
 as I may say, with yer gun primed, an' yer hand on 'em. 
 I'd like to know, now, where we're to set ’em again, an’ 
 ’ow am I to be paid my two thousand pound, as 'Arvey 
 died in my debt ?” 
 
 You do not consider that Fitz Adelm stands indebted 
 to me in a heavier bond, and that in discharging mine 
 yours will be squared to a certainty,” said Plantagenet ; 
 ^‘but,” he sneered, ‘‘you English are so mercenary, 
 scarcely even the lure of good interest will recompense 
 you for an hour’s delay in grasping the cash down.” 
 
 “ If I wor certain o’ that, I wouldn’t grudge to wait. 
 "Wot’s a few thousand to a fellar as wallers in wealth like 
 as I do,” exclaimed Grrub, with a magnificent flourish of 
 independence. 
 
 “ Then, you may be certain,” grandly returned Plan- 
 tagenet. “ Do you suppose I have given over the chase ; 
 my dogs and huntsmen are scouring on all sides ; we shall 
 set the quarry again. Fitz Eufus, try some olives ; they 
 improve the flavour of wine.” 
 
 ‘‘ I wonder as ’ow the foxes could ’ave made hoff ; some 
 
THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 559 
 
 dog must ’ave barked an’ given ’em notice/’ said Jonas 
 Grub, filling himself out a glass of liquor. I never see 
 such a country as this ’ere is for folk as seems to know 
 things by guess, as can’t speak a syllable yer can depend 
 on for truth, an’ has lines of scout intelligence with one 
 another all hover the land, to warn to ’ide or fly at our 
 approach. Now, if it wor Hengland, do yer think I’d 
 ’ave been till now without cornin’ on the tracks o’ that gal 
 Maud ? I tell yer I wouldn't.” 
 
 Methinks, with great respect, the fault is in ourselves, 
 sir,” droned the Eeverend Tobias Dowse, with demure 
 physiognomy, looking downward in humility. We are 
 too lenient — too lenient by far, with these traffickers in 
 deceit and evil. I said as much to Parson Clutterbuck, a 
 man, I humbly submit, wholly unsuited to his place in the 
 Church as a Protestant divine : too temporising ; — goes in 
 for mild measures ; — in fact, has no zeal against sinners.” 
 Such men, I ’old to be snakes in the grass,” said 
 Major Grub, wrathfully, ’an a hindrance to the better 
 sort. One good thing ’as been done in spite ’o ’em — to 
 shut hup the popish chapels everywhere, an’ banish the 
 priests. It’s a good while now since I laid heyes on one.’' 
 ^‘I'd give fifty gold pieces this moment, ay, more, I 
 could lay my hands on one,” said Plantagenet. “ I’d 
 give a hundred guineas I could lay hold of Priest O’Cuin. 
 It is my belief that the knave, through some unsound 
 Protestant (for all I know Clutterbuck came at an inkling 
 of my designs) got his friends out of the way, and frus- 
 trated my mother. Lady De Rivers, in her object of 
 obtaining the guardianship, for which she had applied to 
 the Court of Wards, of De Courcy’s children. If I could 
 but lay hold of the clever Franciscan, I promise we should 
 not be long arriving at a knowledge of the sanctum sane- 
 tor urn in which he hides his lambs.'’ 
 
 ’Pon my conscience, that’s well said,” exclaimed Sir 
 Clotworthy, displaying his teeth from ear to ear in a huge 
 grin of approbation at this suggestion. ^‘If we could but 
 nab the friar, if there be virtue in rack, faggot, or steel, 
 we’d make ’im speak. O’Brien” — he turned facetiously 
 to that individual, mixing for himself a glass of brandy 
 
560 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 punch — I mean no insinivations agen me own son-in- 
 law ; but tho’, despite yer Hirish name, yer as Henglish in 
 ’art, as any of us, knowin’ the country, an’ in’abitants, ye 
 wor bred an’ born in, shure yer must know all the foxes 
 ’oles in it bettern us strangers ; — now, couldn’t ye be ’onest 
 an’ tip us the wink w^here to find ’em ?” 
 
 To find the priest ?” queried O’Brien, not all at once 
 relishing the idea of turning priest-hunter. Then, quail- 
 ing beneath the feline eyes of Jonas, fixed upon him with 
 fiendlike scrutiny, he stammered : I never had much 
 
 to say to priests at any time, so would make but a sorry 
 bloodhound for the track. Luttrell there would suit you 
 better.” 
 
 All eyes were turned on Colonel Luttrell, who made 
 answer : I came across any of these proscribed outlaws 
 
 I’d pounce on him as readily as I would on a hare. They 
 guess that, I ween, and keep aloof from my path; but as 
 for going among the desperate rapparees and rebels that 
 shelter and foster them, I would hold it an evidence 
 against me of insanity. I mean to live as long as I can.” 
 
 ‘‘Whoo! here’s young Spindleshanks, whose miserly 
 old father won’t allow him more than his hunter, 
 the uniform on his back, and three hundred a year for 
 pocket-money, with which he buys dolls and toys,” 
 exclaimed Lieutenant Eeily, laughingly striking the 
 shoulder of a young ensign, whose handsome features 
 were counteracted by a debased and grovelling expression. 
 
 Come, noodle, you consort with messmates, some of 
 whom go to confession ; — you’re the lad to hunt up the 
 game.” 
 
 There was a chorus of laughter, and Major Grub, 
 turning to the young man, cried : Why, then, cuss that 
 
 hold guv’nor of you’rn, Molloy ; why don’t yer, with the 
 power the law gives yer, make him cum down liberal and 
 ’andsome, to keep you up in station, as a gentleman of 
 fortune should ?” 
 
 I say, Molloy,” exclaimed Fitz Eufus, ‘^why not de- 
 clare your colours boldly, and go in for the estate ^ Wo 
 know you’re but a sham at heart, but I swear it’s a disgrace 
 to a fellow to hedge. Your father, we know, is a bitter old 
 
THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 561 
 
 fanatic, and would send you to blazes ; but your mother’s 
 the right stuff — a regular Neville — and she’ll stand by 
 you.” 
 
 So will we all,” said Plantagenet, Don’t be a fool, 
 Molloy ; go the whole hog ; avow yourself a member of the 
 Established Church ; put yourself into the hands of my 
 lawyer, Mac Bobber, whom I’ll instruct to interest him- 
 self for you ; get the estate out of the hands of your old 
 dotard of a father, before any younger brother or relative 
 be beforehand with you. You need have no qualms 
 about it : hundreds are doing the same. There was 
 Sinclair, Lambert, and Duncan, who have lately appealed, 
 and had suit granted without delay. Besides, you can be 
 as generous to old Hunks as you please afterwards, when 
 you have secured your independence of his crotchety 
 humours.” 
 
 ‘^Ay, true, I never thought of it,” mused young 
 Spindle-Shanks, who, over head and ears in debt, saw at 
 once a pathway through his difficulties. But he also told 
 a lie in this ; for he had often thought of the same ex- 
 pedient, but had been withheld by the thought of what 
 the world would say, until set at rest on that point, by the 
 exhortations of those to whom the world paid court, and 
 the examples cited for his imitiation. Slap dash ! — 
 here goes ; — I’ll see about it to-morrow,” said the young 
 adept, filling out and quaffing with zest a glass of port. 
 
 You’ll do well, Grrub,” observed Plantagenet, to try 
 that sparkling Burgundy.” 
 
 None of your cool wash for me. I’ll stick to the rum 
 toddy and the Hirish whiskey, the only good thing they 
 ’ave,’' said Sir Clotworthy. And now about the priest. 
 •’Pon my conscience, I see the whole thing at a blink. 
 Now, if we could but lay 'old of that Dominican feller, and 
 the chap Aylmer that rescued his intended from Jonas, I'd 
 ’avea way to make ’em discover where she’s ’idden. Just 
 accuse ’em of murder, get a cove to swear ’ard to the fact, 
 'ave ’em sentenced to death, an’, my eye, see if they 
 wouldn’t soon give up the booty.” 
 
 Brief, refiective silence succeeded this suggestion. Then 
 Captain Connor said : — 
 
 67 
 
662 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Now that the hue-and-cry is raised, you will not 
 find it an easy matter to trap one of the cloth. They’re 
 as cute as curlews these friars, and among the people their 
 friends and defenders are legion.” 
 
 Pshaw !” exclaimed Captain Swan, with gesture ex- 
 pressing disgust; “that’s the worst of it. These Hirish 
 rebels have such sympathy with crime and criminals, 
 neither punishment nor bribe, coaxing nor menace, prevails 
 with them to deliver up an offender to justice. They 
 hate law and justice these savages ; — and as for idleness, 
 thieving, and lying, I’d back them against Mercury. 
 Now, we took a prisoner yesterday — my men did — whom 
 they found lurking and loafing about the streets, and sus- 
 pected of evil intentions by his brogue and his thoroughly 
 Popish face. I’ll lay you a wager, if we catechised that 
 knave from this till doomsday one word of truth, one iota 
 of information, we’ll not wring out of him, by fair means 
 or by foul.” 
 
 “ Done !” exclaimed Plantagenet Tudor. “ Let’s have 
 him for sport, if we can make no more out of him. Let 
 us all in turn handle the scalpel, and probe the subject. 
 What wager shall we book ?” 
 
 “Let it be an even bet : five against five,” said Captain 
 Swan, goingto give orders for the prisoner to be brought 
 in. “ Now, gentlemen, there’s a score of us : warriors, 
 theologians, logicians, academicians, and men of erudition 
 pitted against one bog-trotting Hibernian, and I’ve staked 
 my wager on the native to bamboozle us all.” 
 
 In due time the native appeared, and extreme was the 
 surprise and immense the satisfaction of Plantagenet 
 Tudor, Fitz Rufus, the Grubs, and one or two others, 
 when the tall, lathy, sinewy figure, and the sharp, 
 intellectual features of Cormac Daly’s face brightened and 
 smirked before them. 
 
 “ Good heavens !” ejaculated Plantagenet, with well- 
 simulated tone of interest. “ Daly, my man, is it possible ? 
 How came you into such a quandary ? There must be 
 some mistake, Captain Swan ? I’ll go bail to any amount 
 for the valet of my dear friend. Sir Ulic de Burgh, whom 
 I’ve long known as a most quiet, sober, well-conducted 
 man. Set him free at once.” 
 
THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 663 
 
 Long life to yer honour responded Daly, rejoiced 
 at his sudden and unexpected freedom, same time studying 
 with the eye of a phrenologist the faces around him. 
 
 ^‘Have a glass of something, Daly,'^ continued the 
 aflPable Colonel Tudor. What will you take — wine ?’^ 
 
 Begorra, yer honor, I will, wid thanks ; but an’ it be 
 plasin’ to ye Td leifer dhrink yer honor’s an' the company’s 
 health in a glass o’ whiskey, to take the chill off, for it’s 
 mighty cowld entirely, an’ I’m thinkin’ we’ll have another 
 fall o’ snow.” 
 
 Here, Paddy,” exclaimed Jonas Grub, delighted at 
 the Irishman’s preference for the more lively stimulant, 
 while a dangerous light gleamed in his eyes, as mentally 
 he calculated : Now we'll get the priest out of him, and 
 
 when that comes — we’ll have the rest.” 
 
 My name’s Cormac, sir ; that’s the name I was 
 christened by : Paddy was my grandfather’s name. Lord, 
 ha’ mercy on him ; — an’ my elder brother, God rest his 
 sowl, had it; an’ I wouldn’t make so bould to set yer 
 honor right in the matther,only thim as is strhangers thinks 
 we all go by the one name, and is Paddies. Long life and 
 sonaher^ to yer honor,” and Cormac complacently drained 
 a good measure of the exhilarating liquor, set down the 
 goblet, wiped his lips, and made ready for the investigation 
 his intuitive perception warned him was coming. 
 
 And so, Daly, your master is in town said Pian- 
 tagenet, insidiously striking, as he imagined, the first 
 chord in the instrument aright. 
 
 Is he, sir ?” responded the instrument, in a sharp note 
 of surprise. 
 
 I thought so, by your being here. Are you no longer 
 in his service?” 
 
 Cormac looked down at his feet for inspiration, 
 obtained it, and glanced up at the questioner : Well, I 
 
 can’t say, yer honor, as that I’m just now, I left him a 
 week ago. The times is changed, an’ thim as wor well to 
 do, is hard set now to make buckle and tongue meet*— - 
 more’s the pity.” 
 
 * Good wife. 
 
564 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 Ah, yes. So you’ve come up to look for a new place 
 
 Throth, yer honor has just hut it off to a T.” 
 ril do the business for you. Call on me to-morrow,” 
 said Plantagenet. 
 
 ^^Musha, the Lord bless yer honor, and mark ye to 
 grace ! Shure, it’s yerself is the good warrant to sarve a 
 poor man. May ye niver know sorra. Colonel jewel,” 
 exclaimed Laly, with exuberant gratitude. I’ll be 
 shure to be wid ye to-morra, sir, if the Lord wills.’' 
 
 I'm glad to see you’re religious ; — but I supppose your 
 prejudice will not brook your going to Church, ,or ex- 
 changing the priest for the minister ?” 
 
 All eyes shot a keen glance at the instrument. The 
 instrument was up to tune, and responded in deep bass : 
 ^‘I've nothin’ to say agin the new Church an' the 
 parson, yer honor, but somehow the ould custom has a 
 great hould of us entirely.” 
 
 ‘‘ No doubt, my poor fellow, I pity you very much for 
 these abominable laws made against all of your persuasion. 
 How do you get on now that all of your places of worship 
 are closed against you ? ” 
 
 Musha, badly enough, yer honor. Howaniver, shure 
 we must be obadient to the law.” 
 
 An excellent sentiment ; — does you credit, my man. 
 But what do you do without the priest to shrive you and 
 minister to those who are dying ? ” 
 
 Ochj musha, it’s a poor way enough we’re in, yer 
 honor.'’ 
 
 But,” cried Fitz Eufus, I’ll be bound your priests 
 have not all deserted their flock — he winked at the com- 
 pany. You have, no doubt, some pass-word by which 
 you would know, if you were in a street, where to find a 
 ghostly comforter ? ” 
 
 Musha, I dunna ! ” responded Daly, putting on an 
 air of dull stupidity, while with a seemingly vacant stare, 
 he explored the hidden depths of the interrogator. 
 
 Take another sup of your mountain dew,” cried Major 
 Grub, observing his flagging spirit. It’s fine stuff for 
 putting life. in a fellar.'’ 
 
 Much obleeged to yer honor,” said Daly, but if I 
 
THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 565 
 
 took more nor a thimbleful, it ud git into my head — l\e 
 a wake head, yer honour — an^ make me spake foolish/' 
 Oh, come, then, take a glass of wine ; that won’t harm 
 you,'’ cried Plantagenet, filling out half a tumbler of Port. 
 ‘‘TWo; — toss that off.” 
 
 ‘^Long life to yer honor. Lord, spare ye,” Daly drinks, 
 and revives. 
 
 And so, ahem ! your master has left town ? You must 
 give me his address that I may apply to him for a 
 character of you — a mere matter of form, you understand, 
 as I am a man of business. I engage you upon my own 
 opinion of you. I should like as well to write to my 
 friend — I might have it in my power to serve him also ; — I 
 have interest at court. And there’s that fellow, Fitz 
 Adelm, that shot my poor brother. Well, I was very 
 wrathful about it for a time ; but after all, now I am cool, 
 I can see it was more accident than ill-will. Harvey 
 was as much to blame ; and I’d like to show these gentle- 
 men that I harbour no malice, now that the angry fit is 
 blown by. It is to Limerick they went ? Sir Ulic 
 would be more likely to betake himself to Galway, the 
 headquarters of his kinsman, the Clanricarde.'’ 
 
 Och, if I know, yer honour. I heerd the gintleman 
 spakin’ o’ Belfast, an’ say in’ parts o’ the North was the 
 best in the counthry for game.” 
 
 Belfast ! ” reiterated the inquisitor, with a look of 
 surmise at his friends that did not escape the vigilance of 
 the witness. You think they went to Belfast ? — of 
 course it is natural that one so much in the confidence of 
 Sir Ulic should be aware of all his movements. Can you 
 tell me what became of the De Courcys; — whither did 
 they fiy ? ” 
 
 Och, bedad, yer honor, sorra wan o’ me knows, 
 barrin' it's to France I heerd ’em spakin’ of. God speed 
 ’em, anyway, whersomiver they wint. The ould masther 
 hasn't left his patthern behind him for goodness.” 
 
 “ 'Ow did they get away so sly and snug, all of ’em ? ” 
 said Major Grub, peeling an apple. 
 
 ‘‘Did the priest, O’Ouin, go with them?” demanded 
 the parson. 
 
666 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ‘‘Pick yer way over the stones, avic! ’’ thought Daly, 
 as he stood in silence investigating the investigator. 
 
 “ Come now, Paddy.^^ 
 
 “ I asks yer pardon, Cormac,’' cried Grrub, pleasantly ; 
 “ weVe a wager on it just for the fun o’ it. There’s a lot 
 o’ fellars ’ere says as ’ow Hirish is so tarnation stoopid as 
 ’ow yer wouldn’t take a lob o’ goold an’ tell us where to 
 find a priest.” 
 
 “ That depinds what yer honor would want wid 
 him ? ” said Daly. 
 
 “ Just a wager, nothing more ! ” exclaimed Plantagenet. 
 “ And I’ve bet on you. Whisper, Daly, tell us where 
 O’Cuin, the Franciscan, is to be found, and I’ll make it 
 worth your while. A good situation, with twenty guineas 
 in hand, is not to be sneezed at.” 
 
 “ For soilin’ the priest, is that what yer honour manes ? ” 
 exclaimed the instrument, now twanging discordant keys, 
 and looking disagreeably out of tune as well. 
 
 “ Pooh, my dear fellow ; how hot your blood is. Don’t 
 bolt like an untrained horse startled at the beat of a 
 drum. Did I .not tell you it is all a frolic ? ” 
 
 “ Shure, I knew it was, yer honor ; — for in regard o’ 
 turnin’ thraitor, like Judas Iscari’t, an’ sell a dhrop o’ the 
 priest’s blood, I’d rayther gi’ ye my own for nothin’.” 
 
 “ Of course, of course,’’ shouted all. “ What put into 
 your lumber-loft we wanted priest’s blood, as though we 
 were witches brewing round a caldron. You Hirish 
 are a suspicious lot, and look with an evil eye on your 
 best friends. How can we improve or benefit you ?” 
 
 “ Musha, maybe yer’re right, gintlemen, in the regard 
 o’ some,” said Daly ; “ an’ yet there’s a power as isn’t 
 so slow to make hay while the sun shines” — he looked 
 hard at Captain Connor, Reilly, Molloy, and O’Brien ; — 
 “ but shure the gintlemen has got a good edication, an’ 
 knows betther nor us, and has, more betoken, grand 
 English blood in their veins, an’ maybe the dirt wouldn’t 
 stick to thim like to us. We have a say in’, yer honor, the 
 ‘ butther ’ill come out o’ the stirabout,’ an’ why shouldn’t 
 it, an’ why shouldn’t a man show in his cheek the 
 blood he comes o’ ; — thim as have none can’t show it.” 
 
THE CONCLAVE IN CONVENTION. 
 
 667 
 
 This ambiguously couched speech set all thinking, till 
 Jonas Grub, incensed at his anticipations being foiled, 
 and scowling at the twinkling eyes of Captain Swan pro- 
 claiming his triumph, lost temper, and said, ferociously : 
 
 ‘‘ You cuss of an ^eathen, if I ’ad my way with yer, I’d 
 shake wot I wanted out o’ yer bones instead of hofferin’ 
 a bribe to such a ’og as doesn’t understand its walloo. I’d 
 as soon think of goin’ to the pig in my sty an’ askin’ him 
 to grunt me a tune for a guinea.” 
 
 Shure enough, yer honor ; it’s a ring in his nose ; — id 
 do that best.” 
 
 ‘‘I wish I ’ad a ring in yer tongue. Warn’t it you as 
 led Colonel Bruen the wild goose chase in pursuit of the 
 rapparees he got never a sight of?” 
 
 How could I help it, yer honor, if the rapparees out- 
 run us an’ got off. I rode his honor many a mile 
 afther ’em that night, shure enough.” 
 
 An’ wot become o’ the hofRcers of King William ye 
 wor a-guidin’ of — did yer murder ’em, an’ ’ide ’em after 
 in a bog ’ole ? ” 
 
 Throth, they didn’t wait for me to come back, the 
 crathurs.” 
 
 So you won’t take the gold for the sport of it, and 
 win my wager?” said Plantagenet, insinuatingly. Come, 
 don’t be a superstitious fool ; — that’s no part of your creed, 
 not to tell a friend where to find a friend. Here’s the 
 gold. Just whisper me — you needn’t tell anyone else 
 — where shall I find Father O’Cuin ?” 
 
 Daly took the gold and pocketed it. God spare yer 
 life, sir ; I’ll find it out for ye.” 
 
 That won’t do, my good fellow ; you must tell me 
 now.” 
 
 Och, musha, yer honor, be reasonable. How would 
 ye expect me to tell ye till I knew meself ?” 
 
 ‘‘Then why did you take the gold ?” 
 
 “ Didn’t yer honour give it to me ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, in confidence you would give the information 
 I desired.” 
 
 “ An’ shure so ye may trust mo. Is it Cormac Daly 
 desave a gintleman as had the goodness to hire him into 
 
568 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 his sarvice, an’ that I’m to go to to-morrow. Och ! how- 
 aniver, I’ll go now ; an’, plaze God, whin I’ll find him 
 out among my comrogues, the next time yer honour sees 
 me, I'll have his reverence’s addhress for ye.” 
 
 Well, I’ll trust you. And if you disappoint me, I’ll 
 have you pursued, taken, and skinned like an eel.’’ 
 
 Never fear, yer honor ; — me disappoint ye ! — och ! ” 
 Daly disappeared. When safe outside of the door, he 
 turned, put oflF his aggrieved- look, shook his clenched fist, 
 and muttered with a dark frown : — “ Oh, ye spalpeens ! 
 ye company o’ ravens, and carrion crows, an’ vultures ; 
 ye unnatural bastes, where was yez born an’ reared at all ?” 
 He made hasty strides forward, soliloquising : Yees, 
 
 thought to put the cumhether on me, to betray my masther 
 an’ his frinds, an’ to sell the priest ! Begorra, it’s yer- 
 selves is sould ; for, if iver ye see Cormac Daly agin, it 
 won’t be wid my good-will ; — an’ the goold, bad luck to 
 ’em ’tisn’t a dbrop in the ocean of all they’ve robbed us. 
 Phew ! It didn’t turn out so unlucky afther all, my bein’ 
 taken, special as I did the business I come on. An’ now, 
 Dublin agra, I won’t throuble ye for a bed to-night. I’ll 
 just step in to Granny Levi's to change my appurl an’ come 
 out in a new characther, an’ whin ye see me agin, ye’ll 
 ring joy bells for Cormac Daly.” 
 
 Are you willing to lose more money, Tudor?” said 
 Luttrell, smiling as Daly withdrew. 
 
 No ; — why ? ” 
 
 ‘^I’ll wager you a crown piece you’ll never see sight or 
 sign of the fellow again.’’ 
 
 ‘‘ 111 ensure against that,” replied Plantagenet, rising. 
 
 I’ll have him placed under surveillance, and tracked to 
 his den.” 
 
 Cogs bones ! ” exclaimed J onas Grub, elated with 
 sudden inspiration ; — the very thing ! Let him go ; — 
 set the hounds on his track, and, my life on’t, they'll dodge 
 him to his lair. We’ll have the covey yet.” 
 
 And a few priests’ heads brought into market will 
 indemnify me for my loss,’' smiled Plantagenet; ‘^though 
 I deem the train I have already laid cannot fail to snare 
 the prey.” 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AEFRION. 
 
 569 
 
 Wot’s that ?” growled the Major; — ‘‘to hact in dis- 
 guise ourselves, an’ lay our gins an’ traps. Wall, I 
 doant say but as ’ow it’s a good un ; — let’s try it.” 
 
 “ Tes,” said Planta genet, “ as we all disperse to-morrow 
 to our several depots and stations, it will be easy of execu- 
 tion, I anticipate.” 
 
 ‘‘Down with my wager!” cried Swan, exultingly, “I 
 told you my Hibernian would be the winning horse, and 
 it were so had you examined him till the ides of March 
 next. The fellow has got your twenty guineas ; how 
 much have you gained in return ? — not the value of a 
 farthing. Marry, sirs, let’s drink to the health of Paddy !” 
 “ He said he ’ad a bad ’ead ; — why didn’t yer make ’im 
 dhrunk an’ riddle ’im ? ” grumbled Jonas. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE CORRIG-AN-AEFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 
 
 Rise, too, ye shapes and shadows of the past, 
 
 Rise from your long-forgotten graves at last : 
 
 Let us behold your faces, let us hear 
 The words ye uttered in those days of fear ! 
 
 Revisit your familiar haunts again — 
 
 The scenes of triumph and the scenes of pain.” 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 Disguised so far as means immediately within their 
 compass admitted, for the most part woollen mantles 
 with hoods, such as worn by the humblest peasantry, the 
 De Courcys and their friends, under the skilful guidance 
 of Daly, and guarded by Sir XJlic de Burgh, Fitz Adelm, 
 Father O’Cuin, and Sir Reginald, also provided with 
 cotamores concealing their ordinary habilaments, arrived 
 safely at Kells, about six miles from Kilkenny, where it was 
 deemed advisable for the ladies to rest a few days from their 
 
570 
 
 LElXLir CASTLE. 
 
 unwonted fatigue. A longer sojourn, however, was enforced, 
 when it was announced to them by Daly, their inde- 
 fatigable scout as well as guide, that all the seaports were 
 watched by emissaries of those in power — Dr. Dopping, 
 Lady De Eivers, Sir Plantagenet Tudor, and the 
 Grubs — interested each that the object of desire should 
 be debarred from escape, or successfully captured in the 
 attempt ; eonsequently abodes of temporary permanence 
 became requisite, till such indefinite period as the hot 
 pursuit relaxed, might enable them to pursue their destined 
 way to happier lands beyond the sea. Hence, behold the 
 nobles of the soil, the once bright constellations of an 
 exalted social sphere, which they had adorned by every 
 quality and grace of mind and person, intrinsic worth, and 
 peerless excellence, thrust from their high estate by the 
 unholy hand of persecution, and reduced to live with the 
 lowliest of the poor, sheltered within mud walls, beneath 
 thatched roofs, hidden, even these obscure tenements, in 
 sequestered nooks, from the lynx-eyed vigilance of the 
 pursuer. Their silken array and every insignia of birth 
 and rank discarded, nought remained to distinguish them 
 from the class whose garb they had assumed, save the in- 
 herent nobility of presence, the high bearing, courteous 
 demeanour, and patrician lineament of which it was beyond 
 their power to divest themselves. Lady de Oourcy occu- 
 pied her days, as soon as she had recovered from the 
 prostrating effects of the terrible shock that had scattered 
 her fortune, keeping order in her tenement of three rooms, 
 with earthen floor, alternately spinning and knitting. 
 Adorine, to whom excitement, privation of the comforts to 
 which she had been used, and the inclemency of the season, 
 had brought a return, though slight, of her former illness, 
 accompanied by a cough, mostly employed herself reading 
 books, supplied, according as they could obtain them, by 
 Sir Ulic and Fitz Adelm. The two children, May and 
 Bella, lamenting the glories and comforts of the cave of 
 Dunmore, amused themselves rearing fowl and planning 
 a garden of summer flowers, while their father hunted, 
 fished, and otherwise purveyed for the family need. In a 
 hut, some twenty yards distant, consisting of two rooms, 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 571 
 
 Lady Fitz Stephen, with Sir TJlic, had taken up their 
 abode. Beyond them again, a few hundred feet, the Fitz 
 Adelms, in a three-roomed shieling, buried in a deep dell, 
 had made their residence ; while among the peasantry, 
 scattered broadcast over the wild district, most of the 
 former fugitives of Dunmore, including Brian Toole and 
 his mother, had located themselves. Father O’Cuin led a 
 Bedouin existence, camping with many other wanderers — 
 Franciscans, Jesuits and Dominicans, Augustinians and 
 Benedictines, expelled from their convents, and living 
 promiscuously among the sympathising flock, helping 
 them in need, guarding them in danger, teaching their 
 children, comforting the sick, ministering to the dying, 
 cheering the afflicted, restraining the maddened, sharing 
 their frugal fare, and often sleeping on sheaves of straw in 
 sheds and barns for lack of better accommodation. Truly, 
 if persecution exhibited human nature in its darkest shade 
 and most revolting phase, so also it developed a divinity 
 within it in gleams, many a one of transcendent beauty 
 and loveliness, it brought to light the hidden jewel of 
 many a virtue, to be newly-set and polished into higher 
 lustre in the able hands of the skilled artificer. The ad- 
 mirable constancy of mind, the invincible patience that 
 endures in silence, the magnanimous self-denial, the forti- 
 tude in suffering, the generous resignation, the eagle-eyed 
 faith, the trustful hope, the sublime charity that forgives 
 and seeks no vengeance, all these bloom out in glorious 
 assemblage in the burning heat of martyrdom ; nay, 
 more, the lesser yet not less sweet flowers of human sym- 
 pathies put forth bud, and leaf, and fruit, in the hour of 
 fiery ordeal ; minds are joined in bond of union between 
 which exist no other connecting-chord, and hearts are 
 drawn together which else no magnet had attracted to a 
 common centre. Thus it proved in the case of the noble 
 outcasts. No sooner was it bruited around the neighbour- 
 hood that the families of gentlemen, proscribed for the 
 faith, had taken shelter among them, than the neighbours 
 were up on all sides, each striving to outdo the other in 
 condolence and offers of assistance. One would bring 
 creels of turf to make a fire for the children, while 
 
572 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 another would run of a message to fetch or carry. The 
 women brought store of new-laid eggs, fresh butter, and 
 griddle cakes, while confidentially they exhorted the lady 
 to keep up her heart, that the sun would shine out after 
 the thunder, and all would come right again. Never did 
 they trespass with vulgar freedom in right of their little 
 services, or attempt to overstep the fallen barrier which 
 had levelled the fence of social distinction between the 
 humble and the higher born. Among these instinctively 
 tutored children of nature’s loftier conception came with 
 her ready and most welcome contribution of unrequited 
 service Norah Toole, to wash, to cook, to scour, to assist 
 in every possible way the darlin’ family — by which she 
 included all the friends as well — that she had lived wid 
 years upon years, till she was all as one as ’emselves, an’ 
 had a right to her help, therefore they had. 
 
 About five or six weeks had elapsed since the fugitives 
 had found asylum in the solitary wilds of Kells ; their 
 sufferings and privations, though, as we have seen, much 
 mitigated by the ministry of their humble friends, were 
 yet severe and many. They did not, indeed, much reck 
 that their surroundings were of the meanest ; that three- 
 legged stools and deal tables composed their furniture ; 
 that wooden trenchers and yellow delf made up their plate 
 and china ; that their pallets, laid on canvas stretchers, 
 were of flock, and their covering coarse and rude, while it 
 was sufficient, or their diet plain, while it was abundant ; 
 but they missed some of the reflnements and luxuries, and 
 many of the necessities of their former life. Strong, hob- 
 nail shoes, replacing wornout Morocco slippers, tore their 
 feet ; good milk, in abundance, was no substitute for tea ; 
 chocolate and wine were no longer attainable; a huge turf fire, 
 blazing in the ample chasm called a grate, did not exclude 
 the piercing wind that screamed for entrance at the rickety 
 door, blew fiercely down the chimney and rattled the one 
 small pane of glass in its frail sash, nor the heavier storm 
 that boomed like thunder through the sky, threatening to 
 overturn the tottering walls ; while snow-drifts, piling on 
 every side, for whole days confined them prisoners within 
 their limited range. Then, when it happened, as was 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 573 
 
 frequent, that Father O’Ouin, or some other priest, sent 
 notice that Mass was at such an hour, on such a day, to be 
 said at some appointed spot, one time a rock in the gorge 
 of the hill, another within the precincts of same ancient 
 ruin — oh ! the long dreary midnight march in cold and 
 darkness to reach it ; the return, chilled and weary, often 
 wet through with heavy rain ; then the haunting fear of 
 the ever-impending sword above. It was more than 
 nature could sustain unscathed. The young and vigorous 
 scarcely bore it; May and Bella were never without 
 sore eyes, toothaches, and chilblains, but the older and 
 more weakly succumbed still more. Sir Reginald suffered 
 from rheumatism; Lady de Courcyfromfailingstrength,loss 
 of appetite, and perpetual headache; and Adorine’s health 
 declined perceptibly. The Fitz Adelms and Lady Fitz 
 Stephen better sustained their dire reverse of circumstance. 
 
 It was a fine evening the 4th of January, so far that no 
 snow had fallen for a couple of days. The air was calm 
 and clear, the sky serene, and frost appeared to be setting- 
 in. The country all around was covered with a deep 
 shroud of snow. The family in De Courcy’s hut were 
 drawn round the fire, the table was laid for the even- 
 ing meal, and a large saucepan of savoury Irish stew 
 was simmering upon the hob. Lady de Courcy's hands 
 were idly folded on her lap as she sat musing in her straw 
 chair — a present from Brian Toole ; Adorine, seated on a 
 boss, was knitting a sock ; May and Bella, with nimble 
 fingers, were winding balls of yarn, sitting ondhe hearth. 
 The latch was lifted, and SirUlic, stamping the snow from 
 his feet, came in : — “ God save all here His cheery 
 voice resounded like music on the threshold. Adorine 
 put by her knitting, and the children threw away their 
 work and sprung delightedly to greet him. 
 
 You are welcome, you see, as the flowers of May,’’ 
 smiled Lady de Oourcy. Como over and take a seat 
 near the fire. Have you any news ?” 
 
 Sir Ulic advanced. ‘‘ Where’s Reginald ?” 
 
 ‘^Not come home yet. We are waiting supper for him 
 and Father O'Cuin ; — stay and join us. How’s Lady 
 Fitz Stephen ?” 
 
574 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Sir Ulic, casually turning, his eye fell upon Adorine 
 smiling with an expression of arch humour, which in- 
 stantly ignited in him a sympathetic impulse of mirth. 
 He smiled, and said : What amuses you, Adorine 
 
 “ Nothing; — just a thought ; — don^t ask me.’’ And she 
 laughed outright. 
 
 ‘‘ Nothing ; — just a thought. Come, I must know,” 
 he said, playfully imperative. What is it?” 
 
 Then, if you must, imperious knight,” she returned — 
 ‘4t just occurred to me how ludicrously sound such titles 
 amid such entourage. Pardon me, I could not repress the 
 emotion it excited.” 
 
 It seems, indeed, a burlesque — a kind of satire upon 
 ourselves, a piece of droll absurdity, of incongruity ; and 
 were we doomed to perpetuate the condition of things, it 
 were, no doubt, judicious to change with our vesture such 
 title of pretention ; yet, as we trust our position is but 
 transient and temporary, we may continue to retain our 
 charter. I shall be glad to sup with you, Lady de Courcy, 
 for Lady Fitz Stephen has gone to spend the evening with 
 the FitzAdelms. I am very unhappy hearing no tidings, 
 with all my exertion, of Maud, Raymond, and the others, 
 including Daly, of whom there is no account. I travelled 
 miles since breakfast, in hopes of meeting him, and yet no 
 sign.” 
 
 Dreary silence for some moments ensued, then Lady de 
 Courcy said : “ We must hope the best. The country is so 
 beset they may find it necessary to keep aloof. Brian Toole 
 was down this morning with a fine salmon and a bundle of 
 faggots. He has been through Carlow, Kilkenny, and 
 Waterford, and says the whole country is infested with 
 spies in every form: they could not, therefore, venture 
 abroad.” 
 
 ‘‘ Nevertheless,” said Sir Ulic, Archy Conway told 
 me there was a fire seen on Christmas morning on the top 
 of the round tower of Ardmore in Waterford. Now, that 
 indicated Mass was to be celebrated there ; — yet, would they 
 venture, if there was risk so imminent ?” 
 
 I don't know,” replied Lady de Courcy ; and, as she 
 spoke, the children shouted : 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 575 
 
 Here’s father — I hear his voice.” They flew to the 
 door, and Sir Eeginaid entered with a gun on his shoulder 
 and a brace of hares in his hand ; Father O’Ouin, dis- 
 guised as a boatman from the Shannon, returning with 
 some nets ; and, behind them, a masculine woman, an 
 itinerant vendor of wares, which she carried in a large 
 pack upon a pair of shoulders that did not appear incom- 
 moded by the burden. 
 
 Grood-evening Ulic ; I’m glad to see you;” said Sir 
 Eeginaid, depositing his gun and throwing the hares and 
 a mallard in a corner. How’s the head, Nell : — Cough 
 better, Adorine? — Toothache gone, May? — Nell, here’s 
 a decent woman we picked up on the way, and who has 
 some things to sell. She asks a mouthful to eat and a 
 shakedown for the night ; to-morrow you can look at the 
 goods.” 
 
 Thoughtless, good-natured Sir Reginald ! 
 
 Lady de Courcy glanced at Sir Ulic and at Father 
 O’Cuiri, who stood neuter and silent. She did not like the 
 appearance of the woman — her great size, sturdy flgure, and 
 shrouded face. Then, where could she put her? — except 
 to let her lie by the hearth before the Are on a sheaf of 
 straw. She felt frightened and annoyed with Sir Eeginaid, 
 who kept joking and laughing with the children, while 
 Norah Toole, who came forth from the mysterious recess of 
 some inner chamber, busied herself dishing supper. 
 
 Sir Ulic did not like the aspect of the applicant for 
 shelter more than did Lady de Courcy. He stood up, 
 drew near, commenced a close scrutiny of her person, 
 beginning at her feet and terminating in the inspection of 
 the flapping borders of her white muslin cap, her greasy 
 white hair, and cunning eyes. The whole survey was un- 
 satisfactory, and Sir Ulic, with an uncomfortable glance at 
 Lady de Courcy, proceeded to address the female, saying : 
 “ Put down your bundle, good dame; — let me help you ; — 
 how heavy it is ! You cannot have come from a dis- 
 tance?” 
 
 “Every fut o’ the way from Dublin, thin, yer honor; 
 sorra word o’ lie in it,” responded the woman, in a cracked, 
 strained sort of voice that did not seem natural. 
 
576 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 From Dublin ! You did not come all the way on foot 
 carrying that coach load 
 Yis, thin, an’ hard set.’'’ 
 
 That’s the largest part of the truth. Were I satisfied 
 of the whole, I’d cease to marvel at the feat of camel or 
 dromedary ; I might soon speculate upon joining a caravan 
 and ask to hire you to take my merchandise across the 
 desert. What’s your name ?” 
 
 My name is it, yer honor 
 Yes ; take your time and choose a handy one.” 
 ‘‘Well, yer honor, my name’s my own, an’ I don’t 
 choose to part wid it to everyone that asks for news ; an’ 
 I wouldn’t stay here an’ trust myself among yees wid all 
 the goold an’ property I carry, only I know by yer looks 
 yees are quality, throth.” 
 
 Every cheek flushed and every heart beat quick. 
 
 “ Where did you come by so much gold and property — 
 whom did you rob ?” demanded Sir XJlic, confidentially. 
 
 “ Faix, thin, yer honor, I robbed no one; I got the 
 goold honestly from a rich gintleman that engaged me to 
 sell ’im a priest. I wondher is there one here about ; 
 maybe yees could tell me ?” And, while all eyes stared 
 in horror, the female looked searchingly at Father O’Cuin. 
 
 Here a yell arose, and Norah Toole, brandishing a sauce- 
 pan, rushed forward : “ Och, ye vagabone ! ye deluderher ! 
 ye varmint, wid blood-money in yer pocket ! Get out o’ 
 this, ye hussy ! ye big heap of a female ! Stan’ back, 
 Sir IJlic ; — let me at her ! Och, Queen o’ Glory ! Och, 
 Son o’ the Vargin !” Norah pounced upon the varmint, 
 seized her coiffure — the point of attraction — tore it ruthlessly 
 away, and paused in fury, confounded, to stare at Cormac 
 Daly, grinning in the alarmed circle. 
 
 “Daly !” exclaimed his master, sternly; “howdare you ?” 
 “ Why, thin, sir, I axe yer honor’s and the lady’s 
 pardon,” said Daly, at once humble and subdued ; “ but, 
 yerra, I couldn’t help the humour that come over me to 
 show yees the characther I had to get away in. He flung 
 off the cloak and an apron, wiped the chalk out of his hair 
 with the latter, and, not discouraged by Sir Ulic’s repri- 
 manding air and silence, continued : “ Ay, in throth, it 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 677 
 
 was in prison they had me for three days, the vagabones, 
 bekase I couldn’t give an account o’ myself ; more be- 
 token, I made out the Dominicans, an’ seen young Father 
 Aylmer, an’ he tould me for ye to have no fears about 
 Masther Eaymond an’ the rest. Father O’Mara is wid 
 ’em, an’ that’s all he’d tell. So, at the ind o’ the three 
 da}^s, as I was bemoanin’ an’ fearin’ I’d never see yees 
 agin, an ordher comes for me to go before Sir Plantagenet 
 Tudor an’ a sight o’ officers an’ gintlemen, an’ if they 
 didn’t show me civility galore ; an’ mighty consarned he 
 was for yer honor, an’ wanted to hire me, thinkin’ I was 
 out o’ place, an’ gev me twinty goold guineas to put him 
 on the thrack where he’d find Father O’Cuin, ‘just for 
 sport, to win a wager.’ ‘Musha,’ sez I, lookin’ at ’em in my 
 own mind, ‘if yees take me for an omadhaun^ bekase I’m a 
 Paddy, I’ll tache yees to the diflPer.’ So he puts the goold 
 into my hand — ‘ Lord spare yer honor’s life/ sez I, lettin’ 
 on to make-believe as I’d do his biddin ; thin, whin I got 
 my legs out o’ it, oflf I goes an changes my gear at Grranny 
 Levi’s ; got her to buy me tay, sugar, an’ a lot o’ things 
 yees’ll find in the sack, that I thought I’d be of use, as 
 well as help me along. An’ sure enough, as I guessed, 
 didn’t the villains sind their scouts afther me, an’ miles out 
 o’ my way I had to go to dodge thim. One time it was a 
 hoccagh in rags come to ax me for alms, an’ I knew by the 
 white linen, that peeped through a rint, that he was no 
 poor man ; thin comes a gossoon, axin’ his way to such a 
 place, an’, by the cock o’ his eye, I seen he was siftin’ me ; 
 thin’ comes an ould woman hoblin’ on a crutch, an’ keeps 
 cosherin’ along the road wid me. I knew by the questions 
 she axed, an’ the length she come along, she wor a desaver. 
 
 ‘ Mam,’ sez I, ‘ it’s no wondher ye have sich a dale o’ 
 knowledge, ye ax so many questions; but it bates wondher 
 how an ould woman on a crutch could walk so many miles 
 widout restin.’ Afther that she dropped off. To make 
 an end of it, yer honor, I was greatly harished along the 
 way till I kem across the masther an’ his raverence here ; 
 an’, sure, as they wor in disguise, I thought it betther not 
 let on anything till we got home ; an’ I hope yer honor 
 
 38 
 
578 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 an’ the ladies ’ll forgive me the thrick, for mighty glad, 
 entirely I am to see yees again.” 
 
 ‘‘You endangered your own life,” said SirUlic. “Suppose 
 Sir Reginald or I had shot you, or that stout woman had 
 broken your head with the saucepan. Gro home to Cathleen, 
 she’s miserable about you.” 
 
 “ Musha, good luck to yer honor ! she’d have just sarved 
 me right. There’s the bundle, my lady,” to Lady de 
 Courcy. “ I’ll just, if ye plaze, ax to take a little parcel 
 I have in it for Cathleen an’ the child. Mrs. Toole, ma’am, 
 there’s a thrifle, to show I didn’t forget yerself. That’s 
 the way I spint the goold, all to a few pieces I have left. 
 There, I have it. Good-evenin’, yer honor. God save yees 
 all, I pray.” And Daly, with the parcel for Cathleen 
 under his arm, trudged nimbly forth, having refrained, 
 through a sense of delicacy, from renewing cause of 
 anxiety by alluding to Tudor’s inquiries concerning the 
 present whereabouts of the De Courcys or Fitz Adelms. 
 
 Relieved from apprehension, the family sat down with 
 their guests to the humble board, and to a good repast, 
 whose best savour was a good appetite to relish it ; and 
 now, that all were happily gathered together, there was 
 not a deficient flow of spirits or conversation. The only 
 grumbler was Bella, who, unfortunately for present cir- 
 cumstances, endowed with fastidious taste, ill-brooked to 
 see plates and dishes meeting in close embrace, and 
 clumsy-hafted knives and forks displaying vulgar parade 
 of show and glitter. “ I say, Mod,” she exclaimed, hav- 
 ing taken some time to compose her troubled feelings, 
 “ the servants at home were better off and snugger than 
 this ; now, weren’t they ?” 
 
 “ Certainly, darling ; they had everything they wanted, 
 and every requisite to make them comfortable.” 
 
 “ I’d rather sit down to dinner, too, in a good, clean, 
 well-lighted kitchen, at a roomy table with a white cloth, 
 than in this tub, lighted by a tallow candle,” added May. 
 
 “ Well, you have good taste,” laughed Father O’Cuin. 
 “ I shall expect to hear you say next you’d rather think it 
 more agreeable to drive to heaven in a carriage and pair 
 than climb the hill in a pair of brogues.” 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 579 
 
 ‘^So I would, frankly responded Bella, gleefully ; — or 
 in a sedan-chair, itself, if I could get anyone to carry me.’’ 
 
 ‘‘ I'm sorry to tell you you’ll have to walk two miles to 
 Mass Sunday next, the Feast of the Epiphany, at two 
 o’clock in the morning,” said Father O’Cuin. 
 
 Shall we, father ?” demanded Lady de Courcy, in 
 disappointed tone. ‘‘ That’s a great distance.” 
 
 It is, for you ; — we can’t help it. Barney Taaflf sent 
 word that he suspects the Corrig-an-AfiFrion,* at Grien 
 Suath, which was so sheltered and convenient to us, is 
 now watched. For the last few days lurching strangers 
 have been seen in the neighbourhood, especially a foxy- 
 faced boy and a middle-aged man, whom the people have 
 it is possessed of the evil eye. We had better avoid risk. 
 In the ruins of Kells, which are very spacious, we have 
 found a spot that will answer — a broken arch, upon which 
 we can lay a slab from some monument. Barney Taaff 
 and Archy Conway have gone round to apprise the people 
 where to meet.” 
 
 ‘‘Father!” here cried May and Bella, with alarmed 
 faces, “ is it in the old Augustinian priory upon the hill 
 beside the river ? Why, the dreadful crazy creature Mona 
 Shule lives there.” 
 
 “Well, what harm will that do you? It makes the 
 place all the safer, for, as she bears the reputation of being 
 a witch, prowlers, with unlawful intent, would be more 
 likely to shun than seek to explore the locality.” 
 
 “ Yes, father,” cried May ; — “ but, you see, the cracked 
 old cadger has got it into her head that Bella and I are her 
 children that she lost forty years ago, and wants to grab 
 us ; — we have to run to hide whenever we see her coming.” 
 
 “ That’s not pleasant,” observed Father O’Ouin. “ How 
 did you come across her?” 
 
 “We went, Bella and I, to look at the old monastery a 
 day or two after we came here, and got into a little cell 
 among the cloisters, where we found her sitting on a little 
 stool by the fire, eating a bowl of bread and milk, and a 
 big gray cat lying on the bed purring and looking at her. 
 
 * Mass Rock, 
 
580 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 We didn’t know she was mad till she jumped up, clapped 
 her hands, began to sing, and flew at us, screaming : ‘ My 
 children ! my children !’ Then Bella and I bolted and ran 
 for our lives, but she followed and kept us in sight till we 
 got home, and ever since she comes about the place, mostly 
 in the night-time, looking for us and singing dismal songs. 
 The first night we heard her our hair stood on end, for we 
 thought it was the banshee, till father opened the door to 
 look out. We got out of bed, and went with him to see 
 what it was, and there she was, walking about , wringing 
 her hands, singing, and screaming : ‘ Give me back my 
 children ! Where are my children I lost forty years ago ? 
 Their father has left them a flne estate, and I won’t go 
 without them.’ The daft hag! she’ll be very bad now the 
 moon is at the full.” 
 
 ‘‘ This, indeed, is a disagreeable state of affairs,” said 
 Sir Ulic, laughing heartily at May’s animated narrative. 
 ‘‘ Really, I must sympathise with you. Lady de Courcy. It 
 seems you are not to be left in peaceable possession of your 
 family, coveted by so many. But who is this Mona Shule?” 
 
 ‘‘ Do you remember, Sir Ulic,” said Adoriue, with a 
 cough, the poor maniac you spoke to the day of the 
 review at Finglas ? ” 
 
 ‘‘ Yes, 1 do,” replied Sir Ulic. ^ Is it the same sibyl ? 
 Poor soul, she boded ill for us, as it came to pass. Is she 
 dangerous ?” 
 
 “ Oh, not at all,” said Father OUuin ; quite harmless ; 
 I know her well. Her madness runs in the one groove — 
 her children. Her memory is warped, not altogether lost ; 
 she retains some acute sense of perception ; and intellectual 
 power in her seems to be replaced by some extraordinary 
 instinctive faculty that enables her, as it were, to prophesy 
 the future. This, with her strange mode of existence and 
 peculiar appearance, have impressed the people with a 
 superstitious awe and veiieration for her person, even 
 while they dread her acute science. It is my opinion she 
 is a stray waif, some relic of the numerous unfortunate 
 children of blighted fortune with which the Cromwellian 
 invasion strewed the land. In the wild snatches of song 
 it seems her whole pastime to warble, in a voice by no 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRTON ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 581 
 
 means uncultured or rude, you trace the evidence of 
 superior acquirements. And when she assists at Mass, as 
 I have often seen her, though betimes she wanders restlessly 
 to and fro, she is quiet, and appears impressed with a de- 
 vout sense of reverence. There's a knock at the door.^’ 
 
 I’m afraid Tis she/^ cried Bella, diving under the table. 
 
 Run into your room and hide,^^ said Lady de Courcy, 
 nervously. 
 
 “ Who's there ? cried Norah, coming from the inner 
 recess, where she had been overliauling Daly's bundle, 
 and bearing on a tray — welcome token of his purveyance 
 — a steaming pot of tea, lump sugar, and cakes. She laid 
 it down a moment, while she opened the door. Two stood 
 on the threshold — a ragged boy, and a forlorn woman. 
 
 “ Well, gossoon, what do you want ? — what do you 
 want, ma'am ? " was Norah’s sharp interrogation addressed 
 to each separately. 
 
 “ Charity, for Grod’s sake ! " said the boy. 
 
 I want my children," cried the woman, imploringly. 
 
 Stay, gossoon, an' I'll get you a bit to eat. There's 
 no childhre belonging to you here, ma'am," returned 
 Norah, in reply to each. 
 
 Closing the door, she returned to clear away the dishes, 
 set the tea-things on the table, and make up a mess for 
 the boy. While she was thus engaged, the latch was 
 raised, and Mona Shule, unbidden, walked in, glancing 
 wildly on every side, and unceremoniously seated herself 
 on a stool at the fire. The boy followed her, and stood in 
 the middle of the kitchen, with a timid expression of 
 countenance, looking at everyone out of the corners of his 
 downcast eyes. 
 
 ‘‘ Come, my lad ; its manners to wait to be invited," 
 exclaimed Norah, turning sharply on the intruder. ‘‘ The 
 ould woman may be welcome to stop a few minutes at the 
 fire, but we have no room for stragglers. Here, take this 
 bone o' mate an' this trencher o’ victuals, an' go." 
 
 “ Thankee, ma'am," replied the youth, meekly receiv- 
 ing the dole ; — “ I wouldn’t ha’ made so bould, but it's so 
 cowld." 
 
 Let him stay and warm himself a few minutes while 
 
582 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 he eats his bit by the fire/’ said ^ir Eeginald, compassion- 
 ately. 
 
 The boy waited for no more ; he squatted down on the 
 hearth, while Adorine carried a mug of tea and a piece of 
 cake to Mona, who, instead of receiving it, or noticing 
 her, sat with her hands on her knees, intently peering 
 into the lad’s visage. 
 
 ‘‘Take this, Mona; it will warm you,'” said Adorine, 
 laying the cake on her lap, and putting the mug to her 
 lips to engage her attention. 
 
 Mona impatiently thrust her away, and began to mutter 
 to herself. 
 
 “ Leave her alone,” said Lady de Courcy, as Adorine, 
 frightened, drew back. 
 
 “Sing us a song, Goody,” said Sir Ulic, hoping to set 
 her on her hobby. “Take your tea,” he whispered to 
 Adorine ; — “ no need to be alarmed.’^ 
 
 “ Shall it be a fairy tale or a song ?” cried the maniac, 
 now staring at each one. “ A fairy tale. — There was once 
 upon a time a lord and lady — a lord and lady. — No, I 
 can’t put it together. I’ll sing it.” She glanced at the 
 boy, and sang : — 
 
 “ Athair, I’ve found in the woods a bird’s nest, 
 
 I’ve counted the eggs, and hmed the trees ; 
 
 He who has gold may have the best, 
 
 . Honey is only made by bees. 
 
 Bring me in haste a cage of new wire. 
 
 We’ll count the gain 
 We had for our pain, 
 
 When we come to the meeting, 
 
 Athair, by the fire.” 
 
 The boy, having greedily devoured his meal as Mona 
 sang, appeared now to have no desire to prolong his stay. 
 He rose, laid by the trencher, mumbled some thanks, and 
 withdrew, casting a furtive glance at the maniac, and 
 taking a parting survey of all. 
 
 Sir Ulic turned to Mona, for Father O’Cuin sat with- 
 drawn into the shadow of the background. “ Thanks, 
 Goody. You have a sweet voice. Who’s that boy, do 
 you know, just gone out ? ” 
 
 “ Danger ! — that’s danger. Keep away from him. We 
 
THE CORRIG-AN-AFFRION ; OR, THE MASS ROCK. 583 
 
 had a dog, ‘ Danger ’ once, and he was dangerous ; so we 
 kept him chained up. But one can’t chain other people’s 
 dogs, and he belongs to the ^ Evil Eye.’ The ^ Evil Eye’ is 
 very wicked ; — don’t meet him.” 
 
 Come, now, take your tea, and eat this cake.” 
 
 There must have been some latent power of command 
 in his eye, or in his tone of voice ; for Mona, darting a 
 wild glance at his face, obeyed in silence, and ate and 
 drank as if mechanically, giving no sign as to whether she 
 appreciated the fare ; then, when it was finished, she rose 
 to go. 
 
 “ Stay, Mona,” said SirUlic ; — “ the night is early yet.” 
 “I want to go look for the children,” she mildly 
 pleaded ; — “ but don’t let him go to-night — she pointed 
 to Father O'Cuin ; — for ‘ Danger’ is lying in wait, and he 
 will be taken, and transported in the gang with the others 
 to the Plantations. I must go now ; but I’ll watch, and 
 warn you of the ‘Evil Eye.’ ” She went. 
 
 “ We are tracked,” said Father O’Cuin. “ That boy is 
 a spy. We must go about with caution. I’m glad the 
 children did not appear ; — me, I scarcely think, he could 
 have seen. But, if we be so fortunate as to celebrate Mass 
 on Sunday, in the ruin, we must see next to shifting our 
 quarters deeper into the mountains.” 
 
 “ Come home to-night with me,” said Sir Ulic, “ if you 
 don’t object to a couch in a corner of my hut, screened off 
 from mine by a dimity curtain.” 
 
 “ I’ll go with you rather than unarmed encounter 
 ‘ Danger,’ ” said Father O’Cuin, naively. 
 
 “My poor child, why do you look so sad and wan?” 
 whispered Sir Ulic to Adorine, observing her eyes, 
 shadowed with deep melancholy, intent upon their move- 
 ments. “ Though we go, fear not that we shall withdraw our 
 vigilance for the protection of our dear ones. Brighten up.” 
 “ Oh, Sir Ulic,” she murmured, with dark prescience of 
 impending woe, “ I wish the worst were over, and we 
 were all at rest. How much happier now are poor Eve- 
 leen and dear Harold, whose untimely fate we so much 
 deplored. I wish we could hear something of Uncle 
 
584 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE RUINED PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 “ Where are they ? Ask the shades of them 
 Who on Cadessia’s bloody plains, 
 
 Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
 From Iran’s broken diadem, 
 
 And bind her ancient faith in chains. ” 
 
 “ The Fire worshippers.’* 
 
 “The rite is o’er. The band o" brethren part 
 Once, and but o ice, to meej on earth again, 
 
 Each in the st'-ength of a collected heart. 
 
 The ritfe is o’er ; and thou, majestic fane, 
 
 The glory is departed from thy brow : 
 
 The Christian’s farewell strain 
 Hajh died within these wa’ls. Thy cross must bow, 
 
 Thy kingly tombs be spoiled, the golden shrines laid low.” 
 
 F. H. 
 
 This most beautiful and romantic of ruins, situated on the 
 east of Kells, and on the south of the Vonrigh or King’s 
 River, stands upon the acclivity of the hillside, within a 
 spacious oblong square ; and though dismantled towers 
 shrouded in ivy, broken arches, and immense masses of 
 fallen masonry, present to the eye a scene of rude devasta- 
 tion, there are parts of the ancient pile yet in tolerable 
 preservation. In a tower of the northern angle, fitted up 
 with cloisters, fireplace, and stone staircase winding to the 
 summit, provided with bartizans and machicolations for 
 the defence of doorways, Mona Shule had taken up her 
 abode, which the charity of some benevolent hand had also 
 furnished with a bed, a table, a chair, and a few articles 
 necessary to comfort. Yet, with the restlessness peculiar 
 to insanity, she occasionally shifted her quarters from her 
 airy summit to the enclosure within the now utterly 
 ruined belfry, which then was spacious, and also supplied 
 with that adjunct to comfort — a fireplace — so that her dor- 
 mitory opened out upon the ample vista of choir, nave, 
 transept, and lady chapel, all of which the maniac was 
 wont to consider her suit of apartments, and to range 
 among, in the happy hallucination of proprietorship. 
 
THE RUINED PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 585 
 
 Visitors to the ruins she always considered as being to 
 herself, and received them with welcome and courtesy. 
 Hence, when Father O’Cuin had gone with a friend, a 
 day or too previously, to explore for a site convenient to 
 offer up the Holy Sacrifice, she assiduously accompanied 
 them ; and when the Franciscan, having surveyed the 
 transept, the slender mullions of its windows, one of which 
 only was in repair, and the heavy arches that separated 
 the aisles, together with the ruined Lady Chapel, and at 
 length decided the suitable spot, he turned to Mona to 
 ask her permission — she would otherwise have been re- 
 sentfully obstreperous — to say Mass for his congregation^ 
 who were hiding from the pursuit of enemies. She at 
 once understood the matter, gave full concurrence, and 
 assured the father that he need be under no apprehension, 
 for that she would herself act as sentinel upon the castle 
 walls, and give timely notice of the approach of the foe. 
 
 ********* 
 
 The morning of the Epiphany, the full moon cold and 
 clear stood high in the blue dome, spangled with millions 
 of glistening constellations, and lighted the devious 
 path of hundreds of pilgrims, as, wending by glen and 
 hill, through moor and wold, they came along in strag- 
 gling order, sometimes in groups of four and five, again 
 in pairs, and anon a shadowy form of some solitary 
 figure wending ghost-like among naked trees and mo- 
 tionless heather; but all converging to one centre, 
 the abbey ruins, standing majestic and gaunt, half 
 revealed in light, half buried in obscurity, like a thing of 
 mystery looming over the snow-clad waste, listening to 
 the hoarse murmur of the river flowing by, and the weird 
 moaning of the owl among the ivy. 
 
 By-and-by the panorama shifts : the wold, tracked by 
 countless footmarks, is destitute of life. But in yonder 
 abbey’s ruined fane a light is glimmering ; a vested priest 
 stands at an altar ; a prostrate congregation of some 
 hundred individuals are grouped in silence round. Again 
 the holy accents of the Introibo ad altare Dei, fall upon the 
 
586 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ear from cousecrated lips ; again the penitent strikes his 
 breast, and the sigh of contrition fills the hallowed pre- 
 cincts as in days of old, when the Augustinian monks 
 chanted in the choir, and mailed knights bowed down 
 before the high altar, when the bells tolled and the 
 hosanna resounded, and the Alleluia rose on high, pro- 
 claiming glory to Grod, and the incense wafted the 
 fragrance of prayer and praise to the Most High. But now 
 all is changed, the splendour of the pageant is vanished, like 
 the beams of the morning, when the moon is overcast with 
 clouds. Priors and monks, knights and warriors, genera- 
 tions that knelt and worshipped on this spot are com- 
 mingled in dust beneath the feet of succeeding genera- 
 tions that knew them not. The very echoes of the 
 holy place have a strange, supernataral voice entoned by 
 awe, and a mysterious sense of dread and terror pervades 
 the peaceful gloom, and at each accent of the priest, 
 awakening in muffled reverberations after each silent pause, 
 furtive eyes rove surreptitiously around, prying into the 
 gloom beyond, or scanning the faces round for evidence 
 of sensations akin to theirs. But all was tranquil ; there 
 seemed no cause for alarm, no unholy witnesses looked 
 upon their nocturnal solemnisation. No; the priest 
 had come to the Gloria in Excekis^ when — hush ! hark ! — 
 there is the sound of coming feet — but, soft ! The 
 sentinels posted on the low-arched gateway of the prin- 
 cipal entrance to the monastery, on the gate between the 
 courts, and the several posterns, have given no signal — 
 there is no danger. Yet the people instinctively draw 
 closer round Fitz Adelm, Sir Ulic de Burgh, and De 
 Courcy, who are armed with pistols and brand, and watch 
 their countenances, to gather what might be inferred 
 therefrom. 
 
 Many rose on one foot, to be ready forfiight incase of need, 
 and hurried glances were interchanged between friends as a 
 stalwart man, followed by a troop of hardy bearing, all 
 armed to the teeth, entered the transept. Fears, how- 
 ever, were soon set at rest by the reverential demeanour 
 of the new comers, as, with uncovered heads, they knelt 
 at the doorway, devoutly making the sign of the cross, 
 
THE KUINED PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 587 
 
 and nearer investigation showed that among the strangers 
 were two closely-hooded females. 
 
 Sir Reginald de Courcy, soon satisfied that all was 
 right, cast a reassuring glance at his wife, children, and 
 the Fitz Adelms, kneeling beside him ; but the eyes of 
 Athelstane and Sir Ulic continued riveted on the new- 
 comers. The latter had immediately recognised in the 
 leader the person of the rapparee O’Hogan, and behind 
 him, standing in the shadow, he caught glimpses 
 of Raymond O’Byrne, Owen Mac Carthy, and Father 
 O'Mara the Dominican, at the same moment that one 
 of the females having lifted the hood from her heated 
 brow, Athelstane’s heart leaped with a mighty bound 
 of ecstasy that was almost delirium, upon discover- 
 ing the fair and saintly visage of his long-lost Maud. 
 Silently he pulled the sleeve of Sir Ulic, and at the 
 Gospel, when all rose, the two quietly glided through 
 the crowd and made their way to join their friends, so as 
 to keep them in view, and not lose sight of them again by 
 any contretemps of fortune. There was no greeting, save an 
 irrepressible smile of gladness on each cheek, as the eyes 
 of Sir Ulic and Raymond encountered, and an incredulous 
 stare of a moment, changing into undisguised pleasure as 
 Maud, raising her eyes to the altar, beheld the heretic 
 wooer of her hand and idol of her love, kneeling in humble 
 adoration among the lowly and devoted of the worshippers 
 before the shrine in prostration, which, in its glory,, he 
 had spurned. Tears of bliss, gratitude, and tenderness, 
 filled her eyes ; she felt in this moment of unutterable 
 happiness repaid far a world of sorrow. Her companion, 
 catching a view of Sir Ulic’s features as he also turned in 
 mute recognition of Maud, entirely threw back her hood 
 and compelled him, smiling, to withdraw his notice from 
 the naive regard beaming with unstudied and unconcealed 
 delight from the unsophisticated and rustic Elphine Mac 
 Carthy. 
 
 All this little interlude of dumb show had passed in a 
 few moments. The solemn sacrifice proceeded undisturbed ; 
 hearts crushed, broken, or nearly bruised, gave out, ex- 
 haled, like odoriferous flowers, their sweetest fragrance in 
 
588 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sighs of resignation or aspirations of love ; the solemn 
 moonlight streamed through nave and choir, and shed a 
 benison of light upon the kneeling throng ; the winds, 
 which had been lulled, arose, and in fitful swell whispered 
 through crevice and aperture, swept through broken arch 
 and wailed down long aisles, making plaintive harmony 
 through the ancient cloisters, and awaking corresponding 
 vibrations in human bosoms. The throbbing chords of 
 the -®olian harp and the quivering strings of the human 
 soul seemed in concert to be wakened by spirit hands in 
 prelude of some great tragedy about to be enacted. 
 
 The solemn sacrifice proceeded undisturbed to the end, 
 the communicants had received, the last benediction was 
 just given, the mystic sign of salvation had been dispensed 
 to the flock, when a cry arose, an eldritch scream, a wild, 
 unearthly shriek. The affrighted congregation one mo- 
 ment paused to stare wildly round, then, on every side, 
 commenced the rush, the deathful rush, the maddening 
 struggle to break through the cordon of soldiery that in- 
 vested the ruin and blocked up every vent, while Mona 
 Shule, standing on the broken belfrey, distractedly waved 
 her arms, and shrieked, and sang : ‘‘ At last ! at last ! 
 Lambs to the slaughter ; — the butcher is come ! Fly, fiy ! 
 oh, fiy V’ 
 
 The tumult raged : the wail of anguish, children's 
 screams, the shouts of infuriated men, the yell of execra- 
 tion, and the savage howl of the slaughterer filled the air 
 with horror ; but soon, unable to cope in hand-to-hand 
 conflict with the powerful peasantry, mostly all of whom 
 had some weapon, the soldiers at the different gates were 
 repulsed, while the people broke through, and, like a herd 
 of maddened deer following their leaders who had cleared 
 the way, rushed headlong by devious routes over the 
 corpses of the surprised and slain sentinels — Barney Taaff 
 and others. Hundreds escaped, some wounded, but many 
 could make no effort ; and, while the struggle was raging 
 without, quick, quick. Father O’Cuin and Father O'Mara, 
 with Sir Ulic de Burgh, Fitz Adelm, Eaymond O’Byrne, 
 Hogan, Owen Mac Carthy, and Daly, were busy opening 
 the deep vaults and hurrying down children, old men and 
 
THE RUINED PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 589 
 
 such of the women as could not battle their way. About 
 fifty poor creatures were thus covered over with slabs in a 
 few minutes. 
 
 Now, now, Father O’Cuin, down you into this one ; 
 and you, Father . Where’s Father O’Mara 
 
 He’s gone with He Courcy ; — they’ve made their way 
 out,” cried Fitz Adelm, looking eagerly round. Where 
 are my sisters 
 
 Gone with the He Courcy s,” shouted Raymond. 
 Father O’Mara was carrying May, who has fainted.” 
 
 “ Get down, Father O’Cuin, and let me cover you,” 
 repeated Fitz Adelm. ‘‘Sir Ulic and I must go after 
 Hogan and his troop, who have cut through, carrying 
 Maud and Adorine along wdth them. Now, there ; — why 
 do you hesitate ? All are safe ; you can do no more, 
 unless you fly with us.” 
 
 “ No, no ; I’ll stay with those here,” said the priest, 
 jumping into the vault. 
 
 Fitz Adelm set a slab over his head, and, as had been 
 done with all the others, left a crevice, a breathing-hole, 
 for air, then, sword in hand, with a bold rush, he with Sir 
 Ulic, Raymond O’Byrne, Daly, and a few other men armed 
 with clogalpeens, charged the soldiery, and effected their 
 escape amid a shower of bullets, some of which passed 
 through their clothes, grazed their skin, and singed their 
 hair. They soon came up with Galloping Hogan, who 
 had stationed scouts to watch for them, and then, in dread 
 of the fell pursuit, which they too well foreboded, away, 
 away to the distant shelter of the mountains. 
 
 “Ha! so just as I knew it would be, Jonas,” cried 
 a bellicose trooper, the first to make way into the now 
 seemingly empty and deserted ruin. “The game’s up; the 
 old hag’s cackle gave timely warning, and the quarry 
 upon which you and Davy Bradley so cleverly guided us 
 is flown.” 
 
 “ Ha, ha, ha, Luttrell,” laughed another son of Mars, 
 forking up his moustaches ; — “ not the first time the 
 cackling of a goose warned a garrison, and saved the 
 Capitol. Methinks there must be some uncanny sort o’ 
 wit in the foolish biped, whether fledged or unfledged. 
 
590 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 So there’s our labour for our gain — plenty of hard knocks, 
 and some bloodshed ; — though I doubt if we slew any 
 of those rhinoceros hides, save the two or three we 
 paternostered into the belief that we were old women 
 coming to mumble our paudreens. What’ll you do now, 
 Sir Clotworthy ? No use asking Jonas, for he looks like 
 disappointment turned to stone.” 
 
 ‘‘Look yer ’ere now, Cap’in Pollock,” exclaimed Sir 
 Clotworthy, blowing his nose between his fingers, “ dang 
 me if I catch yon, hold beldame, an' I won’t roast 'er at 
 this ’ere spot,” giving a kick with his foot to the slab 
 that covered Father O’Cuin. “ We 'ad that gal an’ two 
 priests in our mesh, as snug as mice in a trap, an’ but 
 for ’er 'owl we’d ha' stole on ’em unarmed ; we’d ’ave sent 
 bullets through the ’eads of twenty fellers afore they 
 could blink, and then fell on the rest while they wor con- 
 fused an' scared It’s no use pursuin’ ’em now ; they’re 
 scattered into their ’oles and dens ; —let’s sit down an’ ’ave 
 a sup o’ suthim to keep us hup.” Sir Clotworthy sat 
 down, vigorously wiping his steaming face with a dirty 
 cotton handkerchief, while his comrades, squatting around, 
 began to open their fiasks for a dram. 
 
 “ Its mortial cold,” cried a soldier, blowing on his red 
 fingers to warm them. “ It’s the ’orridest country an' most 
 willainostest savages on the yearth.” 
 
 “ Wot’s that yer adoin, Jonas ? ” cried Sir Clotworthy, 
 seeing Jonas coming out from the belfry, where he had 
 entered on his prowling exploration, bending under the 
 weight of a bed, which he fiung down upon the vault slab 
 at their feet. 
 
 “ I’ll begin by making a bonfire of the witch’s lum- 
 ber, ’' muttered the gentle youth. 
 
 The idea seized the rest. The soldier who found it cold 
 and Davy Bradley sprung up, rushed into Mona's chamber, 
 and returned laden with her chair, table, stool, and all the 
 debris they could collect, threw them on the heap and struck 
 a light to set fire to it, exclaiming the while : “ Pity we 
 ha’n’t the hold 'ag to put atop o’ it. I’se warrant we’d soon 
 make her speak to our loiken. — Here comes Greg an' 
 Bunbury wid their contribution — a kish o’ turf.” 
 
THE RUINED PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 591 
 
 ‘‘ Gro search about, Joice an' Sadler : ’ow do yer know 
 but yer might find a rapparee stowed away among some 
 o’ the crannies o’ these ’ere cussed rooms, an’ wot rare 
 sport it id be to ’ear ’im sin gin’ on the gridiron, ” said 
 Sir Clotworthy, smiling pleasantly as he drained a flask of 
 brandy. That's it, fire the rubbish my cockchaflFer. 
 Now we’ll ’ave a jolly carouse ; — an’ who knows but we 
 may ’ave the witch of Endor a-comin’ to inquire the 
 cause o’ the bonfire.” 
 
 ‘‘ An’ she be a witch, as I ’old her,” growled Jonas, 
 
 she’d skulk away wid the rats an' owls, an’ all obscure 
 hanimals as doesn’t love too much light or ’eat ; but I'll 
 come yet to where she an’ her himps is at their incanta- 
 tions, an’ put a hend to ’em, I warrant. — Now, there’s wot 
 I call a warm fire.” 
 
 With awful dismay the fugitives buried in the vaults 
 heard the conversation of the persecutors above them. 
 Through the chinks they witnessed the direful flames 
 ascend, and saw the ferocious faces grouped around grow 
 redder and fiercer in the lurid light. None knew the 
 spot whence the shriek, wrung from agony, bursting forth, 
 might give them all to the sword and cruel torture. In 
 many a bosom life’s current ran cold, while in that of 
 others nature seemed to suspend its vitality altogether. 
 Oh, the terrible anguish of that hour ! The flames burned 
 on, and the wood crackled, and volumes of smoke filled 
 the space within the ruin, and the demons, dimly seen, 
 grouped through its density, laughed and drank and 
 made ribald mirth, sang obscene songs, and narrated past 
 deeds of blood with infinite zest, and plotted new ones of 
 atrocity, yet deeper in hue were such possible, and their 
 shades, distorted into every uncouth shape and form, 
 monstrous in size and terrible in expression, were pictured 
 on the naked walls as though superior fiends stationed in 
 the background were surveying the antics of the pupil 
 candidates for their congenial elements. 
 
 It was a dread scene, and likely to be prolonged, 
 when suddenly, in the brief lull of the orgies, a low moan, 
 deep and hollow, involuntarily and unconsciously extorted 
 from the throes of human agony, burst the cerements of the 
 
592 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sufferer’s closed lips, and thrilled upon the ear. The half- 
 inebriated carousers heard it, and with startled bosoms 
 cast upon each other eyes suffused and watery. Then 
 cried out Sir Clotworthy Grub : 
 
 I say, wot’s that?” 
 
 Dead silence ensued ; then said Sergeant Pilsworth, 
 looking blank and scared : My eye ! wot if this eyry old 
 
 place were haunted ? they do say ghosts haunt such places.” 
 On the instant a panic seized the group. 
 
 Up started Sir Clotworthy. “ Come, Jonas, it’s time 
 we be goin’; we’ve a long tramp an’ plenty to do.” 
 
 Now,'shure as heggs is heggs, yer afeerd o’ the hobgob- 
 lins, Grrub,” cried a young cornet, who piqued himself 
 on great bravery. “ I do marvel yer soich a gull ? ” 
 
 “ Marvel away, my ’earty, an’ show yer pluck. I doan’t 
 much care about them as is in the flesh ; but as for 
 ghosts, whoy, if our presence ’ere troubles ’em, I’m not 
 the one to inconvenience ’em no ’ow. Come along, Jonas ; 
 — ’tain’t safe for one to go alone.” 
 
 If so be, here goes ; we ain’t goin’ to stop neither ; 
 ghosts bean’t pleasant hobjects to look on, nor nothin’ wot 
 makes yer feel cold and ’umbles yer spirit, ” cried another. 
 
 Pshaw ! yer afeerd o’ bugaboos ; — it’s but the wind 
 cornin’ through the arches,” said the young cornet, himself 
 rising briskly. 
 
 Don’t care ! ” exclaimed all ; we’re off,” and ensued a 
 flight en masse^ the last muttering audibly : 
 
 Shouldn’t ask to shrive a ghost no ’ow : such slippery 
 folk as ye can’t lay ’old on bean’t the sort to do business 
 with ; — an’ we ’ave other flsh to fry.” 
 
 The ruin was soon cleared of its sacrilegious profaners, 
 and left again in its solitude. Then one by one forth 
 crept from their places of concealment among mouldering 
 coffins, and the bones of the dead, to whose cold arms 
 they fled for protection from the fury of the living, the 
 shivering, trembling remnant of the congregation that a 
 couple of hours since had knelt before the extempore altar. 
 Dismally each white face and dimmed eye showed in the 
 obscurity, rigidly fixed in the stupor of dismay, or wildly 
 roving in quest of some beloved object. Children, looking 
 
THE RUINED PRIORY OF KELLS. 
 
 693 
 
 scared into imbecility clung to their desolate mothers in 
 terrified silence, and old men, with chattering teeth, 
 uttered incoherent sentences ; then a woman, recovering 
 from inactive torpor more boldly raised her head and 
 glanced around : 
 
 ‘‘ Musha, let’s get on out o’ this,” she cried, taking 
 her little boy by the hand ; maybe we’ll find the rest 
 o’ the crathurs at home, or pick thim up on the way. But, 
 achorra machree, where’s the priest ? I heerd him say 
 he’d stay wid us, God bless him, an’ I heerd him jump 
 down into a vault near me, an’ they set the slab over him ; 
 — he couldn’t have got away.” 
 
 Let’s search for him, ” said an elderly man, stooping 
 to open some closed vaults. 
 
 The women and others soon lent their aid but no, he 
 was not found. The people stood a moment looking at each 
 other in conjecture, and then were turning away to proceed 
 on their route, when Daly, who had been left by Sir Ulic 
 lurking in ambush to bring tidings of the proceedings of 
 the persecutors, as soon as he discovered the coast clear, 
 made his way back to the ruin. 
 
 Och, ye poor crathurs, the Lord reward ye for all yer 
 sufierin’ this night, amin I pray,” said Cormac, as he 
 entered and looked about. “ God be praised for all his 
 marcy, yees are all safe ; — but where’s himself — where’s 
 ^ the priest ? ” 
 
 “We could not see sorra sight o’ him,” murmured a 
 woman, with tremulous voice. “ Och, Daly, avic, it’s sore 
 the heart is widin me, for thinkin’ did my two little 
 gossoons an’ their father escape.” 
 
 But Daly made no answer. With fallen brow, and set 
 features hard and stern, he was raking with his oak club 
 the half-burned fire from over the vault where hehad seen 
 Father O’Cuin descend. The perished people and children 
 huddled close round the embers for warmth, while with 
 eager eyes they watched Daly’s operations. He came to the 
 slab ; it was red, hot and split in several places by the heat 
 of the fire. Groans and ejaculations burst from heaving 
 bosoms and pallid lips. Daly removed the slab amid 
 dead silence. In stole and white alb, Mass-book, chalice, 
 
 39 
 
594 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 and vestments by bis side, the crucifix convulsively clasped 
 in his hands, and pressed to his lips, lying on his back, 
 calm as in slumber, was the martyred priest ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 priests’ heads in the market. 
 
 ‘ * Oh, happy in their doom, the noble dead ! 
 
 The seal is set on their majestic fame ; 
 
 Earth has drunk deep the generous blood they shed, 
 
 Fate has no power to dim their stainless name. 
 
 From many a lofty stem fall graceful flowers. 
 
 And eagle hearts grow tame. 
 
 And stars drop fading from the diadem : 
 
 But the bright past is theirs ; — there is no change for them.’’ 
 
 F. H. 
 
 Heigh ho ! no end to the troubles of life ! ” wearily 
 sighed William Fitz Rufus, as, yawning and stretching 
 his limbs he languidly rose from the soft-cushioned 
 where in voluptuous ease he had lounged away the 
 morning. With enmii and hlase, he looked with a shudder 
 from the warm, comfortable fireside out into the cold 
 streets of the city, wretched under the infiiction of 
 of a joint visit from Aquarius, and Euroclydon, each in 
 their most savage temper, meeting like duellists to try 
 conclusions one with the other, while the seconds, the 
 victimised inhabitants, looked helplessly on. Aquarius 
 discharged his empire’s strength in rushing floods, hoping 
 to submerge his antagonist in the deluge, and the wind 
 God of the South-east, mustering all the forces of his king- 
 dom to a hurricane, sounded his trumpet of defiance, and 
 burst upon his opponent to sweep him in his fury to 
 nowhere. Fitz Rufus rang the bell ; his valet answered. 
 
 -My boots, Hawkins, and surcoat ; order the chaise 
 round.” — The valet disappeared. Fitz Rufus pursued his 
 theme. -What a plague is this ofiicious father-in-law of 
 mine ! I hate labour \ I hate trouble of any kind ; he knows 
 
priests’ heads in the market. 595 
 
 I do ; and yet nought will serve him but to have me on 
 the bench. Now and then I don’t mind; — hut such weather 
 as this ! — fact is, I’d feign a headache, and go to bed, only 
 I promised Plantagenet yesterday to meet him at the 
 court, and some papist felons have to be tried. What a 
 nuisance these papists are — the epitome, as Dopping ex- 
 presses it, of every evil ; what blessed repose we should 
 enjoy, what peace, how perfect society would be in all 
 its classes were this taint of iniquity eradicated ! We 
 should have no more need of magistrates, or bailiffs, or 
 prisons ; the world would be as smooth as an orange, all 
 the spokes of the wheel running the one way, and revolv- 
 ing without obstruction on its axis. Ah ! ” — Hawkins 
 returned with the boots and overcoat, and assisted his 
 master to equip himself. — “ There ; fill me out a couple 
 glasses of wine to take before starting. So, tell my lady 
 I shall bring home a couple of friends to dinner ; — and I 
 like a stuffed shoulder of veal, with French sauce. 
 
 Fitz Eufus set off; and arrived in due time at the court, 
 which was crowded with the lowest of a low Dublin 
 orange rabble, a mediocre orange gentry, and a small 
 orange aristocracy ; on the bench an orange judge ; an 
 orange jury, with orange accusers, and orange witnesses, 
 all convened to sit in trial and judgment upon some 
 notorious papists found, in defiance of the Act against 
 popery, still harbouring in the city, and disseminating 
 and propagating their damnable and idolatrous doctrine 
 to the scandal and perversion of the saints. 
 
 Fitz Rufus took his seat upon the bench. Plantagenet 
 Tudor stepped from the ranks of the jury to greet him, and 
 there was much preliminary shaking of hands, and laugh- 
 ing, and chatting before the business of the day was 
 entered upon. At length, the first prisoner’s name was 
 called, and pale but firm, Lionel Aylmer stood in the dock, 
 accused by one Thomas Nickson of having been caught say- 
 ing Mass in a crypt of the old Dominican Monastery of 
 Swords. 
 
 ^‘What have you to say, prisoner,” demanded the 
 magistrate with suavity. 
 
 “Guilty, my lord. It was my first Mass, and I hope 
 •shall not be my last,” said the young man, with a bright 
 
596 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 sweet smile, indicative at once of a resolute, mirthful, 
 and sanguine temperament. 
 
 ‘‘You seem to be a reckless, daring character,’’ said the 
 magistrate, Lord Ireton. “ Are you aware of the penalty 
 against those of your profession being taken, in contempt 
 of the statute, lurking in the country ? ” 
 
 “ I know it, my lord, and all of my profession know 
 full well the risk they incur of being taken, and the 
 doom that awaits them when seized; yet not for this 
 will the shepherd fly the flock, or at the voice of man 
 desist from obeying the command of God, and his call to 
 labour in the vineyard. Hence ” 
 
 Lionel Aylmer was interrupted in his speech by a com- 
 motion in the court, which also engaged the attention of the 
 magistrate : Sir Clotworthy Grub, followed by a troop of 
 his familiars, a motley canaille, shouting and hallooing with 
 triumph, poured in disordered uproar into the hall. Inquiry 
 was soon silenced, and curiosity satisfied, when three gory 
 heads, fastened on poles, were borne through the crowd up 
 to the bench, and several rude voices in loud clamour de- 
 manded their five pounds reward — the premium for a 
 priest’s head. Young Father Aylmer’s soul sickened, 
 and his heart spasmodically heaved, as among them he 
 recognised the visage of his bloved friend and preceptor, 
 Father O’Mara. 
 
 “ Ha, young Mass-chanter, wot do yer say to that ? 
 ’Twas this ’and done it. Soon as my jackal, young Moses 
 Bradley, found the trail, we follered hard upon’t, gev ’em 
 no time to sniff us, I warrant ; — found the ’ole where the 
 ’edge’ogs burrowed, wriggled our way down, saw this 
 ere chap a sayin’ Mass for his company. — I believe yer 
 always at that ? — levelled our pieces, and banged away ; — 
 then, before we ventured down into the ’ornet’s nest to 
 make sure as ’ow no lurkin willans among the rocks 
 would fall on us, we made ricks of ’eath, crammed ’em 
 down the fissures, set ’em on fire, an’ smothered the lot. 
 There wor a few I’d ha’ saved, upon my conscience, if I 
 knew they wor there, but it was only wen we got down 
 to fetch this ’ere trophy I seen the De Ccurcy children 
 dead in the harms of their father and mother.’’ 
 
 Here Flantagenet uttered an exclamation of amazement : 
 
priests' heads in the market. 
 
 597 
 
 ^^You don't mean to say, Grub, you have caused the 
 death of the whole De Oourcy family ? 
 
 Ah, yer may say it ; — but that isn’t the worst, re- 
 sponded Sir Clotworthy, dolefully and with a tone of self- 
 reproach. There wor the two Fitz Adlems lyin' corpses 
 among a 'eap o' others. 'Ow did I know they wor in't ? '' 
 I was so struck o' a 'eap when I seen Elnor, the one as I 
 liked, I could do no more, but just come away wid the 
 'ead o' the priest I 'ad cut off the moment .before, and 
 dang the morsel o' food I swallyd that day that didn't 
 well nigh go to choke me. But I've got over it now, an' 
 there’s the 'ead, an' where's my five pun ? I reckon, young 
 monk drone” — he turned to Lionel Aylmer — “that if 
 we go along at this rate we’ll soon root yer out stock an^ 
 crop, an' make the country fit for Christians to inhabit. ' 
 
 Aylmer was silent ; his heart was bursting. He looked 
 so pale, so boyish, so gentle, that even bosoms hardened 
 by habit of vice and cruelty, petrified, as it were, into stone 
 by long immersion in the fioods of iniquity, felt softened, 
 and Lord Ireton again addressed him : 
 
 “ Young man, it is foreign to our nature to act with 
 severity. Life or death is now in your own hand to 
 choose between. If you will take the oath of allegiance to 
 our gracious sovereigns, the king and queen, in the proper 
 form in which it shall be presented to you, you shall be 
 qualified to abide a free man on your native soil ; if you 
 rebelliously object, you must bind yourself by solemn 
 pledge to quit the country forever within six weeks. If 
 you refuse these conditions, I have only” — he pointed to the 
 gory heads lying on a table before him — “ to warn you to 
 prepare for a similar fate. We must eradicate Popery 
 from the land.” 
 
 “ My lord,” said the young Dominican, in accents mild 
 yet clear and strong, as loftily he raised his brow and 
 bent an eye, serene and calm, upon the bench, you 
 say life and death are in my own hand to choose between. 
 It is not so. Bemembering what Master I serve, I have 
 no alternative but to deny myself, to take up my cross 
 and follow Him. The oath of allegiance you would have 
 me take demands the transfer of my allegiance from the 
 
598 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Lord of heaven to an earthly ruler, whose law and 
 whose will, at variance with his, prove him no dele- 
 gate divinely commissioned to hold such place. In tem- 
 poralities alone may we serve, and lawfully obey the 
 decrees of such. In spiritual concerns we are governed 
 by his ministry, whom at our soul's peril we must not 
 ignore. Furthermore, I cannot give you the pledge you 
 require, not having received the permission of my su- 
 periors to leave my post in hour of danger ; and for the 
 rest, think not to daunt me with menace of death while 
 I stand appalled, yet fortified, at sight of the ghastly relics 
 before me, the mere shell cast away from heads now in- 
 vested with martyrs diadem the prize of life devoted 
 to its attainment. No ; it were my heart's dearest 
 wish to emulate their generous zeal, and participate 
 in their glory. You say you must eradicate Popery 
 from the land, and you hope to effect it by shedding the 
 blood of its votaries. Let me tell you, you may shed my 
 blood, and the blood of many ; you may, like Nabucha- 
 donosor in his pride, heat the furnace seven-fold for those 
 who will not bow down and adore your idol— a wicked 
 world. But you will never achieve your object ; for One 
 stronger than you fights against you. You might as 
 well strive to separate the blood from the fiesh as divide 
 the priest from his fiock, and the Grod they love. For 
 every soul you send to Him another will spring from his 
 bosom to confound your efforts ; and in long ages of the 
 future, when the persecutor shall have mouldered into dust, 
 and his dishonoured name consigned to oblivion, else en- 
 graven on the tablets of infamous record, a warning to 
 posterity. Popery, like the round tower of the Grheber, 
 based in firmness, built in strength, shall stand unshaken, 
 lifting its massive circle sublimely on high, as heedless of 
 the tornado's blast, as the Zephyr’s puny breath ; and, as the 
 shamrock trodden under foot yet grows and spreads, and 
 covers hill and glen, mount and valley, with luxuriant 
 verdure, so shall the creed and the race you would eradi- 
 cate from the land fiourish in eternal bloom, fresh and 
 vigorous above your clay ! " 
 
 Our friend, in sooth, Lionel Aylmer," remarked 
 Plantagenet Tudor, aloud with a sneer, ‘‘ is one of those of 
 
priests’ heads in the market. 
 
 599 
 
 our degenerate countrymen against whom the reproach has 
 been made of being so smitten with Irishry as to forfeit 
 all pretension to loyalty, and become more Irish than 
 the Irish themselves.’" 
 
 He were a base recreant,’" boldly retorted Aylmer, 
 ‘‘ who recognised no claim of gratitude to the foster- 
 mother from whom he derived every benefit the natural 
 parent had ceased to bestow.” 
 
 ‘‘ Stand back, sirrah ! "’ vociferated Lord Ireton, chaffed 
 at the free bearing of the prisoner. Let the next come 
 up."" 
 
 An aged man, leaning upon a stick, feebly tottered for- 
 ward. His thin, snowy hair, fell in straggling tresses on 
 his neck, his small, slight figure, was attenuated and 
 shrunk, his withered face was puckered into a hundred 
 wrinkles, his whole appearance bore evidence of a life of 
 austerity and maceration ; yet was his dark- gray eye 
 bright, and impregnate with intellectual power, as he 
 lifted it and gazed steadily upon the magistrate.’" 
 
 Well, old man,” said Lord Ireton, I understand you 
 are a Jesuit. How comes it that, making profession of a 
 crime so heinous, you are yet found, in defiance of the Act 
 prohibiting all such culprits from sojourning in the land, 
 braving the law, and exposing your gray hairs to be laid 
 in a felon’s grave ? 
 
 ‘‘My lord,” replied the aged man, in accents shrill 
 and quavering, and gently putting aside the arm of a 
 middle-aged priest who attended him, as he made a for- 
 ward step tow^ards the bench, “ I was born in the year 
 1599 — what age does that make me ? ” 
 
 “ About ninety-three, or four,” replied his lordship. 
 
 “ That is just what I am,” returned the prisoner. “ I 
 was born in the latter end of the reign of Queen Eliza- 
 beth, and I have served my God seventy years in the 
 Order of St. Ignatius of Loyola.” His form seemed to 
 dilate and become more upright as he spoke ; his voice 
 grew steadier and more impressive, his eye burned with 
 stronger light. “ Seventy years a Jesuit ! "’ he repeated, 
 musing aloud. 
 
 “That is a span of years should add the gift of 
 
600 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 prophecy to your other ghostly endowments/^ said Lord 
 Ireton, with a jibing smile. ‘‘ Tour friends must reve- 
 rence you as a seer. Can you cast horoscopes, and foretell 
 the future by the art of divination or incantation ? What’s 
 your name ? ” 
 
 My name is one that good men, and brave men, have 
 borne from pre-historic time, w-herefore I am proud to own 
 it, proud to boast of it, as the peer is of his coronet — My 
 name is Brendan O’Oavanagh.” His form rose more 
 high, and his voice swelled like a clarion, tuneful, clear, 
 and thrilling, while an indescribable blending of majesty, 
 dignity, authority, and rebuke, harmonised into one ex- 
 pression of supreme grandeur, pervaded his aspect. “ My 
 fathers bore the name,” he continued, and reigned in 
 honour in this their native isle, long, long ages ere 
 the name of Saxon or of Briton were heard of in the 
 land — five centuries ago” — he paused in thought. 
 am not soothsayer nor seer, nor is the gift of prophecy 
 mine. I may not cast horoscopes by the art of divina- 
 tion, or magic, yet, take heed, 0 ye men who hear me, 
 of the words I speak, for I am but as the mouthpiece 
 of my Heavenly Master, and his oracle to speak the 
 words his own divine lips have framed; hence, give 
 ear and hearken to solemn prophecies and warnings that 
 are not mine, but His in whose name I speak. Five 
 centuries it is since ye of Britain first set foot upon our 
 soil, not in peaceful guise, as once ye came to learn 
 religion, wisdom, and science in our schools ; but with 
 the loud trumpet blast challenging to war. Te found 
 a peaceful isle, blooming into the fulness of a new 
 spring after three hundred years of desolation — ye found 
 fair shrines again lighted which tempest had extinguished, 
 and stately temples rising out of their ashes covering the 
 land ; ye found a diademed monarch swaying the sceptre of 
 sovereignty over a free and contented nation ; princes 
 girding his ancient throne, and chieftains upholding his 
 power with their spears. Ye found traflBc in our cities, 
 commerce in our ports, abundance in our teeming plains 
 covered with lowing herds and fiocks, and waving with 
 golden harvests, the fruit of our peasants’ industry ; 
 
priests’ heads in the market. 
 
 601 
 
 hospitable doors were thrown open to receive ye ; our 
 king and our princes were loath to draw the sword, 
 against ye ; and, alas ! more willing to tender the right 
 hand of fellowship and welcome as to honourable strangers 
 asking to settle among them. How did ye repay the 
 generous confidence reposed in ye ? In what measure did 
 ye give back, filled to the brim and overfiowing with bitter- 
 ness, the golden cup of the wine of friendship presented to 
 ye ? Oh ! how did ye ? Ye had not yet fiedged your 
 wings till we found that birds of ill omen had laid their 
 brood and brought forth vultures in the nest of doves; 
 then too late, too late, our chiefs arose to fend and guard 
 their people ; dissension, planned by intrigue, to divide 
 and conquer ; deceit, falsehood, treachery, unknown before 
 among us, but brought by ye fresh-forged from hell, with 
 injustice, oppression, and cruelties unheard of, filled the 
 land with strife and woe ; iniquity, sowed broadcast 
 wherever your steps passed, sprung up, and covered the 
 face of the nation : no fear of God checked, no sense of 
 religion or humanity restrained your evil policy. How is 
 it now, that at the end of five centuries, when by fraud, 
 force, and rapine, ye have wrested the soil from its owners 
 as brigands on the highway take by violence the traveller’s 
 property, or burglars who break into a house that is not 
 theirs, to rob, plunder, and murder so changed, so sul- 
 lied is the aspect of our country, we know it not. No 
 longer the island of saints, ye have made it a den of 
 dragons ; no more a school of knowledge, ye have made 
 it an uncultured waste : our throne in ruins, our shrines 
 extinguished, our temples deserted, our people demoralised, 
 our nobles exiled, our faith in chains ; liars, thieves, and 
 blood-sellers swarming our streets ; idlers, drunkards, and 
 brawlers, infesting every dwelling; the libertine, the mur- 
 derer, and the violater of every law, human and divine, 
 seated in the high places of power. Such is the picture of 
 our country to-day. And now, ye men who hear me, attend.” 
 (The priest lifted his right hand with impressive solemnity.) 
 ‘‘ For all this shall there be no accounting ? shall there be 
 no retributive hour ? Yea, it cometh, and will come 
 quickly, while ye are laying up for yourselves wrath 
 
602 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 against the day of wrath. Do penance, do penance, for 
 ye have sinned, and great is the measure of your iniquity ; 
 the cup is well nigh filled up ; — and, when the measure is 
 full, what hand shall save ye ? what tongue shall plead for 
 ye at the bar of the divine tribunal ? a bar more terrible 
 than this whereat I stand — man, before his frail fellow- 
 man, to whom brief reign of power is awarded for his own 
 trial of claim to punishment or recompense. Who shall 
 clothe your nakedness ? Where will be the gold ye 
 amassed ? What fruit will ye bear from the land ye 
 ravaged ? The moth and the worm will consume the 
 vesture of pride woven in the loom by the hands of starved 
 and trembling slaves ; rust and fire will canker and melt 
 into dross the gold wrung from the toil of the famished 
 peasant ; the luxuries that took the bread from the 
 lips of his famished children, to pamper your sensuality, 
 will be the bane of your eternity ; the castles, the palaces, 
 the opulent cities and towns, ye shall leave behind ye, 
 monuments, as it were, of your fame, the glory of your 
 posterity, and the envy of surrounding lands. Their 
 foundations have been laid in blood ; their cement has 
 been moistened with tears ; the labour, and the sweat, and 
 the spoil of the oppressed have reared the imposing struc- 
 ture, have gilded the hall till it outshines the sun, and 
 polished the oak, and shaped the marble, and wrought the 
 tapestry, and fabricated the silk, and filled the mart with 
 produce and the palace with luxury. Lo ! the fruit is fair 
 to look on : it ripens in the san, and rain and dew con- 
 tribute alike their quota to swell and bring it to perfec- 
 tion, while the rot and the worm are at the core, and the 
 pecking bird and the insect without lie in wait their 
 opportunity the hour it is abandoned to decay. So will 
 collapse and end in nought the work of the evil. It will 
 pass away in the fulness of time into other hands ; thy 
 posterity shall be scattered, and the place that knew them 
 shall know them no more.’' 
 
 ‘‘Is that the peroration ?” cried Fitz Rufus, fiippantly, 
 as the Jesuit, exhausted, ceased to speak. 
 
 “ The father must admit our patience is proof, when we 
 sat out such an oration,” said Plantagenet, turning to the 
 senior magistrate with a smile. 
 
priests’ heads in the market. 603 
 
 was in hopes,” observed Lord Ireton, /Hhe priest 
 was coming to some point in his own vindication ; but, 
 instead, we have been favoured with a homily on the 
 subject of our own misdeeds, an exhortation to repentance, 
 and an insidious menace of chastisement by-and-by. 
 How truly Jesuitical, how surely one may know the bird 
 by the song! Getting late, is it not, Sanchy?” to a 
 brother magistrate.” 
 
 ‘‘ Too late for more business to-day, Let the two pri- 
 soners, Cavanagh and Aylmer, be sent for judgment to 
 the Chief Justice — their sentence is inevitable; the others 
 may be remanded till our next sitting.’^ 
 
 His lordship rose, as he spoke, to withdraw. 
 
 The young Dominican, stepping forward as the officers 
 came to conduct them to the condemned cell, gave his arm 
 to the aged Jesuit, who, quite enfeebled by his exertion, 
 accepted thankfully the .proffered aid. 
 
 Have no fear, father ; I’ll care him, so far as I can,” 
 said Lionel to the Jesuit friend of the old man, whom, at 
 parting, he embraced with tears and knelt to for his bless- 
 
 ing- 
 
 “ Come along wid ye, and none o’ yer balderdash,” 
 savagely exclaimed the rude minion of the law; ‘Hhis 
 ain’t a play-house for actors to show off.” 
 
 The friends parted in silence to meet on earth no more. 
 That night the old priest died quietly on his pallet of 
 straw ; young Aylmer, kneeling beside him, received his 
 last sigh and blessing, then, having prayed long and fer- 
 vently beside the corpse, he betook himself to make pre- 
 paration for his own end, his thoughts reverting sadly 
 betimes to the fate of the friends of his childhood, and 
 the innocent children with whom he had so often sported, 
 the FitzAdelms, once so exalted in their sphere, fairest 
 of the fair in the galaxy of beauty, rank, and fashion ; 
 he thought of their haughty grace and queenly bearing, 
 now all laid low; and of Father 0 ’Mara, the loved pre- 
 ceptor of his noviceship ; and his thoughts raved in 
 dreamy contemplation picturing the scene of horror in 
 that fatal cavern, when the alarm was given, and death, 
 as it were, in its skeleton form, stood revealed among 
 them; he heard, as it were, in reverie, the mother’s shriek. 
 
604 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 the children’s screams, the father’s groan of anguish ; he 
 saw the agonised imploring faces of all ; the tears streamed, 
 down his cheeks like drops of lava, and then he wondered 
 what other victims had perished within the gloom of that 
 profound abyss, described to him by May and Bella, whose 
 treacherous promise of shelter had lured them hither. 
 Alas ! they were many : Lady Pitz Stephen, Cathleen 
 Daly and child, Norah Toole and her son, were among 
 the number, who, flying from the ruins of Kells, had 
 made their way, in the fond hope of security to the 
 friendly asylum that had harboured them in safety and 
 comfort heretofore. But among the fugitives was one 
 who fled with them — the boy who had eaten of their bread 
 and warmed him at their hearth a night or two before ; he 
 tracked them closely to their last refuge ; he saw them 
 enter, he spotted the priest, and returned to his friends 
 laden with tidings. 
 
 Moses Bradly exulted in a well-fllled purse after that 
 night. 
 
 Father Lionel Aylmer and Father Brendan O’Cavanagh 
 were buried in the one grave without coffin or shroud ; the 
 Jesuit and the Dominican were placed side by side. They 
 were buried at dead of night, lest any felonious papists, 
 lurking on the watch in holes and corners, might find the 
 remains and convey them away for solemn obsequies and 
 Christian burial, or to possess themselves of relics of the 
 martyrs ; so the spot is not known where they will arise at 
 the call of the archangel. It may be in the Castleyard of 
 Dublin, beneath the grim shadow of Bermingham Tower, 
 where so many heroes and patriots lie buried. Conspicuous 
 in fame among the noble dead, Walter Riagh, the son of 
 the Earl of Desmond, with his bosom friend and brother- 
 in-law ; Luinech O’Byrne of Olenmalure, with his two 
 brothers, the sons of the far-famed mountain king, and 
 the O’Neills, O’Briens, O’Tuhals ? — how many who shall 
 say Requiescant in pace ? 
 
 In the pocket of Lionel Aylmer’s coat were found, after 
 his death, two notes ; one concise and brief ran thus : — 
 
 Lionel, for the sake of old acquaintanceship, if you 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANIAC’s REVENGE. 605 
 
 •will discover the retreat of Father Cuin, or put us in the 
 way of taking him, your sentence shall be commuted. 
 
 “ (Signed), 
 
 “ Plantagenet Tudor.” 
 
 The other billet was quite as characteristic, and pro- 
 ceeded thus : — 
 
 “ Cuss me, young fellar, if I wont get yer set loose if 
 yer only tell me or Jonas where to come at Maud Fitz 
 Eustace. 
 
 “ Yer servant, 
 
 “ Sir Clotwortht Grub.” 
 
 CHAPTEE XL. 
 
 THE BRIDAL — ^THE MANIAc’s REVENGE. 
 
 ** Life’s cup is drained — earth fades before their eye ; 
 
 Their task is closing — they have but to die. 
 
 Ask ye why fled they hither ? That their doom 
 Might be to sink unfettered to the tomb. 
 
 They weep, those champions of the cross they weep, 
 
 Yet vow themselves to death ; — ay, midst that train 
 
 Are martyrs privileged in tears to steep 
 
 Their lofty sacrifice. Those men are strangers here : 
 
 The homes they never shall behold again 
 
 Lie far away ” F. H. 
 
 Secluded in primeval solitude, high amid the wild range 
 of the Cummeragh Hills, is the stupendous chasm of 
 Cumshenana. The precipice of solid rock, eleven hundred 
 feet in almost perpendicular height, looms above a lake of 
 great depth, slumbering in hue dark and sullen at its 
 base, giving stinted vent to a rivulet which, meandering 
 down the mountain, meets the Clodagh river, before its 
 passage through the Curraghmore. From the Alpine 
 eminence the greater part of the County Waterford appears 
 as a spacious map drawn out below the mountain, and in 
 
606 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 clear weather a line of sea coast from thirty to forty miles 
 is distinctly visible. 
 
 It was to this wild region, untrod save by the foot of 
 wolf, deer, fox, or outlaw, that Fitz Adelm and Sir XJlic 
 de Burgh, with Raymond, followed in haste the rapid 
 flight of Galloping Hogan and his stalwart little band of 
 seven rapparees. Deep into the heart of the intricate wilder- 
 dess, by paths known only to the bold guerilla chief, they 
 penetrated till, jaded and spent, they stood in safety from 
 the pursuit of foes — vainglorious of their superior qualities, 
 their purer, more enlightened Christianity, civilisation, and 
 refinement. From pursuit of these they rested in safety 
 amid a few poor illiterate serfs, half-naked, half-starved, 
 whose only wealth was a mud hovel hidden away in some 
 nook of the wilderness, a goat, a few fowl, and the pre- 
 carious spoil of the chase or the lake ; for industry’s 
 thousand doors were not only hermetically closed against 
 all of the banned persuasion, but it was even unsafe for 
 the popish pariah, unprotected by law, delivered over 
 without appeal to the pleasure of the elect of the church 
 established, to cross the path of those arrogant saints, or 
 chance the risk of meeting them in mood of ill temper, or 
 disposition to implicate them in some nefarious transaction. 
 Among those forlorn outcasts, whose fathers in happier 
 days had dwelt perchance in hall or bower, the hunted 
 outlaw was received with open arms, and repaid the humble 
 hospitality of his friends with many a creacht of plunder, 
 proudly levied in reprisal upon the colonists, who found 
 it Jhard, and loudly murmured their complaints of 
 the depredations of the people on a minor scale, 
 whom they had themselves plundered upon a scale 
 of magnitude and enormity they would not suffer 
 the native race — the mere Irish, the abominable ido- 
 latrous papists to attempt — that they might procure a crust 
 to satisfy hunger, or a rag to cover nakedness. Then their 
 uprightness was shocked to find that the wretches were 
 all thieves and robbers. Truly their lives were cast among 
 a bad lot in an evil land — this progeny of saints. Among 
 these desperadoes, outlaws, and robbers, the wanderer, too, 
 found a welcome and a home. Sir Ulio de Burgh, Fitz 
 
THE BRIDAL. THE MANIAc’s REVENGE. 607 
 
 Adelm, Adorine O’Bjrne, and Maud Fitz Eustace, were 
 conducted by Gralloping Hogan to the shelling he was 
 betimes wont to inhabit — a wild and rude spot, the appro- 
 priate barracks of some twenty or thirty of his marauding 
 band, whose weapons of warfare, pikes, hatchets, clubs, 
 rusty brands, and matchlocks, were piled and strewn 
 about in reckless disorder. The oaken furniture was rude 
 and scanty ; bundles of heath strewn for beds, upon the 
 earthen floor, were as yet unoccupied, for Hogan, with his 
 party, were the first to return in the grey dawn from noc- 
 turnal ramble, raid, or foray. A couple of fine stag- 
 hounds, and two or three wolf-dogs, prowled around the 
 premises. To one of the latter Sir Ulic took a great 
 fancy. As the friendly creature came up and looked 
 earnestly in his eyes, it reminded him of Harold's dog 
 Broder. Some horses, too, there were, small, but strong, 
 supple and well-shaped animals, cropping the herbage as 
 they strayed at large, yet so docile as to answer to a 
 whistle from their owner. The remains of a large fire 
 were smouldering upon the capacious hearth ; and, as 
 Hogan invited the fugitives to enter his dwelling. Sir 
 Athelstane lifted Maud from the pillion, Adorine was 
 assisted to dismount by Sir Ulic, the cotamoresin which the 
 outlaw had wrapt them were thrown aside, the horses were 
 unbridled and turned loose to rest or graze, and Raymond 
 and Owen MacCarthy busied themselves raking up the 
 fire, throwing on more turf and wood, quickly fan- 
 ning the whole into a blaze, while Hogan sent his hench- 
 men Diarmid MacDermod and Shaun Derg O’Cahan, to 
 summon Moll Doyle, an old crone of the hamlet, to wait 
 upon the ladies, and to apprise the priest. Father Bir- 
 mingham, of the new arrivals, he himself, same time, set- 
 ting about the duties of host to prepare breakfast for his 
 guests . While a glorious frosty sun burst forth in 
 dazzling brilliance, gilding mountain peak and distant 
 ocean, entranced Sir IJlic and Adorine stood gazing upon 
 the wide-spread intervening plains of Waterford, sweep- 
 ing broad and far beneath their feet, one only thought 
 marring the sense of exquisite pleasure imparted by the 
 scene — an anxious solicitude concerning their other friends. 
 
608 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 and how they had sped in their flight. Sir Ulic was also 
 concerned for Elphine, who had got separated from them ; 
 hut, as for Athelstane and Maud, absorbed in their present 
 bliss, hand locked in hand, heart speaking to heart, no 
 selflsh thoughtlessness indeed was theirs, but such was the 
 atmosphere of couleur de rose which their own happiness 
 flung around them, they could see no cloud, they antici- 
 pated no sorrow, there was no room in their breasts for 
 fear. Hope, sanguine hope, ruled the hour ; their friends 
 would escape the threatened danger, and all would meet 
 again in peace and joy. Half-an-hour seemed but as a 
 few minutes, till they were summoned in to a plentiful, 
 hot, and savoury repast, prepared by the hands of Moll 
 Doyle and three or four young peasant women, consisting 
 of fried bacon and eggs, a fricassee of kid, hare,Mamb, 
 broiled trout and salmon, hot cake and butter, boiled 
 milk and fresh cream, and, to crown the fete, was a stone 
 pitcher of potheen, fresh-drawn from a neighbouring still, 
 with some clear amber combs of wild honey to sweeten the 
 beverage that all appreciated, became doubly prized, nay, 
 an ingredient essential to the national life ; for, when 
 famished with hunger, perished with cold, drooping ^neath 
 affliction, oppressed with care, declining in sickness, or 
 writhing in suffering, mental or physical, the troubled 
 drank, and found in the elixir a panacea for every woe. 
 To add to the pleasure, the priest was not slow to answer 
 the call to his new parishioners. He had just said his 
 daily morning Mass for his flock in his little rustic chapel, 
 and, fresh and cheery, he came ruddy with health and 
 exercise to share the repast, and greet again his former 
 briefly-made acquaintance Sir Ulic de Burgh. 
 
 A couple of months — bleak, weary, winter months — of 
 storm, snow, rain, and desolation, in alternate vicissitude, 
 wore away. March, bright, blustry, and clear, approached, 
 and before the ides were told, a bridal train, the least joyful 
 of any that ever a joyful occasion convened, stood before 
 the humble altar of the Cummeragh mountain chapel. 
 No tissue of gold, no silken vesture, no glittering gems, 
 no courtly guests were there; Cupid^s roses were dis- 
 placed by a cypress wreath, a sword was suspended over 
 
THE BRIDAL. — ^THE MANIAC'S REVENGE. 
 
 609 
 
 over every head, every heart was saturated with bitter 
 grief for the fate of friends, the tale of whose doom had 
 long since reached their ears. 
 
 Arrayed simply in robe of white, lawn-woven by the 
 hands of the mountain women, and flowing mantle of 
 scarlet, with Oladdagh hood, yet looking a peerless queen, 
 Maud Fitz Eustace knelt to pledge her virgin vows to Sir 
 Athelstane Fitz Adelm, Adorine, her only bride's-maid, 
 similarly attired, save that her mantle was of blue. Sir 
 Ulic de Burgh, Eaymond O’Byrne, Owen Mac Oarthy, 
 and Oalloping Hogan, with a crowd of peasants and chil- 
 dren in the background, with the vested priest upon the 
 altar, formed a not unpicturesque coup d'^ceiL The morning 
 was fair ; the lark sang high and clear in the blue sky ; not 
 a wind disturbed the fragrance of the frost-scented, balmy 
 air. The solemn words are spoken that are ratifled in 
 heaven ; the mystic knot is tied that binds two in one 
 for ever ; the bond is sealed which no power in heaven, 
 on earth, or in hell, save death alone, can break. 
 
 Blessed be Grod ! So far all well,’' cried Athelstane, 
 clasping his young bride in rapturous embrace. Now, 
 come weal, come woe, our destiny is one, Maud. A little 
 while, light of my life, pulse and beloved of my heart, and 
 on the shores of this ill-starred land, where we leave behind 
 the wreck and ashes of all else we have loved and cherished, 
 sorrow, danger, and we part company." 
 
 Alas ! how many prophesy, and prophesy in vain. A 
 maniac’s hand was decreed to frustrate the fond hope and 
 prove it an illusive dream. Mona Shule had fled with the De 
 Courcys to the wilds of Dunmore. In the pell-mell rush and 
 confusion she had again seized upon the children whom the 
 strange hallucination had taken possession of were her own. 
 There were no means now to get rid of the troublesome 
 claimant, and Father O'Mara suggested the policy, for 
 peace-sake, of humouring her conceit. So the poor creature, 
 in a transport of delight, accompanied the route ; and when 
 not thwarted, so far from being troublesome, she was 
 gentle, tractable, and even by her songs and her antics, 
 helped to amuse all and cheer the way. When they 
 arrived at the cavern she was astonished when she saw 
 
 40 
 
610 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE. 
 
 the hand, led by her supposed children, and followed by 
 the priest, dive down into its abyss, and was preparing in 
 some doubt to go after, when her eye fell upon the boy 
 lurking in the vicinity without, then, with the cunning of 
 madness, she stopped short, eyed himkeenly, and cried aloud: 
 ‘‘Why don’t you go in, ‘Danger’ ? What fearest thou?” 
 
 The boy for answer, taking up a stone, hurled it at 
 at ner head. It struck her on the forehead, and she fell 
 to the earth stunned and bleeding profusely. For some 
 time she lay thus, till one of the Kennedys, returning 
 with old Daly from a predatory expedition of the night 
 before, unaware of what had come to pass in their absence, 
 found her, and brought her into the cave where her wound 
 was washed and dressed, and she was soothed to rest by 
 Lady De Oourcy and the children to whom she had ceased 
 to be an object of terror. Here she stayed a couple of 
 days, and, strange to say, whether from the effect of the 
 blow in relieving the over-charged brain of inflammatory 
 humour, or the tranquillity of her mind no longer per- 
 turbed by the distress of vain longing, she became 
 singularly collected, rational, and quiet. Mostly silent, she 
 spoke little; but the little she said bore evidence of reason. 
 Father O’Mara, looking at her, nodded his head and said: 
 “ She will come right yet.” 
 
 It was the third day since she had been their guest, 
 and Mona, showing symptoms of restlessness, but not 
 of aberration, and wearying for fresh air, said she would 
 go out for a couple of hours. 
 
 “ Take heed no one sees you, Mona,” said Father 
 O’Mara, who judged it not wise to restrain her. 
 
 “ I’ll be wary,” she answered, with vague, pondering 
 look. “ ‘Danger’ is about. I’ll be wary, for where he is the 
 ‘Evil Eye ’ is not far.” 
 
 Mona went ; — it was then high noon. She returned when 
 the shades of eve were falling, for she had to make circuit 
 and lie concealed in heather, having spied in the distance 
 the marauders on their way from the Cave of Slaughter, 
 filling the holy solitude with roars of fiendish mirth and 
 laughter, as each vaunted his villainous exploit ; and 
 Major Grub himself, followed by Jonas, passed so near her. 
 
THE BRIDAL. — ^THE MANIAC’s REVENGE. 611 
 
 that she could discern the gory head he carried in his 
 hand, dyeing the soil with dropping blood, so lately was 
 the deed of murder perpetrated. Then, when the rabble 
 route had passed, precipitately seeking her late asylum 
 and kind friends, she found them all stiff in death, but 
 what most rivited her in despair was the sight of her 
 children, who had fondly, as she deemed, come to know 
 their mother and to love her, stiff, cold corpses lying at 
 her feet. One prolonged, unearthly wail of anguish, that 
 was more like the howl of a wild beast than a human 
 cry, burst from her lips and reverberated through all the 
 echoes of the dark cavern, now dimly lighted by the 
 embers of decaying brands, the mournful wake-lights of 
 the martyred dead. While thus unhappy Mona sat and 
 rocked herself wildly too and fro, silent at length from the 
 very profundity of woe, her unvented feelings fermenting 
 and seething within, exhaled, as it were, fumes of intoxi- 
 cation, which, ascending to her brain, whirled it again to 
 phrensy. But her insanity had taken a new form. It was 
 no longer the gentle maniac, wandering in quest of her 
 lost children, amusing herself, or warning others with 
 snatches of impromptu melody, but a terrible hecate, 
 brooding in vengeful cogitations over the slain, and with 
 method in her madness, she devoted the murderers to death. 
 While thus with blazing eyes she crouched and mused 
 among the dead, sounds as of someone scrambling down 
 the crags caught her swift ear, and without moving, she 
 fixed a glittering, feline gaze upon the spot whence the 
 noise approached. In less than ten minutes she heard a 
 rough, strong voice exclaim aloud, while a chain clanked : 
 ‘‘ Back, brute, back ; one would suppose you sniffed 
 blood, you tug so at the chain. Ho, friends, there ! 
 someone show a light. All silent, deserted by the mass, 
 I would say, only Gralloping Hogan told me some of 
 them were here, and I get the smell of smouldering brambles. 
 And what’s this ? — someone lying. Back, Phooka, back ; — 
 blood, by the hand of Fin Ma Cool !” 
 
 Miles de Cogan (for it was lie) stood, holding back with 
 iron hand the straining wolf, eager to lap the blood lying 
 fresh and thick around, and gazed in stony trance at some 
 
612 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 twenty or thirty corpses, lying in every attitude and 
 condition of infancy, youth, and age ; and nestled 
 among them, with a child’s head resting on her lap, 
 another hugged to her bosom, the solitary living form 
 of Mona Shule, scrutinising him with keen vigilance. It 
 was only a moment : the maniac sprung up, threw 
 aloft her arms, and with a ringing cry darted forward : 
 ‘‘ Myles, Myles ! — it is you, it is you !” she shrieked and 
 laughed till the cavern rang again. My lord, my love, 
 my husband, you will avenge them ; — avenge our children.” 
 And she twined her arms tightly round the stalwart figure 
 of the thunderstruck visitor, who, after amoment’s hesitation, 
 caught up a brand, blew it into bright fiame, stared wildly 
 at Mona, and then, with loud exclamation, uttered: 
 
 Yes, yes, as I live, ’tis she ! — 'tis Aileen, my lost wife, 
 my treasured love ! Oh, child, child, come back to my 
 bosom, never to part again; Whence have you come ? — 
 what is all this ? — Explain, explain it ; for my brain is 
 crazed with woe, and betimes it misgives me that I see 
 not and speak not aright.” 
 
 It was the ‘ Tiger,' Myles,” softly murmured Mona, 
 looking with fearful glance into his eyes, the ^ Tiger — 
 you know him ; — the same that pursued us when we fied 
 from Eathfarnham. He had killed you, I thought, and 
 tore away the children. Don’t be wrathful, love ; it was 
 not my fault. Next to you I loved them better than my 
 own life ; I did my best to save them ; on my knees I wept 
 and prayed. But they say tigers are bloodthirsty and 
 cruel, so I had no chance. Then, after long wandering, 
 oh, how long ! in cold and hunger, and thirst and naked- 
 ness, I found them again, a little grown and not quite so 
 pretty, because their long golden hair was all shred away, 
 but yet very pretty, and so good when they came to know 
 me ! And there they are now, Myles, dead ! — dead ! — dead ! 
 with the kind friends and kindred that sheltered and 
 rescued them. Oh, Myles, will you not slay the tiger; I 
 feel my head is getting bad again, and it won’t come right 
 while he lives. The ‘ Evil Eye,’ too, belougs to him. Be- 
 times his shadow falls upon my path, but I shun him 
 quickly ; and ^ Danger ’ is another ; his myrmidons are 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANIAC^S REVENGE. 613 
 
 legion, and you have need to be wary, for if hurt befall 
 you, Myles, I will kill myself, indeed I will.'’ 
 
 While Mona spoke, Myles do Oogan, listening with 
 mute, fixed gaze, saw, in unutterable afflLiction, that the 
 bright torch of reason was burning with wavering, un- 
 steady fiame within its mysterious recess. Lovingly, 
 gently he took her hand : 
 
 ‘‘ Come, dear one, let's go hence. Fear not ; we shall 
 hunt the tiger to his death. Long years have I lain in 
 wait in my lair, not venturing to track the monster into 
 the labyrinth infested and swarming with his savage herd. 
 But, by noon-day and by midnight I scour the environs 
 of the fair Eden in which the beasts of prey have littered, 
 and made their dens of blood. Many a one has fallen by 
 this good hand, but he, the arch-foe, hath yet gone un- 
 scathed. Fear not, nathless, the centaur that ravages our 
 plains shall yet bite the dust. I feel it here '' — he touched 
 his bosom with his finger — that his end is nigh, and 
 wolves shall batten on his bones, the venomous flesh of the 
 monster shall not poison holy earth." 
 
 Casting a look of shuddering pity at the corpses strewn 
 around, Myles, taking the hand of Mona and dragging 
 the wolf, snarling, along, began to ascend from the scene of 
 slaughter into the air of the upper world. It was approach- 
 ing midnight, and the two sat down upon the heath to hold 
 lonely converse. 
 
 Weeks elapsed. Myles de Oogan it was who conducted 
 Mona to the wild retreat of the Oummeragh hills, to find 
 gentle attention and sympathy among the outlaws, while 
 he pursued his wonted roving career. Myles de Oogan it 
 was who acquainted them with the fate of their friends in 
 the cave of Dunmore, and vowed to avenge them ere he 
 departed. But Mona, the fire that burned within her 
 breast and in her brain, maddened, impelled, goaded 
 her to restless action in pursuit of her object: a very 
 sleuth-hound in instinct to track its prey, with unflagging 
 pertinacity of dogged purpose, she might truly have been 
 compared to. Day and night she ranged the country 
 round for miles ; no weather impeded, no labour exhausted 
 her. She was more insane than ever, but there was method 
 in her madness. 
 
614 
 
 LEIXLTP CASTLE, 
 
 A couple of days before that fixed upon for the wedding 
 of Fitz Adelm, now hastened, because Hogan had brought 
 tidings that in a few days a smuggler’s vessel for France 
 would leave the coast of Waterford, and he had secured 
 berths for them on board from the captain, who was his 
 friend. Mona started at early dawn upon her wonted 
 rounds, and no one thought of her more. 
 
 A couple of weeks previously a gay party of friends had 
 come on a visit for hunting and shooting to Kilkenny 
 Castle, the seat of the Marquis of Ormond ; among them 
 were Fitz Eufus, Plantagenet Tudor, Sir Clotworthy and 
 Captain Grubb, Captain Moses Bradley, and the Rev. Love- 
 lace Clutterbuck. Mona had arrived at a knowledge of 
 this, and for days she haunted the precincts of the castle, 
 unseen herself, but spying alL One night she sat conspi- 
 cuously upon a heap of ruin in the cemetery of the old 
 Dominican abbey, peering with the restless vigilance of ex- 
 pectation on every side, starting at every sound, and mur- 
 muring half aloud : They must come by this way, 
 
 I know they will come this way: the ^ Tiger,’ one; 
 ‘ Evil Eye,’ two ; ^ Danger,’ three ; and all the others — 
 a goodly pack — and they shall walk straight into my 
 net — ha ! ha ! ha ! What will you say to that, Myles ? 
 How I shall laugh to see their wry faces when they find 
 the pit into which they have fallen ! How my heart shall 
 leap exulting for every shot that peals ! Not one shall 
 escape the outlaws’ rage, and in number they will be no 
 match to cope with them. De Burgh and Fitz Adelm 
 alone, with Hogan, and those two stout boys, Raymond 
 and Owen, would be a match for twenty. Then, if Myles 
 come in time, as I sent him word by the bocagh — Mona 
 laughed again, and was silent. 
 
 The night was dark, and a piercing north-east wind 
 was stimulating the pace of a troop of riders returning 
 from a stag- hunt, and spurring their steeds to a brisk 
 gallop. The fiery animal of one of the foremost startled 
 and swerved, as passing the cemetery some object suddenly 
 fiitted athwart his path. 
 
 So, ho ! what, in the fiend’s name, goes there shouted 
 the rider, in the gruff tones of Sir Clotworthy, reining 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANlAC's REVENGE. 615 
 
 up his steed, and all came to a halt, glancing with ques- 
 tioning eyes among the mournful yew and clustering ivy. 
 ‘'Ho! hag, witch-corpse mate! Is it thou reiterated 
 the major, rendered savage by the shock to his nerves. 
 “ Forward, lads ; seize the crone ; — she’s a witch, I tell yer ; 
 ’Ang ’er up by the scrag to yon tree; ’taint lucky to let 
 ’er go hold, I’ll finish ’er star-gazing and rambles by 
 moonlight.” He drew a pistol from his holster, pulled 
 the trigger, and drew back alarmed, as his trembling aim 
 missed its object, and Mona, nothing daunted, advanced, 
 with a sardonic smile, saying, in accents changed and 
 ironical : 
 
 '‘Hoo I hoo ! gentle cavaliers! what, would ye hurt poor 
 Mona Shule, who has nought to oppose to your arms but, 
 a poor hazel wand ? Why seek ye Mona, old, and gray 
 and withered? But my bird yonder in the ivy, that 
 speaks to me by night, told me last night, when I came 
 down from the clouds on my broomstick, ’tis not Mona 
 ye want, but the outlaws, and the fair, fresh, pretty 
 fiowers they nurse. Now, is it not ?” 
 
 The major sat still, in a sort of stupefied condition, 
 wondering at the woman’s audacity, and utterly unable 
 to comprehend the drift of her speech. Jonas, at his 
 elbow, stared hard with round, unwinking eyes, not de- 
 void of speculation, only obfuscated in perception. Moses 
 Bradley, of more wideawake intelligence, sharpened by 
 action, cried out: Right ye are, old gal ; them’s wot we 
 
 want. Where be they ?” and he looked fidgety at the 
 horsemen in the rear. 
 
 “ Well, now, you are a civil-spoken youth,” said Mona, 
 but you haven’t said what reward you will give me ; and 
 you’ll want Mona’s help. So to hang me to that tree isn’t 
 the reward I’ll take to bring you to their dwelling.” 
 
 A sudden light broke in on Jonas. He pressed up to the 
 speaker, and cried : Beldame, we’ll give yer goold — 
 
 goold, as much as yer can ’old in yer fists. Come, show 
 the way, an’ to ’ell wid yer, ye hold screech-owl.” 
 
 Softly, ma houchal^ think of your own self, and don’t 
 fill up the reserved seats with such as I. Hoo-hoo !” 
 
 Get along, ye jibing beldame 1” thundered the major, 
 
616 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 with menacing gesture, an’ don’t keep us shiverin’ in the 
 blast, or we’ll make a bonfire of yer to warm us.” 
 
 ‘^Easy, asthore, I’m not goin’ to mar my fortune to ac- 
 commodate your haste ; I’ve more terms : he’s to give me 
 gold for the outlaws ; but there are the pretty flowers I 
 won’t sell for any gold; and there’s a priest with a price on 
 his head. Ha ! ha !” 
 
 An’ do yer expect to touch a tester o’ that as is our 
 lawful wages, ye old skinflint ?” bellowed a trooper in the 
 rear, I’m blow’d an’ yer will.’’ 
 
 Could you touch a tester yourself if I didn’t choose to 
 find him for you ?” demanded Mona, scornfully. ‘‘ I think 
 I’ll change my mind and go home to-night ; it threatens 
 rain, red rain.” 
 
 Let her alone, yer ’og, she’s right,” exclaimed Sir 
 Clotworthy, now thoroughly up to the business ; ‘‘she 
 must have her due, this good ’oman.” — He winked aside 
 at the trooper. — “ Groold, bright yellow goold, to buy the 
 gauds an’ trinkets, an’ all sorts — lead on.” 
 
 “You deem me as yourself, a mammon- worshipper,” 
 returned Mona. “ I’ll have none of your gold ’tis not 
 that I crave.” 
 
 “ What then, Marm,” growled Bradley, “ what d’yer 
 want ?” 
 
 “ Eevenge,” solemnly said Mona. “ Gro on before me. 
 You’ll find the ones ye seek hidden in huts among the 
 Cummeragh Hills, close by the lake of Cumshenane.” 
 
 “ Are there many ?” demanded the Earl of Ormond, 
 with prudent calculation. 
 
 “ Whom d’ye seek ?” inquired Mona. 
 
 “We seek Fitz Adelm, De Burgh, the priest, and Maud 
 Fitz Eustace,” said Plantagenet Tudor, eagerly. 
 
 “ They are there,” replied Mona. 
 
 “Who else?” quickly cried Bradley, with gaping 
 mouth andFungry eyes. 
 
 “ A few ragged women, my son, and weeny children. 
 You wouldn’t hurt them, oh, no|; mercy shines in your 
 gentle eyes and noble features. Come on?” 
 
 “ Hearken, my friends,” said the Earl of Ormond ; “ let 
 it not be to-night, our steeds are jaded, the distance is 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANlAC's REVENGE. 617 
 
 great, the hills are intricate, and I have no doubt harbour 
 more than those ye seek, with women and children. To- 
 morrow send to barracks for a troop of soldiers : I, much 
 as I wish well to your expedition, may not join it; for, 
 living in the neighbourhood, it would not be well to incur 
 the enmity of freebooters at my door, and risk incendiary 
 vengeance ; then set off by night and surprise the outlaws 
 in their fastness; meanwhile, lest any inkling should 
 transpire to foil your purpose, let this woman be conveyed 
 to the castle and detained till all is achieved.” 
 
 Capital !” exclaimed all. The cavalcade set forward, 
 and Mona, shrieking, and outrageous, was dragged along, 
 between Solomon Hill and Moses Bradley, to the castle of 
 Kilkenny, where she was flung into a dungeon, and it is 
 probable she was forgotten to be set free, as she was never 
 
 afterwards seen or heard of. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Sorrow, danger, and we part company. Cheer thee, 
 sweet Maud. Look up to yon rainbow spanning the blue sky, 
 our arch of promise that the deluge is passed away, and 
 we rest henceforth on the Ararat of hope Fitz Adelm 
 spoke, and clasped again his bride. Sir Ulic and Adorine 
 drew near to add their felicitations. Mac Carthy, 
 Eaymond, Hogan, and the priest joined in warm congra- 
 tulation ; the humble rustics murmured blessings, and 
 the lark sang louder in the morning sky ; the sun shone 
 warm and bright ; all nature seemed to smile upon the 
 glad nuptials, when other sounds were heard, other sights 
 blasted the scene, and, like the advent of the dread simoom, 
 blighting in its deadly progress all upon which it sweeps, 
 came a troop of armed dragoons, careering with drawn 
 sword and levelled musket, upon the astounded group 
 who, unwarned by any signal, unarmed, defenceless, were 
 sprung upon as a sheepfold by wolves, and as ferociously 
 seized. 
 
 ‘‘ 0 Athelstane !” screamed Maud, as Jonas Q-rub, with 
 demoniac shout of derision, strove to wrench her from the 
 grasp of the infuriated Fitz Adelm. 
 
 “ Don’t let them take me alive! — kill me! — kill me a 
 thousand times !” 
 
618 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 Sir Ulic sprang to the aid of his friend as a mastiff 
 upon a burglar. Lithe, active, muscular, he seized 
 Jonas’ bull-neck between his two hands, and locking it as 
 in an iron collar, he hurled him, black in the face, and 
 reeling like a top, yards away ; but Sir Clotworthy flung 
 his ponderous weight, with the shock of an avalanche, 
 upon the champion, who staggered like the mast of a 
 frigate of war struck by a cannon ball, yet immovable in 
 its strength; then, while Calloping Hogan fell upon 
 Plantagenet Tudor, Bradley, and Corporal Hill, Mac 
 Carthy engaged Fitz Rufus, and Raymond, flying to the 
 aid of Sir Ulic, leaped like a cat upon the shoulders of the 
 senior Grrub, and so severely mauled with flsticuffs and kicks 
 his person, that he was fain compelled, in self-defence, to 
 turn upon his fierce assailant ; while the women and the 
 few rapparees not gone on their rounds, or returned from 
 them, attacked the foe with stones and execrations. 
 Jonas, soon rebounding from his prostration, again dashed 
 upon Fitz Adelm, to encounter a double opponent in the 
 person of the priest. Father Birmingham, who, setting 
 upon him with good will, swiftly administered several 
 smart initiatory lessons in the science of pugilism. In 
 fact, we are sorry to have to record it, he broke the bridge 
 of Jonas’ nose, and drove a front tooth down his throat. 
 Yet all these fetes of pugilism made no impression upon 
 the punished. They fought on pell-mell; when a new 
 actor appeared in the fray. Miles de Cogan, stalking 
 leisurely along, came winding up the hill. A shout of 
 recognition on all sides hailed him. 
 
 The wolf ! the wolf ! ” yelled the troopers, levelling 
 their pieces to Are. 
 
 The balls rained thick upon and around him ; but the 
 outlaw beneath his cotamore wore a shirt of mail, and on 
 his head, beneath his hood, was a steel morion. Steadily 
 he came forward, sheltering the animal he led behind him. 
 The troopers, quailing with awe, fell back before the 
 approach of the mysterious being who walked through 
 such a shower unscathed, and hastily began to reload. 
 They were thirty in number, and had hitherto spared 
 their shot, pending contingency. 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANIAC’s REVENGE. 619 
 
 What’s all the pillalu ?” demanded the rapparee. 
 “How came these Sassenach soldiery among us ?” 
 
 “ Help, help, Misther, for the love o' the Virgin,” 
 roared Daly, who, locked in deadly grip, with one Sergeant 
 J ocelyn, whom he had seized in the act of discharging his 
 carbine at the head of his master, was set upon by another 
 trooper of gigantic dimensions. 
 
 “ One at a time, if ye plaze, is as much as any gossoon 
 can handle nately. Och, murther ! ye mane spalpeens to 
 take advantage o' me in this way; — but I’ll hould my grip.” 
 
 Instead, however, of flying to the aid of Daly, who, 
 whirling and twirling, reeled towards the edge of the 
 precipice with his foes, Myles de Cogan, striding along in 
 mid career, suddenly came to a standstill, shouldering his 
 gun and resting on his pike staff, to gaze upon the power- 
 ful antagonist pitted against Sir IJlic de Burgh, while 
 the rest of the troopers scared, not knowing the moment 
 when a whistle from the new-comer might garrison the 
 hill with myriads of desperadoes, stood by their loaded 
 arms to view the combat in silent consternation. Not 
 long dallied De Cogan in doubt : with accelerated step 
 he paced forward, and just as Sir Clotworthy had suc- 
 ceeded in inflicting a sharp wound on Raymond’s left arm, 
 a second upon Sir Ulic, and had lifted his poinard for a 
 more fatal thrust, Myles strode forward, with the stock 
 of his carbine striking down the lifted arm, and thrusting 
 his bulky form between the panting combatants, sternly 
 he confronted Grub, whose eyes, flaming, yet cowering, 
 rested upon him, at first daringly, then with a change of 
 expression of difl&dence, uneasiness, and distress, such as 
 a bird of prey might exhibit when overtaken in his 
 triumph by the fascinating power of the rattle-snake, and 
 compelled to drop his victim, to fall himself into the 
 devouring jaws of his enemy. 
 
 “ Tiger, fiend ! knowest thou me ?” was the fierce ex- 
 clamation of De Cogan, standing before the awed bully, 
 who, perhaps, preadmonished by some mysterious voice 
 within his bosom that the hour of reckoning was come, 
 which no human aid could avert or postpone, thought 
 wiser to propitiate his foe by soothing than to madden 
 him by defiance. 
 
620 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ‘^Fair sir, I know thee not; but an^ yer ^ave anything 
 agen me, I^m willin to square it, an’ it be goold/’ 
 
 Grold, thou idiot !” — And the speaker towered in lofty 
 figure, and indicated by the very calmness of his demeanour 
 such conscious strength and power, that all stood spell- 
 bound to hear. — Will the gold of Peru, or the mines of 
 Grolconda, win back to De Cogan that of which he hath 
 been rified ? — his olden home, the glad hearth, the heri- 
 tage of his sires ; — ay, these might be repurchased by 
 gold ; but his heart, man, and that which filled it ; — that 
 which filled for him the world with light, and made each 
 pulse of his bosom vibrate like a tuneful harp-string to 
 joyous melody — cherished associations, kindred ties, 
 domestic endearments — what amount of treasure may 
 bring me back these ? Demon !” — He raised his carbine. — 
 “ Thy blood may slake the fever thirst with which for 
 forty years I've sought thee.” 
 
 Avaunt ! — Help ! — mercy ! — vagabond soldiers, fire ! 
 Will ye see me die — slaughtered in cold blood by a mis- 
 creant ? — Help, Jonas ! ” 
 
 The soldiers levelled their carbines at command of 
 their officer, but a bullet swifter than theirs pierced 
 the brain of Sir Clotworthy Grrub, and his dying howl 
 of imprecation reverberated in startling echo from the 
 sky. Several soldiers again discharged their pieces at 
 the outlaw, but again saved by his coat of chain mail, 
 and his helmet outwardly covered with thick wadding, 
 the outlaw, seizing the corpse by the hair of the head with 
 one hand, and lugging his wolf with the other, pike and 
 gun tucked under his arm, he strode away from the scene, 
 the troopers looking after him, whispering one to another : 
 ’Tis the devil himself or he’d have fallen.” Mean- 
 while a shriek arose wild and thrilling from some voice in 
 the melee^ and Sir Ulic, turning to look in the direction, 
 beheld with dizzy eye his faithful man Daly, now in the 
 coil of Jonas Grub, whom he had attacked after flinging 
 his other adversaries, one with broken ribs, the other with 
 dislocated ankle, tugging and straining upon the very 
 ledge of the precipice, each striving to pitch over his 
 opponent, each with fingers clutching in deadly grasp. 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANIAc’s REVENGE. 621 
 
 Pull away, my hearty ; — if I go, you’ll come along 
 wid me, an’ we’ll both tell our story, plaze Grod, an’ his 
 blessed mother, at the one time,” exclaimed Daly, 
 faltering out word by word, with gasping breath, as 
 Sir Ulic and Raymond came flying to his rescue. 
 Too late ! They had not made a dozen steps when, with 
 arm wrenched from the elbow, Daly staggered, struck by 
 a second musket shot, and was hurled right over the brow 
 of the precipice where he fell to the bottom a shattered 
 corpse. Jonas returning to his assault on Fitz Adelm, who, 
 encumbered with his fainting charge, and no longer aided 
 by Father Birmingham, whom some of the peasantry had 
 carried away with a broken leg, was ill able to meet his 
 vindictive attack. Plantagenet Tudor, Fitz Rufus, and 
 some others, having meanwhile been overpowered by Hogan 
 and Mac Carthy, the captain of the troop. Lord Roden, 
 now came up with an English ofl&cer and a cadet, both of 
 whom had been fellow-collegians with Sir Athelstane at 
 Oxford, and addressing Fitz Adelm, commanded him to 
 save bloodshed and surrender, else he would order the 
 military to Are again. 
 
 ‘‘ Let them Are, Athelstane ! ” cried the excited Sir XJlio. 
 “ Better die as we stand altogether, than perish by such 
 fate as foes, whom no humanity or honour binds, may 
 choose to mete to us. No surrender ! ” 
 
 ‘‘Nonsense, Athelstane, old friend,” interposed Lord 
 Seymour. “ Come, give up ; — resistance is futile — nay, 
 worse, insane.” 
 
 “ I care not for myself, but my wife shall not fall into 
 the hands of enemies,” murmured Athelstane, bewildered 
 as he clasped tighter all that was dearest to him now in 
 the world. 
 
 “ She’s not your wife ! ” bellowed J onas. “ A marriage 
 by a priest is no marriage in law, and she belongs to me ; 
 I claim ’er.” 
 
 The English ofl&cer, a man of high honour and nice 
 sentiment, one of the best type of the highest class of 
 Englishmen, looked astonished, as did also his friend Sir 
 Edmund Wolseley at the pale but resolute Fitz Adelm, 
 the dark, determined Sir Ulic, and the coarse, revolting 
 
622 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 J onas ; then Lord Seymour, glancing at Lord Eoden, said 
 again to Fitz Adelm : 
 
 “ Athelstane, 1 don’t well comprehend your position ; I 
 had always known you a staunch Protestant, and heard of 
 you as a loyalist, nathless, surrender, and accept my hand 
 and pledge that justice shall be shown you and your 
 friends — impartial justice/' 
 
 Sir,” cried De Burgh, stepping forward, you must 
 be a stranger in this country, or you would not make so 
 bold an assertion. In this our land, be it known to you, 
 there is neither mercy, law, nor justice for one of the 
 native race or the old creed. Our condition is no better 
 than that of the baited wolf and fox, whose best security 
 is in their hidden lair, whose sole defence is in the weapon 
 they may use against the foe.” 
 
 You are excited, sir ; you exaggerate in your warmth,” 
 said Sir Edmund Wolseley. The majesty, the justice of 
 England would not tolerate so flagrant an abuse of the 
 Constitution — the violation, in fact, of Magna Oharta, the 
 bulwark of her subjects’ liberty.” 
 
 ‘^Sir,” retorted De Burgh, Magna Oharta in England 
 has been rendered null and nugatory to the Catholic 
 descendants of the Catholic fathers who secured it for the 
 country at large by the tyrants of the Reformation — the 
 same who have given licence unlimited to every Saxon 
 now landed on this soil, to imbrue his hands in the blood 
 of its people, and appropriate and plunder their property 
 in every form — their wealth, their land, their very social 
 rights, their wives and their children. I appeal to Lord 
 Roden, if I have overdrav/n the fact.” 
 
 Lord Roden shrugged his shoulder, and remarked a 
 good deal of the people's misfortune was owing to their 
 own intractability and lawlessness. 
 
 I would fain hope so, rather than that my country 
 stood amenable to such charge,” observed Lord Seymour. 
 
 “ What about Limerick's Violated Treaty ? — was it the 
 people's intractability and lawlessness broke that asked 
 Sir Ulic, sternly. 
 
 It was yourselves, the people of this country broke it, 
 not England,” said Sir Edmund Wolseley, haughtily. 
 
 It was the parasites that had seized upon the land, 
 
THE BRIDAL. — THE MANIAC’s REVENGE. 6^33 
 
 who, with English blood flowing in their veins, representing 
 England, have dishonoured their country and themselves 
 to the end of time by their iniquitous breach of faith with 
 us native Irish,^^ retorted Sir IJlic, with indignation. 
 
 ‘‘ Well, well,’’ smiled Lord Seymour, this is not the 
 time or place to argue out the point. Athelstane, you 
 know me at least for an honourable man. Surrender with 
 your friends, upon my bail, that ye shall be dealt with in 
 justice and equity.’' 
 
 Upon this, seeing, unarmed as they were, resistance 
 useless, making a few stipulations that their party were 
 not to be separated, Sir Athelstane yielded, and following 
 the officers, all paced slowly forward. Sir Ulic's request 
 being refused to go look after his man Daly, who had been 
 thrown over the precipice, he watched in vain with longing 
 eyes to see some sign of Hogan, who had gone on the same 
 business. As they went along the officers held debate 
 among themselves as to where they would lodge the 
 prisoners for the present. 
 
 ‘‘ In the county jail ! — where else would yer ? ” sturdily 
 put in Jonas, who, as yet ignorant of his father’s end, 
 tramped, scowling, beside them. The officers, unused to 
 such companionship or dictation, glanced surprised at the 
 low creature self-foisted upon them ; then, without further 
 notice, ignoring his presence. Lord Seymour, who was 
 with Lord Roden, the Marquis of Waterford’s guest, as 
 also Sir Edmund Wolseley, said to his lordship : 
 
 Methinks Beresford would not like to incur obloquy 
 by making Curraghmore a prison, and the Earl of Ormond 
 has upon some former occasion refused point blank to 
 afford accommodation in his Castle of Kilkenny.” 
 
 I’ll tell you what,” said Lord Roden, ‘‘ there’s Clutter- 
 buck, who has just been made rector of the parish, and 
 took possession of the glebe house last week : he will, I 
 daresay, not refuse to lodge the prisoners till we can 
 forward them to-morrow under a convoy to Dublin.” 
 
 ‘‘ Well thought of,” said Lord Seymour, turning to 
 Fitz Adelm. ‘‘You may depend, Athelstane, there upon 
 courteous usage and attention for yourself and friends. 
 I know Clutterbuck.” 
 
 “ It is not well thought of,” here cried Plantagenet, 
 
624 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 limping along with a sprained ankle ; Clutterbuck is a 
 lukewarm Protestant, I hold — one of your fine Englishmen, 
 who vaunt of their honour, and liberality, and stujBF. His 
 wife is his counterpart —a Howard-— who will fire him up to 
 utopian deeds of chivalry and Quixotism. I demand that 
 the prisoners under my escort be sent straight up to 
 Dublin at once.^^ 
 
 The English ofl&cers looked at the speaker and at each 
 other and were silent ; Lord Eoden made no response ; 
 and when they had after a long walk reached their horses, 
 Lord Seymour and Sir Edmund Wolseley begged of theirs 
 to be placed at the disposal of the dismayed Adorine and 
 Maud, beside each of whom they walked, along with 
 FitzAdelm and Sir TJlic, Eaymond and Owen, till they 
 reached the dwelling of Parson Clutterbuck. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLI. 
 
 THE GATHERING. 
 
 ** There was blood upon her heaving breast, 
 
 As they laid her down to die ; 
 
 And thus to part for aye we met, 
 
 My promised bride and I ! 
 
 “We bore her dust, at dead of night. 
 
 Across the wintry hills. 
 
 And the torch-light red, on the white snow fell. 
 
 And on the flashing rills.” 
 
 H. D. 
 
 “ The days have been, when o’er thy bier 
 Far other strains than these had flowed ,* 
 
 Now, as a home from grief and fear 
 We hail thy dark abode! 
 
 We who but linger to bequeath 
 
 Our sons the choice of chains or death.” 
 
 F. H. 
 
 The rectory, now tenanted by the Eev. Lovelace Clutter- 
 buck, was beautifully situated upon the banks of the Suir. 
 The parson had but within the last hour returned from 
 Kilkenny Castle, where he had been on a visit for a couple 
 of days with the noble earl. His children, with their 
 nurses, were playing in the garden, and he and his wife 
 stood at a window viewing their gambols, when he per- 
 ceived several persons, some on horseback some on foot. 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 625 
 
 coming up the avenue of the parsonage, among whom he 
 discerned Plantagenet Tudor, Lord Seymour, with other 
 friends, in chief, Fitz Adelm and De Burgh, whom he 
 was grieved, though not surprised much, to see guarded 
 by soldiers. He went out to receive and invite them in, 
 accompanied by his wife. Shaking hands with Seymour 
 and Wolseley, who had been also his college associates, he 
 extended a similar friendly greeting to Sir TJlic and the 
 rest. 
 
 “ Out upon thee, thou degenerate Protestant and 
 Englishman,'’ returned De Burgh, as, cordially repaying 
 the salutation, he observed the disgusted look of Planta- 
 genet, and the malevolent aspect of Captains Grub and 
 Bradley, to desecrate thy holy fingers by contact with 
 such proscribed felons : seest thou not we are prisoners 
 
 am sorry for it; on my soul, I am’/’ exclaimed 
 Clutterbuck, with feeling ; nathless, I trust upon no 
 more serious charge than that of contumacious out- 
 lawry.” 
 
 ^‘What more serious, rev. sir, could there be than 
 amenability to treason said Plantagenet Tudor, with 
 suavity ; “ nevertheless, I am sorry to inform you, the 
 prisoners have been seized in actual complicity with a 
 band of armed desperadoes, and made savage resistance 
 to our arms, thereby causing bloodshed and loss of life. 
 Moreover, Fitz Adelm stands responsible to me for the 
 death of my brother. I shall be inexorable in my demand 
 for justice. We must not suffer undue lenity or private 
 favour to frustrate or mar the public weal, or to compro- 
 mise the safety of the Church or the State.” 
 
 ‘^An’ wot more proof is a wanten agen ’em,” cried 
 Jonas Grub, boisterously, ‘^than a ’arbourin’ with priests, 
 robbers, an’ outlaws. I’d a’ shot ’em on the spot where 
 they stood, before they got inkling o' us, an' 'ad my 
 matchlock levelled, only for Lord Seymour, as forbid, when 
 me an’ Sir Clothworthy, an’ Lord Eoden wor takin’ aim, 
 an’ as the border himplied a menace o’ martial law, an’ 
 warned by the hexample o' Luttrell, we submitted ; — an’ 
 see the issure : scores o’ the rebels made hoff ; — I ’ope as ’ow 
 the Major, who went in pursuit, will knock hoff some o’ 
 
 41 
 
626 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ^em. I don’t know wot bisiness ’ad those Britishers 
 hinterferin’ in our affairs an’ reglatin’ us Hirish.” 
 
 ‘‘ I had thought you prided in soul superior, and re- 
 sented the imputation of such affinity,” said Sir Edmund 
 Wolseley, sarcastically eyeing the speaker, who eloquently 
 responded : 
 
 We be Henglish as yerself, my cove ; not a drop o’ the 
 cussed Hirish blood in our body ; — but the country is ourn, 
 that’s wot’s my meanin’ ; we’ve conquered it an’ we’ll ’old 
 it, an’ do as we likes in it, an’ wid the natives in spoite o’ 
 yer ; mind that, for we’re true blue Orange, an’ no 
 mistake.” 
 
 Lord Seymour, astounded, looked at Sir Edmund 
 Wolsely, and both stared at Clutterbuck, with a suspicion 
 that the orator was an escaped lunatic relapsing after 
 temporary convalescence, till Sir Plantagenet Tudor, 
 again speaking, dispelled the illusion : 
 
 You say well, Captain Grrub. Though we justly 
 pride ourselves upon our Saxon pedigree, we have by the 
 sword established ourselves in Ireland, where we shall 
 plant a new race of Irishmen, free and enlightened con- 
 servatives of the glorious constitution and the Church by 
 law established, our rights and liberties, which we will 
 suffer no popery to taint ; and while professing unbounded 
 loyalty, we will not permit the Protestant ascendancy to 
 be tampered with or shackled by Grovernment, to which 
 we will subserve only so long as it upholds our cause. 
 Toleration, concession, or connivance, the maudlin sym- 
 pathy of a few weak-minded parsons, or the culpable 
 patronage of some, if not J esuits ‘ under the rose,’ half 
 papists in heart, like our friend Clutterbuck, must be 
 sternly repudiated and denounced.” And he glanced 
 acrimoniously at the parson, who in general a placid man, 
 when exasperated could ignite and blaze as he now did, 
 discharging his battery of wrath full upon his assailant : 
 
 Sir,” he exclaimed warmly, spare, I pray, your in- 
 sinuations. I am proud to proclaim myself an English- 
 man, and I am proud of the privilege I enjoy of being a 
 minister of the Church of England. Nathless, since you 
 have compelled me to avow my sentiments, I hesitate not 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 627 
 
 to declare that, since I have settled in this unfortunate 
 country, I have witnessed things that make me blush for 
 my people and my Church. I have seen this fair land, 
 not governed by just, equitable, and wise English laws, 
 such as, framed by the best and noblest of legislators, are 
 meted to Englishmen, but delivered up to, and overrun 
 by the polluted flood, the fllthy outscourings of the vilest 
 and lowest populace of England and Scotland ; I have 
 seen brutal barbarism in its most revolting aspect, and 
 disgusting ignorance in its most savage violence and im- 
 petuosity, devastate, tear down, annihilate, every token 
 and remnant of civilisation upon which their Vandal eyes 
 rested. Passing over what history has informed me of 
 the deeds of these sacrilegious English ruffians, I have, 
 with my own eyes, beheld valuable archives and paintings, 
 books, statuary, and inimitable architectural decoration 
 destroyed or defaced ; I have seen innocent men done to 
 death, for not abandoning a creed in which they had faith 
 to adopt a religion in which they had none ; I have seen 
 children torn from their Catholic parents ; I have seen 
 sons set up to violate nature’s laws, to dishonour and 
 plunder their sires ; I have seen whole families, otherwise 
 amiable and good, brought to desolation ; and I have seen 
 the Church by law estal)lished, its bishops, its ministers, 
 look on in silence ; no voice raised in protest against the 
 iniquity of hundreds of wolves who, in sheep’s clothing, 
 have ravaged the flock ; I have seen no champion on the 
 side of justice, charity, or humanity, step forward when 
 foul injustice, to justify its own dishonest proceedings, 
 defamed, maligned, and libelled its victims — no, not one 
 came forth to arraign the accuser, and stand between the 
 oppressor and the oppressed. As an Englishman, proud 
 of his country and its honour, knowing, as I do, there are 
 thousands of Englishmen who would as lief burn at the 
 stake as consent to or participate in those acts, against 
 which the very stones of this land cry out, and which must 
 give a false impression and misrepresent us to the world, 
 I lift my hand and my voice in testimony against those 
 myrmidons of evil who shame us by their deeds of bar- 
 barism, profligacy, and rapine. My hands are unstained 
 
628 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 with other men^s goods, as such I mean to keep them ; I 
 receive fair wages, for which I give fair work. I am not 
 for exterminating a people who profess the same faith that 
 our fathers held for seven hundred years, if they choose 
 not to believe we have done better by reforming it, and 
 follow us from conviction ; and much more readily would 
 I esteem my friend a man who clung to his conviction, 
 however erroneous, than a hypocrite with smiling face, 
 assenting with lying lip to what his conscience disavowed.^’ 
 There is no true Briton of noble nature, Clutterbuck, 
 who will not endorse your sentiments,’’ ^aid Lord Sey- 
 mour. I am sorry you have to paint so lamentable a 
 picture of the country and the state of alBPairs, for I had 
 some idea of purchasing an estate and bringing my family 
 over.^’ 
 
 ‘‘ Don’t do it,” said Clutterbuck, impressively. The 
 state of the country being what I describe, rely upon it, 
 a reaction will ensue, and scenes of vengeful retaliation 
 will be perpetrated, that will render the island a Golgotha 
 of horror, in which the frenzy of an infuriated people 
 will scarcely suffer them to discriminate between the 
 guilty and the guiltless. Stay in England. And now, 
 tell me, what is your business ? What can I do for you ? 
 Will you stay and dine ? 
 
 ‘‘Thanks; we have an engagement,” said Lord Sey- 
 mour ; — “ but with a view to their better comfort, lacking 
 other accommodation, we have brought our prisoners to 
 commit to your hospitality in honourable custody, till we 
 have decided our plans. Will you kindly accept the re- 
 sponsibility of the charge until to-morrow ?” 
 
 “ Surely, surely,” returned Clutterbuck, with prompti- 
 tude ; “ I am honoured with the trust.” 
 
 “ Meanwhile, sir,” said Plantagenet Tudor, pompously, 
 “ are you prepared to guarantee, on your own hazard, that 
 the prisoners shall all be forthcoming when demanded ; — 
 beware the penalty of breach of trust 
 
 “ I am a poor man, that is, relatively to you, my friend,” 
 said the parson, “ yet I’ll stake the loss of a thousand 
 pounds, if I don’t produce them when called upon.” 
 
 “ Put the prisoners each one on parole not to escape,” 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 629 
 
 added Plantagenet Tudor, directing a sinister smile to 
 each individual of the group. 
 
 ‘‘I’ll take no parole; — Til escape if I can,” shouted 
 Raymond O’Byrne, lustily ; “ nor don’t you, Uncle Ulic.” 
 “ Why, that is a superfluous precaution on your part. 
 Sir Plantagenet,” said Sir Ulic “aware, as you are, that 
 you hold the oath of a papist invalid, and his faith as 
 null and void. There is no tie to bind us, you see.” 
 
 “ For that matter,” put in Clutterbuck, looking hard at 
 Plantagenet’s discomposed countenance, “ let us be just, 
 and admit, that among our own godly men, there be some 
 untrammelled by laws of faith, and who take upon them- 
 selves to perjure truth ; — you know what I mean, sir — to 
 what I allude ?” 
 
 “The aflPair about Hugh O’Byrne. What then? — say 
 your say ; — I scorn your imputation.” 
 
 “ What about my father ? — What about him ?” cried 
 Raymond, springing forward, and gazing imploringly at 
 the parson, who, seeing the blunder he had committed, 
 lost his self-possession, hesitated, and was about to stam- 
 mer some explanation, when Plantagenet interrupted him : 
 “ Your father, boy ; — oh, yes, methought you knew; — 
 escaped with a few of his men from the field of the Boyne. 
 Harvey and I pursued and overtook the runaways ; — they 
 rallied for a stand, reinforced by others at Finglas Bridge. 
 They were not a third of our force ; but as we had had 
 fighting to our heart’s content, and did not want to sacri- 
 fice any more of our gallant fellows, we offered them fair 
 terms for friendly surrender, which they accepted.” 
 
 “ Go on ; why do you pause ? ” said Sir Ulic ; — “ let us 
 hear the sequel.” 
 
 Plantagenet smiled. 
 
 “ When the rebels yielded up their arms, we shot them 
 every one to a man.” 
 
 “ Come along ! ” cried Wolseley, ironically. “ Rebels 
 and papists — no use in putting them on parole ! Au 
 revoir^ Athelstane, old boy. Forward, gentlemen.” 
 
 Lord Seymour and Wolseley, shaking hands with the 
 parson and bowing to the ladies, withdrew, followed by 
 Grub and Bradley, discontentedly swearing that, “ As sure 
 
630 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 as heggs was heggs the prisoners would be set free an^ get 
 off/’ to which Plantagenet returned, hissing between 
 his set teeth : 
 
 Not with their lives — Athelstane and De Burgh shall 
 
 die or ” the remainder of the formidable resolution lay 
 
 a dead secret pent within his bosom ; and for some 
 moments no sound was heard within the apartment but 
 the deep and heavy sobs of Eaymond, who had turned 
 aside to weep, till Olutterbuck, having leisurely and with 
 ruminating aspect contemplated his weary and disheartened 
 captive guests, turned his gaze from the woe-begone faces 
 of Maud and Adorine to whose listless ear his wife was 
 tendering kind expressions of sympathy and encourage- 
 ment, and addressed Sir Ulic de Burgh and Fitz Adelm, 
 solemnly calm, and nerved with stern fortitude in this 
 hour of trial : 
 
 My dear friends, I hold it as an axiom that our good 
 deeds are angels that return betimes to requite us in 
 measure. Sir Ulic, in hour of dire distress, you once 
 nobly befriended me ; hence it is incumbent upon me to 
 reciprocate the debt. Think not a paltry thousand pounds 
 shall stand between you and your freedom. No door of 
 mine shall bar your liberty to come or go. Nature never 
 designed me for a gaoler, and I*m not going to adopt the 
 trade in favour to Plantagenet Tudor and his minions’ 
 vindictive passions. As for Seymour and Wolseley, they 
 have no business to be among a class such as they are, 
 our true English blood, and no hog’s breed; — but what 
 will you do ? Little, I fear, will avail the brief respite of 
 present flight unless you can escape from the country. I 
 can see these fellows are thirsting for your blood. You 
 would have no security in abiding, save by placing your- 
 selves under protection of the law and yielding to con- 
 ditions I fear me you will reject.” 
 
 Must reject, dear friend,” responded Sir Ulic, in tone 
 of decision. 
 
 Well, far be it from me to ask any man to temporise 
 with his conscience or act against his conviction ; yet, tell 
 me this, are you so impervious to the light that you may 
 not be shown you are in error ? Surely, ’tis not for 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 631 
 
 obstinacy sake yon will perversely adhere to profession of 
 faith which gives your enemy a charter to afflict you, and 
 victimises you to the will of every miscreant who, without 
 as much religion as will save his own soul, for greed of 
 yours would devour your very bones ? Come, Sir Ulic ; 
 come, Athelstane, be wise ; defeat the vampires by conced- 
 ing so much of your principle, just one iota, so much as 
 will empower me to make affldavit you are loyal subjects 
 of State and Church, and emancipate you from shackles.’^ 
 
 ‘‘ No, my good worthy friend ; but deliver us bound and 
 miserable to a worse thraldom — that of the enemy of 
 human souls,” made answer Sir TJlic, glancing at wavering 
 Athelstane and watchful Raymond, whose torrent of un- 
 checked tears had now subsided in gloomy quietude, and 
 smouldering fire of wrath burning to avenge his murdered 
 sire. Do you think there be none to fear, save foes in 
 the fiesh ? Were the brand even now at our throat, and 
 death the enevitable penalty, we must yet obstinately, as 
 you deem it, cling to and profess openly every dogma of 
 our Catholic creed, on peril of our immortal souks salva- 
 tion.” 
 
 And what is it you believe in ? ” naively demanded 
 Clutterbuck. ‘‘Let me show you the fallacy of your 
 superstitions and the evil they do you ? 
 
 “Yes ; — let me see them ?” laughed Sir Ulic. “ When 
 you have proved them fallacies, I shall become the 
 staunchest adherent of your comfortable doctrine.” 
 
 Clutterbuck looked a little disconcerted, then went 
 on : “I shall not fatigue you with long discussion, as I 
 see you are tired, and dinner will be soon on the table. 
 Just for the present I will put these few questions : — Why 
 are you so irrational as to credit upon other’s assertion 
 things you have never seen, and that you have no testi- 
 mony of your own sense and reason to corroborate ? 
 There’s where we Protestants have the advantage of you : 
 we take nothing on hearsay ; we examine into things ; 
 we bring the light of intellect and understanding to bear 
 upon the subject, and we hold or reject according to its 
 authenticity.” 
 
 “ Then, you don’t believe there is a God, since you only 
 
632 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 know it by hearsay/’ said Sir Ulic; nor in the mysteries 
 of religion 
 
 Yes, surely, we believe there is a Grod ; our under- 
 standing tells us that, even though we have never seen 
 Him/^ said Clutterbuck ; and in the mysteries of religion, 
 because we have them from Sacred Writ ; but we don t be- 
 lieve in the Mass, or in the transubstantiation, which our 
 understanding rejects; nor in the Virgin, nor the invoca- 
 tion of saints, who can^t hear us ; nor that of angels we 
 have never seen, and know nothing of ; or prayers for the 
 dead, or confession ; and yet, for all these things, half of 
 them apocryphal, you papists suffer death, exile, confisca- 
 tion, and persecution in a thousand forms. What folly 
 
 Folly, indeed, it were, had we not high authority in 
 the same book of Holy Writ to which you refer,^' said Sir 
 XJlic ; for our guidance; the same voice of authority that 
 commands us to believe in the divine truths it has pro- 
 pounded, will have no reservation, no exception of mysteries 
 to suit the intelligence of one man, or the peculiar views of 
 another. We may not, in deference to the grades of 
 human understanding, or the capacity of degrees of mind 
 or intellect, lop away, pare down, construe, reject, or 
 retain, of the word, so much exactly as it coincides with 
 our opinion to hold or dismiss. Implicit obedience is 
 required of all alike, without exception of persons. The 
 learned and the ignorant, the philosopher and the sim- 
 pleton, the wealthy and the poor alike, must submit their 
 intelligence to the gospel preached for the salvation of all, 
 and manifest their faith by deed. Hence it is that for 
 Christ, unseen and incomprehensible, in the Sacrament of 
 the Altar, true Grod and true man ; for his Virgin Mother, 
 and the angels and saints, our mediators, whom we see 
 not, but who hear and behold us ; for our cherished dead, 
 for whom our intercession shall never cease, till we meet 
 them in paradise ; for all we believe in and hope for, we 
 shall continue to suffer, and, if need be, to die.'’ 
 
 Come, come, then, a truce with the subject. If I can’t 
 share in your faith, I must admire your devotion,’'' smiled 
 Clutterbuck, giving his arm to Adorine, as the servant 
 announced dinner, while Sir Ulic preceded with Mrs. 
 Clutterbuck, and the others followed in order. 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 633 
 
 The controversy was not renewed, and but for the pre- 
 carious situation in which they were placed they would 
 have yielded to the calm of tranquil sadness ; but all felt 
 perturbed in the consciousness of the impending sword — * 
 nor were their apprehensions groundless. Just as the 
 cloth had been removed and the candles lighted, Lord 
 Seymour and Wolseley returned in haste to the Vicarage, 
 and besought immediate interview with the parson and 
 his guests. A glance at their countenance intimated that 
 they conveyed bad news. 
 
 “ My friends, we have come on a painful errand/^ ex- 
 claimed Lord Seymour : we have just reason to appre- 
 
 hend that the assurance to which we pledged ourselves of 
 seeing you honourably dealt with was premature. We 
 have now perceived and heard enough to dread that your 
 lives and liberty are in peril ; hence, at speed, Athelstane, 
 we have come to warn, and, if it may be, assist you to 
 save yourself and friends by immediate flight. What do 
 you deem your best course ? — there is no time to lose.’^ 
 
 All rose in consternation. 
 
 Let us abide by our former plan, Ulic,’’ said Sir 
 Athelstane, and get off to the smuggler, lying in the 
 bay. Can we procure a boat to take us down the river 
 I'll send a messenger at once,^^ said Clutterbuck, hur- 
 rying to the door. 
 
 ‘‘You will need to use despatch,’' said Sir Edmund; 
 “ for the order has been issued that the prisoners are to be 
 sent up to Dublin at daybreak, under escort of Colonel 
 Tudor, and ” — he sunk his voice to a whisper, looking at 
 Maud — “ you will have to surrender her to the charge of 
 Captain Grub : so it has been arranged among the 
 potentates.” 
 
 Athelstane scornfully laughed. 
 
 “ Let them try it, but beware the cost.” 
 
 Eaymond, shaking off his weight of trouble at the 
 sudden alarm, like a dart from a new-strung bow, sped 
 along with Clutterbuck, in eager quest of a boat, and, in 
 about an hour, of torturing anxiety to those who waited, 
 he returned with the messenger to say they had secured 
 one ; but that Bradly, with two soldiers, was lying in wait 
 
634 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 between the house and the river, doubtless to intercept 
 any attempt at escape. 
 
 ^^Are there only three, Raymond?’’ demanded Sir 
 Ulic, mentally calculating the odds of an encounter. 
 
 That was all we spied, Uncle ; but, likely enough, a 
 whistle would bring a reinforcement.” ^ 
 
 ^^Then we must shoot them like wolves,’' said Sir 
 Athelstane, fiercely. Clutterbuck you must lend us 
 firearms. 
 
 That would I, with pleasure,” said the parson ; but 
 of what avail were a matchlock and a couple of pistols 
 against a troop (as no doubt there is) lying in wait for 
 their prey ?” 
 
 Were it not for these dear helpless ones,” said Sir 
 Ulic, with compassionate look at Maud and Adorine, 
 how little we should reck the conflict, or the sequel. 
 They should not beguile us to an easy surrender, 
 Raymond.” 
 
 But we do not shun the venture, Sir Warrior,'’ cried 
 Adorine, putting on a bright, animated look. Better to 
 die bravely than live ingloriously, is it not? We are 
 quite ready to march to the field — Maud and I.” 
 
 Let us venture anything, dear Athelstane, rather than 
 fall into their hands. Adorine will be Sir Ulic’s ensign- 
 bearer” — she smiled, — ‘^and I will be yours. Nothing more 
 terrible could happen us than to fall into their hands; — and 
 we are all soldiers,” she added with a playful smile. 
 None of us fear death.” 
 
 Hold ! I have a scheme that may serve to baulk the 
 watch and help you,” suddenly cried Raymond. ‘‘Adorine 
 and Maud, lend Owen and me your mantles. Draped from 
 head to foot we’ll climb the garden wall, and let ourselves 
 down at a distance ; but, in sight of the watchers ; and, 
 Mr. Clutterbuck, you raise an alarm of prisoners escaped ; 
 the lurchers will soon pursue us tkreena cheela. Then, when 
 the coast is clear, make off, everyone of you, down to the 
 boat, not a hundred yards distant, lying just under the 
 sally-trees by the bank. Jack Hawthorn will show the 
 way. When you have reached it, just push out into the 
 river, while Owen and I, decoying the guard farther and 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 635 
 
 farther, will outstrip them, and make round by a circuit. 
 Once on hoard, sail ho ! and away for merry France, with 
 a bow to the enemy and three cheers for old Erin/^ 
 
 Your a trump, Raymond, and no mistake,’^ cried Fitz 
 Adelm, hastily, seizing a mantle. 
 
 It is a happy thought. Your good angel must have 
 inspired it,” said Sir Flic, as both with busy hands 
 helped the youths to array. 
 
 “ Now, then, here goes,'' laughed Mac Oarthy. Some- 
 one throw a shoe after us and pray Grod speed.’' 
 
 The boys soon scaled the garden wall, and let them- 
 selves down as planned. Clutterbuck, seeing them over, 
 ran to the gate, and just as Raymond had described, 
 meeting Bradly, Hill, and Jocelyn, partrolling to and 
 fro, he gave loud alarm and outcry, “ Prisoners escaped ! 
 Pursue, pursue ! The bait took. Away, helter-skelter, 
 flew the sentinels after the swiftly-retreating forms they 
 spied in the distance. Now, now ! Athelstane took 
 Maud, and Sir Flic Adorine, warmly wrapped in muff- 
 lings, provided by Mrs. Clutterbuck, who embraced them 
 at parting, and stood long herself, with trembling solici- 
 tude at the gate, till she saw them out of sight. Lord 
 Seymour and Wolseley, with hasty adieus, lingered behind 
 to intercept chase should the foe return, and send them 
 again on a wrong track. Breathless, but safely, the 
 fugitives, guided by the rector’s servant, with a lantern, 
 reached the boat and pushed out into the river, where they 
 lay for about half an hour till they heard the boys’ 
 triumphant halloo give signal of their approach. Pulling 
 close to the bank they received them, panting and exulting 
 in the success of their stratagem, then dipped their oars, 
 and with bold strokes, vigorously plied, the boat shot 
 down the Suir, each sweep of the keel making headway to 
 safety, and putting further space between them and 
 danger. They had rowed about three miles ; they were 
 nearing the Bay ; the boatmen knew the creek in which 
 the French smuggler was lying; all seemed auspicious of 
 speedy deliverance, when Owen Mac Oarthy exclaimed, as 
 he redoubled his energy at the oar : ‘‘ Pull away, boys ; 
 we are pursued. I've been for the last ten minutes watch- 
 
636 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 ing some figures on the land keeping along with us ; 
 hoping to fall in with a boat, I daresay.’’ 
 
 ‘^Tes, yes. I see their lanterns twinkling along 
 through the willows and the alders/" cried Raymond. 
 “ Those Roundheads have raised the hue and cry ; — and, 
 by St. Patrick, here"s the ‘ Evil Eye ’ peering over the 
 water with his satellite, ‘ Danger.’ I wonder are they 
 going to try a swim ? ” 
 
 I hope they may,’" said Sir Ulic. No butcher ever 
 felled an ox with less remorse than I shall feel in knocking 
 them on the head with an oar."" 
 
 You’d merit the tribute due to a public benefactor,” 
 said Fitz Adelm ; but much, I fear, they will not give 
 you a chance. These sort of fellows love not cold water, 
 cold lead, nor cold steel, liberal as they are in bestowing 
 them.” 
 
 ^‘Down, heads ! — they’re going to fire at us,” cried Ray- 
 mond. sharp, fusilade of musketry rang upon the 
 
 air, and a shower of bullets made bubbles and circles in 
 the water on either side. No word was spoken, no breath 
 was drawn ; the rowers plied their oars with redoubled 
 strength. Raymond spoke again : 
 
 ‘‘ Heads down ! — handsome Jonas is taking aim."’ 
 Captain Grub fired ; — there was a low, faint cry of 
 pain that froze every heart. 
 
 Maud, darling, are you hurt ? ” whispered Fitz Adelm, 
 in tone of agony, and drawing his young bride closer to 
 his bosom. 
 
 No ; — not — not much; — hasten,” faltered Maud, sink- 
 ing with heavier weight upon his arm. 
 
 Adorine bent over to open her hood and give her air. 
 Her face, white as paper, was convulsed, yet she smiled 
 peacefully at her cousin. There was no other sign of 
 hurt, and Adorine conjectured she was merely frightened. 
 She pressed her hand and whispered : Dear Maud ; — 
 
 courage, Maud. A few moments, more and we are safe."" 
 
 The last discharge of the scorpion’s venom ! "’ said Sir 
 TJlic, breathing again more freely as the boat shot into 
 the Bay and rounded into the creek where the French 
 vessel, with all sail set to catch the swelling breeze, was 
 ready to weigh anchor. 
 
THE GATHERING. 
 
 637 
 
 Maud, speak to me, my own one. Look up ; — see ! we 
 have reached the goal, and are safe,^' cried Fitz Adelm, 
 after some minutes more, addressing the form that lay 
 motionless on his bosom. 
 
 ‘‘ Oh, how stiff and cold your hands are. Ulic, TJlic, is 
 it a faint ? ” wildly cried Athelstane, as they rested upon 
 their oars beneath the vessels side, and as the captain 
 of the crew, with some fugitive passengers, and a face 
 they recognised as Galloping Hogan’s, leaned over the 
 bulwarks. 
 
 Sir Ulic, gazing upon the pallid face, marked with in- 
 tense languor, the rigid features stiffening into chiseled 
 marble, the limbs hanging nerveless and torpid, as Athel- 
 stane raised the drooping frame, saw, with shuddering 
 heart, it was more than a faint; — Maud was dead ! And 
 throwing off the mantle, they first discerned her white robe 
 crimsoned with the life-stream that had welled from her 
 bosom. How shall we depict the scene that ensued? 
 Fitz Adelm, in what appeared a death-swoon, was borne 
 by the sailors on board the French vessel. No time 
 was there for wake or for lamentation. Wrapt in her 
 nuptial garments, the young bride was borne to the nearest 
 cemetery upon the shore, a hasty grave was hollowed by 
 the hands of Hogan and Mac Carthy. With pious and 
 reverential care, she was laid in it by Sir Ulic and Eay- 
 mond. A brief requiem^ some tears over the sod, and 
 away. 
 
 Morning dawned. Far away, far away, a white sail 
 was seen upon the horizon. Upon the vessel's deck was 
 gathered the remnant of the wreck of happy homesteads, 
 scattered by the simoom that had devastated Erin : 
 Adorine in tears, Eaymond convulsively sobbing, Fitz 
 Adelm stricken down in voiceless woe. Sir Ulic de Burgh, 
 with folded arms, uncovered head, and pale visage, 
 mournfully turned his eyes to take one last look at the 
 receding coast ; then, with clasped hands and bowed head, 
 murmuring, Oh, my unhappy country ! ” he turned 
 aside and wept. 
 
638 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLII. 
 
 THE SEQUEL. 
 
 “ Search for him now where bloodiest lies the files 
 Which once were men, the faithful and the brave! 
 
 Search for him now where loftiest rise the piles 
 
 Of shattered helms and shields which could not save, 
 
 And crests and banners never more to wave 
 In the free winds of heaven ! He is of those 
 
 O’er whom the hosts may rush, the tempests rave, 
 
 And the steeds trample, and the spearmen close. 
 
 Yet wake them not — so sleep their last repose.” — F.H. 
 
 Time and tide run their course ; the groaning earth re- 
 volves upon its axis, unimpeded by the convulsion of 
 elemental warfare, the shock of earthquake, or volcanic 
 ruin ; the handmaid Change goes her rounds, revolution- 
 ising nations and kingdoms with the touch of her potent 
 wand ; empires, seemingly based on stability, and crowned 
 with immortality, are wiped away from the map of geo- 
 graphy, their very records are obliterated, or have become, 
 as it were, a myth, to give succeeding .generations matter 
 for speculation. A solitary monument, perhaps, survives 
 the universal annihilation, to testify to the truth of tradi- 
 tion, and, like the pyramids of Egypt, and the round 
 towers of Ireland, proclaim the history of the magnificence of 
 the royal Pharaohs, and the majesty of the illustrious sons 
 of the G-heber. Death and decay, her prime ministers, 
 following in her wake, sweep the millions from the surface, 
 repeopling it with new races, instinct with new thoughts, 
 new feelings, possessed by new motives and interests ; a 
 new growth of promiscuous weeds and fiowers, revelling 
 in the pride of life, and cherishing the creed of their 
 superior excellence to that which went before. The 
 immutable sun, from its sublime altitude, looks down 
 upon all — upon the last as upon the first — looks down, 
 and goes its way, shining alike in mockery of tears falling 
 upon the dust, which its beams will absorb into the rain- 
 bow, and the smile which emulating its ray shall be effaced 
 in gloom. 
 
THE SEQUEL. 
 
 639 
 
 A few revolving seasons have waned, wearily, indeed, 
 for souls to whom earth had ceased to be a home ; wan- 
 derers, whose bark should anchor never more in a haven 
 of joy; exiles bereft of all, whose every aspiration and 
 yearning hope strained henceforth to the bright reversion 
 of eternity, promised to those whose kingdom is not of this 
 world. In the early summer dawn, through the blue sky 
 flecked with white fleecy clouds, and the air laden with 
 the incense of flowers, the passing bell of the convent of 
 Ypres is solemnly tolling the knell of a departed soul, 
 while a long funeral train winds to the cemetery, where 
 dust is committed to dust, and Adorine O^Byrne at last 
 sleeps in peace. 
 
 On the fleld of Landen cannon are booming, wild 
 battle music is ringing, and a soldier is dying on a war- 
 rior’s death-bed, surrounded by sympathising friends and 
 heroes. Sir Ulic de Burgh, kneeling beside, holds the 
 hand of the expiring Sarsfield ; and, at the moment that 
 he heaved his parting sigh, with the exclamation : Oh, 
 
 that this heart's blood were shed for Erin !” a ball struck 
 Sir Ulic on the temple, and laid him in death beside his 
 friend. 
 
 It is morning in the Eternal City, and Fitz Adelm, a 
 priest, officiating for the last time before the altar of St. 
 Peter's, offers up the immaculate sacrifice, and breathes a 
 de profundis, for the departed friends of his love, ere he sets 
 sail for Ireland, the chosen vineyard of his labour, to meet 
 a martyr s death in the Order of St. Ignatius, and find a 
 grave amid the dust of martyrs. 
 
 Yes ; all are gone. The wall of partition is thrown 
 down ; the space between those who perished in their 
 bloom and those who mourned their fate is annihilated. 
 Together, trust we, they have met rejoicing, and rest tran- 
 quilly, smiling at the bygone storms that rudely assailed 
 to overcome and founder them in their voyage between 
 time and eternity. Requiescant in pace!'' 
 
 Raymond O’Byrne and Owen Mac Carthy married, and 
 settled in France, where they joined the Brigades, and 
 assisted in many a hard-fought field to maintain the glory 
 of the national flag, till regicide, infldelity, and com- 
 
640 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE, 
 
 munism, overturning throne and altar, and extinguishing 
 the ancien regime in blood, they sheathed their swords and 
 retired into private life. 
 
 Should our readers take sufficient interest in their 
 future, to inquire concerning the other personages of our 
 story, we shall say that Parson Clutterbuck was hand- 
 somely indemnified for the pecuniary loss he had gene- 
 rously suflPered in promoting the escape of his friends ; 
 but persecuted for his too just and liberal views, he re- 
 signed his rectory and returned to England, where, 
 through the interest of Lord Seymour, he was appointed 
 to a deanery. 
 
 For the rest, in proof that virtue is not always rewarded 
 or guilt punished in this world, according to the rule of 
 fairy tale and the wont of fairy godmothers, a tribe of 
 beings long since become extinct, they flourished — those mi- 
 nions of fortune who basked in the world’s approving smiles, 
 and grew fat on the spoil of the land they had ravaged. 
 
 Lady Tudor de Rivers held her routs, deplored her 
 misfortune in the death of her son Harvey, and the dis- 
 appointment of losing the guardianship of the De Oourcy 
 children, with the large annuity thereunto appended, 
 despite her own, her son Plantagenet’s, and Dr. Dopping’s 
 strenuous exertions to seize them. She inveighed and 
 railed bitterly against the vile papists, and made so good 
 a convert of Biddy Butler, that one fine day, having 
 robbed her mistress of a hundred pounds, and more than 
 half her jewels, she eloped with a most pious young dis- 
 ciple of Luther, a pedlar, to whom slight allusion has been 
 made in the matter of the tablecloth. The nice young 
 man, finding, by shrewd observation, that proselytism paid 
 better than pedlery, and was respectable besides, took out 
 a Church diploma, and became a missionary in Scotland, 
 where his godly lectures, and demure visage, gave great 
 edification, and made many fierce antagonists to Popery. 
 Lady de Rivers, missing her money and her jewels, and 
 hearing such good accounts of Obediah Godkin, could not 
 reconcile the idea of sanctity and robbery joining hands; 
 BO, changing the charge of absconding against the un- 
 grateful Biddy to the milder term of elopement, she 
 
THE SEQUEL. 
 
 641 
 
 accused her cook and housemaid of the theft, in fact, im- 
 plicated them in a charge, along with the lackey, of being 
 concerned in wholesale depredation, to escape the threat- 
 ened consequences of which the household treasures made 
 common cause, and retired in dudgeon from her ladyship’s 
 service, leaving the street-door incautiously ajar, which 
 quelled all surprise that the lady was found next morning 
 in her bed murdered by strangulation. As then consi- 
 dered, the evil was not so great. She was getting old ; 
 in the course of nature she would soon have departed ; she 
 enjoyed life’s blessings to the last; had a handsome 
 funeral ; prolonged the interest of her friends ; was canon- 
 ised — for the world canonises its saints, as well as Rome, 
 in its own way ; — her eulogists exhausted hyperbole in 
 laudation of her many virtues and intrinsic worth ; and, 
 best of all, she was voted straight to glory, sleeping in the 
 Lord, without any of the inconveniences attending the 
 exploded doctrine of responsibility for thoughts, words, or 
 deeds. Talk of the martyrs of the Roman Catholic Church, 
 indeed! Such an end were worth that of the whole 
 calendar of saints, and enough to make papists run frantic 
 into the indulgent arms of Protestanism ; only the stulti- 
 fied creatures seemed to be either infatuated with a pro- 
 pensity for suffering here and hereafter, else they were 
 besottedly dubious of the grounds of presumption that 
 warranted such lively confidence in sinful mortals. Her 
 son, Plantagenet, having paid the last respects to the 
 remains of his parent, and earned golden opinions by his 
 filial duty, married — how shall we say it? — a papist, whose 
 only fortune was her good birth, with extreme beauty. 
 Why, it may be asked, did she marry Plantagenet Tudor, 
 who was long known to be an open persecutor of the 
 papists ? Margaret Prendergast’s family had been all but 
 ruined by penal confiscation and tyranny ; she had hoped 
 to gain for them a protecting friend in the powerful 
 Fitz-Tudor ; so when he swore to allow her the free ex- 
 ercise of her religion, to make an exception in her favour, 
 and that of her friends, she believed and trusted to 
 his honour. They were married by Dr. Dopping. Till 
 after the birth of his son and heir, Plantagenet 
 
 42 
 
642 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 restricted himself to throwing obstacles in the way, and 
 rendering it impossible for his wife to comply with the 
 duties of her religion. But now he threw off the mask of 
 dissimulation, broke his faith, and insisted that his wife 
 should profess the state religion, and be seen at church. 
 She resisted, and without further debate, he consigned her 
 as a lunatic to an asylum, with instructions to the gaoler, 
 which, if carried out, were calculated to ensure aberration 
 of the soundest reason, if not to limit the preiod of life. 
 The latter fortunately prevailed, and within six months 
 after her incarceration she died, leaving Plantagenet a 
 disconsolate widower, sueing for the facile hand of 
 Elizabeth Fitz Eufus, whose brother and sister-in-law, 
 having no family, lived a cat and dog kind of life ; he 
 pursuing his amours unchecked, and she eloping one fine 
 day with Captain Moses Bradly, lately divorced from a 
 partner of incompatible temper, she refusing to give up 
 her marriage settlement at his desire. 
 
 Captain Jonas Grub, more alive to the glitter of gold 
 than to the charms of any other beauty than that of Maud 
 Fitz Eustace, wedded the eldest daughter of Abigail and 
 Atkinson Knight The moody, sour young saint is not a 
 congenial companion. She hates Jonas, but in obedience 
 to parental command she yields to their pleasure, and re- 
 taliates upon them for all the severity and harshness that 
 cramped her childhood, by a sullen, overbearing demeanour 
 that is intolerable. She humours Jonas, and getting him 
 to her side he quarrels incessantly with her relations, 
 whom he abuses in very ungrammatical though expres- 
 sive language, in especial the Aunt Mac Swiggan, and 
 with all the more energy that he has his sisters on his 
 side also, though according to the reports of servants, he 
 turns his tongue in reviling against wife and sisters be- 
 times. He has even, upon more than one occasion, struck 
 the former — but she has been used to blows, and to see her 
 father and mother occasionally settle their differences by 
 such forcible argument ; — besides, she knows complaint 
 would gain no sympathy, so, wisely, she bears in mulish 
 silence the sore indignity. She is religious, too, and 
 while Jonas wields the sword like Mahomet, in making 
 
THE SEQUEL. 
 
 643 
 
 conversions, she with Bible in hand, and a volume of 
 Scripture phrases on her lips, follows meekly in his track, 
 staunching bleeding hearts with pious quotations, and 
 converting the tear of sorrow into lively and fervent 
 ejaculations, by the sheer dint of alarming admonitions of 
 the fate of sinners. 
 
 David Bradly, with a couple more of his brothers and 
 Parson Cubbage, are in active pursuit of Gralloping Hogan 
 and his friend Miles de Cogan, whose rapparee achieve- 
 ments, attaining to a scale of prodigious magnitude and 
 notoriety, have made them the terror of the whole dis- 
 tricts of Tipperary, Galway, Cork, and Limerick ; but, 
 being sheltered, befriended, and idolised by the oppressed 
 poor, whom they defend and help in turn, being besides 
 assisted by presents of money and arms smuggled over 
 from friends in France, there is much more danger to the 
 pursuers than to the pursued ; but, as they are not fool- 
 hardy in their courage, it is possible they will keep at the 
 safe side of peril, and not molest the little home Elphin 
 Mac Carthy with old^Moll Doyle, who found her begging 
 in the streets of Waterford, keeps neat and snug for the 
 outlaw chiefs. 
 
 Captain O’Brien, undeterred by dread of the cauterising 
 iron of a patriot’s animadversion, having the salutary 
 dread of the cudgel no longer before his eyes, springs 
 from the mire in which he had been ignobly laid, to 
 strut and swagger with lordly air. He curries favour 
 with men in power, and commends himself to the applause 
 of his patrons by cursing the Arish,” whom he persists 
 in maintaining never were anything, whether Phoenicians, 
 Scythians, or Milesians, but ignorant barbarians. In 
 triumphant proof of his assertion, he points to the rags of 
 the labourer on his land, fawning, cringing, supplicating 
 for leave to earn three pence a day to support a starving 
 family. He points to his frame shrunk, his features 
 weather-beaten and distorted by famine and premature 
 care, his mind warped by enforced ignorance and the 
 sense of slavery, substituting low cunning for high intel- 
 lect. He points to the squalor of his children playing 
 upon a dung-hill, and the wretchedness of his cabin shared 
 
644 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 with animals. He expatiates upon their love of drunken- 
 ness, theft, and lying; and sallying forth to swell the 
 chorus of hostile vituperation, he thanks God that he is 
 not altogether of the detestable race. He confesses that 
 he blushes he should have any part in it ; is soothed by 
 his friends telling him not to mind, that, though it is un- 
 fortunate, it is not his fault. He blesses the hour the 
 civilised English came to show the poor wretches how to 
 live decently on earth, and go respectably to heaven. To 
 aid them in the latter, he makes the narrow path easy by 
 reducing to practice what Scripture propounded, and Dr. 
 Hopping and his parsons theorised upon the difficulty of 
 salvation to the rich. Hence, having wrenched the last 
 farthing out of his miserable tenants, endangered the life 
 of his agent by exactions and extortions among them, 
 soaked, as it were, the marrow out of the land, and the 
 blood out of the serfs, and converted all into gold, he 
 hastens with his family to add another item to the ocean 
 of London magnificence, squanders the mammon at the 
 gaming-table, becomes the paragon of an absentee land- 
 lord, the only correspondence between him and his native 
 land now being through the medium of Skinner, his agent, 
 the burden of each epistle being : More, more — give 
 
 more ; — hard up, debts accumulating, ruin impending — 
 more, more.^’ In the fulness of time Captain O’Brien 
 was gathered to, we shall not say his fathers, for it is 
 quite possible the spirits of the holy dead of ages made 
 appeal against his dust being commingled with theirs. 
 One of his descendants to posterity was the notoriously 
 infamous Jemmy O’Brien, the informer of ’98, who, fol- 
 lowing in the steps of his progenitor, and inheriting his 
 sentiments, applied all his energies to murder, torture, 
 calumniate, revile, and assist the bloodhounds of Govern- 
 ment by every means in his power to destroy his hated 
 countrymen, and erase the name of his country, if possible, 
 from among the nations of the earth. 
 
 Captain Connor of the shorn patronymic, treads like a 
 disciple in the wake of his model. Not being a very large 
 landed proprietor, his patrons supply the deficiency by a 
 lucrative appointment in a London bank ; but Connor has 
 
THE SEQUEL. 
 
 645 
 
 a spirit that disdains office drudgery and domestic parsi- 
 mony. His house is the most sumptuous, his entertain- 
 ments the most gorgeous, his equipage the best appointed 
 in London, his wife's jewels and piety, his children’s dress 
 and religious training are the theme of every tongue. The 
 Irish, through their representative, began to ascend in 
 the scale of opinion ; for, somehow, do what they may to 
 divest themselves of their nationality, stupid John Bull 
 could not discriminate or disconnect the name and its 
 origin. So Ireland was in danger of becoming popular 
 in England through the magnificence and respectability 
 of Captain Connor, when, all at once, like the baseless 
 fabric of a vision, it collapsed and fell to the ground. The 
 chief cashier to the bank was at last found a defaulter to 
 an amount that involved the suspension of the establish- 
 ment and the ruin of hundreds. Cleverly, too, he got out 
 of the way with all his belongings to France, and so foiled 
 his friends of their premeditated intention of accommo- 
 dating him with a free passage to Botany Bay. Since then, 
 a disinclination to trust the Irish became an epidemic in 
 London and throughout England generally, insomuch 
 that a lady advertising for a servant, or a shopkeeper for 
 an apprentice, would supplement by saying, No Irish 
 need apply.” 
 
 Lieutenant Eeilly, being of a serious turn, finding, upon 
 mature deliberation, he had a vocation for the Church, 
 pronounces his ultimatum and takes holy orders. He has 
 made great proficiency in the English accent, insomuch 
 that he asks for a second hegg at breakfast, calls his youngest 
 child to come away from the winder, and ’opes the hair 
 vill get varmer before he goes hout to ride his new 'oss to 
 the country. He is an immense favourite with the saints, 
 whom he outsaints in zealous denunciation of popery, and 
 abomination of the hidolatrous Irish, and is so affiicted to 
 think he should bear the stigma of such reproach, that to 
 sustain the weight of his trouble with fortitude, he medi- 
 cates himself with deep potations by the doctor’s advice, 
 irrespective of time, when he feels his spirits low and his 
 nerves relaxed by sorrow. Sensitive young man ! Fortu- 
 nately his visage does not become red and grog-blossomed 
 
646 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 like that of carnal men, but ghastly pale and cadaverous, 
 which is such an evidence of sanctity that to the great 
 uneasiness of his wife, all the old dowagers and young 
 ladies’ heads are turned, and they monopolise him to that 
 degree of selfishness, by day or night he is scarcely ever 
 to be found at home ; and if she pout and murmur, she is 
 silenced with the expostulation: — Souls, my dear — souls 
 have to be looked after. Unworthy minister were I to 
 enjoy domestic blessings and neglect my duty to my 
 flock.” What could be more exemplary ? — and yet busy, 
 envious slander, that will not even respect saints, was 
 loud in vociferous accusation, or low toned in insinuation. 
 In her outspoken vivacity, she assured her particular 
 auditors that the parson, who was known to be subject to 
 fits of vertigo and dizziness in his head, one day traversing 
 the streets in circular rotations, came full tilt against Dr. 
 Popping, and losing his perpendicular, lay in a swoon at 
 the bishop’s feet, who, having him charitably conveyed to 
 his mansion, administered instead of cordial balm, a dose 
 of bitter to the parson. In her gentle mood she whispered 
 sympathy, that the ill-treated young man, lacking home 
 comfort, was thrown for consolation upon strangers. Be 
 that as it may, one of the bold believers in pious Parson 
 Eeilly, determining to secure salvation by becoming a 
 participator of his sanctity, abandoned her husband, her 
 social position, and five little children, to fly with her saint 
 to Wales. Could the most enthusiastic papist, abandoning 
 all for G-od and retiring to a cloister, do more ? It was 
 shocking ! 
 
 Young Molloy, instigated by his friends, proceeded in 
 his purpose to become possessed of his father’s estate, in 
 which he succeeded without diflBculty. The foolish old 
 father, dissatisfied with the promised assurance of being 
 comfortably provided for during his life, took to his bed at 
 once and died, some say of chagrin, some say of a broken 
 heart, leaving seven other children dependent upon his 
 unduteous son, who began his reign by issuing the ukase 
 for his brothers to clear out and do for themselves. His 
 mother, who abetted him in his conduct, he would support, 
 and his sisters till they got married, which he hoped would 
 
THE SEQUEL. 
 
 647 
 
 be soon. It came to pass, however, he first got wedded 
 himself to a discarded favourite of Plantagenet Tudor, 
 under whose advice he sent his sisters into situations as 
 governesses, where being very young and innocent, they 
 all went to ruin. The mother was shipped back to England 
 upon a small stipend, which was only paid a couple of 
 years, as the new owner living too fast for his fine estate, 
 it dwindled away by sale and mortgage into other hands, 
 and the young man, shunned by his former associates, 
 was constrained to eke out a precarious existence as bible- 
 reader in the Protestant Association for the conversion of 
 the heathen Hirish."^ 
 
 In conclusion of our story, all was now accomplished 
 for which rivers of blood had flowed for centuries. That 
 for which the invader had sighed and prognosticated, 
 came to pass. Ireland was his, from north to south, east 
 to west. Every acre of the land was in his possession to 
 newly colonise with a new people and a new religion. 
 The native race again swept from off the face of the soil — 
 not, as in the days of Cromwell, to one province, but now a 
 decimated handful, living by stealth in bogs, in the most 
 desolate and awful solitudes of the Connemara hills, and 
 other wild mountainous regions — were seen no more. 
 Their nobles were exiled, their priests murdered, their 
 faith in chains, themselves in bondage, the temples of the 
 land in ruin, the altars prostrate, and the schools closed. 
 Silence and darkness were over and throughout the once 
 voiceful and tuneful Eire, wolves prowled through the 
 desert waste of moor and glen, rapparees infested the 
 mountains — a nation’s ruin was complete. To cite the 
 description of it from Protestant and English writers 
 of large mind and impartial justice : 
 
 ‘‘ The eighteenth century was the era of persecution 
 in which the law did the work more effectually and safely 
 than the sword. Then was established a code framed with 
 diabolical ingenuity to extinguish natural affection, to 
 foster perfidy and hypocrisy, to petrify conscience, to 
 
 r * Upon the site of her husband’s mansion, King-street, Dublin, the 
 Duchess of Tirconnel founded the Convent of “ Poor Clares,” where she 
 died, July 29th, 1730, in the 82nd year of her age. 
 
648 
 
 LEIXLIP CASTLE. 
 
 perpetuate brutal ignorance, to facilitate the work of 
 tyranny by rendering the vices of slavery inherent and 
 natural in the Irish character. Too well did it accomplish 
 its deadly work of debasement on the intellects, morals, 
 and physical condition of a people, till the very features 
 vacant, timid, cunning and unreflective, betrayed the 
 crouching slave within.’^* 
 
 What a wide field is now displayed for exhibition to 
 the world of English philanthropy, and the luxury of defam- 
 ing and reproaching the people she had debased and demora- 
 lised, holding them up to the contemplation of astonished 
 nations as a phenomena in nature, half men half beasts, 
 carricaturing their intellect in witless and vulgar rhyme, 
 and misrepresenting their lineaments in grotesque cartoons 
 placarded in every shop-window. To such littleness 
 can the majesty of Britain descend when there is an 
 object to serve. The Grreeks made their helots drunk 
 with the laudable object, we are told, of disgusting their 
 children with that vice which degraded manhood in their 
 eyes. What object, we may be curious to ask, does Britain 
 propose to efiect by showing up the evidence of her own 
 disgrace to the world? The world will soon enough 
 come to understand that people for generations plunged 
 in poverty, crushed and broken, without a gleam of hope, 
 without the means of industry or of improving their condi- 
 tion, may be reduced to reckless apathy, must be con- 
 strained to indolence, ignorance, with their attendants, 
 rags and squalor. However, English philanthropy is 
 now at work to regenerate the land of the Gael, which, in 
 right of conquest, she deems her own. Irish souls are now 
 scarce, hence they augment in value ; besides, here and 
 there flashes out a light from some Celtic brain, that, daz- 
 zling with its brilliancy, makes her pause, and think if she 
 could fuse the remnant into a common nationality. There 
 is nothing more to be gained from them, but their intel- 
 lectual essence — the fire that glowed in the breast of 
 Moore, Carolan, Burke, and a whole galaxy of Irish 
 genius — that she would share. There was nothing to fear 
 from the pariahs but their religion : that must be got rid 
 * Cassell’s History of Ireland. 
 
THE SEQUEL. 
 
 649 
 
 of, not now by foul means, but by fair. The sword, which 
 had effected nothing save to ravage, is sheathed, and in 
 lieu of the red-coated soldier, marching, like Mahomet, 
 to convert by the steel, plethoric bishops depute lean 
 parsons to the mission, so that the land swarms with the 
 Gospel tribe. Wives, sisters, and daughters straining 
 for the preferment of relatives, press into the holy 
 service and with twofold zeal for the things of this 
 world and of the next, with Bible in one hand, and 
 mess of pottage in the other, they cant and rave, 
 exhort and beseech the naked waifs to clothe their 
 bodies, to eat and be comforted, to turn to the Lord and 
 save their souls. They bribe them with silver, to go to 
 church ; they offer to buy their children with gold. If 
 they make one proselyte of piebald race and spurious 
 blood, they multiply it by twenty — an innocent fraud to 
 keep up the spirits of their patrons. Their publications 
 deluge the country. False statistics, and demands for 
 money to complete the good work, create intense excite- 
 ment, profound sensation, and a lavish flow of gold into 
 missionary exchequers for the conversion of the ‘‘Poor’’ 
 Irish. Exeter Hall is in ecstasies ; the Spooners and the 
 Whalleys and the Newdegates of the day are in commotion 
 in the Senate ; — and the delusion works beautifully on. 
 Meanwhile, the philanthropy goes to waste, the mission- 
 aries grow fat on their labour, and Ireland is as 
 sovereignly popish, as tenaciously national, and as 
 oppressed as ever ; while her exiles, roaming over the 
 earth from clime to clime, proclaim their country's story, 
 and open the eyes of empires and republics to the 
 truth. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 M. II. GILL AND SON, PRINTKR3, DUBLIN. 
 

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