their dirty haythenish goddess for her; but, sure, I hope it's no harm, since it was done und her a mistake.'

'Don't be uneasy, Rory,' said De Lacy, who saw he had distressed him by his laughter; 'I hope the prayer that is offered to heaven in purity of heart, will find its way there, before whatever altar it is breathed.'

With such tolerant sentiment did De Lacy go on board, com mitting himself to the care of that Providence in whose unlimited mercies and protection he reposed his faith.

CHAPTER XXXVII

A MYSTERIOUS MEETING.

AND now our story must return to Ireland. A period of a year had nearly elapsed since Rory had left its shores; but how fearful was the history those few months left behind !-too fearful to he touched on here-too tempting to the passion of party, or too forcibly appealing to the gentler feelings of human nature, for mortal pen to be trusted with. It might be a 'recording angel' alone that could write of that period; and oh ! how much must she weep over as she recorded, and well if it could be blotted out for ever. It was the awful year of 1798, whose acts seemed the work of fiends, and whose records are but of blood.

In the autumn of that year the insurgents were dispersed, with the exception of a few scattered parties of the most desperate, who still kept the fastnesses of the hills, or held out a miserable and hunted existence in the bogs. It was in the dusk of an evening, at this period, that Mary O'More had a message conveyed to her through an old beggar-woman, stating, 'that if she would go to a certain place, alone, she would meet a person to give her tidings she would be glad to hear.'

The woman endeavoured to excite Mary's curiosity still further; but, in such unsettled times, to go alone was a service of more danger than she had courage to look calmly upon; for, though a girl of bold and high spirit, she never recovered the shock which her rencontre in the glen of the Folly had produced.

'Could not the person come to her, whoever it was if he or she wished her well, they would not object to do so?

'Maybe they can't.'

'An outlaw it is, then?'

'Not that; but mustn't come into the village.'

"They shall suffer neither hurt nor harm, if they come to ou place.'

'No; you must meet the person.'

'I'm afeard of some plot.'

'I tell you, child,' said the woman, 'and I swear to you by the blessed vestments, no harm is meant you.'

"Then tell me who it is.'

'I'm bound not.'

'I'm afeard,' said Mary, hesitating.

"Then you won't hear of it: maybe you'll be sorry.'

'I can't be sorry for what I don't know.'

'Maybe there's thim you'd like to hear of?'

'Is it poor Conolly' said Mary, who, though she never loved, felt a deep interest in the faithful friend who had assisted her and her mother, however he could, after Rory had disappeared, and who was amongst those who were outstanding with the rebels. not that he had committed any acts of brutal aggression, but some daring deeds he had achieved during the insurrection had marked him for vengeance from the other party.

'There's thim you loved betther than you loved Conolly,' said the beggar-woman.

Mary blushed, and thought of De Lacy, and, ashamed of the thought, was glad the twilight forbad the mendicant seeing the evidence on her cheek; for all unconsciously had the poor girl dwelt on the remembrance of him (a remembrance rendered doubly dear by its being associated with recollections of her brother), and had read over and over again his books that he had given her, and recorded in her memory his courtesy and gentle bearing, until, under these influences of heart and mind, an effect was wrought upon her of which she herself knew not, half the strength.

'Suppose you could hear something of him I'

"Who?' said Mary.

'Suppose your brother

'What!' exclaimed Mary, clasping her hands in wonder

'Suppose Rory was

'Gracious God! Is he alive?' cried the agitated girl, laying hold of the speaker.

'You may hear something about him you'd be glad of will you go now?'

'Anywhere,' said Mary, with courage which the hope of such news inspired; 'but if you deceive me

'I'm not deceivin' you.'

'You're a woman, and should not betray one of your own sex.'

'I tell you, Mary O'More, you're safe if you follow me.'

'Then lead on where you like,' said Mary; ' and I'll follow.' The beggar-woman walked rapidly away from the village; but, instead of going down the street, she struck into a path which lay behind the Widow O'More's cabin, and led to some solitary upland beyond it.

It is necessary here to explain that the Widow O'More and her daughter were not now living in the snug cabin where first the reader knew them. That had been burned during the rebellion, and then its inmates removed to the village. Kathleen Regan, too, and her mother, were driven from their home about the same time, for Shan Regan had been long a defaulter in the payment of his rent; and when the affair in the glen of the Folly obliged him to fly, in consequence of the magisterial search after him, matters got more involved; for his poor mother knew not what to do, and was nearly heart-broken at her son's misconduct; and when the rebellion broke out, and Regan was known to be amongst the most lawless of the insurgents (for in their ranks he found most personal safety), the landlord visited the crimes of the child on the parent, instead of the sins of the fathers being visited on the children, as the Decalogue declares. But this was not the only instance in those terrible times of men's actions being at variance with Holy Writ.

Under such circumstances, when these two suffering families found themselves deprived of their natural homes, and the men who were their natural protectors, they agreed to reside together; and, as the open country was dangerous, they went into the village, and lived, if not in safety, at least in companionship.

On reaching the upland, the mendicant stopped near the edge of a narrow road which led over the hill, and, from its great age

and long wear, formed a sort of covered way: here she stopped, and gave a loud cough by way of signal; it was immediately answered, and a man emerged through the hedge that fringed the embankment of the road, and approached the spot where Mary stood with her guide. On his getting nearer, she perceived it was the old tinker who approached, and recoiled at the recognition, but her guide assured her she had nothing to fear.

The tinker approached Mary with the greeting that denotes good faith, and expressed his gladness she had come, as he had auch to say of consequence to her; he then asked her to remove from her guide a sufficient distance to be out of hearing.

'Can't you say what you have to say before her? I don't like her to leave me.'

Come away a few steps, my poor colleen,' said Solomon, with more gentleness in his voice than Mary had ever heard before. 'Don't be afeard, there's no harm comin' to you.'

'You won't go far from us,' said Mary to the beggar-woman, for even in her whom she had never seen before she felt more of fellowship and protection than in the old tinker, whom she always disliked; and, since the day she last had seen him at the glen of the Folly, his image was associated with all that was revolting to her feelings.

'We are far enough away now,' said Mary to Solomon; 'I won't go another step, and whatever you have to tell me, tell me at wanst.'

'Well, thin,' said Solomon, 'I brought you here to tell you that Rory's alive.'

'Oh holy Mother!' exclaimed Mary, dropping on her knees, and bursting into a flood of tears.

"There, there! now don't be foolish, colleen; he's alive, and

'Where? where? tell me where, for the love o' God!'

'Aisy, aisy. Wait and I'll tell you. Now, first and foremost you must know, that it was Shan Dhu was at the beginnin' and end of it all, and I've nothin' to do wid it but havin' had the bad luck to know iv it; and for that same I've been hunted up and down the country ever since, and would have towld you afore, only I darn't show my face. But you see it was lyin' heavy an my conscience all the time; and now I run the risk o'

bein' taken up, and hanged maybe, all for the sake o' setting your mind at aise and takin' the weight av my heart.'

'But where is Rory?'

'Indeed, he's in France, I b'lieve,-at laste he was carried off along with the Collecthor; but he wasn't murthered, as you thought.'

'Solomon!' said Mary impressively; 'by your hopes of mercy on your dyin' day -and you're not far off the

man

grave, ould Whisht, whisht interposed Solomon; don't be sayir

that.'

'Oh, sure we're all nigh death every minit, if it's God's will ;but I charge you not to put false hope into a sisther's heart.'

'It's thruth,' said Solomon; 'and more than that I've to tell you. Shan Regan is in the hills hidin', and a few blackguards like himself along wid him; and I hear he intinds makin' an offer for takin' you off.'

'May the Lord pity me!' said Mary.

'But don't be afeard,' added the tinker; if you'll only do my biddin'. You saved my life beyant in the glen, and I don't forget it to you, colleen agra; and so I kem to tell you the thruth about Rory, and make your heart aisy: and if you'll only go along wid me to the magisthrit, I'll swear it all agin Regan; and moreover I know where he's hidin', him and his morodin' vagabones, and I'll lade the cojers on thim sly, and have thim all taken and hanged like crows, for indeed the gallows is greedy for thim.' 'Let us go now,' said Mary; 'Misther Dixon's is not over a couple o' miles.'

'Too late to-night, colleen, with the martial-law out; we had etther both keep unknownst for to-night; but to-morrow mornin' I'll be wid you, and go to the magisthrit's. So now away wid you home, and plaze God you'll see Rory yet; and yourself will be the safer from harm the sooner Shan Dhu is taken care of. Good-night to you, colleen !—Remimber to-morrow mornin' I'll be wid you.' And the old tinker vanished through the hedge; while Mary O'More rejoined the mendicant, who had remained near the spot, and in her company returned to the village.

Let it not be supposed it was any compunctious visiting of the old tinker's conscience urged him to the disclosure he made to Mary O'More, or that it was any feeling of tenderness towards the