Four wonen who were praying beside a bed of straw whereon the dead body of a man was lying lifted their tearful eyes at the sound, and paused in their orisons.

The tap at the door was repeated; the women did not speak, but exchanged looks of alarm with each other, and more carefully screened the light than it had been before; but to a third knock they arose from their knees and consulted in whispers with each other.

The corse was that of Shan Regan; the watchers were, his mother and sister, with the Widow O'More and Mary.

The rebels, at nightfall, had borne their fallen companion to the village, that the last offices for the departed might be performed by his family, although much risk attended the doing so ; but the waking the dead is held so sacred amongst this affectionate people, that they were willing to incur every danger rather than a Christian should be consigned to the ground like a dog,' as they said themselves.

After some brief consultation, the women assumed as much composure as they could, and the door was opened with fear and trembling; but the presence of old Phelim restored them to security. On his observing the sad faces around him, he inquired the cause

The answer was not in words; but Kathleen, taking his hand and leading him over to the far corner of the cabin, withdrew a blanket which hung before a candle burning beside the dead body, and saying 'Look there!' relapsed into tears.

The women caught the infection and renewed their lamentation, while Phelim stood silently gazing on the remains of Shan Regan.

6

There!' said the Widow O'More-'my poor owld neighbour has lost her son as well as me. Oh, aren't we to be pitied! Though she's not so badly off afther all, for she knows the worst at laste, and has him to do the last duties by him; but my darlin' was taken from me unknownst, and I'll never see him agin !'

'Don't be so despairing, Mrs. O'More, my dear; you don't know but you may have your son restored to you yet.'

'Never, never!' cried the widow.

"There's marvillious conjunctions sometimes, my dear ma'am, wherein the Almighty demonstherates His dispinsations accordin' to

His own blessed will, and in His own good time; and do you know I have certain misgivin's, or I may say lucubrations, that it will turn out your son will turn up.'

The widow looked at the schoolmaster very intently as he proceeded with his speech, and, though not clearly understanding him, yet through the mist of hard words caught at his meaning; and there was something in his manner which implied so much of assurance, that she held her eyes fixed on him with a look of eager inquiry as she said:

'Why, thin, what do you mane, Phelim ?'

'I mane that you should not be surprised out o' your life if God was good to you soine time or other; and ho knowin' the day or the hour that Rory might be promiscuously, as I may say, restored to us in an individual manner, and without that preparation or hallucination requizit for sudden surprises or

'Phelim,' interrupted Mary, I'm sure you've heerd something, or you wouldn't talk this way, and come here at this time o' night. For heaven's sake, tell us at wanst if you do know anything of Rory.'

Kathleen had been attracted as well as Mary by Phelim's last words, and was so overcome by agitation as to sink to a seat; and her eyes being turned towards the door, which stood ajar, became suddenly riveted on a figure in the gloom beyond it-for Rory, having drawn as close to the entrance as he could, to hear the sound of the loved voices within, had come within range of Kathleen's eager eye.

Before Phelim could answer Mary's adjuration, a faint scream from Kathleen called Mary's attention upon her, and she beheld her with clasped hands and fascinated gaze looking through the door, as she exclained, 'Great God, he's there!' and she buried her face in her hands as she spoke, and fell backwards.

Phelim caught her, or she must have dropped to the ground; while Mary and her mother rushed to the door, whose threshold Rory's foot had just crossed, and the long-lost wanderer was clasped at the same instant in the arms of his mother and sister.

After a long and tender embrace of each, he hastened to Kathleen, who still kept her face covered. Kneeling beside her, Rory besought her to look upon him, and gently endeavoured to withdraw her hands; Lut the poor girl trembled violently,

while she could only breathe in long-drawn sighs-and it was some time before her lover could prevail upon her to behold him.

Tremulously parting her hands, she looked upon Rory for a few moments, and then again screened her eyes, as though the sight of him had been sunshine to them and could not be supported; but in that one look, there was so much of timorous delight, so much of child-like joy, seeming afraid almost to trust its own happiness, that Rory's heart drank full of delight, and clasping her wildly in his arms, he exclaimed:

'She's my own I-she's my own!'

The melting girl dropped into his embrace, and as her arms hung round his neck, she wept as she had wept before for her brother.

But the tears were not from the same source.-How wondrous near do the founts of joy and sorrow lie in the human heart!

After the first burst of welcome and joy was over, Rory's eye fell upon the figure of Kathleen's mother sitting silently and steadfastly in her chair, as if she belonged not to the scene-nor did she-to her, her dead son was dearer than her daughter's living lover. Her head was turned away, for she looked upon the corse of Regan, which was screened from Rory's observation; but he, advancing towards her to claim her welcome, started and stood still when he saw the object of her melancholy contemplation. He turned an inquiring glance to Mary and Kathleen : the former spoke :

'Ah, Rory, you've come back to see sore trouble.'

'He's dead now, Rory,' said Kathleen.

The few words were given in a tone which spoke a history: the meaning travelled over the past-it spoke of injuries inflicted, of wrath and wrongs, and implied that Forgiveness was the handmaiden of Death. Rory felt all the meaning, but his generous heart needed not the appeal: he approached the dead body, and kneeling beside it, took the lifeless hand, and said, ‘Snanthough you would not be my friend in life, wc're friends now.' He laid the hand gently down, and raising his own in the action of prayer, said fervently, 'May his soul rest in glory!' then rising from his knees, he approached Kathleen, who flung herself in a passion of tears on his neck and sobbed forth audibly, 'God bless you-God bless you, Rory !'

It was an exciting scene which that cabin exhibited. There was grief over the dead, and joy over the living; one had been hurried out of life, and another returned as if from the grave. Words are weak in comparison with human passions, and better may such a scene be conceived than related.

But the startling adventures of the day and night were not yet over. Information had been conveyed to the yeomanry corps that the body of a rebel was being waked in the village; and whenever such an event took place, they always sought to find where this observance to the dead was performed, for the purpose of discovering those who respected a rebel so far, and marking them, if not for vengeance, at least for surveillance.

It was in the middle of the night, while Rory was recounting to his family the circumstances of his mysterious disappearance, that a loud knocking at the door and fierce demands for immediate entry alarmed them. Before the door could be unbarred to the summons, it was burst open by a blow from the butt-end of a carabine, and Justice Slink, followed by some of his corps, entered the cabin. The scene which ensued it is impossible to describe there was insult to the living and the dead, and Rory was laid violent hands on, as the murderer of Scrubbs :-to explain at such a moment was impossible; every attempt he made to do so was met by curses and blows; and he was dragged from amongst the shrieking women, hurried to the county jail, and committed to abide his trial as a murderer.

CHAPTER XLIL

CONTAINING AN EXPLANATORY LETTER.

As soon as De Lacy and Rory arrived in Dublin from Bordeaux, the latter lost not an hour in proceeding south ward, to appease the yearnings of his heart after home. But De Lacy remained in the capital to transact various necessary business with his lawyer respecting his newly-acquired property.

It was with surprise and sorrow he received the following letter

a few days after Rory's departure; the address ran thus, penned in a round text:

To his Honour Horatio
De Lacy Esquire to be
Left at Counsel' Casey's
Dominick St Dublin.

The missive was closed with a wafer, and bore the impression of a thimble by way of seal, and when handed to De Lacy by his lawyer on his entering his study, excited no small surprise.

• Who the deuce can this be from !' said De Lacy, turning the letter over three or four times.

The lawyer pointed to the impression of the thimble, and giving a knowing wink, replied:

'You soldiers are terrible fellows among the girls !'

'We'll see what fair correspondent this is from,' said De Bacy, as he broke the seal. These were the contents:

'HONOURED SIR

'Nemo mortalium in omnibus horis sapit as is illigantly remarked by the Classicks which is my own case at this present writin for I know more know whats to be done then the babe unborn in the regard of his life been in danger as they will hang him if posable unless you can sthreck him out sum way to purvint it been surrounded as we are I may say with truth with sarcumvallations more cuteaneous and perplexn then the Walls of Troy or the Labyrynthus of Crete where the miniature was kept and Diddle-us himself could not get out in short we are in the verry centre of a hobble and wishes you to know it knowin youl be plased to do all in your power for the poor boy who they tuk to jail the minit he came home from the poor women who is brakin their harts and they wont blieve the blaggards I mane what he ses about it but wants to make out he murdhered the Killecthr which he never done though God knows it would be no loss and this is to insense you on that same and ax your honours advice which is no good Im afeard in regard of the villains that is thurstin for his blood which they will have barrin it can be saved and knowin none can do that same but yourself seein that you are a gintleman every inch o you and no less and was always our frind and his frind and I know will do all mortial man can do for him and from him and his they offer you their prayrs and