"Let me hope I shall be able to do you yet a greater. I now know Lucas Plunkett well enough to say that he will not stop at any villainy to accomplish his plans. There is little use in protesting against his arrangements; he will remove you, if necessary, by force. Take this ring from my finger; I cannot pull it off myself, my left arm is broken. Send the trinket to O'Neill-it was given me by himself after a hard-fought fight-and let your messenger ask him, in remembrance of the circumstances under which it was given, to despatch instant aid to the sender. Delay your departure till our troopers arrive, and you are safe. And now, farewell. Montgomery comes hither again. He will see you safe within Duneevin walls. My kindest greeting and my warmest sympathy to Kathleen. May we meet again."

"If your business is settled, MacDermott," said a voice beside him, "I have brought Ormsby and his colleagues to reason. You see I lead these Enniskillen lancers. Poor Hamilton, who commanded us to-day, has fared rather badly. Your fellows turned upon us out on these cursed moors. I must say they behaved gallantly. Hamilton was unhorsed, and, as we were obliged to withdraw, your friends took him with them to their own quarters. I have just pointed out to Ormsby that to injure you would insure Hamilton's being shot as soon as O'Neill hears of the proceeding; and I hinted pretty clearly that the sabres of these Enniskilleners would spoil the aim of any man who cocked a pistol at you. He understood the arguments and the hints. You are now my prisoner, and shall continue such till I can exchange you for Hamilton. I quit this cursed place and Ormsby's cursed service in a few hours. I shall send one of my troopers who is a tolerable leech, to see to your arm. When you are rested and properly bandaged we shall start. And now, if she will permit me, I will escort the lady to her home. This place and these scenes are not suitable for her."

Mary Dillon, with tears in her eyes, gave her hand to MacDermott. He raised it to his lips, murmured a hurried "good-bye," and stood watching her retreating form as she crossed the yard. He ob served her stop to address a word to an uncouth figure which started up to meet her at the gate. He saw her deliver some glittering object into a thin, bony hand, and then pass on. From this he understood that his message was already on its way to O'Neill.

IN braving the anger and resisting the authority of Major Ormsby, Montgomery had not, as might appear, outraged the prevalent notions

of military obedience. A large proportion of the forces then serving in the civil war, and more particularly the troops of horse, had been raised by the officers commanding them from among their own dependents. Commissions were eagerly granted by the party to which the officers chose to offer their services. These commissions meant little more than a patent to exact contributions, or in lieu of these to perpetrate cruelties, in the name of the King or Parliament, respectively. With regard to provisions and pay, none of the belligerent parties could offer much of either; their adherents were left to their own resources to procure both. In such a state of things it is not surprising that the allegiance of those half-feudal captains who fought in turn for the Crown and the Parliament, was measured by the advantages derivable from the service in which they were for the time engaged. There are not wanting many examples which show that a readiness to change sides was not a peculiarity of the inferior leaders, but that the same disposition was evinced by the highest functionaries, civil and military, of the time.

The detachment of horse which Arthur Montgomery now commanded had been sent to assist Major Ormsby in the execution of a certain mission entrusted to him by Sir Charles Coote. The service was little to the taste of the northern troopers. A reputation for chivalry, or even humanity, was a distinction to which they had no claim, and to which they did not advance any. But, bad as they were, they could look down on their comrades of the Connaught border, and were justified in abhorring their companionship. The annals of those "dark and evil days" record few atrocities akin to those which made the names of Hamilton and Ormsby the terror of the Irish of Leitrim and Roscommon. The Ulster officers felt a repugnance to serve by the side of the banditti who had already obtained such an unenviable renown, and this dislike was felt or assumed by their followers.

On this occasion they had an excellent opportunity of giving ex pression to these feelings. The usages of war gave them the principal voice in the disposal of the prisoners they had themselves made. The savage instincts of their allies had led them to violate this right. The Fermanagh men had, therefore, reasonable cause for complaint; Montgomery chose to mark his sense of the wrong done them by abandoning the society of the wrongdoers. His own followers approved his resolve, the opinions which might be formed outside of their ranks, he neither feared nor respected.

A few hours' repose sufficed to fit his troopers for the march. Day had just begun to dawn when his bugles woke the echoes of the lake. At the head of his followers, he quitted the encampment without any leave-taking. His prisoner, for whom he endeavoured by every means to diminish the inconveniences of the journey, rode by his side. As they passed an opening in the trees which gave a view of the island and castle of Duneevin, MacDermott turned to catch a last glimpse of the dark walls which loomed through the morning river-mists. 'Taking leave of your heart, which, I presume, remains behind? asked his companion.

66

"No, regretting that it is all I can leave behind," replied Mac Dermott.

"Likely enough," rejoined Montgomery. "Good faith, had I succeeded in interesting yon dark-eyed beauty as powerfully in my fate as she has been in yours, the odds are, I would forswear the Covenant, and drink cups of sack to the health of his sovereign majesty King Charles. I am sorry that I have been obliged to deprive her of a devoted protector."

"You would be doubly sorry," returned MacDermott, seriously, "if you knew how much she needs one."

Nay, nay, have no fears on that score," answered his companion. "Ormsby will not suffer the inmates of the castle to be further molested. I have it from his own lips."

"He is not their worst enemy; but he favours the schemes of the scoundrel who is. May heaven confound both of them!" And as they proceeded on their way, MacDermott related what he knew of the intrigues of Lucas Plunkett, and the results to which they had led.

Meantime, within those dark walls, now fading fast behind them, the schemes of that worthy intriguer were being pushed forward with vigour. Day had hardly broken when the remains of Arthur Dillon were committed to the grave. Not in consecrated ground; he was buried under the shadow of the castle-walls, where the waves would murmur a perpetual dirge beside his pillow. The gray-haired chaplain of the family with trembling voice read the funeral service. The wild and fantastic lamentations which usually attended the obsequies of the Irish chief, or the half-Irish Anglo-Norman lord did not resound about his grave. The tears and sobs of his children and his household accompanied the meagre funeral rites; these tokens of sincere but unostentatious sorrow were the only ones the occasion permitted, but they suited the sad ceremony better than the hired wailings of professional mourners. A death so nobly died deserved to be deplored in something better than mock lamentations.

The grave had scarcely closed over the body of Arthur Dillon when Plunkett showed his eagerness to be gone. He ordered the scanty luggage which should accompany the travellers to be transported to the shore. He himself superintended the transfer, and thus had an opportunity of satisfying himself that the escort promised by Major Ormsby was almost ready for its march. He hurried back to urge on the preparations of his fellow-travellers.

"It is piercingly cold," pleaded Mary Dillon; can we not wait till the sun is up? The chill is too much for Kathleen to bear ?" The plea for delay was a good one, but Plunkett had determined that none should weigh with him.

"She shall travel in a horse litter, and will be protected from the cold. I am sorry to expose her to this inconvenience, but our danger increases with every moment's delay, and we must risk something to escape it."

He was not in a mood to be thwarted, and Mary felt that open resistance to his wishes would avail them but little. That he would carry his point by force, if he could not do it by persuasion, was

obvious. Were they destined to receive no assistance? Had her messenger, already tired out by long and wearisome journeys, found his way over the bogs and morasses? Had the token he carried

gained credence for his story, and had his story moved the heart of the Irish general? Were O'Neill's fleet horsemen now spurring fast over the moors to revenge the defeat of their comrades, and to deliver her from a captivity worse than that to which Captain Mac Dermott was condemned? Poor MacDermott! so gallant, so selfsacrificing whither was he journeying now? Was his parting wish that they should meet again ever to be gratified? Surely not, if she were conveyed to the hated home, whose hospitality was so disagreeably forced upon her. Oh, for a ruse which would gain one hour's delay, within which the white bannerets of the Ulster cavalry might be fluttering along the wooded shore!

She could devise no better expedient for deferring the moment of departure than to multiply, as far as she might, their preparations, and to execute them as slowly as she dared. Breakfast was ordered, and albeit her appetite was not of the keenest, she lingered over the meal as if she relished it exceedingly. Then she had to dress her sister for the journey, and after this her own toilet should be made. Lucas Plunkett ground his teeth in his impatience; he could see the glistening armour of the escort that awaited him, and could almost. fancy that he heard the stamping of the fretful horses, and the muttered curses of their impatient riders.

"Look you, Mary," he cried, at length, addressing his cousin. "I will go again on shore, to quiet the impatience of the soldiers that await us. Be ready when I return; I must insist upon your accompanying me without an instant's delay."

It was at least another quarter of an hour gained! And, welcome sight! the red disk of the sun began to rise slowly from behind the trees that nodded on the Leinster hills! May heaven lend speed to the riders who must be already hurrying to their aid!

If Lucas Plunkett had been previously eager to begin his journey; the wish was intensified by the greeting he received from the commander of the small body of horse that waited for him.

"Gads zooks, sir! will you have us remain here till O'Neill's prickers come to set us in motion? Our main body is already half an hour's ride in advance of us. In ten minutes I follow them. If we have not the honour of your company, you alone are to blame."

Plunkett muttered an unintelligible apology, promised to return within the time marked out, and sped back towards the castle with all the rapidity his rowers could command. He rushed up the stairs which led to the apartment occupied by his cousins, and in terms which admitted of no remonstrance, bade them instantly descend.

Half blind by the tears she struggled to suppress, Mary Dillon supported her pale and trembling sister down the rugged staircase. As they crossed the threshold, a shudder passed through the tiny form that leaned upon her, and she turned to her cousin to make another appeal in behalf of her feeble sister. But her words fell unheeded on the ear of Lucas Plunkett. His eyes were riveted on the shore.

There was a movement visible among the expectant horsemen ; a good deal of prancing and plunging; and then the horses turned towards the wood; and rank after rank disappeared among the

trees.

"The devi!!" explained Plunkett, angrily, "they wish to frighten us into haste. Come, come, you have delayed us beyond all patience," and he seized the invalid child by the arm, and hurried her towards the boat.

"Quick! quick!" he cried to the boatmen, as soon as the skiff had received its freight; a crown to each if we gain the strand in five

minutes!"

The rowers bent to their work with hearty good-will, and soon they had gained the middle of the channel that separated the island from the shore.

"Ha! I knew they but played a trick upon us," exclaimed Plunkett, joyously; "they are at their post again."

Mary raised her head and caught a glimpse of a line of horsemen in front of them. They were but imperfectly visible, standing, as they did, in the shadow of the tall trees. Kathleen, too, had caught sight of the dreaded soldiers, doubly dreaded and doubly abhorred, now that they had slain her father. She threw herself, weeping and sobbing, into her sister's arms, and implored her to save her from the sight of those ferocious men. Her alarm concentrated upon her the attention of both her guardians; they had eyes or ears for nothing else till the boat grated on the pebbles of the beach.

"Arrived at length!" cried Plunkett gaily, springing from the boat. "To horse! to horse! Let O'Neill and his hobellers follow if they list, they will—"

him.

"Overtake you ere the race begins," said a quiet voice beside

There was something in the measured, unimpassioned tones in which the words were uttered, that roused even Mary Dillon to attention. She looked up in surprise at the speaker. He was within a few yards of her, seated on a charger whose dark, glossy skin was streaked with waves of foam. He was clad in complete armour, and his features were partially concealed by his helmet. Behind him two lines of cuirassiers were sitting motionless in their high saddles, silent and mysterious as their leader. From the lines of the troopers the lady's glance again reverted to their commander, and now her heart 'bounded with a thrill of strange joy. On the saddle-cloth, which covered the panting loins of the black steed, she observed that a blood-red human hand was traced upon a ground of white. clasped her hands together, and in the fervour of her thankfulness exclaimed aloud:

She

"Heaven be praised! they are the soldiers of O'Neill !" "The same, lady !" said the stranger, with a courteous exclama"If you would avail of their services, command them." 'May I speak with your general ?"

tion.

"He will wait upon you as soon as pressing duties permit him. Meantime, you would do well to seek shelter from the chill air. In