he this in the might of the Lord, not in the puffing up of carnal passion. Young man, I will go forth with thee against the walls of this Popish Jerico. But, even as it was commanded to the chosen ones of old, so shalt thou mortify thy carnal vanity before we blow our trumpets at its gates. Hope not," he added, sternly, "to indulge thy follies when thou drawest the sword with me. Should the walls fall before us, I will myself lead forth the Canaanites whom we do not smite with the edge of the sword."

A smile played on the bronzed and rugged features of the group of officers. It was shrewdly suspected that, notwithstanding his professions of austere piety, the major could play the gallant when it did not interfere with his mission of edifying the lambs of the flock. On the present occasion, his determination to encourage self-denial in his associate was not attributed by his friends to disinterested zeal; and this suspicion was plainly expressed upon their features. Considerably amused by the challenge so strangely given and accepted, and interested in the result of the adventure, most of the officers quitted the stable to assist in the execution of it. Trunks of trees were rolled down to the water's edge, lashed together with ropes, and planks torn from the buildings of the farm-yard were nailed over them. The work went on rapidly, and soon several rafts, capable of carrying a large storming party, were ready. The wind had fallen, the transit could be effected without much risk. The castle had no cannon to render the approach perilous, and once in the shallow water, a score of iron-covered cavaliers would easily dispose of the mob of servants by which it was garrisoned.

By the inmates of the castle these preparations were viewed with the utmost consternation. The inhuman cruelty with which the roving bands of Parliamentarian horse treated the mere Irish who fell into their hands was well known to them, and the prospect of meeting with these dreaded marauders inspired the handful of servants by whom the house was defended with the wildest terror. Nor was gentle birth and high rank always a protection against the violence of the lawless soldiery. The master of Duneevin castle and his family had therefore, much reason to fear for their own personal safety, if the attack which was preparing succeeded.

"I will go and offer them the plunder of the house!" exclaimed Arthur Dillon to his daughter. "It is useless to attempt resistance. Lives will be lost, and we shall be robbed all the same."

"Do not go! Do not go, father!" cried his younger daughter, clasping his hand with frenzied passion. "They will kill you. I have seen it in my dreams-I did not say it before. Oh! it was dreadful! Do not go! Do not go, I implore you!"

You

"Have no fear, Kathleen," returned her father, caressing the child while he spoke. "They seek our property, not our lives. must not be frightened if some of these rough soldiers accompany me when I return.”

"No, no, do not leave us !" moaned the child, heedless of the encouraging words, and occupied only with the picture which filled her excited fancy. "The cries they raised were piercing, and so sad, so

very sad! They are ringing in my ears, the wind has been repeating them ever since."

It was only with an effort, that Arthur Dillon could shake off the ominous feeling which came over him at his daughter's words.

66 Talk your sister into reason, Mary," he said, with an effort to be cheerful." I will return soon to drive these dark fancies from her head. Good-bye, Kathleen, try to have a smiling face to meet me when I come back."

The child tried to respond to these cheering words with a smile, but it was useless, she could not force even a counterfeit look of hope or pleasure into her pale features. She hid her face on her sister's breast, and did not raise it again till the boat that carried her father had quitted the island.

Arthur Dillon was a good deal surprised to observe that the preparations which had forced him to the step he was taking were abandoned almost as soon as he quitted the castle stairs. The half-finished rafts were left floating in the water, the troopers engaged in the construction of them retired into the wood, and soon the glancing of their armour at different points along the shore showed that they thought not of resuming their task. He concluded that the purport of his coming had been understood, and that the storming party had given up their preparations because they perceived them to be unnecessary.

A conversation which had meantime occurred in the stable where the attack was concerted will better explain why it was abandoned.

Whilst his officers were busy by the shore of the lake, the Parliamentarian commander remained alone in the shed. He was comparatively indifferent to the success of the adventure. The taking of the castle might somewhat increase the booty he would carry off; but as a military fortress the building was worthless. It was too small to accommodate an effective force, and its garrison, if the country around were occupied by an enemy, could easily be starved into surrender. Thinking over this he determined, if it fell into his hands, to secure all the plunder it offered, and to leave the inhabitants who might survive the eventualities of the attack to enjoy the comforts of bleak walls and empty larders when he had gone.

He was busy at his calculations when a gentleman in the dress of a civilian entered. Raising his eyes so as to catch a glimpse of his visitor, the Parliamentarian officer observed, carelessly: "They are going to intrude on your friend's solitude, Plunkett, to force him out of his reserve. Storey and young Crosby intend to cross on rafts with a storming party."

"You dare not permit it," answered Plunkett, excitedly. "It is more than your orders warrant you in doing."

"Dare is a bold word," returned the officer, superciliously. "I do sometimes dare strange things without the orders, and even contrary to the wishes of the Lord President. If the armed hand has sometimes carried its rose* behind the coot, it does not for that reason owe to any one an explanation of every blow it strikes, and believe me that wily bird is far too prudent to ask it."

* An allusion to the crest of the Ormsbys.

"It is superfluous to discuss the point," said Plunkett. "There is no time to execute your plan. Your outposts have signalled the approach of the Irish."

"What is deferred is not abandoned," remarked the officer, evidently unwilling to forget the slight put upon his authority by the allusion to his dependence on Sir Charles Coote. "What is the number of the rebels ?"

"They cannot be more than two squadrons-about forty cuirassiers."

"It is well," said the officer, adjusting his sword. "I go to make arrangements for their becoming reception. Bid Major Storey attend me," he continued, raising his voice and addressing the orderly in waiting. "The officers of his troop will lead their men, on foot, to the verge of the wood, and there await further orders. Captain Hamilton will mount his Lancers, and hold them in readiness to act on a moment's notice."

Obedient to the summons, Major Storey promptly appeared before his commander.

"A troop of O'Neill's hobellers is coming to interrupt your diversions, major," observed Ormsby. "I have devised a pleasant surprise for them.”

He whispered a few words in the ear of his confederate, and a smile of satisfaction distorted the features of the pious veteran.

"Perhaps," observed Plunkett, "it will interest Major Storey to know that the leader of the rebel troop is one to whom he became debtor on a certain occasion on which I myself had the honour of serving under him."

"And on which thou didst flee with exceeding speed, yea, even as the evil one fleeth before the prayers of the saints," retorted the major, maliciously.

"Wherein I did but obey the orders and imitate the example of my commander," rejoined Plunkett.

"Verily it did please the Lord to humble us. But great is His mercy who doth now deliver into our hands him who hath rubbed shame on the faces of the chosen ones."

The two officers accompanied by Plunkett left the farmyard. The men under their command followed in a short time; and, when Arthur Dillon arrived, there was no indication of the presence of the large force which had been entertaining itself at his expense other than about two score troop-horses, picketed in the wood and guarded by a few lounging troopers.

One of these latter informed Dillon that Major Ormsby had found employment for his men on the border of the wood, and intimated that he might find that officer himself in the direction he pointed out, if only he would risk the consequences of disturbing him in his occupations. Regardless of the hint conveyed in the last words, Dillon took the path indicated. A walk of ten minutes brought him upon a squadron of Lancers stationed at the foot of a rising ground on the verge of the wood. In reply to the challenge of the officer in command he explained the object for which he came, and was directed to

the spot where he should find Major Ormsby. That worthy soldier he discovered standing behind a clump of furze in company with some of his brother officers; and Dillon was not a little surprised to observe that his cousin Plunkett, who had quitted him on the previous day, was of the group, apparently on familiar terms with those about him. As soon as Dillon approached, his kinsman stepped forward to meet him, and presented him to the Parliamentarian commander.

"You are tardy to exchange greetings with us, Mr. Dillon," said Ormsby, coldly. "Had you waited a little longer, we would probably have spared you the inconvenience of your present journey. We would have striven to pay our respects to you within the walls of your own mansion."

"You will excuse me, if I am unable to appreciate your jocoseness," returned Dillon. "Your object is plunder. Spare my family insult, and take what you will.”

"So spontaneous an offer does infinite credit to your courtesy," rejoined Ormsby, with insulting irony. "We have not leisure now to consider it, but we will do so later on. Meanwhile I shall so far take advantage of your generosity as to sacrifice to the service of the Parliament a few of the offices of your farmyard. We are playing here an interesting little game. As you will have to bear the expense of the torches, it would be unjust not to give you a view of the sport." He beckoned to him a grim-visaged subaltern who stood at a little distance.

66

Sergeant Lovegrace, I commend this gentleman to your safe keeping. Take him to the top of the hill, and from behind the fence let him see what is going forward. I must, however, caution you against interfering with the play," he continued, addressing Dillon, with an ugly smile. "The sergeant," with an expressive nod to that individual, "would be obliged to prevent any such intermeddling by means which it would be uncourteous to name. Both of you understand me. We shall meet again when the entertainment is over." "It would be imprudent to permit him to return," he continued, turning to his associates. "He might even yet warn the birds before they get within our nets."

CHAPTER XX.

THE FAIRIES' PASS.

"Sisters! I from Ireland came!
Hedge and corn-fields all on flame,
I triumphed o'er the setting sun!
And all the while the work was done.
On as I strode with my huge strides

I flung back my head and I held my sides

It was so rare a piece of fun

To see the sweltered cattle run

With uncouth gallop through the night,
Scared by the red and noisy light.
By the light of his own blazing cot
Was many a naked rebel shot,"

Coleridge.

FROM the spot to which he was conducted Arthur Dillon could obtain a view of the road that led southwards along the Shannon in the

direction of Athlone. About a quarter of a mile in front of the position he occupied, the road passed through a defile, the sides of which were covered with brushwood and withered ferns. It was a picturesque spot, one which he had sometimes visited when his daughters accompanied him on shore, and which, from the legends connected with it, was known in the country round as "The Fairies' Pass." Authentic narratives from the lips of a hundred wandering story-tellers averred that the ferns which clothed its sides gave shelter to innumerable tribes of tiny elves, and it was well ascertained that, in the bright moonlight, dapper troops of these diminutive beings came forth from their hiding-places, and danced odd dances on the open space between the furze-bushes.

From his post of observation, Dillon perceived that the pass was likely soon to be invested with an interest greater than that which it derived from being the haunt of the fairies. His elevated position enabled him to command a view of the entire defile; he was surprised to observe that scores of dismounted troopers crouched behind the brush-wood which crept up its sides. His eye sought the broad open country visible through the pass, and in the distance he perceived a column of horse moving towards it at a rapid pace. At the head of the column a ragged youth bounded along beside the leader's horse with a lightness which only the practised horse-boy could command. Dillon strained his eyes to distinguish the approaching figures, and at last convinced himself that the guide of the advancing column was no other than his own singular domestic, Shawn-na-Coppal. He understood the situation now, and his heart sank within him as he saw the fate that awaited his deliverers. The clanking of their armour was already audible at the spot where he stood, and the dull sound of their horses' hoofs upon the soft earth smote upon his ear with a hollow, grave-like cadence that made him shudder. However, there was yet a hope. Knowing they were in the neighbourhood of a hostile force these friendly cavaliers, whoever they were, would perhaps distrust the defile, and distrust for them meant safety. But as yet they gave no sign of suspicion; they rode on at a steady pace, their guide maintaining his position in front; the stillness of death reigned in and around the pass, not a sight or a sound was there to awaken distrust in those for whom the ambush was laid. What if they disre garded in this instance the rules of military prudence? Should they perish without a warning? A signal, a shout, the waving of a handkerchief would arrest them in their fatal career. But how to make it? His life he knew would pay the forfeit of any attempt to give the warning. The eyes of his grim-featured guardian were upon him, and he felt that the veteran would not hesitate to execute the significant order he had received. Yet did not gratitude oblige him to risk his life? True; but if he fell-what of his children? The thought was harrowing; he stood riveted to the spot, distracted by the opposing claims of grateful generosity and paternal love, gazing in helpless, heart-rending suspense at the approaching horsemen. But, see! Suspicion of some kind has crossed the mind of their leader. As he nears the entrance of the fatal pass, he gradually slackens his