Chapter 13. Strange Faces--Dare-Devil O'driscol Aroused

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_ CHAPTER XIII. Strange Faces--Dare-Devil O'Driscol Aroused

We have already stated that the proctors daughters had relieved their mother from the duty which, that kind-hearted woman had been in the habit of imposing on herself we mean that of attending and relieving the sick and indigent in her immediate neighborhood. On the morning in question Juli Purcel, who, together with her sister, for some time past been attending the bed of an interesting young female, to one of her father's workmen, had got up at an early hour to visit her--scarcely with a hope, it is true, that she would find the poor invalid alive. Much to her satisfaction, however, she found her better, and with some dawning prospects of ultimate recovery. She left with her mother the means of procuring such comforts as she considered might be suitable to her in the alternative of her convalescence, and had got more than home when she felt startled for a by the appearance of a person who seemed to have been engaged in some of these nightly outrages that were then so numerous in the country. The person in question had just leaped from an open breach in the hedge which bounded the right-hand side of the road exactly opposite where she was passing. The stranger's appearance was certainly calculated to excite terror, especially in a female; for although he did not wear the shirt over his clothes, his face was so deeply blackened that a single shade of his complexion could not be recognized. We need not again assure our readers that Julia Purcel possessed the characteristic firmness and courage of her family, but notwithstanding this she felt somewhat alarmed at the appearance of a lawless Whiteboy, who was at that moment most probably on his return from the perpetration of some midnight atrocity. This alarm was increased on seeing that the person in question approached her, as if with some deliberate intent.

[Illustration: PAGE 445-- Alarmed at the appearance of a lawless Whiteboy]

"Stand back, sir," she exclaimed. "What can you mean by approaching me? Keep your distance."

"Why, good God! my dear Julia, what means this? Do you not know me?"

"Know you! No, sir," she replied, "how could I know such a person?"

She had unconsciously paused a moment when the Whiteboy, as she believed him to be, first made his appearance, but now she pursued her way home, the latter, however, accompanying her.

"Why, my dear Julia, I am thunderstruck! What can I have done thus to incur your displeasure?"

"You are rude and impertinent, sir, to address me with such unjustifiable familiarity. It is evident you know me, but I am yet to learn how I could have formed an acquaintance with a person whose blackened face indicates the nature of his last night's occupation."

The person she addressed suddenly put up his hand, and then looking at his fingers, immediately disclosed a set of exceedingly white and well-formed teeth, which disclosure was made by a grin that almost immediately quavered off into a loud and hearty laugh.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, on recovering his gravity, "it is no wonder, my dear Julia, that you should not know me. Since I went out to shoot with Mogue Moylan, yesterday morning, I have gone through many strange adventures."

"What!" she exclaimed, with evident symptoms of alarm and vexation, "Frank M'Carthy!" and, as she spoke, the remarkable conversation which she had had with Mogue Moylan, and the information he had given her with respect to M'Carthy's connection with the Whiteboys, instantly flashed upon her, accompanied now by a strong conviction of its truth.

"Explain yourself, Mr. M'Carthy," she exclaimed, in a tone of voice which indicated anything but satisfaction. "How am I to account for this unbecoming disguise, so much at variance with your habits of life and education?--perhaps I should not say your habits of life--but certainly with your education. Have you, too, been tempted to join this ferocious conspiracy which is even now convulsing the country?"

"No wonder you should ask, my dear Julia," he replied; "but really the incidents, which have caused me to appear as you see me, are so strange, and yet so much in keeping with the spirit of the times, that I must defer, until a more convenient opportunity a full account of them."

"Do so, sir," she replied quickly; "allow yourself full time to give the best possible explanation of your conduct. I probably have put the question too abruptly; but, in the meantime, you will have the goodness, either to go on before me, or to fall back, as I presume, you will grant that it is neither delicate nor becoming for me, who wear no disguise and am known, to be seen at such an hour holding conversation with a Whiteboy."

The impropriety of the thing struck him at once, and he replied, "You are right, Julia; but I perceive that something has given you offence; if it be my appearance, I tell you that I can afford you a satisfactory explanation. Proceed now--I shall remain here for a time;--whether with black face or white, I should not wish it to be supposed that we held a clandestine meeting at this hour."

She then bowed to him with more formality than she had probably ever used, and proceeded home at a quicker pace.

She had just turned an angle of the road, and got consequently out of sight, when he heard a strong, but sweet and mellow voice singing the fine old Irish song of the Cannie Soogah, or Jolly Pedlar; and, on looking behind him, he perceived that worthy person approaching him at a tolerably rapid pace. The pedlar had no sooner glanced at M'Carthy than he grasped his tremendous cudgel with greater firmness, and putting his hand into his breast, he pulled out a pistol, and with these preparations approached our friend, still continuing his song, with the same careless glee, and an utter absence of all fear.

"'I' m the rantin' cannie soogah'--

"God save you, neighbor! you forgot to wash your face this mornin'."

"That's its natural color," replied M'Carthy, willing, now that he was out of all danger, to have a banter with his well-known friend the pedlar.

"If you take my advice then," said the pedlar, "you'll paint it white--it's a safer color in daylight at any rate. I'm thinkin' now, that if you met a party of peelers on pathrole, they might give you a resate for turnin' the same color red and white; however, glunthoma, (* Hear me) if you have any design upon the Cannie Soogah, I can only tell you that I never carry money about me, and even if I did, I have a couple o' friends here that 'ud standby me; ay, in throth, three o' them, for I have brother to this fellow (showing the pistol) asleep in my breast here, and he doesn't like to be wakened, you persave; so whoever you are, jog on and wash your face, as I said, and that's a friend's advice' to you."

"Why, Cannie Soogah, is it possible you don't know me?"

"Throth I've been just thinkin' that I heard the voice before, but when or where is more than I can tell."

"Not know your friend Francis M'Carthy?"

"Eh, Mr. Francis M'Carthy! and, Lord o' life, Mr. M'Carthy, how do you come to have a black face? Surely you wouldn't belong to this business--black business I may call it--that's goin'?"

"Well, I should hope not, Cannie; but, for all that, you see me with a black face--ha!--ha!--ha!"

"I do indeed, Mr. Frank, and, between you and me, I'm sorry to see it."

"You will not be sorry to hear, however, that my black face saved my life last night."

"Arra thin, how was that, sir, if it's a fair question?"

M'Carthy then gave him a brief, and by no means a detailed account of the danger he had passed.

"Well," said the other, "everything's clear enough when it's known; but, as it's clear that you have enemies in the neighborhood, I think the wisest thing you could do would be to lave it at wanst."

"Such, in fact, is my determination," replied M'Carthy; "no man, I believe, who is marked ought to remain in the country; that is, when he has no local duties that demand his presence in it, as I have not."

"You are right, sir; start this very day if you're wise, and don't give your enemies--since it appears that you have enemies--an opportunity of doin' you an injury; if they missed you twice, it's not likely they will a third time; but tell me, Mr. M'Carthy--hem--have you no suspicion as to who they are?"

"Not exactly; indeed I cannot say I have; the whole matter is shrouded in the deepest mystery. I am not conscious of having offended or injured any one, nor can I guess why my life should be sought after; but sought after unquestionably it is, and that with an implacable resentment that is utterly unaccountable."

"Well, then, Mr. Frank, listen:--I met about a dozen men--strangers they wor to me, although their faces weren't blackened--not more than twenty minutes ago; and one, o' them said to me, 'Cannie, every one knows' you, and you know every one--do you know me?'"

"'No,' says I; 'you have the advantage of me.'

"'Do you know any one here?' says he again.

"'Well, I can't say I do,' says I; 'you don't belong to this part of the country.'

"'If we did, Cannie,' said the spokesman, 'it isn't face to face, in the open day, we'd spake to you.'

"'An' what is it you have to say to me?' I axed; for, to tell you the truth, I was beginnin' to get unaisy someway.

"'Nothing to you; but we've been tould that you're well acquainted wid Procthor Purcel, and that you know a young man, by name M'Carthy, that stops for the present wid Mr. Magistrate O'Driscol.'

"'I do,' says myself; 'I'll not deny but I know them all well--I mane in the way o' business--for I call there often to sell my goods.'

"'Well,' said the spokesman, 'will you give that letther,' handin' me this, 'to Mr. M'Carthy?'" and as the pedlar spoke he placed the note in M'Carthy's hands. "'Do so,' says the fellow, 'as soon as you can--if possible, widout an hour's delay. It consarns himself and it consarns me--can I depend on you to do this?' I said I would: and now there's the letther---my message is delivered."

M'Carthy read as follows:--"Francis M'Carthy, as you regard the life of the man that saved yours last night, you won't breathe a syllable about seein' a young man's corpse last night in the shebeen-house, nor about anything that happened to you in it, till you hear further from me. If you're grateful, and a gintleman, you won't; but if you're a traitor, you will. Your friend, as you act in this."

"Now, Mr. Frank," said the, pedlar, "as you know the danger that's about you, I say that unless you get out o' the counthry at wanst, you'll only have a hand in your own death if anything happens. You're, goin' now, I suppose, to Mr. Purcel's; if you are--if it wouldn't be troublesome--jist say that the Cannie Soogah will call there in the coorse o' the mornin' for breakfast."

He then turned off by a different road; and M'Carthy proceeded at, a very slow pace towards the proctor's, which lay in a right line between the house to which the White-boy had brought him and O'Driscol's. As he reached the back yard, by which he intended to enter, anxious to get himself washed before any of them should see him--he was met by Mogue, who after a glance or two recognized him at once by his shooting-dress.

"Why thin, good fortune to me, Misther Frank, is this you?"

"It is, Mogue; but I have no time to speak to you now. Only get me soap and a towel till I wash my face at the pump here. These are strange times, Mogue, and that was a very suspicious place of refuge to which you brought me; however, it will go hard or we shall make Mr. Frank Finnerty speak out, and to some purpose too. Get me soap and towel quick---I do not wish to be seen with this diabolical-looking face upon me."

"That I may be blest, sir, but the same face surprises me. Wisha, then, Mr. Frank, might one ax--"

"No," replied M'Carthy, "do as I have desired you--some other time you may hear it, but not now."

At this moment, Mogue, who was very circumspect in all his looks as well as in all his motions, saw by a side glance that Julia, on coming down the stairs, saw M'Carthy--a circumstance which delighted his very heart, inasmuch as he resolved to so manage it, that it might be made to confirm the hint he had already thrown out against M'Carthy--if that could be called a hint which was a broad and undisguised assertion. He accordingly watched until an opportunity presented itself of addressing her apart from listeners; and in the course of the morning, as she went to look after some favorite flowers in the garden, he met her at the gate.

"Miss Julia," said he, "I wish to spake one word to you, i' you plaise, miss."

"Well, Mogue, what is it?"

"You know what I tould you about poor Misther Frank last night; and what I want to say, miss, is, that you aren't to put any trust in it; truth, I believe I had a sup in--don't be guided by it--it was only jokin' about him I was--that I may never do an ill turn but it was--now."

"You need make no apology about it, Mogue," she replied; "I am not at all interested in the matter; but I now know that you told me truth; and as a friend and well-wisher of Mr. M'Carthy's, in common with all my family, I am sorry to find it so."

"Oh, well now, miss, what will I do at all? wisha, but that's the way wid me ever and always; when the little sup is in--and indeed it wasn't much I tuck--the truth always come out--if it was the killin' of a man, my heart always gets the betther of ma then."

"I saw him, Mogue, with his face blackened."

"Wisha, wisha, but I was a haythen to mention it at all. The truth is, I like Mr. Frank--but then again, I don't like anything like desate, or that carries two faces--only as you did see him, Miss Julia, if you're loyal to me and won't turn traitor on me--you've but to wait for a little, I'll be able to tell you more about the same foolish--I'd rather say foolish for the sake of settin' a Christian pat-thern, than wicked or traicherous--och, ay--for sure we all have our failins--howandiver as I was sayin', I'll soon be able, I think, to tell you more about him--things that will surprise you, miss, ay, and make the blood in your veins run cowld. Only I say, if you wish to hear this, and to have it as clearly proved to you as what I tould you last night, you musn't betray me."

This was spoken in such an earnest, and at the same time in so simple and candid a manner, that it was actually impossible to suspect for a moment that there was falsehood or treachery intended. Nay,--his pretended effort to undeceive her as to M'Carthy's connection with the Whiteboys, was such a natural step after the drink which she supposed he had taken on the preceding night, and when cool reflection had returned to him, that she felt an indescribable curiosity--one attended with pain and terror--to hear the full extent of her lover's perfidy. Beyond all doubt, Moylan's treacherous adroitness, and the simplicity and piety under which he contrived to veil his treachery and revenge, were perfect in their way. As it was, he succeeded in banishing peace, and trust, and cheerfulness, from the heart of generous and affectionate Julia Purcel.

M'Carthy found the young men up, and after simply stating that the previous night was one of danger and adventure, he said that he wished to go to bed for a while, and that he would describe these adventures at more length after he had refreshed himself by some sleep. This, indeed, they perceived to be absolutely necessary, from his exhausted and pallid look. He accordingly went to rest--and, sooth to say, the sense of security, joined to his complete exhaustion, and the comforts of a warm good bed, gave him such a perception of luxury as he had never conceived before. In a few minutes he fell into a dreamless and unbroken trance.

Breakfast was postponed an hour on his account; for as he had extorted a promise from John Purcel, that he should either call him or have him called when the time for that meal arrived, they did not wish to disturb him so soon. In the meantime, there was many a conjecture as to the cause of his absence, and as the fact of his black face could not be concealed, there was consequently many an opinion given as to the circumstances which occasioned that unexpected phenomenon. Julia did not at all appear, but pleaded indisposition, and Alick had not yet returned-from O'Driscol's, so there was only the proctor, his son John, his wife, and Mary, to discuss the matter. At length, about half-past ten M'Carthy made his appearance, and after the usual civilities of the morning, he gave them a pretty clear, but not a very detailed account of the dangers he had undergone. After a good deal of consideration, he resolved, in accordance with the wish of his unknown friend, to suppress all mention of the attack upon O'Driscol's house, and of the young man who had been shot whilst it was going on.

Breakfast had not been concluded, when the Cannie Soogah, who had already got his hansel, as he called his breakfast, in the kitchen, made his appearance at the parlor window, which was immediately thrown up.

"God save all here," he exclaimed, "long life and good health to every one of you! Here I am, the rantin' Cannie Soogah, as large as life; and upon my profits maybe a little larger if the truth was known."

"Cannie," said the proctor, "dix me, but I'm glad to see you--and how are you, man?--and do you carry your bones safe--or your head upon your shoulders at all, durin' these wild times?"

"Troth, and you may well say they're wild times, Mr. Purcel, and it'll be wisdom in every one to keep themselves as safe as possible till they mend. Is it thruth, sir, that you're makin' preparations to collect your tides wid the help o' the sogers and polis?"

"Perfectly thrue, Cannie; we'll let the rascals that are misleading the people, as well as the people themselves, know whether they or the law are the strongest. They cannot blame us for the consequence, for we're forced to it."

"There will be bad work, thin, I'm afeard, sir; and bloody work, I dread."

"That's not our fault, Cannie, but the fault of those who will wilfully violate the law. However, let that pass, what's the news in the world?"

"I suppose you hard, sir, that the house of your friend and neighbor, that man that hears nothin'--" here there was the slightest perceptible grin upon the pedlar's face--"was attacked last night?"

"You don't mean O'Driscol's?"

"Upon my profits, I do--an' nobody else's.

"Hillo! do you hear this, girls? O'Driscol's house was attacked last night!"

"Heavenly father! I hope Alick is safe," exclaimed Mrs. Purcel, getting pale.

"Well, Cannie," inquired the proctor, quite coolly, and as if it was a matter of mere business, "what was the consequence? I hope nobody was hurt?"

"Why, that his son Fergus, sir--that fine young man that everybody was fond of--"

"Good God!" exclaimed the proctor, now really shocked at what he supposed the pedlar was about to say; "what is it you are goin' to tell us? I hope in God--"

"What is this!" exclaimed John; "heavens, Mary, you have spilled all the tea!"

"Mary, my child," exclaimed the mother, running to her; "what ails you?--in God's name, what is the matter?"

"A sudden faintness," replied the girl, recovering herself as if by an effort; "but it is over, and I--I am better."

"His son Fergus, sir--I hope Miss Mary is betther, sir--that his son Fergus and his father, by all accounts, gave them a warmer reception than they expected."

"But was none of O'Driscol's family hurt nor anybody else?" asked Purcel.

"No, sir, it seems not--and indeed I'm main glad of it."

"D--n you, Cannie," exclaimed the other, between jest and earnest, "why did you give me such a start? You told the affair as if Fergus had been shot--however, I'm glad that all's safe in O'Driscol's;--but about the night-boys? Were there any lives lost among them?"

"It's thought not, sir," replied the pedlar. "They left the marks o' blood behind them, but the general opinion is, that there was no life lost; I hope there wasn't--for, indeed, I have such a hatred against the shed-din' of blood, that I don't wish even to hear of it."

"What was their object, have you learned, in attacking O'Driscol's place?"

"Well, then, I didn't hear; but anyhow, they say that a new workin' boy of O'Driscol's, that dogged them up beyant Darby Hourigan's, was wounded by them, along with Darby himself, in regard, of his having joined the young fellow in dodgin' afther them."

"Are they seriously hurt?" asked John.

"Throth that's more than I can say, but I hope they're not, poor fellows; at any rate, I'm sure Mr. O'Driscol will have them well taken care of till they're recovered."

"Certainly," observed the proctor, "if he thinks it his duty he will: my friend O'Driscol will do what he conceives to be right."

The pedlar nodded significantly, and honored the observation with, a broad grin. "Well, sir," said he, changing the conversation, "he may do for that as he likes, but I must look to number one. Come, ladies--and, by the way, where's my favorite, Miss Julia--from you?"

"She's not quite well this morning, Cannie," said her mother; "she has a slight headache, I believe."

"Well, Miss Mary, then? Any purchases to-day, Miss Mary?"

"Not to-day, Cannie--the next time, perhaps."

"Cannie," said Purcel, "you praised your razors very highly at your last visit;--have you a good case this morning?"

"Haven't I, sir? Wait till you see them."

He then produced a case, which the proctor purchased, and thus closed his sales for that day.

The pedlar, however, notwithstanding that his commercial transactions had been concluded, seemed somehow in no hurry. On the contrary, he took up his pack and exclaimed, "I must go back to the kitchen, till I see what can be done there in the way of business; hearin' that you were finishin' breakfast, I hurried up here to sell my goods and have my chat."

"Very well, Cannie," said the proctor, "try the folks below, and success to you!"

The pedlar once more sought the kitchen, where he lingered in fact more like a man who seemed fatigued than otherwise, inasmuch as his eyes occasionally closed, and his head nodded, in spite of him. He kept, however, constantly watching and peeping into the yard and lawn from time to time, as if he expected to see somebody. At length he got tip and was about to go, when he said to Letty Lenehan:--"Ah, thin, Letty, afore I go I'd give a trifle that Miss Julia 'ud see a bracelet I got since I was here last; divil sich a beauty ever was seen."

"Very well, Cannie, I'll tell her if you wish."

"Then, Letty, may it rain honeycombs an you, an' do. I'll go round to the hall-door, 'say, and she can look at them there; an' see, Letty, say the sorra foot I'll go from the place till she sees it: that it'll be worth her while; and that if she knew how I got it, she'd fly--if she had wings--to get a glimpse of it."

He had not been more than a minute or two at the hall-door when Julia, struck by the earnestness of the man's language, which lost nothing in the transmission, made her appearance.

"Well now, Cannie," said she, "what wonderful matter is this you have got to show me?"

"Here it is, Miss Julia," said he, in his usual jocular and somewhat loud voice, "here it is, I'll have it in a minute--listed, Miss Julia," he added, in a solemn and impressive undertone: "what I'm goin' to say is more to you than aither life or death. Don't go out by yourself--don't go at all out early in the morning or late in the evenin'."

"Why so, Cannie?" she asked.

"Why, miss, it came to me by accident only; but the truth is there's a plot laid, it seems, to carry you off to the mountains."

"By whom, Cannie?"

"That's the very thing, miss, that I don't know; but a strange man met me on my way here this mornin' and tould me that he was a friend to your father--who was wanst a friend to him--and that, if I'd see you, to put you on your guard against goin' either to the poor or sick at the hours I spoke of; and he bid me say, too, that there's bad work and thraichery about you--and by no manner o' means to go any distance from your father's house--ay, thraichery, an from them you'd never think o' suspectin' for it. Now, miss, keep this counsel to yourself, and don't say it was I that tould you, but as you love a fair name and an unblemished character, act upon it. Dang me," he added, "but I had like to forget--if any message--I was bid to tell you--should come from Widow Lynch's, sayin' that her daughter's dyin' and wishes to see you, and that it's afther dusk it'll come--if it does come--well, if any sich message is sent to you, don't go--nor don't go for any message, no matther what it is--hem--ahem--oh! here I have it at last miss," he exclaimed in his natural voice, "isn't that a beauty?"

Julia got as pale as death for a moment, and then her brow became crimson with indignation. In fact, she saw not his bracelet--nor heard what he said in praise of it; but after a little time she said, "Thank you, Cannie, most seriously do I thank you--and you may rest assured I shall faithfully follow your advice."

"Do so, miss," he replied, "so God bless you and take care of you! and that's the worst the rantin Cannie Soogah wishes you."

Alick Purcel almost immediately joined the family in the parlor, to whom he related a full and somewhat ludicrous account of the seige of O'Driscol Castle, as he called it--or Nassau Lodge. As our readers, however, are already aware of the principal particulars of that attack, we shall only briefly recapitulate what they already know, and confine ourselves to merely one portion of it, in which portion our doughty and heroic friend, the magistrate, was most peculiarly concerned.

"Having tested the martial magistrate's courage," he proceeded, "by a hint from Fergus, who was as much amused by it as I was, and finding that it was of the oozing or Bob Acres quality, we resolved, on hearing that the house was surrounded, to examine, and prime and load all the fire-arms in the house, as the case demanded. Some had been already loaded, but at all events we looked to them, and such as were uncharged we loaded on the spot, and then threw ourselves on the bed without undressing, in order that we might be ready for a surprise. Fergus and I, after having lain awake for a considerable time, taking it for granted that they had given up all intention of attacking the house, at length fell into a kind of wakeful doze from which we were at once aroused by a loud knocking at the hall-door. We quietly opened the drawing-room windows, and in a firm tone demanded what they wanted, and the answer was, that a friend of M'Carthy's wished very much to settle an account with him. We replied he was not in the house, and that even if he were, they should fight for him before they got him. We also told them our opinion of their conduct, and said, that if they did not leave the place, we would scatter the contents of a blunderbuss among them. I should state that they knew my voice, and said that they didn't want me then, but that my turn would come soon. When we had done speaking, a strong mellow voice, which I'll swear was not strange to me, said something to them in Irish, and the next moment the windows were shivered with bullets. Fortunately, we kept ourselves out of their range; but at all events, we had light enough to see them put their fire-arms to their shoulders, and time enough to stand aside. We returned the fire instantly, but whether with any fatal effect or not we could not say. When the smoke cleared away they had disappeared, but early this morning traces of blood were found on the spot. A servant of O'Driscol's, named Phil Hart, says they received no injury, for that he followed them at a distance up as far as Darby Hourigan's, near whose door they fired a couple of shots. Darby, it appears, joined Hart, having been aroused by the report of fire-arms; and both, on being discovered on their track, were fired at and wounded. Hart says it is his blood that is on the lawn, and perhaps it may be so, but I rather think the fellows did not escape scot-free at any rate."

"But where," asked John, "was the magistrate all this time?"

"That's precisely what I am coming to," replied Alick; "the fact was that the martial magistrate, who, I believe in my soul, lay shivering with terror on his bed the whole previous part of the night, on hearing our dialogue with the Whiteboys, and the report of the fire-arms, altogether disappeared, and it was not until two or three searches had been made for him, that he was discovered squatted three double in the coalhole. On hearing and recognizing our voices, he started up, and commenced searching round him in the aforesaid coal-hole. 'Come, sir!' he exclaimed, in a voice of most ludicrous swagger, 'come, you scoundrel! I'll unkennel you--whoever may be afraid of you, I'm not--my name's O'Driscol, sirra--Fitzgerald O'Driscol, commonly called for brevity's sake, Fitzy O'Driscol--a name, sir, that ought to strike terror into you--and if it didn't, it isn't here I'd be hunting you--out with you now--surrendher, I say, or if you don't upon my honor and conscience you're a dead man.' 'What's the matter, sir?' I asked--'in Heaven's name, who have you there?' 'Who is in the coalhole, father?' asked Fergus, with a face whose gravity showed wonderful strength of muscle. 'Yes, gentlemen,' replied the magistrate 'heroes that you are--riflemen from a window--upon my honor and conscience, I think courage is like the philosopher's stone--here have I, while you were popping like schoolboys out of the window, pursued their leader single-handed into the coal-hole, for I'm sure he's in it, or if not, he must have escaped some other way--d--n the villain, I hope he hasn't escaped, at all events--here, lights, I say, and guard all the passes--d--n it, let us do our business with proper discipline and skill--fall back, Fergus--and you, John, advance--steady now--charge the coal-hole, boys, and I'll lead you on to the danger.' Of course he was half drunk, but at the same time he managed to conceal his cowardice with considerable adroitness. I need not say that upon examining the coal-hole, and every other possible place of concealment there was no desperate leader found, nor any proof obtained that an entrance had been effected at all. 'Well, come,' exclaimed O'Driscol, 'although the villain has escaped, we managed the thing well--all of us--he must have given me the slip from the kitchen and leaped out of a window. You acted well, boys; and as I like true courage and resolution--ay, an' if you like, downright desperation--being a bit of a dare-devil myself--I say I will give you a glass of brandy-and-water each, and the intrepid old veteran will take one himself. Ah! wait till my friend the Castle hears of this exploit--upon my sowl and honor, it will be a feather in my cap.' Fergus whispered to me, 'It ought to be a white one, then.' We accordingly adjourned in the dining-room, where after having finished a tumbler of brandy-and-water each, we at length went to bed, and thus closed the seige of O'Driscol Castle."

Julia on hearing of this attack and its object, felt her mind involved in doubt and embarrassment. She could not reconcile the desire of the Whiteboys to injure M'Carthy, with the fact of his having, by his own admission, spent the night among them. Or what if the attack was a mere excuse to prevent any suspicion of his connection with them at all? She knew not, and until she had arrived at some definite view of the matter, she resolved to keep as much aloof from M'Carthy as she could possiby do without exciting observation. In the course of the morning, however, they met accidentally, and the short dialogue which took place between her and him did not at all help to allay the suspicions with which her mind was burdened and oppressed.

"My dear Julia," said he, "I see that you are offended with me, but indeed you need not; I can give you a full and satisfactory explanation of my black face, if that be the cause of offence."

"Some other time, Mr. M'Carthy, I may hear your explanation; but not just now."

"I cannot bear your displeasure," he added; "and you know it."

"I wish you had felt as anxious not to deserve it."

"I am unconscious of having deserved it--but hear me, dearest Julia------"

"Well, sir, I do."

"Do you not go to see Widow Lynch's poor sick daughter this evening?"

"No, sir."

"No, sir, and well, sir--good heavens! what means this all?--I am anxious, I say, to give you a full explanation, and if you would only pay a visit this evening to the widow's, I could meet you and explain everything."

The Cannie Soogah's warning here pressed upon her mind with peculiar force.

"But," she replied, "I shall not go this evening."

"Well, will you say what evening you intend to go?"

"No, sir," she replied; "I don't intend to go in future, either morning or evening. Good-bye, Mr. M'Carthy, some time must elapse before I can listen to your explanation."

"Is this generous, Julia?"

"I believe it is just, Frank. Ask your own conscience, whether you are entitled to any confidence from me--good-bye."

And with these words, she tripped up to the drawing-room, where she joined her mother and sister.

M'Carthy, after having settled down from the tumult occasioned by these cowardly and murderous attempts upon his life, could not help indulging in the deepest indignation against the vile and unmanly systems of secret confederation in crime, by which the country was infested and disgraced; its industry marred, its morality debauched, and its love of truth changed into the practice of dissimulation, falsehood, and treachery. He accordingly determined, as far as in him lay, to penetrate the mystery, and ascertain the danger by which he was surrounded, and if possible, to punish his unmanly and ferocious enemies. He consequently lodged informations against Frank Finnerty, for whose apprehension a warrant was issued; but thanks to the kind services of his friend Mogue Moylan, Finnerty was duly forewarned, and when our friend, the heroic O'Driscol, armed to the teeth, and accompanied by as many police as would have captured a whole village, arrived at and surrounded his house, he found that the bird had flown, and left nothing but empty walls behind him. _

Read next: Chapter 14. State Of The Country

Read previous: Chapter 12. Out Of The Frying-Pan Into The Fire

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