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allowed Catherine 'to explain matters as best she could.

Geraldine, in the meantime, being made to understand by her father what she must undergo from the united services of both doctor and priest, became more reasonable. The doctor gave her a sedative; and Father Maguire, at the O'Neile's request, read a few prayers, and commanded her, with his impressive voice and never-failing influence, to dismiss whatever fancies her disturbed and overheated imagination had conjured up. Both applications had the desired effect, and she soon fell into a profound and motionless sleep, from which she did not awaken till the sun was high in the heavens. The O'Neile, when all had been restored to order, insisted upon both gentlemen remaining and taking an early breakfast with him, which Phil, he said, would soon prepare. They gladly acquiesced; and thus made the best of matters by going down to the parlour, in which a roaring fire was already blazing away, with the kettle singing upon the hearth beside it. Thus, by the dawning light of a cheerless November morning, which entered through the opened shutters, and that of the two mould candles placed upon the breakfast-table, they managed to beguile the time with tea, buttered toast, and devilled goose from the remains of the yesterday's dinner (or rather supper, to judge from the hour it took place), without feeling in the least annoyed at what had occurred, and in perfect goodfellowship with their host.

CHAPTER XIX.

“ The boatman paused—Methought I heard

A child's distressful cry!!
.'Twas but the howling winds of night,

Lord William made reply.

And near them they beheld a child ;

Upon a crag he stood -
A little crag. and all around

Was spread the rising flood."

SOUTHEY.

We must now relate the circumstances of the catas-. trophe that was fated to overshadow the family of O'Neile.

It was a bleak, cloudy day, towards the end of February; a high wind had stormed all through the night, and helped in its swift course to dry up the ground, which the incessant rain of the last few months had rendered soft and slimy. Catherine O'Neile stood within the porch of the hall-door, watching the wandering clouds above her, as they chased each other in the lowering, troubled sky. She was upon the point of starting for a long walk, and, with the usual indifference to wind and weather evinced by the native Irish of all classes, was without anything as a defence against the storm, should it overtake her, except a little scarlet cloak thrown carelessly about her shoulders.

She was soon joined by her uncle and Otway. The former was in search of Geraldine, whom the boy affirmed to have seen going out half-an-hour before, when he was up-stairs at the window; but before he could come down and overtake her, to his great disappointment he found she had disappeared, though she had promised to take him with her, and he must now remain at home all day, for Lionel had gone out shooting or fishing.

Thus speaking, he threw himself against one of the pillars near which they were standing, with a sad, dissatisfied air.

“Why not ask your cousin Catherine to take you with her, my boy?" said his father.

“Oh, Catherine don't want me, she likes much better to stroll about by herself besides" he lowered his voice, and looked at her in a deprecating manner, while he muttered—“we are not friends this morning.”

“ What! you have both been quarrelling again ?”

No, not exactly that, daddy, but we disagreed about something, and Catherine taunted me about becoming unworthy of the name of O'Neile."

At these words, the O'Neile's face flushed up for a moment: they evidently recalled something painful to his mind, when Catherine said, good-humouredly

“ But who gave the provocation, my little cousin ?”

The O'Neile seemed reassured. « Ah! I see, politics again, eh? Then I don't wonder at your both disagreeing, for I know Catherine to be a true blue, and worthy of the soil that has given her birth. No doubt she attacked the Saxons again, and you, you little renegade, defended them, and that for the sake of your hero Lionel, who has crammed all sorts of chivalrous deeds into your curly pate."

“Oh, daddy!”–Otway now seemingly forgot his troubles at the mention of his favourite topic — "daddy dear! you should hear Lionel tell about Saint George and the Dragon, Guy of Warwick, and the exploits of King Arthur and Llewellyn the Brave."

The boy's cheek glowed with animation and pleasure as he excitedly enumerated all his heroes, yet he had scarcely named the last, when Catherine interrupted him.

“Llewellyn the Brave, who was defeated and slain by the English, and whose head was put on the Tower of London. A truly heroic death and commemoration for Mr. Herbert to dilate upon!”

“ No, no, dad, it had nothing to do with that. Catherine was vexed at my saying, that when I became a man I would not place myself under the guidance of a priest, but choose my own counsellors—if needs must be—and not have them forced upon me. She became very angry, and told me that such ideas were not my own, but had been given to me.”

*And I don't think that Catherine was very far wrong there. I warn you, child, not to indulge in such opinions before Father Maguire." This was spoken sternly, and with an almost imperceptible tremor in the voice. Then turning to his niece, the O'Neile said

“ Catherine, you will allow him to accompany you? Poor little fellow, he must have a walk; he has been working hard all the morning, preparing his lessons for the priest."

“With all my heart, uncle."

The O'Neile pressed her hand, while he said —" And, Catherine, to avoid disputes on the way, let him tell you the story of the fellow who escaped from the county gaol the other day, after he had been sentenced to death, and that for no less a crime than stealing, quartering, and finally eating his neighbour's pig, who, by-the-bye, happened to be fourth cousin to Patsy Maher, who was uncle to the Jew-broker. They say that the latter put him up to it, and helped him to steal it. Martin has just told us all about it; I will give you his own words :—'Shure an' it was all in consitheration of the family tie between them, yer honor; it's himself took it sore to heart, that any of his kit or kin should harbour such an unclane baste as a Jew, wid whom no good Christian durst eat or keep company.'”

Catherine smiled, in spite of herself, as she listened to what Martin had said, and, forgetting her recent disagreement with her little cousin, she took him by the hand, leaving the O'Neile to enter the house. They both set off at a brisk pace, that soon brought them to the broad expanse of moorland, beyond which were visible the long dark points of irregular cliffs that lined the coast. Otway lingered every now and then to pluck some of the long, green plants, which he flourished in the air from very exuberance of spirits, Catherine walking on, seemingly lost in thought. They were now rapidly approaching the cliffs, when suddenly a thought seemed to strike her; she stopped abruptly, and exclaimed

Why, Otway, I had nearly forgotten; we must take the path to our right, which we have just left behind us."

She turned back the way they had come. The boy appeared disappointed, and remonstrated; but in vain.

“Catherine, I wished so very much to see if there were any fishing-vessels out to-day. Besides, Castello told me to be on the look-out for a homeward-bound from America. Do let us return ! only for a few moments !” He seized hold of her dress as he spoke, to urge her on, but she resisted him; and as he looked up into her face, he was struck by the strange expression that had come over it.

"Not to-day, Otway.” Then, with an unusual tenderness in her voice, she said—“Otway, I have never yet begged of you to do anything for my sake; but now, for the first time, I want you to give me a promise. Will you do so, and perform it very faithfully, like a true knight ? It is not very difficult.”

“Oh, yes! that I will, Catherine," he answered, delightedly. “What is it? Is it something particular ? You know I should like it all the better for that. Ah! I think I know what it is—you want to ride my little horse, till yours is cured of it's lameness. So you can; I don't mind doing without it for some days."

“No, Otway, that's not the favour I require.”

“ Then it must be ”—he hesitated as if afraid to express the thought that was uppermost in his mind'you want me to promise-not to—make-faces behind

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