THE MYSTERY OF KILLEEN CASTLE: OF A BRANDED BROW.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2645, 4 February 1908, Page 2

THE MYSTERY OF KILLEEN CASTLE: OF A BRANDED BROW.

'ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

BY A. M. AND W. I. BOWL

ELEVENTH INSTALMENT. CHAPTER XXVll.—Continued. "Ucgorra." answered Tim, halfhcsitalingly. "yer honour has me there, entoirely. Faith, I did sec a great likeness to some people I knew well, but thinkin' it was only me fancv shurc, I didn't mention it to Kitty fur fear it's laughin' at me she'd be. The bride was the dead image of that poor Nomad girl, Norah Clancy ; but bedad, it couldn't be her, for the grandeur av the colleen was great." "Faix. an' I saw the same likeness too, Masther Hugh : but I niver let on to Tim there, for sez I to meself. 'What 'ud a poor colleen bo doin' there at that hour an' so grand, too ? Shure she has her own little church to be married in, if it's marriage she wants. An' be the same token thinks I to meself. 'perhaps it's the poor girl's spirit we've seen, an' yerrah, all the world knows, if such lie the case, that poor Norah is a doomed girl. But fur all that. I'll niver be the one to set the rumour afloat, so it isn't me as 'ill have the craythur's death at mc door, annyway. be tellin' her that same. But it's mortal afecrd I am. Masther Hugh, fur shure. news has just reached mc this blessed day that the colleen Norah has disappeared, but Tim here, won't belave a word av it." "I am sorry to say it is but too true, nevertheless. I have not long parted from little Penny. He is in great grief and declares ihe whole camp is wild about it." "Glory be to goodness ! Where is she gone at all ? What does the gossoon mean by that ?" cried Tim. in amazement. His sweetheart, too. was terribly disturbed, and waited breathlessly for Hugh's next words. "I cannot say where the poor girl has gone. I only wish I could. Tim. But rumour has it that she has run away with a lover." returned the young man sadly. Kitty stood silent and strangely pale for an instant, then suddenly she burst forth in terrible grief. "Ochone ! Ochone ! Shure, we saw it all in the spirit. It was a warning true enuf. And oh. if we had only spoken, told what we aw in time, we might have saved ln>r—prevented this."

Tim, too, was as agitated as his companion, but tried to soothe her by explaining they had acted as they thought best. Here Hugh came once more to his assistance by assuring the girl they were in no way to blame. All this v 'd have happened no matter how th.y tried to prevent it. for no doubt it was too late then to act. Even had they given warning at once she could not have been saved, he went on to explain : but their presence might have helped that other poor girl in a manner that neither of them susjtected.

Kitty tried to view the matter in this light, although for the life of her she could not imagine how this could be. Nevertheless she appreciated Mr. Hugh's kindness in trying to console her, while Tim felt everlasting gratitude to the young master for the manner in which he succeeded in being the peacemaker between them.

Allowing them to continue their journey alone, Hugh wished them good-night and calling his horse, was soon once more galloping along the country road.

It was a bit unfortunate that he had not seen the detective that day. It was roily so much wasted time, and he I . so much to tell him, so much to consult him about. Yet on the other hand the journey had not altogether been in vain. He had learned indeed some startling facts, and had he not encountered Tim and Kitty, might never have known of the mysterious ceremony in the abbey.

Needless to say, Hugh never for a moment viewed the matter as Tim and Kitty did. His heart ached within him as he thought of the credulity of that young and trusting girl, who, he felt certain now, was wilfully and maliciously deceived into thinking that marriage a real and binding one, because of the holy and consecrated old abbey and the appearance of the monk, whom she had doubtless taken for a real friar, a Franciscan.

Only a few days previous he had spoken to her in a friendly way. warning her as he would any other innocent girl, that it was not wise for her to be seen about with the gentleman—a grandee, in fact—with whom he had already heard her name coupled. But Norah had not accepted his advice, and without in the least enlightening him as to who the gentleman was, informed him that her lover intended to make her his wife and a lady—in fact, had already given her the engagement ring. It was, of course, useless arguing with a girl who was evidently so full of love and trust in her lover, as poor, credulous Norah was. So. hoping against hope that all might yet come right or the girl's eyes bo opened ere it was too late, Hugh had left her little dreaming that his own chance of happiness was endangered by his philanthropic conversation with the peasant girl—that Evelyn Fitzgerald had been an unseen witness to his meeting with the Nomad girl. Now as he rode along he regretted he had not taken stronger measures for the girl's sake—wished he had informed her people of these clandestine meetings of hers. It might not be pleasant to act thus, but anything would have been better than the other.

So deep in thought was he, the reins lying idly and loosely in his hands, that he started with surprise as suddenly he came face to face with Evelyn cycling in the opposite direction.

In a moment his face lighted with pleasure. He forgot all about his resolutions of avoiding her, only remembering that the girl before him was one in all the world for him, the gin he loved, and in a secorxl. hat in hand, he dismounted and gained her side, just as she, too. utterly taken by surprise, forgot her former intention of passing on with a bow. The young man saw immediately

that something was amiss. Her very manner towards him as she coldly offered her hand, saying at the 6ame time :

"It is certainly a time since we met. Mr. De Lacy, but I understand you arc so busy, your time is so well employed, that I suppose you have to neglect your old friends." Hugh coloured deeply as he felt those honest eyes upon him. She knew all. then, learned his secret, resented his daring to expose her uncle's crime. '•I do not finite follow you. Miss Fitzgerald. Though I have certainly l>oon well employed of late, that did not prevent my visiting our usual tryst ing-placc as regularly as before, though you never came. But if you mean that I have not called since at the Castle, your uncle can best explain that. Ask him what passed between us during my poor aunt's uninvited and unexpected visit to the ball."

"I know nothing of that. But, he surely was not angry at the interruption, did not say anything?" the girl asked aghast. "No. he certainly said nothing, was polite of course to his guests ; but Miss Fitzgerald. I regret to tell you that things have since come to my knowledge which strange though it might appear to you prevent my again crossing the threshold of the Knight of Killeen." At any other time the girl would have understood, made allowance for what she but partly comprehended ; but now her blood was up. she felt not only what she termed his desertion keenly, hut also recollections of that other meeting she had witnessed rose before her mind. "I was led to understand there were other and weightier reasons which kept you so employed, not quite family ones ; and doubtless you were well compensated for my nonappearance at the rendezvous." "Miss Fitzgerald, what do you mean ? Surely you know—must have seen—that I value your friendship dearly ; that in spite of myself, in face of all my resolutions to avoid Killeen, shun your house, I still find myself longing, waiting, watching for a smile, a.word from you." "Yet you were not quite alone or licreft of company during my absence. I one day came upon you accidentally, and you were evidently most interested in your companion, the beautiful Norah Clancy." For an instant the young man seemed taken aback, then the blood suddenly mounted and receded again from his face leaving him deadly pale. "You are quite right. I did meet Norah on the day you mention," he answered at length. "Was it by appointment ? " she inquired again, forgetting in her excitement and jealousy that though she loved this man, and felt he loved her in return, there was no tacit understanding between them, only that which exists between unavowed lovers when each feels they arc loved though no word to that effect has been spoken. "It was by appointment," he replied in a strangely altered tone. Hut still hoping to exculpate him in her own eyes as well as those of others, she interposed eagerly with : "It was no doubt on business alone you spoke to her? You can easily tell all that passed." "That I certainly cannot or would not dream of doing. What was uttered then was in confidence," he returned. "And yet you know what has haj>pened ?"- she questioned in amazement. "I am perfectly aware of it, but not even to clear myself, save my own reputation, would I be mean enough to betray the trust of that young girl." he replied. Then together in silence both traversed the journey home, the girl feeling hurt and offended, as well as mad with herself for letting him know she was annoyed by his act, her pride up in arms at the thought that he would not explain his business with Norah ; while Hugh, on his side, felt angry and mortified that she should doubt him. Thus they parted, the estrangement between them growing wider as they coldly bade each other farewell.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SECRET OF THE MANOR

For a couple of seconds Matthew Cleary's heart seemed to stand still as with angry, vengeful cries and gestures, and brandishing their knives in anything but a pleasant or reassuring manner, the Nomads rushed about, searching every nook and corner, climbing the rocks and hills with the agility of cats in search of him.

Instinctively it occurred to him that, mistaking him for an enemy, he need expect but scant mercy at the hands of these wild, infuriated men if they discovered him, and simultaneously like the lightning's flash came the idea to hurry down while they were searching elsewhere and claim the protection of the queen. No sooner thought of than done. The women who had now clustered round their chieftainess to discuss in angry excited tones the happenings of the last few days fell back in terror as the detective stumbled, rather than sprang into their very midst. Then recovering themselves, they hallooed wildly for the men. and rushed like tigers, fearful lest the intruder contemplated mischief towards their leader ; but in that respite, brief as it was. Judith had looked upon and recognized the man of law.

Stepping hastily in between Matthew and his would-be assailants, she waved the vindictive circle hack, crying, authoritatively : ••Back ! back ! Hands off, I say ! Are you blind that you do not recognize whom we have here ? Tis Detective Cleary. the man hired to track down our enemy, he who has before now proved the friend of the Nomads. Welcome him. I say, extend to him tb* hospitality of the tribe. Call off the men ; we have nothing to fear. 'Tis useless prolonging the search." During all this Matthew had not spoken. He marvelled in his mind how this woman, whom he had never before met, should so well know him and his deeds, and for a moment felt inclined, like Tim. to believe she was the incarnation «f the red-hain-d woman, and possessed all the attributes both sui»er-natural and natural with which some of the peasants endowed her. The next instant, however, the detective's conunonsense came to his assistance, reminding him that, for all the superstitions, legends, and stories, he had never yet heard anything but good of .Judith, the queen of the Nomads.

Even as the women gathered round

to eye him more closely, some with but half-concealed suspicion still lingering in their eyes, the inspector turned to the queen and said : "You are right, Judith, and I thank you for your timely interference. I came in all friendliness, and while seeking a mode of entrance to your camp, learned of your loss. Perhaps I can assist you to track down this scoundrel who thus deceives innocent and unsuspecting girls ? " The queen's eyes glowed again with enthusiasm and pleasure as she took the visitor's hand in hers.

"Yes, yes. You will help us, and with your aid we shall track down the false-hearted villain," she cried, fiercely : then, turning to the men who had now returned and were looking askance at the newcomer, she continued :

"Men. fortune has sent us a friend in our hour of need. You sec before you the man best lilted to co-operate with us in finding our treasure, being revenged on her betrayer. See to it that he is made welcome, that he will not be the tirst to pick holes in our boasted hospitality. Let him not carry away with him anything but the wannest admiration, a debt of gratitude to the outcasts and the homeless, who know how to treat those they are pleased to style 'friend.' but who can meet deceit with deceit, treachery with treachery when occasion demands it."

As Judith finished there arose on the night air a cheer which indicated to the detective that a "cead mille failthe " was in very truth to be accorded him by his strange hosts.

Some weeks had elapsed since Evelyn and Hugh had parted so coldly, and, as is often the case, they had been rather sorry later, and only too willing to become friends again ; but both were proud, and while Evelyn felt hurt and annoyed with herself for having, as she considered, demeaned herself by showing her feelings, still, in a certain sense, she felt justified. Hugh had not even troubled to explain his meeting with Norah Clancy, and this she felt he should have done if he really cared for her. But did he ? No ;it seemed to her now that he had never done so. It must have lieen all fancy on her part, or why had he allowed so much time to elapse without seeing her and making all right ? The girl's heart was torn with conflicting emotions. Her mind was in a chaos, and in order to remove her thoughts from her own affairs she tried again to become interested in her uncle by inducing him to tell her the story he had promised she would hear shortly. But in this she was doomed to disappointment. He kept putting her off from day to day, always finding a ready excuse, while she also noticed now that, whether by accident or design he managed to throw her a good deal into the company of Norman Lisle.

That young man still continued to pay flying and periodical visits to his aunt, never remaining very long, but always friendly, ever deferential to the girl who had refused him.At times it seemed to Evelyn he was trying to act the faithful, rejected suitor, and in fact his manner towards her had so changed that she now looked upon his vile words and threats of vengeance against Hugh as only the outcome of momentary passion.

It was midnight, and finding that her own troubled thoughts would not permit of her sleeping. Evelyn donned her dressing-gown, slipped her feet into light bedroom slippers, and made her way downstairs, with the intention of securing a book in the pages of which and the woes of the hero and heroine she might forgot her own.

A dim light shone from under the library door, and thinking that her uncle might still be up, she knocked lightly, once or twice, then getting no reply, supposing lie might be fast asleep she opened the door gently.

Nobody was there, however, and the light was slightly lowered : hut what was her surprise to sec at the further end of the room an open door. On examining this, which she had always taken to be more for ornament than use, as it matched the opposite entrance, but was. she understood, a dummy, her heart gave a great hound, to lind it led into a great corridor, or passage, which, as far as she could make out was very old. Remembering that this was most likely one of the many secret passages leading to the "priest holes'" and hiding places which nearly every old house in Ireland boasted, the girl determined to explore. Her uncle, no doubt, had gone down the corridor before, so she saw no real danger in following suit. Slowly she made her way along, the candle she carried revealing to her the fact that the long, narrow gallery, though specially built of stone, was a subterranean one. and sloped so much that she felt certain she was now a good bit away from the house ami evidently under the garden. Her heart misgave her as she noted the seeming interminable length of this dark, underground way, and yet not a trace of her relative. Though of an inquiring turn of mind Evelyn liepan to think it might be better, and certainly more comfortable if she deferred her explorations till the morning.

Thus deciding she was about to retrace her steps when suddenly a low. wailing cry, then a succession of sounds resembling sobbing and moaning struck upon her ear. For the moment Evelyn was so startled that she almost dropped the candle in her fright, but she soon recovered herself.

All she had heard of the terrible secrets and mysteries of Killeen Castle rose before her. She did not altogether believe in the ghostly visitations and strange sounds, and felt that, though she herself could in no way account for them, there was both a cause and a reason if only she could unearth them.

Again she remembered that Sir Geoffrey had done all in his power to prevent her arriving at the true solution, also kept this underground passage a secret from her. It was evident on the face of it that he intended her to learn nothing of this skeleton in the cupboard—would perhaps use force to prevent her exploring the place again. The very idea of the secret being kept from her, the thought that she might not again have such an opportunity, braced her up, and taking her courage in both hands, she determined to see what lay at the end of her journey. Swiftly now she made her way along, the passage being quite as wide though not as high as an ordinary corridor, permitting two to walk abreast. it certainly was very old.

The walls damp in places, were covered with mildew, in other places crumbling away, while the ceilings were covered with cobwebs and dust, All these facts and more were noticed by the girl as *he pressed onwards her mind busy in picturing all that must have happened formerly within those walls, the anxious hearts they must have sheltered, the flying though weary and travel-stained feet that perhaps trod them as she was doing now.

These reflections helped to pass the time so quickly that the girl did not notice how far she had come before she found herself at the foot of a small flight of steps. As Evelyn's gaze wandered to the top of this she saw that it terminated in a small door, which, like the one who had entered from the library, was partly open. Through this a faint glunmcs of light emanated which told the girl that the place beyond was also illuminated. Cautiously ascending the stairs, she peered through the half-open door, What she beheld there kept her spellbound with amazement and surprise. Inside the small door was a small sanctuary, or chapel, and intuitively she realized that she had reached the mausoleum or crypt in the grounds, which before had been religiously closed to her. The place was but dimly lighted, and a strange air of solemnity pervaded the sacred precincts. It had apparently been used as a chapel in former times, for even now the huge stone table which had acted as the altar remained, although bare of other adornments. There also stood the sanctuary rails, while on cither side of the walls were a number of stone vaults, or sarcophaguses for the dead.

Almost as this strange sight was revealed to her astonished eyes again the pitiful cry, like a sob of some breaking heart, was borne to her cars, and glancing in the direction from whence the sound proceeded, she beheld a human figure kneeling lwside an open coffin weeping bitterly. For some moments Evelyn stood motionless in surprise. Was she mad or dreaming ? Could her eyes be deceiving her, or was that form so bent and stricken with grief really her uncle, the proud and haughty Sir Geoffrey, the Knight of Killeen, whom all feared—the man so reserved, cold, and taciturn that he was considered the hardest of all his race —dubbed "the Black Knight"? So rooted to the spot with amazement was she that for some time she could not trust her own senses, until after gazing upon that convulsed form, and obtaining a side glance of the pale agonized face, she gradually became convinced that the griefstricken being before her was really her relative, and not some phantom. Whatever his sin or secret she pitied him now. It was terrible to behold a strong man, one usually so cold and self-contained thus humbled to the dust, ami Evelyn felt convinced that he bitterly repented of his misdeeds—a sin, perhaps, he had committed in the pride of youthful folly, the remembrance of which embittered his whole life.

A past, thus atoned for. must she felt certain, find favour in the eyes of Heaven. Tears of contrition and repentance such as poured down Sir Geoffrey's face could only Ik> wrung from a truly contrite heart, and as such be very acceptable before the "great White Throne." A longing to go to him, place her arms round his neck and comfort him took possession of her. This was indeed the time to manifest her sympathy, prove that she really felt for him. despite his chilling, reserved manner and desire to keep her at a distance. She would show him that blood was thicker than water, that she could love him in spite of all. defend him and believe in him in face of the whole world's condemnation.

Gently she extinguished the candle she carried, then silently made her way in the direction of the kneeling form, whose hack was towards her. The girl was half-way up the aisle, had almost reached the lnrnt, sobbing figure, when again the weird cry of "Too late ! too late ! " wailed through the sacred place. Now high then soft and low, it rchoed, fdling the church with that strange inexplicable air of mystery which the girl had experienced on hearing the same uncanny sound ln»fore. Evelyn stood like one paralyzed. She uttered no sound, her lips refused to move, her tongue clave to Ihe roof of her mouth and declined to perform its ofhee, while from her nerveless fingers slipped the china candlestick she held, falling with a crash upon the flagged pavement and breaking into myriads of pieces at her very feet. Instantly. Sir fieoffrey disturl>cd by the unusual noise ami interni|>tion. sprang up from the prie-dieu on which he had l»eon kneeling, upsetting in his excitement the one lamp the chapel contained. A terrible feeling of horror nd sickness crept over Evelyn as she found herself in total darkness. She wildly threw forth both her hands, hoping by this means to tind her way to the entrance. Suddenly they came in contact with some object—something fine and soft and yielding to the touch, like a woman's dress. Slowly she drew her hand further along to recoil with an involuntary cry of terror and a shudder of aversion. She had touched something cold—icy cold, stiff and clammy. Instantly the truth hurst upon her. What her hand had felt was a woman's face—the face of a corpse. With a long, piercing shriek of horror the girl threw up her arms and j fainted away.

CHAPTER XXIX

A REVELATION FOR HUGH

Though time had flown by since many of (he occurrences related in our story, no news had been received of Norah Clancy, yet neither Hugh de Lacy nor the detective had been idle. They had consulted together over the matter, determined to solve the .mystery at all costs. Hugh had really scaled his own lips by his promise to the girl not to betray the identity of her lover, even if he himself discovered it. This pledge he bitterly repented ever giving, esjwcially now, as he ascertained from Matthew Cleary that she had quitted the villa where he had previously seen her. No trace whatever of the couple had been left behind, the neighbours and farmers of the district only being able to tell them that the young married pair had taken the house for a month, but had left it before their time was up declaring they preferred to travel further over the country.

From the description afforded, Hugh and the detective felt convinced that Lisle was the companion of poor Norah's flight, while the details of some of the gossips—who informed them "that the master at the cottage was the grand gintleman entoircly, but rather inclined to be carpy wid his wife, alius snappin' her head off and correctin' her for the least little slip that she made, until the tears came into the craythur's eyes an' many's the time she would be afeerd to spake forninst him fur fear he'd make fun av her brogue "—went far towards confirming their suspicions.

But as Norman Lisle still continued backwards and forwards to the Castle, it would, of course, be impossible to accuse him without more evidence than they at present possessed ; even watching his movements having him traced to town and back again, disclosed nothing. He generally put up at one of the hotels in the city, and though the men employed did their best, it was certainly slow and monotonous work for not a sign that he held any intercourse with poor Norah came to light. Still, time and patience often succeed where cunning and ingenuity fail.

Kitty Murphy's services had also been enlisted in the matter and needless to say it took very little persuasion to awaken her sympathies once she understood the reason of such a movement. She had ever disliked and mistrusted Lisle and was anxious that his nttention to her young mistress should not be crowned with success while her indignation at the suggestion that he might be responsible for the disappearance or poor Xorah Clancy knew no bounds.

Suddenly entering the library one day she noticed Norman Lisle hastily cover over with the blotting paper, an envelope which he had just addressed, and simultaneously caught sight of a letter on a table beside him inscribed in a large, sprawly hand, a replica of the style of writing taught the peasants in the village school, where both Kitty and Norah had attended together. His evident flurry and desire to conceal the letter from her were enough to rouse the maid's suspicions, without the additional and peculiar fact of the other writing, and when Mr. Lisle had left the apartment she took the earliest opportunity to return and secure the blotting pad, as directed by the detective ; though how, in the name of fortune, such a thing, with its conglomeration of slurs, blots, and indistinct hieroglyphics, could be of any use to them Kitty could not, for the life of her, see.

It was, therefore, as the proud possessor of this new clue—one which he hoped in his heart would serve to throw some light on the mystery, lift the veil of obscurity which enshrouded Norah's disappearance, and which he had just received from Kitty, at the same time giving into her charge a letter fori Evelyn—that Hugh de Lacy made his way back from Killeen Castle.

The young man's mind was in a whirl. Try as he would to banish all thoughts of Evelyn Fitzgerald from his heart, he found he could not succeed. Day and night her fair innocent face kept rising before him, while even in his dreams visions of her haunted bis pillow. Sometimes it seemed to him she was in great danger, and called loudly for him to assist her ; at others lie saw her angry and indignant for his part in endeavouring to unmask her uncle's past : while, again, he pictured her dragged by force to the altar rails and compelled to marry the man she had told him she detested. Such fancies raised his blood to fever heat, caused him to humble and subdue his pride and write to her begging her to meet him at the old trysting-place and let bygones be bygones. It had also served to spur on his endeavours to unmask Lisle's villainy as quickly as possible. Would she come, accept his apology ? This was the question which was uppermost in his mind as he hurried along. So deep was he in communing wilh himself that he had turned an angle in the boreen he was taking for a short cut home ere he became aware that two people were conversing behind the light hedge which bounded the lane. He was about to pass on. thinking it only some of the farm hands when suddenly these words struck upon his ear, causing him to halt in sheer surprise and astonishment :

"I tell you you are harsh, cruel, and unjust to Frances, Lawrence de Lacy. Xot even the beasts of the field would have treated their own kith and kin as you have done her. What other man. what brother would have refused to credit that poor thing's story ? I say again if Frances is mad, not responsible, as you declare, it was your own acts alone that caused it. Had you believed her. tried to vindicate her honour in a proper manner, left her her child, this would never have happened. She would be a bright, cheery loving mother. Even now, though she does not suspect the truth she dotes on the boy."

It was Judith's voice without doubt and the one she addressed—Hugh could hardly believe his senses—was his own father.

"But she docs not know—you arc sure of that, .Judith? Besides the boy is quite happy ; I placed him in good hamls when I gave him to you and (he Nomads. What better could 1 have done ? ] had to save her reputation, guard the family honour," the man cried vehemently. "I don't know so much. Your conduct may have had quite a different effect. 'Man proposes, but God disposes,' and it does not always pay to be too proud, Lawrence de Lacy." "What do you mean, woman ? You have some weighty reason for speaking thus," questioned Lawrence de Lacy anxiously.

"Doubtless 1 have. I brought you hero to warn you that Frances and the boy Denny are constantly in each other's company, that the love between them grows stronger day by day. The child now assists her, poor darling, in her search for the papers she is always referring to and I admonish-you. it needs but a spark to set alight the fire of understanding. Little by little the past is gradually coming back to her. Any moment the light of reason may dawn again, memory come back like a flash of lightning, and she recollect all, recognize her boy, and find those documents where she hid them.''

Lawrence de Lacy shook his head dubiously. "Poor Frances will not discover

that which was,never lost, did not exist," he replied. Judith grew suddenly angry. "I tell you those papers, her mar riage certificate and all, do exist; they shall be found too. I swear it! You are a severe, unbending, an obstinate and iron-hearted man, a cruel exacting brother, to judge so ; but the truth will yet come to light, and then you will bitterly repent, give anything to be able to recall your words and actions of now and years ago. Out of the love I bear the child, whom 1 cherish as my own I freely undertake this work. Frances is and will yet prove to l>e an honourable woman, a worthy wife and mother of the true heir of Killeen."

So far Hugh had listened to the conversation without meaning to do so, or even thinking of (he i>art he was playing in thus acting the eavesdropper. His first intention was to go forward, hut the words of Judith falling on his ears had so surprised him that he remained where he was, motionless, drinking in every word that passed with amazement and horror in his breast. Then as the remembrance of his false position, the knowledge that his father would not relish his conversation being overheard, Denny's identity disclosed to his son, Hugh hurried away, leaving the two still deeply engrossed in conversation.

Swiftly he made his way across the fields, intending to take the shortest way home. His mind was in a furore, and he was busy turning over all he had discovered, the startling and sensational bits of family history which had been revealed to him of late, \vh<'ii suddenly he espied on the path before him the figure of a woman, walking slowly and laboriously, and as though in great bodily fatigue. From the back view he obtained Hugh could not decide whether the form was that of a young girl or an aged woman, so completely was she hidden by the long, blue cloak she wore. At first he was inclined to think her some country woman, because of the old-fashioned bonnet and thick veil, and was almost abreast of her when .something in the walk and carriage struck him as familiar. He therefore turned as he overtook her to take a still closer look at the veiled face, and as he did so, to his exceeding wonder and amazement he noticed the woman start violently then hastily turned her face aside, as though anxious to avoid his scrutiny. It was certainly an odd thing to do and unusual for women in her station of life to muffle up so ; and this, coupled with the fact that even widows in those parts seldom adopted the veil and weeper, only piqued Hugh's curiosity the more. "It is a fine day ; good for the harvest," he said in his usual hearty manner of greeting a passer-by so common in all parts of Ireland. To the young man's surprise, instead of returning his salutation the woman suddenly throw back her veil, a cry of "Don't you know me, Masther Hugh ? " burst from her lips, and there lay disclosed to view the once beautiful face of Norah Clancy.

"Norah—you ! " gasped the young man in amazement and incredulity. 'Yes, faith, it's meself, an' no other. But what's the matther ? Am T so changed that you fail to recognize me ? " the girl asked in anguish.

"Oli, no. no : T see it is you now, Norah. Forgive my surprise, but I scarcely expected to meet you here. Are you well and happy ? " Hugh asked, more for the sake of gaining time than anything else. "Do I look happy, or is it to mock my misery you ask me that ? " the girl returned, almost fiercely. "Norah, surely you know me better than that ? T would help you, be your friend, not rejoice in your wretchedness," the man answered, gently. She raised her still glorious eyes to his face.

"I believe ye, Masther Hugh. Ye were always kind, an' 'ud help nie if ye could. God knows, ye gave me good advice afore an' had I followed it, it isn't the broken-hearted, forlorn craythur this day I'd be."

Desirous of changing the conversation to a less personal and painful subject. Hugh asked her if she were now on her way back to the camp. "The camp ! " she echoed wildly. "What should take me there ? I gave up an honest, comfortable home friends true as steel, when I left home. Is it likely then I should return now to air my grievances—boast of the fact that T am a deserted, neglected, unhappy wife ? " "Norah," the young man exclaimed eagerly, "you are sure of this—positive you are really a wife ? "

The girl looked at him in a dazed, incredulous manner for a minute or so, as though only half comprehending his meaning. Then suddenly she burst forth with : "They even doubt that, then ! You an' my people think so badly av me as to deem me capable of "

As she ceased speaking the tears slowly gathered in her eyes, and looking straight in Hugh's face, she cried earnestly :

"As there is a God above me 1 am lawfully wedded—a wedded wife ! " "Thank God for that ! I feared you had been cruelly deceived ; but now that this is not so you will tell me who your husband is. It is not right he should leave you thus. Your people and I will see you righted. Remember, Norah, we arc still your friends."

The girl staggered back, while her cheeks became pale and her lips trembled again in agitation.

"1 see ye do not believe me, Masther Hugh. Ye are like the rest av the world, quick 1o pick faults and jump at conclusions," she returned, sadly. The young man hastened to reassure her.

"No, no, Norah ; you misjudge me. I do not doubt you : but for your own sake I would have you proclaim your rights. Surely, now you are married, you can give your husband's name ?"

"No, no ; that I cannot do just yet. Later he will acknowledge me himself; but at present, for his sake, I must keep silent. His prospects would be ruined if they thought he married a Nomad, a homeless peasant."

Hugh shook his head sadly and dubiously. "Norah," he said. "I do not like this secrecy, this underhand work. Such reasons as you advance are too flimsy to appeal to sensible, matter-of-fact people. I am sorely afraid, if this man continues to put you off so, he is basely deceiving you for his own ends. Why, then, not trust your own people ? They will stand by you

to the last—defend you while there is blood left in their bodies."

"That is impossible. It would destroy our only chance of coming together again. He would never forgive—would leave me for ever if I broke my promise to him," she cried, excitedly.

"But surely your own good name is of more importance and value than a silly scruple? If your husband loves you he will not wish your reputation tarnished ? " The girl thought for a moment. "Shure, he never dreamed av this, else he would right me, his wife ; but I will see him, speak to him on the matter, and all will be well," she answered, proudly. "Then, Norah, you have no message for your people. You say you cannot see them yet. Then, at least tell me something that I can say to comfort them. Tell them where and by whom you were,married." Again the girl was silent ; she seemed to be fighting a battle with herself. At length she spoke in a voice full of tears and husky with emotion :

"Tell Judith that I crave her forgiveness, and long to weep out my troubles upon the breast of her who is the only mother I have known. Tell her also she need not fear for the honour av her child—that no Nomad forgets that. Tell her, if it be a consolation to her dear heart, that Norah is as true a wife as though wedded by Father Nolan in the little chapel bcyant." As she ceased speaking there came the sound of wheels on the road, a few yards away from the by-path on which they were standing, and as the girl gazed in that direction a look of terror swept across her face. Then, before Hugh could devine her intention or put out a hand to prevent her, she turned and fled from his side with the rapidity of a fawn disappearing through a gap in the hedge leaving the young man gazing after her in amazement and from thence to the carriage which was now some distance from the road but not far enough to disguise the identity of at least one of its occupants and account for Norah's precipitate flight. The equipage bore the arms and crest of the Fitzgeralds, and seated therein, with his dark, sinister face and evil eyes fixed upon him, was the figure of Norman Lisle. (To be Continued.)