CHAPTER XVI.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVIII, Issue 20, 12 September 1890, Page 21

CHAPTER XVI.

Under the Friar's care Maurice grew rapidly well. Not indeed that the latter had much time to attend to him. His visits were rare and unfrequent, for he was mostly away. Whatever means he had for going or coming to the city, it was simply wonderful how, with the exceeding vigilance kept on persons entering or departing, he was able to travel with such freedom. Maurice knew but little of what events were taking place in the outer world, and as bis wound grew well he was impatient to know. Confinement and inaction were irksoma to him, and he was growing each day more and more anxious to get away. His desire took the shape of going to England again, and resuming his position, for there did not seem to him to be any opportunity open to him here. — He would have wished, if possible, to see the West and Arranmore* but that appeared in the present state of circumstances impossible. He was almost entirely alone, for, save the first evening, he had not seen Colonel O'Byrne, nor had he seen or heard of Miss Mordaunt, though she iras but seldom out of his thoughts. If his life had been thrown among active and stirring scenas, it is possible that in the pressure of other concerns and thoughts she might h we escaped from his attention, and the passing acquaintance might have dropped into oblivion as quickly as it had arisen ; but, with nothing to do, and little, except what was anxious and unpleasant to think of, his thoughts naturally and constantly reverted to her until she had come to be the one so!e occupant of his mind. Aad then it was with him one evening, as ha lay resting on the rough couch, the faint light of a lamp miking tha rude vault ghostly/ with shadows. The hollow echoes of pat>sing feet were in his carer all day, walking on the street above him ; bat they had grown monotonous, his hearing hal beome accustomed to them, and. they now failed to attract his attention. His bjdy was wearied with ioaction, his mind with its incessant activity into dull lethargy — in both he insensibly fell asleep. He awoke with a ttart. Ha h\d been dreaming strange dreams,, in which strange voices called to him, and he had responded aloud — the action wakmg him. There was additional light in the room, and standing over him was a f imale figure, muffled up. carrying a lamp in her left hand. Not knowing what to make of this apparition he started up, and as he did so the hood of the cloak was thrown back, disclosing a face that was sweet and beautiful. Ifitbal been the vision of an angel from Paradise it could not have been more weU come to him. " Carrie ! " be cried, as he leaped to his feet. " Hush I " she said, as she uplifted her hand in deprecation of any noist\ Her faca, eyes and figure were expressive of her words. He understood the intensity of her appeal ; but, even so, that could not prevent his speaking. ' Is it possible that you hava come to see me ? " he whispered in obedience to her motioned injunction. " Oh, Carrie ; is it you indeed is here? Was there evtr such welcome visitor in che world before 1 " He caught the outstretched hand and bore it to his lips~ahe uare-iisting. "Mr. O'Jonnor, you must leave this — leave tLia to-ni^bt," she said pantingly, as if 'he pjsiuon, the surrounding Qircumstauco-, or the hunied mture of hi-r visit, affecied her heart and set it beating wildly. " You must leave this ill-fated laud to-night,"

" I oan do anything now that I have seen you," he said, for indeed the intimation made but slight impression on him, in the supreme pleasure ot having her near him. " Ob, Carrie, if you knew how often I have thought of you here — how I bave thought of you, thought of you 1 until your face sunk itself into my heart as if it were impressed with burning iron ! " " I know— l know," she said softly and still hurriedly, " but there is great danger around you, and we cannot speak of these things now. There is great danger. Oh, my I what an unfortunate ) -nHJf There is death and danger — and worse — around you on every " I fear not danger, you beside, he said. '' Any time these last few days I would willingly have faced death and danger to look on your face and hear your voice again. For, Carrie, life is worth nothing to me, wanting you I Nothing I I never knew what longing and love was before. Life has come to be valueless without you." " Life is sweet, life is precious ; and yours is in great danger," she eaid again, unattending to his passionate words. " That is what bi ought me here. Listen to what I have to say. " This parcel," she pointed to one on the sofa beside him, " it is an officer 8 cloak and cap. Put them on. Mingle with the soldiers coming by and bye to search. You will not be recognised. The city is full of strange troops brought in from England, and yon will not be known. A boat will wait for you at the wharf stairs at midnight and you must leaye — leave and never come back again." " For England 1 For England, Carrie ? " " Yes, yes, and never return. Never coma back to this unhappy country. Murder and massacre stalk througa it — stalk through it not at midnight, but at broad daylight. Come , put them on. 1 ' Her words and voice were bo full of haste and terror that Maurice was strongly impressed. There was something imminent of which he had no cognisance. There was a sense of awe over her pallid face that struck him even more than her words . " Are you coming too, Carrie ? he whispered anxiously, for somehow it ■truck him that she was. "1 1 Oh, no. Wouldi to God that I were. But we are losing time talking, and every mjmjnt ia precious. Ob, how precious. Here put these on." She had placed the lamp on a small, rough table, and hastily opening the parcel, and, taking out the cloak of which Bhe spoke, she held it up for him to put his arms into. But instead be took her unresisting form into his arms and kissed her. "Carrie, I cannot go without you. I shall not leave you. If there bo trouble around you, is not my place bjsida you 1 " "Oh, my God I " Bhe said, in an imploring voic3, "will you hasten? 1 cannot go. You must. Will you add to the terrors and troubles by delaying ? Here — quick I quick I Don't ask any questions. I shall be in England soon." Maurice speedily donned the cloak and placed on his head the cap. " There now 1 " she said with more composure a1?a 1 ? her eye fell with satisfaction on his outward seeming, aid marked with quick iutuitiveness and admiration bow gallant and brave his appearance was. " That is better. Hark 1 Hear the tramping of the soldiers ! They will be scat'enng to search presently. Mingle with them unobserved. You will not be noted. And ba at the wharf-stair at midnight. Good-bje 1 " She extended her hand, and he took it, but only to draw her to him and fold her again in his aims. "You will come after me to England? " " Yes, yes," she said hurriedly, as she struggled to get away. "You will remember this as your promise, Carrie — your plighted troth 1 " " Yes, yes," she faintly responded. "You will be true to it— come what may ia the land 1 " " I will." "To the death." "To the death," sbe said, for the first time with firmness. " God bless you for the word ! " he said exuMngly, as he folded her for the parting time in bis arms. Freeing herself from his clasp she blew out the lamp she had brought and at once w*a wrapt in the gloom that suddenly fell, and was gone. Maurica stood for a moment in tbe sudden blackness, overwhelmed with new sensations. The whole thing had occurred so suddenly, aud so great was the intensity of feeling and emotion present throughout that, as he stood alone, and the fair visitant had vanished, it seemed to him as but a dream. He could scarcely realise it. He could only realise that there was a strange throbbing at his heart, and a delightful sensation in every nerve of his body. But, following on this, came the palpable sense of dread, and the necessity of providing for his safety and escape. The steady treat, the regular beat of measured footsteps had ceased, and there was instead the irregular movement and noise of scattering feet on the pavement above his hf a i. " Taey are preparing to fearch the houses around here," he thought, as he listened intently, whpn there came on bis ear, like the voice from a tomb, the noarse call of a vuice. It was repeated once, twice, thiice He could not make out what it was ; but in another moment when a huge pounding at the door, as if a rough batteringram was being used against it, shook the wall* and made the empty chambers sonorous with startled echoes, he knew that the voice was a summon to open. Me stood, as the lion stands with the pursuers tracking him slov? fj but surely and ste?Uily to hie abode in tbe jungle. There was no escape for him. The walls of the unused wine-vault forbade further escape in that direction. Tin place woald be explored in the instant after their entrance, every nook aod crevice of it. Further flight was utterly impossible. He was caught in a trap, jammed up id a corner from which there was no escape. With a thrill which the bravest man might feel he heard the door give way under the ponderous blows and with a fresh and start-

Hag distinctness the noise of the inrushers' feet on the sounding boards of the hall. At oaca there broke on his mind the remembrance of the scene be had witnessed in the torture room— the bound figure, the tightening ropes, the straining joints and muscles. Determined not to be taken, and to sell his life as dearly as possible, he drew his sword half-way ont of the scabbard, but restored it again softly, as his thoughts took a new direction. Carrie Mordaunt's words came to him. " Mingle with them unobserved. You will not be noted. The city is full of strange troops." The searchers had already found the trap door leading to the vaults, and were fumbling and stumbling down the steps in the dtrk, or with such nickering and confused light ai they could bring in their haste. The corridor that led from the descending stair to the vault; where he was was intersected by doors which led into smaller Bidevaults. Some of these were shut ; others were open. He knew instinctively that the searchers on their way would, in their first rush past these as being unnoticed, or in their hurry to get to the end of the passage. If he could only conceal himself in the first of these, and join in tbe first stream of onrusheia, his presence might pass unobserved. With a muttered imprecation that he had not thought of it sooner, he ran forward to the entrance to the vault. Was there yet time ? Yes, there was. Toe foremost of the soldiers were, in awkward confusion, descending the narrow stairs, he could see the swinging lamp in their hand, but their faces were hidden from view by the ceiling. A moment more and the opportunity was gone. Life and death hung on tbe instant. The ticking of a pendulum, a heart's beat, intervened between him and a merciless death or a tortured future. Quicker than lightning he formed his resolve and acted upon it. He passed along the corridor, and entered the vault at right angles to it, just as the eyes of the first soldiers came w'tbin seeing distance, and glanced along the space before him. And as they descended and gained the clay floor, others succeeded, pushing them along before them and passed the door. As if some special providence intervened for him in the hurry and confusion, the soldier who carried it dropped the lamp, some comrade accidently striking against him had knocked it out of his hand I Maurice emerged during the confusion. No one noticed him. Even if any chance eye had fallen upon bim, it was more than likely its owner would have at once set him down as one who had been more active in the search than the others, and had been quicker to develop obscure placas. It was with a heart beating rapidly that Maurice exultantly found himself unnoticed and mingled with the throng. By degrees he managed to get free from the confusion, and in his quality of officer, ascended the stairs, down which the stream of soldiers had ceased, and gained the street. Soldiers were about here too, for other houses were being searched ; but still no notice was taken of him. Nor yet, when in a few minutes be strolled along the unlighted street and got into a distant gloom. The bell in tbe great tower of Saint Patrick's Cathedral, hard by, made the night sonorous with ita thundering tones. It came upon him with no small effect in the unwonted silence of the quiet streets, after the din and uproar be had left. Standing in the shadow of a great porcb belonging: to one of the palatial mansions, he listened to it as it pealed slowly the hours, and counted them. One, two, three, fourhow slow and measured they seemed in his anxiety I At last it ceised, anJ the tremulous air grew still. Twelve o'clock 1 Why, that was the time Carrie Mordaunt had told him to be at the wharf stair. In these distant days thequays had not been built ; the North-wall was covered with marshes, Sackville-street and Damestreet — all the city indeed east of Essex-bridge— now Grat tan- bridge — lay in the undreamt future. The only starting place for boats was at the foot of that steep descent that leads from Christ Church to the river. And it wa9 necessary for him to go there at once. Delay or accident might leave him without means of getting out of the city, and then what would become of him ? His last state woald be worse than his first. He was about taking off bis military cloak to hurry the faster to the place appointed, when a noise in the distance tj which he was hastening attracted h.s attention. It was just at the corner of the street. He drew back and liateaed for a moment, and as did a>, it drew into greater prominence. It was the clatter of cantering horsemen, fully accoutred, debouching into the street in which he was and coming in his direc ion 1 He drew completely bick into the shadow of the porch, crushing himself into the doorway until they passed. And what a time they were in passing 1 File after file, four a-breasc in the narrow streets, their polished head-plates and sword-scabbards glistening even in the starless night. Finally the long array moved by him. Two officers in command rode at some distance behind talking with calm unconsciousness of any lis'ener as they passed. " Shall we be there before sunrise?" "Oh dear no. Wicklow is twenty miles or more away. We shall not reach that nest of scoundrels before midday. Not perhaps so soon." " Any hope of an enemy by the way ?" " I Bhould think not. They hav^ no one to lead them. O'Byrne — he escaped that night with K'nsj Charles's officer, but he is still hiding somewhere ia tne city. We shall have them both caught— and — well 1 I shall say more when they are. " Very odd I how they could have escaped. There are traitors somewhere 1" 11 Coote and Raymond Mordaunt I" thought the hider with a start, as be now recognised the voices. •• There are. But — by the stars in yonder sky, or that ought to be there — if I nod them out they shall meet Buch fate as Bhall be a warning for ever more to such like. I swear that 1" said Ooole with hissing vindictiveneß9, " though tne culprits were of my own household — my own son, or my daughter I"

11 And very properly," replied Mordaunt. " Traitors, at all sacrifices, must be weeded out from our midst. But this tide into Wicklow " " Ay, that too. Mark me, Raymond, I shall leave such murks of my vengeance ou those rebel followers of O'Bvrne as shall haunt tbeir glens for years. Men shall never speak of Wicklow, but they shall cal l up the name of Coote." " Pardon me, Sir Charles ! 1? it judicious to — -" But whatever else was said was lost in the trampling of horses, as they passed into the unhearing distance. "Tbey are marching into O'Bvrne's country " was the audible commentary of the listener. "So they are," Baid a clear, musical voice beside him that made Maurice sUrt, a? much from it 9 singular familiarity as from its unexpectedness. " And that officer is Sir Charles Coote — a name of evil omen." " Who are you that speaks thus ? Where have I heard your voice before ? lam quite familiar with it." " I am page to Miss Mordaunt," said the speaker, whose form began to reveal itself out of the gloom, but whose voice had grown somewhat disguised or altered. " You may have seen and heard me there." •' It seems to me as if—" he was saying perplexedly, trying to call op some vague memory. " Maurice O'Connor," said the page, " there is no time for talking. Ton stand in deadly peril, on the brink of a precipice. Come with me — I am to guide you to your destination." •« Did Carrie— Miss Mordaunt ?" " Don't speak, don't even whisper, but come," was the whispered warning, as the youth put his arm through the other's and sof tly urged him onward. As they walked down the steep incline, Maurice could feel the arm within his tiembling and the pulsation of the heart pressed against it. Notwithstanding the need there waa for silence and watchfulness, and the warning of the guide, Maurice could not in the haunting echo of that voice, keep from further questioning. " Your voice is etrangly familiar, or it is like to some one's whom I cannot remember." " Hush 1" said the page. " See who is here awaiting you I " A figure stepped out from under the shadow of an arch and stood beside him. " Colonel Hugh !" " The Bame, Maurice. Do you think no one could get out of prison bnt yourself V asked O'Byrne, in whispered gaiety. " I certainly did not expect to meet you," said Maurice, with great pleasure and satisfaction. " In times of peiil like these, people cross one another's paths incurious ways. Where are you going ?" •• To ihe wharfside. It lies this way~doe3 it not ?" " Yes, I am going there, too." " I shall leave you, Maurice O'Connor," said the page, with anxiety or emotion evident in his tremulousness. " God's blessing be with you and over you." 11 Thanks," said Maurice as he took his hand and warmly pressed it ; " give my loving compliments to your mistress and tell her " A faint scream broke from the page, which Maurice on the impulse of the moment, thought was the outcome of some new danger that had suddenly presented itself. But nothing of the kind occurred for, as if with sudden impulse, tbe guide said : " Kiss me, Maurice O'Connor." The requeai did not Beem unusual to Maurice ; it was a form of usual salutation among men oa the Continent, though little, if at all, the custom in England, so he stooped down ani kissel him on the forehead . " Kiss me— kiss my lips," was the pasaiona'e request, and Maurice pressed his to tbe hot and feverish lips uprated to his, and felt the tears rolling down the cheeks. " Good-bye, and God ktep you safe," was the muttered exclamation of the jouth, and gliding away he was speedily lost in the darkness. (7b be continued.")