CHAPTER XXIX.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 14, 2 January 1891, Page 27

CHAPTER XXIX.

Lady Ellen Maguire sat in the drawing-room of Rosommon House, Dublin city, with heart filled with various emotions. She was reading a letter from Carrie Mordaunt, rapturous with delight at the news she bad to tell of her brother's escape, and was indeed, partly expecting a visit from one or the other, or both. She was oveijoyed herself, too, at his escape ; but alons? with these pleasurable feelings came the drear sorrow for her brother and cousin, who were, after being sent by sea to the Tower in London, there to be imprisoned until their sentences should be determined. If she had known that the shadows of night would come and the dawn break upon their cells through all the nights and days in four long years, with their painful and monotonous succession she would have more cause for trouble t But if she had known that their lon^ imprisonment would only terminate on the morning when they trod the dark passage that led to the scaffold at,d tne block, and they would take their last look at sun and sky, she would have cause for grea'er trouble still. As it was, however, the future was happily hidden from her, and these saciificea were unknown to ner. But, as the hours of the evening grew, she wondered that neither Raymond Mordaunt or his sister called upon her. Tf they had only part of the anxiety to see her that she had to see them, they would have been witu her long before. But as the dusk fell, ani they came not, her anx'ety and her impatience became blended with anger ana a sense ot ill-trea'ment. Her proud blood' and haughty spirit rose up against the apparent indifference and contempt with which she was treated, and her heart was beating in an access of hurt affection. Toere was an U'mccjuntable absence of that love he had always manifested towards her, and wnich her heart told her she bore him, in thus arriving and yet failinp to call upon her. A high-spirite i, hot-blooded lover would have cast aside all other consideiatiuns, would have set apart all other duties, and, after such loDg absence, paid his first visit to his beloved.

Helen was pained, hurt and offended ; her plighted love — given x***hiin above all other persons and to the grievous anger of her friends, who would have liked to ccc her intermarried with some of tbe great Irish families — had been treated coldly and unworthily, and her quick and haughty temper resented it ; and finally, when the conflicting feelings grew to greater heat, she burst into a storm of passionate tears that cculd not be restrained or controlled, when a ring and knock came to the hall door.

'• Raymond — Raymond Mordaunt, ' she thought, and, Bt&rting up, made a hasty toilet, and bathed her face to remove the trace of

tears. Not for worlds would she have him see, in her present offended and h <ughty state, that his non-coming had given c&use for them. When she had ended, she descended again to the drawing* room to meet her negltctf ul lover. She started back as she gained the cantre of the apartment ; for, standing with bis back to bar, looking out of the window, was a stranger. Her light footf »ll had not caught on his absent ear, but he turned round now, disclosing his face.

" Friar Tully I " she faintly screamed, in extreme surprise, as she grasped the ledge of the table for support ? " "It is I, Lady Helen," he said, coldly ; "are you affrighted to see me, or did you expect another visitor 1 "

" Friar Tully, what— what brings you here ? What evil news brings you now f "

" To see you, my lady." "To see m* I — What for? You surely would not have come for that alon" I What brings you ? You know what peril your life is in by being in Dublin ? " " I do, Lady Ellen ; but if it were in ten times as much I should still come. But even so, lam not in as much peril as you."

"As I," she said with a faint scream, "as I. How ? Speakhow ? "

" Because you are in double danger— in soul as in body."

"You speak in riddles." " I speak the truth, my lady. You are thinking of joining in marriage with Raymond Mordaunt— aye, even when your brother and tbe great lords of your family are in gaol or in deadly peril — and to this «cd you are prepared to abandon the religion of your fathers."

"It is untrue. I never thought of it." " I know you better than you know yourself. You don't know what you intend or would do— l do. And I'll tell you, Lady Ellen, what tbe result will be, clearly as if the mantle of Eliai had descended on my shoulders. Ton will lead a life of sorrow and misery; you will link bonds of woe, that will be unbreakable, aronnd yourself ; yon will bring down the curse of Him who punishes those that give up His service for earthly loves, for carnal love, equally with those who give up love of land and liberty for service with the stranger and the oppressor." " Did you come to tell me this ? " she asked angrily and rising from her chair.

" I came to warn you of this. Nay, Lady Ellen, do not stir. I have more to say." She resumed her seat with an air of compelled unwillingness. " I came not only to tell you of this, but to entreat yon to change your intention. Lady Ellen, the lords of your family are in g tol or on the battlefield. Their broad estates are in jeopardy ; failing in this insurrection, there will not be their names in the land, nor an acre in their possession, la this a time to wed with their bitterest foe, their deadliest enemy — with one who, even if things were otherwise, is unworthy cf you ? I will answer for you, Lady Ellen," be continued, with a quick wave of his hand, motion* ing her to be silent. "It is not. Think of your position when yoa shall have moved into another land, where your very name will cause yon to ne hated, with the additional reputation of having turned renegade to your faith and kiudred at tbe moment when both were in the deadliest peril. There is one thing that commends itself to tbe whole human race, to savages as to civilised men— fealty and truth and honour to our own ; there is one thing also that excites the uui versa 1 detestation and horror of men — falsehood, treachery, or desertion < o them in the hour of their need. I speak the truth— your own heart tells you I do." " I am not guilty of falsehood, or treachery, or desertion," the said, appalled by the energy and intensity of his words.

" You are travelling on the road without intending it, without knowing it. It is for this I came here — to warn you againtt tne path you are marking out for yourself — to warn you to abandon it. Drogheda has faile I to fall before the arm of the friends. Tbe cause is in the gravest peril. You can do much to restore it. The estates you hold are broad and vast, the dwellers thereon lusty and bold. They are holding back, waiting your orders. They c«n be of service now — immense service. They are well armed, many of them well trained. There was one whom you loved before the sullen Puritan threw his glamour around you. Return to bis ova now !"

" You, Friar Tully 1" she cried, with a faint scream. " Pardou me, Lady Ellen, The cloth I wear cuts me off from earthly loves. No ; not me. The very idea is sacrilegious, and it shows how little you remember our ancient faith when you mention it. No ; not me. Whatever affection — I shame to use the word — existed when we were footer-brother and foster-sister the vows spoken before the high altar of St. Peter's in Borne rent and sundered for ever." " Which was your voluntary doiog," she 88 id, with bitterness and energy. " Pardon me again, Lady Ellen — it was God's will. There is a band higher than ours that sways our actions and our thoughts in spite of ourselves. But I would not recall tbese things. I would let foolish affections and loves of old, immature and ill-considered, rest in tbe buried past. But he of whom I speak— Hugh O'Byroe — Colonel Hugh O'Byrnc — " " Colonel O'Byrne 1 " almost shrieked Ellen. " Yes. You loved him— at least I heard so — once. He loves you. He is young, gallant, bold of heart and chivalrous. He comes of a stock old and true, old almost as the hills within his patrimony — old as your own. He is of your ere id »id nation. He — " " It is impossible, Frank Tully," she cried, addressing him for the first time by his Christian name. "My heart, my love, is ia another's keeping. Impossible." " Earthly loves are of our own creation." be Baid coldly. "We can sunder them at will. We should do so— the higher law ot God commands it — when they are opposed to duty, virtue, to faith and patriotism." •' It is impossible — impossible," she cried in dismay. "It might have been done before — if— if— but it is impossible now. It cannot be done. H« has my love, Raymond Mordaunt — and shall keep it."

Not when the law of God forbid* it, Ellen Mtguire I" he said •tenily. Not when du»y, honour, fealty, tbe ties of home and kind«K, and patriotism scout and acorn it. Not when even he himself — ' He paused, as if he had said too much, or dreaded to say fur-

"Even be, himself 1" ehe repeated, remembering har abindonmentof the evening. " What else? Proceed! Say on what you were saying. ' J

"Mo, not now, It is not necessary. But as one who would, for the sake of old times, befriend you-for the sake of early associations, do you a service-I, who have no personal interest in this world, to whom all interests that do not belong to God and Holy Church and Ireland, are banned and barred, would ask you to do this- put this love for the Puritan and the alien aside for one year • be true for that time to your brother's and kinsmen's cause and name— if his love be true, delay will but strengthen and purify it— and leave this city, and raise the people on yonr vast estates for Ireland, for freedom and Holy Church. I am but a humble minister of the Great God, who holds the destinies of the world in His hands, but 1 can promise you in return such happiness and blessings as He only c»n bestow." B

He spoke with Buch rapt feeling, such look of inspiration was in his face, that for a moment she was carried away and believed that a halo was visible around his head. The lofty look of selfabnegation and self-sacrifice, would have beseemed a martyr at the faint" What W ° Uld * YOU haVC mC do> Fa ' ber Tully ? " Bhe aßked '

m m- D °r E il eD? MM D ° ? hat I . D '*^' Leave here with the morning light. No one will question your departure. Your carriage will DroceeJ nnhiLdered. Remove tbe ban you have plac-d on your prcperty-allow, encourage your people to joio their brethren Stand by the glory cf your ancient name, your peerless blood, and— and your own honour. Will you do this 1" " I will," she said. "Spoken like your old self, Ellen," he eaid, with more softness Stag }" tbaa had Jet BP ° keDl a ° d * g> 7 ° a "" D " •• I must. I have trodden on dangerous and forbidden ground, as you know ; and even a priest is not bound to offer up his ,if e needt^ y»y »i a i S TP' But !, or ,y our9ake I should not have ventured it at all. Qood-bye ; we shall meet in happier tim-s " He took the hand she proffered him, pressed it for a second in hia own, and waa gone. For a time Ellen was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. The appeal her old friend had made to her was very powerful, and ■hefeJti.Binte.fe energy and influence. But presently Pam the tbougntof Raymond ilordaunt and their plighted love. Fo, b>ddeu and denounced by her fnends-perhaps, with an uncon.ro.led girl's wdfulness becaose it w.s forbiddeu-it h.d grown fro.v the time it had been phghted There was, too, something ia Raymond's cold, determined, v flinching, resciute courage that excted the ad miration of her t of.er nature ; whilst the ch.rmiug courtnness of bis manner his frank attention, the warm afJLcti.u ho snowed to he above all others won her love. If Raymond Mordaunt had turned up at this juncture it was more In h/° 8 « t "T d b * 7 * Pr««il*i upon hei, would have so won on her afLction and bye again as to cause her to depart from the promises she had just m*de. F c

Was Raymond Mordaunt so careless of her love as not to come to see her after hie absence / Was he so ind.fWt to her feeliom a! to care not whether or not he offended ber I Was he so care e£ fn paying the ordinary conrtesiea of society to one in her cond* ion setting aside altogether the claims and importunities of love ? What was Friar Tully about aaying when he stopped ? Certainly it was nothing favourable. Well, that did not matter much He was always against him, worse even than her friend, bis nuure waa so vigorous aud imp tjous. But had he any reason-he that kuVw everything and could do anything-for thus hliUtmg in what he was about to say Was it tha- the knowledge would be too much * to com municate to her ears. And. ,f so, what was it ? EvenTf JhVre we™e matters that were so pressing around him that even the claims of Tove wect do«n before them, surdy bis sister might come wuh Some message and word of love and tenderness from him. Ellen Maguire was pained and mortally offended, and with all the torture ot slighted love rankling in her breast a ,1 » 7hl in™ night faded and the cold grey dawn'broke intone Easterns Z descended slowly on the housetops, sh« bad made up h' ■ mmd l to tike the Friar s advice and beck her home in the West. If she had only known what inc:dent s we're happening-had happened ,n the marshes at the river's muu-h-if she had but known tbe condition in which U.e Defenseless form of Uar-7e SordaJnt was borne by her lover towards the tali B Lear 8 which, wntinel X w.ckiow rears to tbe aaies. If B he had but known the w.l, and ventimsome leap into the sea her expected lover had made and his snbstqcent fate, she wonld have taken a vastly d.fferenTcourse But she knew nothing of these things ; and with a sense of nam and mortification which nothing could quell, and wm brought * c hot tears .welling mto her aching and sleepless eye,, Se i h r carriage to be read* , au.l, ere yet the shadows of r/ht i e d nve, from . iheu lurking places beneath tbe wide eaves and hW, - archelof the city gateways, Lady Kllen Maguire waa be-ng Bwept aon JaßJ a 8 fas as gallant horses could bear her to Ler tome by -he wesu-m "« deatined never again to walk its streets, or see its ml i V, , . J steeples glittering in the sun, a« she thought. But he ?.'£ ;voi^g ngdy W ° Ven>and We ° ftea "' t0 that * b -h we pu'rSle (To be Continued)