clear of the house; he would walk across country by a way he knew, including some distance through the Doon park, and so reach the rectory-some time later, certainly, than he would have reached it on horseback. Before him rose the round amber moon, through stripes of pearly cloud, as he cleared the green mossed wall at a low decayed place, and entered the aforesaid park. Great neglected trees stood about, and branches blown down in last winter's storms lay yet just as they had fallen: the shadows on the grass were most weird and uncouth. After walking a little farther, he could see at some distance the dark mass of the old castle, outlined raggedly against the pale sky. What a contrast was the calm and gloom to the place he had left!

Scenes of riot and revelry did not suit Fergus Kavanagh's temperament in the least. When very young, he had once been at a convivial gathering of the sort, which lasted for more than a week —in fact, was only brought to a close by a cessation of the supplies. Every night these boon companions drank each other under the table (he knew that the same would happen to-night at Mr. Waddell's hospitable board), and they only revived next day to begin potations again. This they called enjoying life, and it was the usual way in which the words were understood in country houses of the period. Thank God for the immense improvement in the manners and morals of Ireland since then! Fervent prayers have been heard. Faithful labours have been blessed. God's word has not returned to him void, but, like the rain from heaven, has prospered in the thing whereunto he has sent it. There is still much in the state of Ireland to stimulate effort and to cause sadness. But it is ungrateful and unbelieving to say that "the former days were better than these."

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CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE MIDNIGHT OATH

FERGUS KAVANAGH was crossing an open space towards the old castle of Doon, when his eye was caught by a momentary glitter in the mass of shadow cast westward by the risen moon from the keep. It was as if a ray had struck for a second on some moving metal-a bayonet-point for instance. Perchance it was the reflection of a little pool left by the morning's showers: it could be nothing else in this lonesome place.

He was curious enough to turn slightly from his path to look for the cause of the scintillation. Before he came close he discerned the darkness of a man's figure holding some weapon, which the intruder knew at once to be a pike. The same minute his arms were seized from behind in a grip which admitted of no controversy; and he was hurried through a little postern door in the wall-he knew it well in daylight rambles-without time for a struggle or a protest.

""Tis the counsellor, sure," whispered a voice which he thought he recognised; "I'd go bail for him anywhere: he's most as good as one of ourselves, though he isn't swore all out."

"If he was yer father, or St. Patrick himself, he'll have to be examined," was the response from another party. "D'ye think we're goin' to trust our lives that way, more especially to a blackmouth ?"*

"I only wish more of 'em were like his honour," said the man who held him by his left elbow, and whom he was now convinced was Myles Furlong the blacksmith. "He's betther than a dale of

our own sort, so he is."

*Cant term of the period for Protestant.

"Thank you, my friend," said Mr. Kavanagh; "and, having such a good opinion of me, I think I might be trusted to walk, without being dragged along, as I've been hitherto."

Myles at once released his arm; but the other escort muttered something sullenly, and held rather faster than before, leading him. through a sort of arched cloister overgrown with a huge yew-tree, where at noon-day the gloom was excessive, but now the darkness was as of ebony, till, at the end of steps downwards to the crypt under the ruined chapel of the castle, a glimmer of light began to

appear.

There was dead silence in the sepulchral apartment, and the scant illumination of two or three wretched guttering candles scarce revealed more at first to the new comer's gaze than the slime-smeared walls close by which they were stuck. But, as he passed to the upper end of the place where they were, and his sight became more accustomed to the visible gloom, he perceived that ranks of men were stationed in lines along the sides of the vault-silent, motionless men, in an almost military array. Mr. Kavanagh's heart did beat a shade faster when he saw dimly all these faces bent on him, and reflected that, if their purpose should be unfriendly, how very easy, and how very undiscoverable, would be the crime of murder executed on his own person.

The men standing at the lighted extremity of the crypt were total strangers to him, except one. He quickly recognised the ugly face of Fitzpatrick the delegate, who took a candle from the rude altar to hold it near Mr. Kavanagh's features for the inspection of the others. Then they held a whispered consultation, in which the prisoner (for such he was virtually) could distinguish such words as "frind ov Lord Edward's;" "saw him one night in Kevin Street,"*"he'll not refuse the oath himself," etc. The last obser

* A street in Dublin containing a house which was noted for being a baunt of United Irishmen and other disaffected persons.