cousin came forward to impeach the will as
obtained by undue influence, and a speculative
solicitor was found "to take it up." Then was
illustrated what is called by good-natured courtesy
"the glorious," but which should rather be
termed the scandalous, uncertainty of the law.
One learned judge, after interminable evidence
had been taken under the old system of
interrogatories, declared for the will. "The delegates"
were appealed to, and reversed their brother's—
a delegate himself — opinion. They then turned
to the chancellor, and he reversed that of the
delegates, and ordered a review of the whole
matter, which, after a litigation of many years,
ended in favour of the spirited, unconquerable,
and unconquered Mrs. Kelly.

But before this result, there entered into the
case what to the spectator is a bit of grotesque
comedy, but what to the actors must have been
a rather dismal piece of tragedy. The claimant
was an elderly Miss Thewles, and amid the
congratulations of her first success, a young and
enterprising solicitor was encouraged by his
friends to push his advances with the lady; and
he prosecuted the matter with such spirit that
his efforts were crowned with success. At this
stage matters were considered to look very
doubtful indeed, for the widow, and her best
friends advised a compromise. She was quite
willing, and a friend was entrusted with the
negotiation, to whose credit she had first lodged
a sum of no less than twenty thousand pounds.
But she had now to deal with the new bridegroom,
flushed with victory in the different
fields of love and law, and he disdainfully
declined not merely the sum offered, but even to
treat at all upon the subject. The end was that
he lost everything, was all but ruined, and went
away to the colonies, leaving his elderly bride
behind. But everybody in this case was to
behave strangely. When the compromise failed,
the ambassador turned round upon his
patroness, and protested this twenty thousand
pounds was a gift, that he was a donee, not a
trustee, and an action had to be taken against
him to make him disgorge; which action
strangely, like everything else connected with
this business, failed, and he was enabled to
retain it

The last act now begins. Thus successful,
this strong-minded and intrepid woman settled
herself down to enjoy her power and her
wealth, which was now said to amount to about
ten thousand pounds a year, with some quarter
of a million in money. She had estates in
various counties in Ireland; she had her town
houses in London, Dublin, and Brighton. She
superintended everything herself. She gradually
found out, and gathered about her various English
relations, for all of whom she proposed
"doing something," establishing nephews in
life, and pushing them forward. One of these,
a young man named Strevans, she had made
her agent over a portion of her property; but
he was a wild debauched youth, and she was
disheartened and scandalised by his excesses.
Round her gathered strange creatures, vulture
like, waiting for the day when they should all be
taken care of, for she was known to have made
her will — "shady" attorneys chiefly, who gave
her their doubtful help in the management of
her affairs. Among these birds of prey raged
secret jealousies and hatreds, and between one
of them named Campion and the wild Strevans
was a special animosity, founded on the former's
protection of his patroness's interest, which he
affected to believe was seriously damaged by the
young man's behaviour. Even the inferior beings
who were dependent on her — the stewards and
labourers — seem to have been a lawless and
disreputable set.

It came to the month of April, 1856, and she
was down at her Westmeath estate, giving
large employment to women and men, and
preparing to build yet another mansion-house
there. With her was the nephew, and the
attorney Campion, who came down occasionally
to look over the accounts. His jealous eye had
discovered that the young man had not duly
accounted for all the moneys that passed
through his hands; and some recent excesses,
which had been talked of, had fairly disgusted
her. Her will was made in a truly businesslike
like and satisfactory way, and its contents were
pretty well known. Her estates she had
divided fairly among her friends and relatives,
taking care of every one in some shape. The
nephew was given a small estate, and the attorney
was provided for. She was determined to
have these little defalcations ascertained: not
from the sense of their loss, but, it would seem,
as a matter of justice and fact, and intended
using it as a lever to force her nephew to
become steady, to marry, settle down, and
accept an allowance from her in lieu of greater
expectations.

The attorney went diligently through all the
accounts, and on the last day of his stay was
able to fix the loss at about three hundred
pounds. She showed no displeasure, but the
young man knew what her plans were. On
the ninth of April they all three dined together
at two o'clock, and after dinner the lawyer
retired to finish his accounts. When the day
was declining, towards five o'clock, Mrs. Kelly
and her nephew walked down to look at the
labourers. The house was on an elevated
ground, whence all the fields sloped down.
They walked towards the field, where there
was a busy scene — a number of women and
girls gathering up the stones and clearing the
ground. This field was entered by a stile, and
had a long wall running by one side of it. She
directed these operations herself, and was talking
to a girl named Bryan, when the last scene
in Sarah Birch's most dramatic life set in.

Her nephew had walked away a little distance
to speak to some of the workers, when attention
was attracted to two very tall and masculine
women, who had just got over the stile. They
were dressed in long blue cloaks, with their
faces muffled in crape, and came leisurely
towards the mistress of the estate. The workers
by whom they passed knew at once, by their
stride and strange look, that they were men
disguised in women's clothes. A sense as of