magnificent servants brought viands to the threshold;
but no step would she move inward, no morsel
would she taste.

"Poison, poison!" she murmured, and threw
the food in handfuls to the foxes, who were
snuffing on the heath.

But it was different when Muireade, the
kindly old woman, the simple mushroom-gatherer,
with all the wicked wrinkles smoothed
out of her face, came to the side of the hungry
girl, and coaxingly presented a savoury mess of
her own sweet mushrooms, served on a common
earthen platter.

"An' darlin', my lady, poor Muireade her
cook them hersel', an' no thing o' this house
touch them or look at poor Muireade's mushrooms."

Then Evleen took the platter and ate a
delicious meal. Scarcely was it finished when a
heavy drowsiness fell upon her, and, unable to
sustain herself on her feet, she presently sat
down upon the door-stone. Leaning her head
against the framework of the door, she was
soon in a deep sleep, or trance. So she was
found.

"Whimsical, obstinate little girl!" said the
colonel, putting his hand on the beautiful
slumbering head. And taking her in his arms, he
carried her into a chamber which had been (say
the story-tellers) nothing but a bare and sorry
closet in the morning, but which was now fitted
up with Oriental splendour. And here on a
luxurious couch she was laid, with a crimson
coverlet wrapping her feet. And here in the
tempered light coming through jewelled glass,
where yesterday had been a coarse rough-hung
window, her father looked his last upon her
lovely face.

The colonel returned to his host and friends,
and by-and-by the whole party sallied forth to
see the after-glare of a fierce sunset swathing
the hills in flames. It was not until they had
gone some distance that Coll Dhu remembered
to go back and fetch his telescope. He was not
long absent. But he was absent long enough
to enter that glowing chamber with a stealthy
step, to throw a light chain around the neck of
the sleeping girl, and to slip among the folds of
her dress the hideous glittering burragh-bos.

After he had gone away again, Pexie came
stealing to the door, and, opening it a little,
sat down on the mat outside, with her cloak
wrapped round her. An hour passed, and Evleen
Blake still slept, her breathing scarcely stirring
the deadly bauble on her breast. After that, she
began to murmur and moan, and Pexie pricked up
her ears. Presently a sound in the room told that
the victim was awake and had risen. Then Pexie
put her face to the aperture of the door and
looked in, gave a howl of dismay, and fled from
the house, to be seen in that country no more.

The light was fading among the hills, and
the ramblers were returning towards the Devil's
Inn, when a group of ladies who were considerably
in advance of the rest, met Evleen Blake
advancing towards them on the heath, with
her hair disordered as by sleep, and no covering
on her head. They noticed something bright, like
gold, shifting and glancing with the motion of her
figure. There had been some jesting among them
about Evleen's fancy for falling asleep on the
door-step instead of coming in to dinner, and
they advanced laughing, to rally her on the subject.
But she stared at them in a strange way,
as if she did not know them, and passed on.
Her friends were rather offended, and
commented on her fantastic humour; only one
looked after her, and got laughed at by her
companions for expressing uneasiness on the
wilful young lady's account.

So they kept their way, and the solitary
figure went fluttering on, the white robe blushing,
and the fatal burragh-bos glittering in the
reflexion from the sky. A hare crossed her
path, and she laughed out loudly, and clapping
her hands, sprang after it. Then she
stopped and asked questions of the stones,
striking them with her open palm because they
would not answer. (An amazed little herd
sitting behind a rock, witnessed these strange
proceedings.) By-and-by she began to call
after the birds, in a wild shrill way, startling
the echoes of the hills as she went along. A
party of gentlemen returning by a dangerous
path, heard the unusual sound and stopped to
listen.

"What is that?" asked one.

"A young eagle," said Coll Dhu, whose face
had become livid; "they often give such
cries."

"It was uncommonly like a woman's voice!"
was the reply; and immediately another wild
note rang towards them from the rocks above:
a bare saw-like ridge, shelving away to some
distance ahead, and projecting one hungry tooth
over an abyss. A few more moments and they
saw Evleen Blake's light figure fluttering out
towards this dizzy point.

"My Evleen!" cried the colonel, recognising
his daughter, "she is mad to venture on such a
spot!"

"Mad!" repeated Coll Dhu. And then
dashed off to the rescue with all the might and
swiftness of his powerful limbs.

When he drew near her, Evleen had almost
reached the verge of the terrible rock. Very
cautiously he approached her, his object being
to seize her in his strong arms before she was
aware of his presence, and carry her many
yards away from the spot of danger. But in a
fatal moment Evleen turned her head and saw
him. One wild ringing cry of hate and horror,
which startled the very eagles and scattered a
flight of curlews above her head, broke from her
lips. A step backward brought her within a
foot of death.

One desperate though wary stride, and she
was struggling in Coll's embrace. One glance
in her eyes, and he saw that he was striving
with a mad woman. Back, back, she dragged
him, and he had nothing to grasp by. The rock
was slippery and his shod feet would not cling
to it. Back, back! A hoarse panting, a dire
swinging to and fro; and then the rock was