hands, and had found the hands strong and
kind.

Here then was the man held in aversion,
yet to be honoured and admired, of Pierce
Humphrey's love-story, the other hero of the
romance, the second lover of Janet Golden.
And Hester fell to wondering, aside from her
own case, about this rare, remarkable, and most
heartless Janet Golden. For rare and remarkable
Hester had settled in her own mind that
she must be; and any woman must be heartless
who could endure to have two lovers. There
was a page of pure romance now laid open to
Hester's eyes. This grave stately person in
the garden, was it possible he could have robbed
the jovial Pierce of anything so trifling as
a fickle lady's heart? As well might one tax
royalty with picking pockets. Thus Hester was
inclined to be enthusiastic about her new friends,
as well as a little bitter against her old ones.
And she placed the two men side by side in her
thought, and judged them, unconsciously, with
the simplicity and fairness of pure justice. The
one who should have protected, had abandoned
her to loneliness and danger in a crowd. The
other, upon whom she had no claim, had
rescued her at inconvenience to himself; had
brought her and set her here, where she
was in a goodly place of safety. Thus Hester
judged, as most people judge, according to
her own lights and experience. She did not
say that Pierce was but a baby, while Sir Archie
was a man. She did not say that Pierce, her old
companion and playfellow, was a person to be
comforted, laughed at, piped to, and danced with;
never to be wept against, or appealed to; while
that Sir Archie might be leaned upon as a
staff that would neither bend nor break. Yet
something of such thoughts must have been
present to her mind, though she did not make
the effort, perhaps would have not had the will,
to give them shape.

And, despite the so sympathising assurance
that she had given Mr. Pierce the night before,
Hester could not now choose but have a doubt
upon her mind as to the faith of Janet Golden
in the fealty of her lover. Fate, perhaps,
would not be dealing unkindly with that
young lady if so be that it should force her to
draw her hand from the loose clasp of Pierce
Humphrey, and give her life with it into the
keeping of this Sir Archie Munro.

CHAPTER X. A COLLOQUY.

"I AM uneasy about you, Archie," the mother
was saying, as those two were walking up and
down the garden path. "My mother writes
me that she fears you are entangled, even
against your will, in these schemes of rebellion
that are on foot."

Sir Archie's face grew clouded. "That was
indiscreet of my mother," he said. "If others
suspect me, as I have been led to think they do
—if my letters should be opened——"

"But it is not true—it is not true?"
appealed the mother, with her blue eyes distended
and anguish on her lips.

"Dear Mary," said Sir Archie tenderly,
taking her hands, and holding them between
his own. "It is not true, not exactly true at
least, though certain it is that I am in difficulty
and trouble about these matters, as every Irishman,
with a head to think or a heart to feel,
must be. Now I will tell you all about it, if
you will be patient, that is, and strong. Why,
Mary, to think of a courageous woman like you,
who can dress a bad wound, who can go with
a dying sinner to the very brink of eternity,
who never quailed at fever, who is not afraid
of the very plague itself!" he said, smiling; "to
think of you turning nervous on my hands, and
fading your cheeks at a moment's notice—all
for a great brawny mountaineer like me—a
strong fellow, who never felt a pain nor ache."

"This is not a case of pain nor ache," said
the mother, sadly. "If it were I might help
you. But if this be treason, rebellion, why
you would melt away like snow from among
our hands. We could do nothing for you."

And the mother's voice broke. She laid her
head on her brother's shoulder, and trembled
with great fear.

"Mary, Mary, Mary," said Sir Archie, lifting
her face, and looking in it with smiling
rebuke, "what would all your large family in
yonder think of you if they saw you breaking
down like this? It is enough to tempt a fellow
like me to turn the tables and quote texts to
you. Indeed, my darling, this distress is without
cause. There, I knew you would be
reasonable; and now you shall hear the whole
story."

The mother recovered herself quickly, drew
her veil around her face, and bowed her head to
endure the listening to what she dreaded to hear.
And the two walked on together as before.

"There is not much to say after all," said
Sir Archie. "I need not tell you that my own
little corner of the world has always been
peaceful and happy; but neither need I tell you
that I have mourned over the misery of the
country at large. My heart has bled for it;
bleeds for it. One would need to have lead in
one's veins, instead of blood, to endure to see
the things that are done in the name of justice
in the open face of day."

"But you cannot cure them," broke in the
Mother Augustine. "It is impossible that you
can cure them."

"Impossible, I believe, to the attempt that
will be made," said Sir Archie, "and, therefore,
so help me God, I will guard my little
flock from the destruction that must follow
such an attempt. I will not lead them out to
death, nor invite desolation to their thresholds,
well knowing that not the shadow of a boon
will be reaped by their children nor their
children's children from the horrible sufferings they
must be made to endure. Were they already
in torture, like the unfortunates of many other
parts of the country, and did they call upon me
to lead them in battle, I would do it were it
only a forlorn hope, and I fell among their feet
at the first shot from an English gun. But we