have always lived apart from the rest of the
world; our mountains have shut us in, and I
pray God that they may shut out from us the
horrors that are impending. I tell you, Mary,
I never ride up the glen of an evening and see
the wee toddling babies come peeping to the
door to see me go by without swearing to
myself that I will never make a sign that will be
the cause of dabbling their helpless feet in the
bloodshed of their kin. Let the sun rise and
go down upon our peace so long as it pleases
Heaven to leave the peace upon our thresholds.
I have been placed over a few, and for the
welfare of that few I am accountable. As for the
many, God pity them! They will not succeed.
Their leaders have been surprised, are in
prison; they who could arrange and command,
who carried the longest heads, if not the
stoutest hearts. The informers are abroad, and
the rulers of the land are urging on a rebellion
that they may crush it with the greater ease.
I will guard my happy glens from the wreck.
But what folly to talk in this way!" he added,
lightly, catching a glimpse of the mother's
white averted cheek, "it will never come to
that, I trust. The government will relent, will
grow wise in time, and treat the country more
kindly than it has done. Statesmen will see at
last, though late, the mistakes of many ages.
They will try redress of grievances instead of
pitch caps and hanging. Come, cheer up, Mary,
and let us talk of something pleasant."

But the mother was not ready to leave the
subject. "Who is it that suspects you?" she
asked. "If you declare yourself for peace, who
can say a word against you?"

"No one but an enemy," said Sir Archie.
"I did not know I had an enemy, but it seems
I have one in ambush somewhere. No matter;
let them do their worst. The only thing they
can say is that at the first opening of the
society I belonged to the United Irishmen.
Like all other young men who had a throe of
feeling or a spark of hope in their hearts, I
rushed into it, eagerly insisting that we must
wring attention from the King to the desperation
of the country. That chimera faded," said
Sir Archie, bitterly; "and since things have
grown wilder and more hopeless, I have
withdrawn from the schemes of the society, impelled
by the motives I have described."

"It is well, it is well," murmured the mother,
tremulously. "But this enemy, dear Archie?
Who is there who should be at enmity with
you?"

"That I cannot tell," said Sir Archie; "but
there are few men so fortunate as not to have
an enemy somewhere. I was not aware that
any one was busy with my concerns until late
last night, or rather early this morning. I had
then an interview with Wolfe Tone, who has
put me on my guard."

The Mother Augustine groaned. "Wolfe
Tone," she repeated. "Oh, Archie!"

"Well, Mary? Is he a terrible 'old bogie'
to your fears?"

"I know what he is well," said the mother,
energetically. "He is a brave, daring enthusiast,
but he will die in his cause. And you
shall not die with him—no, Archie, no, Archie!"

"I am not going to die with any one, little
sister, till my appointed day has been lived till the
last minute," said Sir Archie, tenderly, carrying
her white trembling fingers to his lips. "I
agreed to meet Tone for the purpose of explaining
to him clearly the conduct which I intend
to pursue, and the motives which have
determined me to persist in that conduct, in spite
of many strong feelings of my own, and
unbounded sympathy with the misery which is the
main-spring of the attempt that may be made.
I have tried to assure him that if such attempt
be made it will be done clumsily, and must
end in failure. I have implored him to use his
influence in holding back the catastrophe, as
the time is not ripe, as the leaders are in
prison. He says that were impossible. The
madness of the people is getting stimulated
every day. They will have a leader of some
kind; or, if necessary, they will act without a
leader. We parted as we met, he deploring
that I should insist on remaining neutral, I
more and more resolved to follow the lights of
my own judgment and experience. I believe,
however, that I have succeeded in convincing
him, at least, that I am in no respect actuated
by cowardice or want of patriotism in my
decision."

"Cowardice!" said the mother, amazed, and
blushing at the word. "Who could venture to
accuse you of such a vice?"

"Yet it may be that I have left myself open
to the charge," said Sir Archie, "from those
whose disappointment or anger may blind them
for the moment, so that they cannot look my
position in the face. It is known that I feel
strongly for the affliction of my country, and
those who know it may not all be aware that I
believe myself more far-seeing than themselves,
that perhaps I have more means, more leisure
for looking onward than they have, that I find
myself responsible for the well-being of my
little clan, who look to me out of their peaceful
doors for counsel and guidance. Yet,"
continued Sir Archie, thoughtfully, "did they but
consider the matter thoroughly they would see
that, in the event of a struggle, by refusing to
side with one or other party, I should leave
myself at the mercy of the fury of both, and
deprive myself of all hope of the protection of
either—a position which it requires some little
nerve to face. But come, Mary," he added,
"we have had enough of this. You must ask
for your old friends, or there will be woful
disappointment when I go home. The old women
will be bobbing curtseys along the roads, and
will think something is sadly amiss indeed if his
honour cannot give them a message from 'Miss
Mary, God love her.'"

The Mother Augustine, thus admonished,
made an effort to dismiss her fears, and became,
in outward appearance at least, her tranquil
self again.

"There is much home news that I want to