we should have compelled our rulers to treat us
like the rest of humanity, and the world would
have looked on and respected us. But we are
timid; we stand aloof: we think to buy peace,
to save bloodshed. Some of us are bought,
others are led astray by our feelings or our
theories. And so we sit on in our high places
and groan idly; or worse, we turn a dastardly
sword against our own, while the masses of our
countrymen who have suffered, who have been
familiarised with such tortures that the "most
horrible death has no terror for them, while
they struggle wildly and are lost, for want of
the assistance which they had a right to expect
from us, which we have refused them. I tell
you, O'Neal, that my own Glensmen, whom I
had thought to save and to serve, look on me
with suspicion, as a coward, who will not risk
life or property by putting himself at their
head. They would not trust me now. They
have ranked under other leaders. And I know
that I have deserved it. I have earned it by
my folly in hoping for humane measures from
England. I stand alone now, shunned and
suspected by both parties. Heaven knows that
I have suffered, and acted for the best. But I
tell you this solemnly, O'Neal: I would to God
I had gone hand-in-hand from the first with
Wolfe Tone and Lord Edward Fitzgerald."

Sir Archie suddenly stopped speaking, and
buried his face in his hands.

"You are a madman!" cried Lord O'Neal,
rising hastily. "You should know that when
you speak in this manner your life is not worth
a moment's purchase."

"I know it," said Sir Archie, rising also, and
folding his arms calmly. " I know I am in
your power. I knew it when I came here this
evening, intending to avow to you all that was
in my mind. As for my life," he added, bitterly,
"a brave man will rather die than feel dishonoured,
even if no one in the world know the
dishonour but himself. It may be that I have
precious stakes in life as well as another, that I
had hopes as sweet as heaven, and plans which
a proud old age might have rejoiced to see
accomplished. Yet the beginning and end of all
my hopes and plans are in this: I have loved
my country, and I have loved my countrymen.
Rather than turn a sword against my people, I
will give my blood to slake the thirst of the
government; as far as it will go."

Lord O'Neal had walked away to a window.
By-and-by he came back with tears in his
eyes, and trembling as only a good man can
tremble.

"Munro," he said, " you are a brave fellow.
Would to God we were all more like you!
English gold has corrupted us; English smiles
have lured us; English whips have scourged
us; and English love has flattered us. We are
like the house divided against itself that shall
not stand. We are divided; and we shall be
snapped in pieces like the streaks of flax that
might have made a rope too tough for breaking.
You and I have chosen different paths. But at
least we are — brothers."

"Always, O'Neal," said Sir Archie, solemnly.
And again the men pressed each other's hands.

"Not yet, Munro," said Lord O'Neal, as
Sir Archie prepared to leave him. "I have
still a word to say to you. Sit, and let us drink
a glass together. We shall not drink such
another for—how long? God knows! Futurity,
even of a to-morrow, is strangely hid from us.
When next we meet we shall know many things
which we would now give much to discern."

And the lord looked dreamily across his
glass, at the shadows falling gravely over the
lough. Was any thought in his heart of the
shadow of death so soon to descend upon the
prime of his days? The death that was his
portion as a son of a doomed land.

"I wanted to tell you," said his lordship,
rousing himself from his reverie, "that it is
supposed you have got a spv in your
household."

"I think that can hardly be true," said Sir
Archie, " for I know all the servants at Glenluce.
They have each been many years a part
of the family, and I am acquainted with their
friends and connexions."

"This person is not a servant," said Lord
O'Neal. " She is the friend of a Lady Humphrey,
a woman who has been building up a
case against you. Her name is Hester Cashel.
She has hardly been a year at Glenluce; but I
understand she has made the most of her time."

Sir Archie started. A flush came over his
face, which had been so pale. Then he laughed
a little short indulgent laugh at the ignorant
folly of this news which his friend had just told
him.

"It is a great mistake," he said, softly. " It
is the perfection of a mistake. Any one
inventing such a story ought to have chosen a
better heroine."

Lord O'Neal was surprised at the change in
his friend's manner. He looked at him with
interest, and made a guess in his own mind.

"Well, I advise you to look to it," he said;
"the name may be a mistake, but some one in
your household is playing you false."

Soon after this it was dark, and the moon
arose. Sir Archie mounted his horse, and Lord
O'Neal walked by his side along the shores of
the mysterious Lough Neagh. The warm still
air was laden with the odours of the hawthorn,
and wild orange-tree. The moonlight came
trickling through the shrouded glades; and
afar off in the distance, the river could be
discerned, dreaming beneath a coverlet of silver,
under the watchful shadow of the pine-trees.
Lord O'Neal walked to the spot where the
rooks slept in their nests. An old rook, wakened
by the sound of the feet and voices, hurled
his cry of " war! war!" downward out of his
branches on the heads of the passers-by; just as
the friends clasped hands and parted.

CHAPTER XXV. LADY HUMPHREY'S MESSENGERS.

THAT terrible spell of quietude lasted for
days in the North, while in the South towns
were burned to the ground, and doings were