menace, but was instantly struck down by his
leader.

"Learn manners, you coward!" cried the
leader, and then turned to Mrs. Hazeldean.

"Madam," he said, "we do not wish to hurt you;
but you must give up Hester Cashel, or
we burn down your house.

"I will not give her up," said Mrs. Hazeldean,
and turned, and walked towards her door.

Tiie rebels marched after her, and pressed into
her hall. Then Hester, who was up-stairs, heard
them.

She was lying upon a bed in pain, having had
leisure to suffer from her wounds. She sprang
up, listened, and remembered Pat's warning.
She understood the state of the case. She
dressed in all haste. Her scorched gown was
gone, and she seized a white wrapper of Mrs.
Hazeldean's, which was hanging somewhere at
hand in the room. She thrust her hands through
her tangled golden hair, sweeping it from her
face. She hastened down the stairs.

A group of the rebels were in the parlour with
Mrs. Hazeldean; she striving to pacify them;
they chafing and threatening. When Hester
appeared a thrill went through all present, for
she looked like one risen from the dead. Her
face was ghostly; in its ghastly whiteness, and
awful look of fear. With the unconscious gesture
of pain, she stretched her burned hands piteously
before her. But that thrill passed away, and the
rage burst forth.

"Curses on her picture face!" cried one.

"A thousand deaths would be too littie for
her!" cried another.

"Let me die a thousand deaths in one, then,"
said Hester; "but do not hurt her," pointing
to Mrs. Hazeldean.

The leader of the rebels looked at her with
attention. Perhaps he had suffered less than
the rest; perhaps for a moment he had doubts
as to her guilt. He could feel admiration for
her courage and her beauty; and pity for her
youth. For a moment. Then the maddening
recollection of last night's hideous deed returned.

"Why did you burn our women and children?"
cried he, gnashing his teeth, and stamping.

"I did not burn them," said Hester. "I did
what I could to save them."

"She lies, with her pale face!" cried some
of the rebels. "Seize her, and have done with
this!"

Two men laid hold of Hester's arms. She
got dizzy, but strove hard to keep her senses
and be firm. "I saved him," she thought, "and
now I will save her."

"Do not kill me here," she said to one of the
men. "Take me a good way off. It would
frighten her."

She moved away with her captors, a step;
but Mrs. Hazeldean threw herself on her knees
before the door.

"Glensmen!" she cried, "for many long
years I have loved you and worked amongst
you. All the sympathy of my heart, all the
help that was in my power, of my hands and of
my purse, I have given you. If ever I have
nursed your children, sat by your sick-beds,
prayed with your dying, and streaked out your
dead, I call on you, in the name of the God
who will one day judge me and judge you, to
spare me that innocent girl!  If not, you shall
drag her hence over my corpse."

The men's countenances changed as they
remembered her merciful deeds. Tears of anguish
trickled down scowling faces, as other scenes
arose before them, conjured up by her sudden
impassioned words. And many of the fiercest
hung their heads.

The leader looked suddenly up, and scanned
them all. He glanced from his band to the two
women, from the two women back to his band.
Perhaps that suspicion of Hester's innocence
grew suddenly within him to a conviction—
perhaps Mrs. Hazeldean's words had a special
force for him.

"After that, boys," he said, "we can do no
more."

He caught Hester, gently enough, round the
waist, lifted her in a twinkling, and laid her on
a sofa at the other end of the room.

"It shall never be said," he went on, "that
Glensmen shed the blood of their friend! Shall
it, boys?"

"No," was answered sullenly, with groans.

"Back, then, boys—back! Rise, madam,"
to Mrs. Hazeldean, "and don't be afraid. We
are not ungrateful. We bind ourselves from
this moment to protect your sacred house. Do
we swear, boys? Raise your pikes, and swear!"

The pikes were raised amidst a gloomy
murmur of obedience. And the terrible visitors
went their way.

CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW EVERYTHING ENDED
HAPPILY.

ALL nightmares pass away. The morning
dawns, and the terrible trouble is gone. Every
one knows how the rebellion raged in Ireland in
the year ninety-eight, but I will not say another
word of its horrors in this tale. Glenluce had
suffered the worst that could happen to it, and
so was left in peace. The doctor's house
remained unharmed, and the doctor and his wife
pursued their mission of mercy among such of
the poor people as survived, who came creeping
by-and-by out of their hiding places in the
mountains, wandering back to look on the
ruins of their homes, to weep on their blackened
hearths, and call on Heaven to put an end to
their sufferings. A temporary asylum was
erected for the houseless, and nurse and
physician were at hand.

By this time the North had become quiet,
though war still raged in other parts of the
country, and it was not certain what the issue
might be. A heavy lonesome gloom overhung
the glens, that had been so happy, and so homely.
Some of the people were re-established in new
homes, and some were assisted to emigrate.
And it was formally made known that the
estates of Sir Archie Munro, who had