the crowd from making way with instinctive
courtesy for the passage of the lady; and,
when Harriet approached, many a rough cap
was raised to greet her, and many a rough
voice murmured, "If Miss Harry was the
she-captain, there are many that would fain
be o' her followin'."

What story had Harriet to tell? She
used to say that that voyage to Ireland was
the one period of her life to which she looked
back with unmixed delight. The moonlight
walks on the deck of the Vixen; the feelings
then aroused; the words then spoken, that
were to be remembered for life; even the
very anticipations of danger, gave a vague
pleasure worth a thousand pyramids of solid
gain. They found themselves too soon in
Strangford Lough. But even when she parted
from the Vixen, and saw the square tower
of Caerinnys frowning above her from its
seagirt isle, she was still full of hope for
herself and others.

It had been agreed that the Delancys
should land from the cutter before reaching
Caerinnys, and should make their appearance
there, not backed by an armed force, but
simply as Lady Stewart's nearest relatives;
arrived to pay a visit to her in her Irish
home. Their reception was to point out to
them their future course; but they arranged
with Captain Culver that if they did not
return within twenty-four hours, he was to
understand that they intended staying at
Caerinnys for the present, and that he might
depart in search of the smuggler without
feeling any anxiety on their account. His
return to the neighbourhood was to be
announced to them by a signal on a point of
land visible from Lady Stewart's windows.
These preliminaries settled, they pursued
their journey.

When they reached Caerinnys, it appeared
desolate enough in the grey twilight. The
whole house consisted of one large square
tower, built upon the edge of a small island
accessible by land when the tide was at the
lowest. The terraces and flower-gardens
which had once softened the harsh features
of the place, had all fallen to ruin, through
neglect. A few felled trees, of noble size, lay
prostrate upon the rank and weedy lawn.

After waiting long at the gate, the
Delancys were admitted into the castle, and
received with constrained, but cringing civility,
by Jeffrey, the steward, who himself led
them to his lady's chamber. This was an
apartment of enormous size, with narrow
windows, flowing tapestry, and a look of
discomfort in all its arrangements;
yet with some articles of luxury
scattered about. Here, in a high-backed chair of
gilded leather, and with her little dogs at
her feet, sat Lady Stewart, beautiful still,
although no longer young. Even when I
knew her, I used to marvel how a woman of
her years and sorrows could retain so soft a
skin; so youthful an appearance. To the
last, she wore the same delicate rouge on her
cheek, and a light touch of powder in her
hair. She never dressed in anything except
the richest and most delicate- tinted silks or
satins, and never appeared without the black
velvet collar round her slender throat, clasped
with its diamond solitaire; valuable bracelets
on her arms, which to the last were
beautifully rounded; rich gems on her taper
fingers. Such was her attire when the
Delancys were first introduced into her
presence at Caerinnys; and she was so unlike
in everything to the place in which they
found her, that she looked more like a princess
bound there by a fairy spell, than a real
every-day woman.

This lady's reception of her cousins was all
that they could desire; and for a few days
things went well. The Delancys soon found
out that Lady Stewart's life was in no
danger; for a large income, which her
servants had applied to their own use,
depended on it. But she was their prisoner.
She could not stir from her apartment without
leave, — a leave which she no longer
sought. She could not even speak as she
felt; and, when she ventured to hint at her
desire to escape out of thraldom, her eyes
would wander round the room with a vague
glance of terror. Something she dreaded;
although what that was, she never dared to
tell.

The lady of the castle soon became
attached to Harriet; and, when Mr. Delancy
suggested that she should return with them
to see Rathkelspie, the poor prisoner caught
at the hint with eagerness, but begged him
to contrive the ways and means of doing so
without speaking to her about it. Mr.
Delancy, thus encouraged, laid his plans, taking
only Harriet into his counsels. In the present
day they would have had little difficulty in
deciding how to act. Nothing would have
been easier than to call in the aid of law.
But, sixty years ago, things were quite
different, and the state of the country was
such that it was much safer to plan an
scape without trying the power of the law
against the lawless. It was considered best
to leave behind the massive plate possessed
by Lady Stewart, and to be content with
the more valuable articles of jewellery
which could be carried, in a small compass.
To gather these jewels together, and to
prepare the baggage for a sudden flight, was
Harriet's especial duty; not an easy one,
because her huge chamber, like all others
at Caerinnys, opened into all sorts of
winding staircases and hidden passages,
and was liable at all moments to be entered
by one or other of the servants. These good
people, under the pretext of strict attention
to the guests, were keeping up a constant
watch upon their movements. Harriet's
room had, however, one advantage over all
the others in the house; it was supposed to
be haunted, and no one but Jeffrey dared to