"I know nothing about your ould box, but I wish I did."

"That's a lie, you sthrap; you know right well where it is."

"No," replied her father, "she does not, when she says she doesn't. Did you ever know her to tell a lie?"

"Ay--did I--fifty."

The Prophet rushed at her again, and again did Sarah interpose.

"You vile ould tarmagint," he exclaimed, "you're statin' what you feel to be false when you say so; right well you know that neither you nor I, nor any one else, ever heard a lie from her lips, an' yet you have the bra.s.s to say to the contrary."

"Father," said Sarah, "there's but one coorse for you; as for me, my mind's made up--in this house I don't stay if she does."

"If you'd think of what I spoke to you about," he replied, "all would soon be right wid us; but then you're so unraisonable, an' full of foolish notions, that it's hard for me to know what to do, especially as I wish to do all for the best."

"Well," rejoined Sarah, "I'll spake to you again, about it; at this time I'm disturbed and unaisy in my mind; I'm unhappy--unhappy--an' I hardly knows on what hand to turn. I'm afeared I was born for a hard fate, an'

that the day of my doom isn't far from me. All, father, is dark before me--my heart is, indeed, low an' full of sorrow; an' sometimes I could a'most tear any one that 'ud contradict me. Any way I'm unhappy."

As she uttered the last words, her father, considerably surprised at the melancholy tenor of her language, looked at her, and perceived that, whilst she spoke, her large black eyes were full of distress, and swam in tears.

"Don't be a fool, Sarah," said he, "it's not a thrifle should make any one cry in sich a world as this. If Charley Hanlon and you has quarrelled, it was only the case with thousands before you. If he won't marry you, maybe as good or better will; for sure, as the ould proverb says, there's as good fish in the say as ever was catched. In the mane time think what I said to you, an' all will be right."

Sarah looked not at him; but whilst he spoke, she hastily dried her tears, and ere half a minute had pa.s.sed, her face had a.s.sumed a firm and somewhat of an indignant expression. Little, however, did her father then dream of the surprising change which one short day had brought about in her existence, nor of the strong pa.s.sions which one unhappy interview had awakened in her generous but unregulated heart.

CHAPTER XVIII. -- Love Wins the Race from Profligacy.

Donnel Dhu M'Gowan's reputation as a Prophecy-man arose, in the first instance, as much on account of his mysterious pretensions to a knowledge of the quack prophecies of his day--Pastorini, Kolumbkille, &c, and such stuff--as from any pretensions he claimed to foretell the future. In the course of time, however, by a.s.suming to be a seventh son, he availed himself of the credulity and ignorance of the people, and soon added a pretended insight into futurity to his powers of interpreting Pastorini, and all the catchpenny trash of the kind which then circulated among the people. This imposture, in course of time, produced its effect, Many, it is true, laughed at his impudent a.s.sumptions, but on the other hand, hundreds were strongly impressed with a belief in the mysterious and rhapsodical predictions which he was in the habit of uttering. Among the latter cla.s.s we may reckon simple-hearted Jerry Sullivan and family, all of whom, Mave herself included, placed the most religious confidence in the oracles he gave forth. It was then with considerable agitation and a palpitating heart, that on the day following that of Donnel's visit to her father's she approached the Grey Stone, where, in the words of the prophet, she should meet "the young man who was to bring her love, wealth, and happiness, and all that a woman can wish to have with a man." The agitation she felt, however, was the result of a depression that almost amounted to despair. Her faithful heart was fixed but upon one alone, and she knew that her meeting with any other could not, so far as she was concerned, realize the golden visions of Donnel Dhu. The words, however, could not be misunderstood; the first person she met, on the right hand side of the way, after pa.s.sing the Grey Stone, was to be the individual; and when we consider her implicit belief in Donnel's prophecy, contrasted with her own impressions and the state of mind in which she approached the place, we may form a tolerably accurate notion of what she must have experienced. On arriving within two hundred yards or so of the spot mentioned, she observed in the distance, about a half mile before her, a gentleman, on horseback, approaching her at rapid speed. Her heart, on perceiving him, literally sank within her, and she felt so weak as to be scarcely able to proceed.

"Oh! what," she at length asked herself, "would I not now give but for one glance of young Condy Dalton! But it is not to be. The unfortunate murdher of my uncle has prevented that for ever; although I can't get myself to believe that any of the Daltons ever did it; but maybe that's because I wish they didn't. The general opinion is, that his father is the man that did it. May the Lord forgive them, whoever they are, that took his life--for it was a black act to me at any rate!"

Across the road, before her, ran one of those little deep valleys, or large ravines, and into this had the horseman disappeared as she closed the soliloquy. He had not, however, at all slackened his pace, but, on the contrary, evidently increased it, as she could hear by the noise of his horse's feet. At this moment she reached the brow of the ravine, and our readers may form some conception of what she felt when, on looking down it she saw her lover, young Dalton, toiling up towards her with feeble and failing steps, while pressing after him from the bottom, came young Henderson, urging his horse with whip and spur. Her heart, which had that moment bounded with delight, now utterly failed her, on perceiving the little chance which the poor young man had of being the first to meet her, and thus fulfill the prophecy. Henderson was gaining upon him at a rapid rate, and must in a few minutes have pa.s.sed him, had not woman's wit and presence of mind come to her a.s.sistance. "If he cannot run up the hill," she said to herself, "I can run to him down it"--and as the thought occurred to her, she started towards him at her greatest speed, which indeed was considerable, as her form was of that light and elastic description which betokens great powers of activity and exertion. The struggle indeed was close; Henderson now plied whip and spur with redoubled energy, and the animal was approaching at full speed. Mave, on the other hand, urged by a thousand motives, forgot everything but the necessity of exertion. Dalton was incapable of running a step, and appeared not to know the cause of the contest between the parties. At length Mave, by her singular activity and speed reached her lover, into whose arms she actually ran, just as Henderson had come within about half a dozen yards of the spot where she met him.

This effort, on the part of Mave, was in perfect accordance with the simple earnestness of her character; her youthful figure, her innocence of manner, the glow of beauty, and the crowd of blushing graces which the act developed, together with the joyous exultation of her triumph on reaching her lover's arms, and thus securing to herself and him completion of so delightful a prediction--all, when taken in at one view, rendered her being so irresistibly fascinating, that her lover could scarcely look upon the incident as a real one, but for a moment almost persuaded himself that his beloved Mave had undergone some delightful and glorious transformation--such as he had seen her a.s.sume in the dreams of his late illness.

Henderson, finding himself disappointed, now pulled up his horse and addressed her:

"Upon my word, Miss Sullivan--I believe," he added, "I have the pleasure of addressing Jeremy Sullivan's daughter--so far famed for her beauty--I say, upon my word, Miss Sullivan, your speed outstrips the wind--those light and beautiful feet of yours scarcely touch the ground--I am certain you must dance delightfully."

Mave again blushed, and immediately extricated herself from her lover's arms, but before she did, she felt his frame trembling with indignation at the liberty Henderson had taken in addressing her at all.

"Dalton," the latter proceeded, unconscious of the pa.s.sion he was exciting, "I cannot but envy you at all events; I would myself delight to be a winning post under such circ.u.mstances."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 853-- His eye, like that of his father, when enraged]

Dalton looked at him, and his eye, like that of his father, when enraged, glared with a deadly light.

"Pa.s.s on, sir," he replied; "Mave Sullivan is no girl for the like of you to address. She wishes to have no conversation with you, and she will not."

"I shan't take your word for that, my good friend," replied Henderson, smiling; "she can speak for herself; and will, too, I trust."

"Dear Condy," whispered Mave, "don't put yourself in a pa.s.sion; you are too weak to bear it."

"Miss Sullivan," proceeded young d.i.c.k, "is a pretty girl, and as such I claim a portion of her attention, and--should she so far favor me--even of her conversation; and that with every respect for your very superior judgment, my good Mr. Dalton."

"What is your object, now, in wishin' to spake to her?" asked the latter, looking him sternly in the face.

"I don't exactly see that I'm bound to answer your catechism," said d.i.c.k; "it is to Miss Sullivan I would address myself. I speak to you, Miss Sullivan; and, allow me to say, that I feel a very warm interest in your welfare, and nothing would give me greater pleasure than to promote it by any means in my power."

Mave was about to reply, but Dalton antic.i.p.ated her.

"The only favor you can bestow upon Miss Sullivan, as you are plaised to call her, is to pa.s.s her by," said Dalton; "she wishes to have no intimacy nor conversation of any kind with such a noted profligate. She knows your carrechter, Mr. Henderson; or if she doesn't, I do--an' that it's as much as a daicent girl's good name is worth to be seen spakin'

to you. Now, I tell you again to pa.s.s on. Don't force either yourself or your conversation upon her, if you're wise. I'm here to protect her--an'

I won't see her insulted for nothing."

"Do you mean that as a threat, my good fellow?"

"If you think it a threat, don't deserve it, an' you won't get it. If right was to take place, our family would have a heavy account to settle with you and yours; and it wouldn't be wise in you to add this to it."

"Ha! I see--oh, I understand you, I think--more threatening--eh?"

"As I said before," replied Dalton, "that's as you may deserve it. Your cruelty, and injustice, and oppression to our family, we might overlook; but I tell you, that if you become the means of bringin' a stain--the slightest that ever was breathed--upon the fair name of this girl, it would be a thousand times betther that you never were born."

"Ah! indeed, Master Dalton! but in the mean time, what does Miss Sullivan herself say? We are anxious to hear your own sentiments on this matter, Miss Sullivan."

"I would feel obliged to you to pa.s.s on, sir," she replied; "Condy Dalton is ill, and badly able to bear sich a conversation as this."

"Here," said Dalton, fiercely, laying his hand upon Mave's shoulder, "if you cross my path here--or lave but a shadow of a stain, as I said, upon her name, woe betide you!"

"Your wishes are commands to me, Miss Sullivan," replied Henderson, without noticing Dalton's denunciation in the slightest degree; "and, I trust that when we meet again, you won't be guarded by such a terrible bow-wow of a dragon as has now charge of you. Good bye! and accept my best wishes until then."

He immediately set spurs once more to his horse, and in a few minutes had turned at the cross roads, and taken that which led to his father's house.

"It was well for him," said Dalton, immediately after he had left them, "that I hadn't a loaded pistol in my hand--but no, dear Mave," he added, checking himself, "the hasty temper and the hasty blow is the fault of our family, an' so far as I am consarned, I'll do everything to overcome it."

Mave now examined him somewhat more earnestly than she had done; and although grieved at his thin and wasted appearance, yet she could not help being forcibly struck by the singular clearness and manly beauty of his features. And yet this beauty filled her heart with anything but satisfaction; for on contemplating it, she saw that it was over-shadowed by an expression of such settled sorrow and dejection, as it was impossible to look upon without the deepest compa.s.sion and sympathy.

"We had betther rest a little, dear Mave," he said; "you must be fatigued, and so am I. Turn back a little, will you, an' let us sit upon the Grey Stone; it's the only thing in the shape of a seat that is now near us. Have you any objection?"

"None in the world," she replied; "I'll be time enough at my uncle's, especially as I don't intend to come home to-night."

They accordingly sauntered back, and took their seat upon a ledge of the stone in question, that almost concealed them from observation; after which the dialogue proceeded as follows:

"Condy," observed Mave, "I was glad to hear that you recovered from the fever; but I'm sorry to see you look so ill: there is a great deal of care in your face."