The poor boy's voice was so low and feeble, that it was with difficulty she heard the words, which she repeated to the priest.

"Dear child," said the latter, "we are bringing you to where you will get food and drink, and a warm bed to go to, and you will get better, I hope."

And as he took the helpless and innocent sufferer into his arms, after having fixed himself in the saddle, the tears of strong compa.s.sion ran down his cheeks.

"He is as light as a feather, poor thing," exclaimed the kind-hearted man; "but I trust in heaven we may save him yet."

And they immediately hurried onward to the next house, which happened to be that of our friend Jerry Sullivan, to the care of whose humane and.

affectionate family they consigned him.

We cannot dwell here upon that which every reader can antic.i.p.ate; it is enough to say that the boy with care recovered, and that his unfortunate mother with her two children received an humble grave in the nearest churchyard, beyond the reach of the storms and miseries of life forever.

On reaching the Grange, or rather the house now occupied by widow Hanlon, the priest having sent for Charley, into whose confidence he had for some time been admitted, had a private conference, of considerable length, with him and the pedlar; after which, Nelly was called in, as it would seem, to make some disclosure connected with the subject they were discussing. A deep gloom, however, rested upon both Hanlon and the pedlar; and it was sufficiently evident that whatever the import of Nelly M'Gowan's communication may have been, it was not of so cheering a nature as to compensate for the absence of widow Hanlon, and the party for which she had been sent. Father Hanratty having left them, they took an early breakfast, and proceeded to Ballynafail--which we choose to designate as the a.s.size town--in order to watch, with disappointed and heavy hearts, the trial of Condy Dalton, in whose fate they felt a deeper interest than the reader might suppose.

All the parties attended, the Prophet among the rest; and it might have been observed, that his countenance was marked by an expression of peculiar determination. His brow was, if possible, darker than usual; his eye was quicker and more circ.u.mspect, but his complexion, notwithstanding this, was not merely pale, but absolutely white as ashes. The morning came, however, and the a.s.sies were opened with the usual formalities. The judge's charge to the grand jury, in consequence of the famine outrages which had taken place to such an extent, was unusually long; nor was the "King against Dalton," for the murder of Sullivan, left without due advice and comment. In this way a considerable portion of the day pa.s.sed. At length a trial for horse-stealing came on, but closed too late to allow them to think of commencing any other case during that day; and, as a natural consequence, that of Condy Dalton was postponed until the next morning.

It is an impressive thing; and fills the mind with a reverend sense of the wisdom manifested by an over-ruling Providence, to reflect upon the wondrous manner in which the influence of slight incidents is made to frustrate the subtlest designs of human ingenuity, and vindicate the justice of the Almighty in the eyes of his creatures, sometimes for the reward of the just, and as often for the punishment of the guilty. Had the trial of Dalton, for instance, gone on, as had been antic.i.p.ated, during the first day, it is impossible to say how many of the characters in our humble drama might have grievously suffered or escaped in consequence. At all events it is not likely that the following dialogue would have ever taken place, or been made instrumental in working out purposes, and defeating plans, with which the reader, if he is not already, will very soon be made acquainted.

Donnel Dhu had returned from the a.s.sizes, and was sitting, as usual, poring over the fire, when he asked the old woman who nursed Sarahif there had been any persons inquiring for him since nightfall.

"Three or four," she replied; "but I said you hadn't come home yet; an'

divil a one o' them but was all on the same tune, an' bid me to tell you that it was a safe night."

"Well, I hope it is, Biddy," he replied, "but not so safe," he added to himself, "as I could wish it to be. How is Sarah?"

"She's better," replied the woman, "an' was up to-day for an hour or two; but still she's poorly, and I think her brain isn't right yet."

"Very likely it isn't," said the Prophet. "But, Biddy, when were you at Shanco?"

"Not this week past."

"Well, then, if you like to slip over for an hour or so now, you may, an' I'll take care of Sarah till you come back; only don't be longer."

"Long life to you, Donnel; throth an' I want to go, if it was only to set the little matthers right for them poor orphans, my grandchildre."

"Well, then, go," he replied; "but don't be more than an hour away, mind. I'll take care of Sarah for you till you come back."

At this moment a tap came to the door, and Donnel, on hearing it, went out, and in a minute or two returned again, saying--

"Hurry, Biddy; make haste, if you wish to go at all; but remember not to be more than an hour away."

The old creature accordingly threw her cloak about her, and made the best of her way to see her grandchildren, both of whose parents had been swept away by the first deadly ravages of the typhus fever.

She had not been long gone, when another tap was given, and Donnel, on opening the door, said--

"You may come in now; she's off to Shanco. I didn't think it safe that she should see us together on this night, at all events. Sit down. This girl's illness has nearly spoiled all; however, we must only do the best we can. Thank G.o.d the night's dark, that's one comfort."

"If we could a' had Dalton found guilty," replied Body, "all would be well over this night, an' we might be on our way out o' this to America; but what 'ud you do wid Sarah if we had? Sure she wouldn't be able to travel, nor she won't, I doubt, as it is."

"Sarah," replied the Prophet, who suspected the object of the question, "is well fit to take care of herself. We must only go without her, if she's not able to come the day afther to-morrow. Where are the boys _for the Grange?_"

"Undher shelter of the Grey Stone, waitin' to start."

"Well, then, as it it," said Donnel, "they know their business, at any rate. The Grange folk don't expect them this week to come, you think?"

Rody looked at the Prophet very keenly, as he thought of the conversation that took place between himself and Charley Hanlon, and which, upon an explanation with Donnel, he had detailed. The fellow, however, as we said, was both cowardly and suspicious, and took it into his head that his friend might feel disposed to play him a trick, by sending him to conduct the burglary, of which Hanlon had spoken with such startling confidence--a piece of cowardice which, indeed, was completely gratuitous and unfounded on his part; the truth being, that it was the Prophet's interest, above all things, to keep Rody out of danger, both for that worthy individual's sake and his own. Rody, We say, looked at him; and of a certainty it must be admitted, that the physiognomy of our friend, the Seer, during that whole day, was one from which no very high opinion of his integrity or good faith could be drawn.

"It's a very sthrange thing," replied Rody, in a tone of thought and reflection, "how Charley Hanlon came to know of this matther at all."

"He never heard a word of it," replied Donnel, "barrin' from yourself."

"From me!" replied Rody, indignantly; "what do you mane by that?"

"Why, when you went to sound him," said Donnel, "you let too much out; and Charley was too cute not to see what you wor at."

"All _feathalagh_ an' nonsense," replied Eody, who, by the way, entertained a very high opinion of his own sagacity; "no mortal could suspect that there was a plot to rob the house from what I said; but hould," he added, slapping his knee, as if he had made a discovery, "_ma chorp an' dioul_, but I have it all."

"What is it?" said the Prophet, calmly.

"You tould the matther to Sarah, an' she, by coorse, tould it to Charley Hanlon, that she tells everything to."

"No such thing," replied the other. "Sarah knows nothing about the robbery that's to go on to-night at the Grange, but she did about the plan upon Mave Sullivan, and promised to help us in it, as I tould you before."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 913-- I'll have nothing to do with this robbery]

"Well, at any rate," replied Duncan, "I'll have nothing to do with this robbery--devil a thing; but I'll make a bargain wid you--if you manage the Grange business, I'll lend a hand in Mave Sullivan's affair."

The Prophet looked at him, fastening his dark piercing eyes-upon his face--

"I see," he proceeded, "you're suspicious or you're cowardly, or maybe both; but to make you feel that I'm neither the one nor the other, and that you have no raison to be so either, I say I'll take you at your word. Do you manage Mave Sullivan's business, and I'll see what can be done with the other. An' listen to me now, it's our business, in case of a discovery of the robbery, to have Masther d.i.c.k's neck as far in the noose for Mave's affair as ours may be for the other thing; an' for the same raison you needn't care how far you drive him. He doesn't wish to have violence; but do you take care that there will be violence, an' then maybe we may manage him if there's a discovery in the other affair."

"Donnel, you're a great headpiece--the divil's not so deep as you are; but as the most of them all is strangers, an' they say there's two girls in Sullivan's instead o' one, how will the strange boys know the right one?"

"If it goes to that," said the Prophet, "you'll know her by the clipped head. The minute they seize upon the girl with the clipped head, let them make sure of her. Poor foolish Tom Dalton, who knows nothing about our scheme, thinks the visit is merely to frighten the Sullivans; but when you get the girl, let her be brought to the crossroads of Tulnavert, where Masther d.i.c.k will have a chaise waitin' for her, an'

wanst she's with him your care's over. In the meantime, while he's waitin' there, I an' the others will see what can be done at the Grange."

"But tell me, Donnel; you don't intend, surely, to leave poor Sarah behind us?"

"Eh? Sarah?" returned the Prophet.

"Ay; bekaise you said so awhile a-gone."

"I know I said so awhile ago; but regardin' Sarah, Rody, she's the only livin' thing on this earth that I care about. I have hardened my heart, thank G.o.d, against all the world but herself; an' although I have never much showed it to her, an' although I have neglected her, an' sometimes thought I hated her for her mother's sake--well, no matther--she's the only thing I love or care about for all that. Oh! no--go wid-out Sarah--come weal come woe--we must not."

"Bekaise," continued Rody, "when we're all safe, an' out o' the raich o'

danger, I have a thing to say to you about Sarah."