CIHM Microfiche Series (i\Aonographs) ICMH Collection de microfiches (monographles) Canadian Instituta for Hiitorical Microraproductiona / Inatitut Canadian da microraproductions hiatoriquaa 995 Technical and Bibliographic Notes / Notes technique et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the t-sst original copy available for fiinning. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming are checked below. 0^ Coloured covers / Couverture de couleur Covers damaged / Couverture endommduee r~] Covers restored and/or laminated / Couverture restuuree ef ou pelliculee I I Cover title missing / Le litre de couverture manque I [ Coloured maps / Cartes geographiques en couleur [^ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black) / Encie c'e couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) r^ Coloured plates and/or illustrations / i:^ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur I I Bound wKh other material / ReliS avec d'autres documents D Only edition available / Seule edition disponible Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin / La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distorsion le long de la marge intdrieure. Blank leaves added during restorations may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming / II se peut que ceitaines pages blanches ajouttes tors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, torsque cela 6tait passible, oes pages n'ont pas «te film^es. L'Institut a microfilme le meilleur examplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer I es details de cet exem- plaire qui sont peut-6tre uniques du point de vue bibli- ographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modifications dans la meth- ode normale de filmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. r~| Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur I I Pages damaged/ Pages endommagees r~j Pages restored and/or laminated / Pages restaurtes et/ou pellraulees [^ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed / Pages dScolorfes, tachettes ou piquees I I Pages detached/ Pages detach^es rp^ Showthrough / Transparence r^ Quality of print varies / Quality inegale de I'impression I I Includes supplementary material / Comprend du materiel supptementaire I I Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata — slips, tissues, etc., have been relilmed to ensure the best possible Image / Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont ete film^es a nouveau de fapon a obtenir la meilleure image possible. I I Opposing pages with varying colouration or discolourations are filmed twice to ensure the best possible image / Les pages s'opposant ayant des colorations variables ou des decol- orations sont filmtes deux fois afin d'obtenir la meilleur image possible. B Addittonal comments / Commentaires suppl^mentaires: Various pagination. Thi< ittm it filmad at the rwhictian ratio chackad ImIow/ Ce docuimnt ist film* au taux de reduction indiqua ei-danoin 'OX 14X 18X rr 22X 20X Th* copy tilmad h«r« hat b«*n raproduead thankt 10 th* ganarosity a(: National Library of Canada L'axamplaira fUmt fut raproduit grica t la g4n4roaiU da: Blbliothiqua natlonale du Canada Tha imagaa appaaring hara ara tha baat quality poaalbia eonaidaring tha condition and lagiblllty o( tha original copy and in kaaping with tha filming contract apaciflcaiiona. La* Imaga* luivantai ont txt roproduitas avac la plua grand lotn, compta tanu da la condition at da la nattat* da Taxamplaira filmi, at an cenfermit* avac laa condition* du contrat da fllmaga. Original eopia* In printad papar covar* ara fllmad baginning with tha front covar and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or illuatratad impraa- (ion, or tha back covar whan appropriate. All othar original copies ara filmad baginning on tha firat paga with a printad or illuatratad impraa- aion. and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or Illuatratad impraaaion. Laa aaamplalraa originaux dont la couvartura an papiar aat imprimaa sont film** an eommancani par la pramiar plat at an tarminant loit par la darniAra paga qui comporta una amprainia d'Impraaaion ou d'illuatration, soit par la lacond plat, talon I* caa. Toua la* autra* axamplairas orlginaux (ont film** *n commancant par la prami4ra paga qui comporta una amprainta d'Impraaaion ou d'illuatration at an tarminant par la darnlAra paga qui comporta una talia amprainta. Tha laat racordad frama on aach microfiche shall conuin tha symbol —^ Imaaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha symbol V (moaning "END"), whichavar appilaa. Map*. Plata*, charts, ate. may ba filmad at diflarant raduetion ratio*. Thosa too larga to ba antiraly includad in ana axpoaura ara filmad baginning in tha uppar Isft hand eornar, laft to right and top to bottom, aa many framaa aa raquirad. Tha following diagrama lllustrata tha mathod: Un das symbolaa suivant* ipparaitra sur la darnlAra imaga da chaqua microficha. talon la caa: la symbols ^^ signifia "A SUIVRE", la aymbole ▼ signifia "FIN". Las cartaa. planchaa. tablaaux. ate. pauvant itra film** k da* taux da rMuction diff*ranis. Lorsqua la document aat trap grand pour itra raproduit an un saul clich*. 11 ast filmt i partir da I'angia sup4riaur gaucha, da gaucha i droita, at da haut an baa, an pranant la nombra d'Imagaa nicaaaaira. Laa diagrammas auivants lllustrant la mOthoda. 1 2 3 4 5 6 fMOOCOPY RiSOLUTION IBT CHA«T (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 !£i^ 1^ _^ APPLIED INA^GE In ^^ 1653 Eost Moln SIreel STJ Rochester. New York 14609 USA '■^= (716) *82 - 0300 - Phone ^= (716) 288- 5989 - Fox -h-^- WAYWARD WINIFRED. WAYWARD WINIFRED. BY ANNA T. SADLIER, AUTHOR OP M Su«onn- «' IVoodvUUr -Mary Tracy- s Fortune," : he MysterioHS Doorway,'' "Pauline Ar^htr," "The TalUman,' etc.. etc WW YORK, aNCINNATr, CHICAGO: BENZIGER BROTHERS, Printers to the Holy Apostolit See. •905- C0I>YRIGHT, 1905, BY BeNZIGER BboTHERS. Ou 1 r ;> . a CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. , A Fust Meeting ?AO« 7 . ^ „ CHAPTER 11. At the CasUe 14 CHAPTER in. Winifred Asks Questions *3 CHAPTER IV. A Singular Figure *9 CHAPTER V. A Second Visit to the Castle The Schoolnuster 45 ^ ^ CHAPTER Vn. The Old Castle 55 w v_^. n. CHAPTER Vin. Winifred's Treasuns 63 A », , CHAPTER IX. A Moonlight Expedition 70 CHAPTER X. A Visit to the Schoolmaster 78 TK cu , CHAPTER XI. 1 he bchoohnaster's Tale 86 _, _ , CHAPTER XII. the Scboolnuuter's Secret ~ „. CHAPTER XIII. Two Visits I02 „ „ CHAPTER XIV. How Father Owen Won the Day no CHAPTER XV. MGK The Cave in the Mountains ny CHAPTER XVI. In the Capital 126 CHAPTER XVII. Arrival in New York i^c CHAPTER XVIII. An Unexpected Meeting 143 CHAPTER XIX. Winifred Goes Sight-seeing ici CHAPTER XX. Another Unexpected Meeting , icg CHAPTER XXI. A Mystery Solved 166 CHAPTER XXII. At the Convent lyQ CHAPTER XXin. Winifred Tells her Name 185 CHAPTER XXIV. Letters at Last 191 CHAPTER XXV. Home Again 301 CHAPTER XXVI. Roderick Returns, and All's WeU that Ends Well 212 WAYWARD WINIFRED. CHAPTER I. A FIRST MEETING. Perhaps some reader may know the Glen of the Dargle. No boys or girls may know it, but perchance their grandsires may tell them of a mountain stream which threads its way through rugged hills till it falls over a precipice and winds onward through a glen of unspeakable loveliness. They may remember the ravine shut in on either side by hills, covered with gigantic trees, some of which meet across it, forming a natural bridge. Well, it was upon that bridge that I saw— at first with deep amazement, then with fear and trembling— the slender, graceful figure, the almost eerie loveliness of Wayward Winifred. How she had reached her dangerous position was clear enough; for her feet were like the mountain goat, and her figure wonderfully lithe and active. I stood and gazed at her, afraid to speak lest she should falf from the dizzy height She looked back at me with clear brown eyes, and spoke in a voice that held just a hint of the Dublin accent to give it sweetness. "Are you the lady from America?" I answered that I was, and a long pause ensued. The child was evidently studying me, and I in my turn put a question : 8 A FIRST MEETING. "How on earth, child, did you get up there? And don't you know that any moment you might conie tumbling down into the water below?" " The water wouldn't harm me if I did," Winifred replied, looking down into the clear depths; "and it knows me well. I come here every day, unless there be a storm." "Is your mother aware of so dangerous a proceeding?" I asked with some stemi.ess. A strange look passed over the girl's face, and she answered with a little laugh, half merry, half wistful: "Ah I then, don't you know? I'm the orphan from the castle." "From the castle?" I repeated. I began to think that this creature, after all, was a spirit, such as I had been told lived in the glens and streams of fairy-haunted Ireland. " Yes," said she, " I am from the castle." "From Powerscourt?" I suggestpd; supposing, of course, that she meant the great mansion which all visitors to the Dargle felt bound to see. "From Powerscourt!" cried she, with contempt in her voice. " Oh, it's easy to see you are from America ! Why, the castle I live in was built hundreds of years before there was any Powerscourt at all." I was again struck dumb by this assurance. What castle could she mean? I knew of none in the neighborhooc, and yet I had been studying the latest guidebook with the closest attention. " If you come with me some day," she said, " I will show you my ca^Je, and granny will be very glad to see you." She spoke with a grand air, as though she were, indeed, a young princess inviting me to visit her ancestral home. "Where is the castle?" I inquired. A FIRST MEETING. p "Where is the castle?" she repeated, as if i„ bewilder- ment. 'Well, it is up, up in the hills. Perhaps you haven't any hills in America?" I assured her that we had. "Well," she declared, in the same lofty way, "if you know how to climb hills, and don't mind if the road is steep. 1 U take you there some time." "To-morrow?" I suggested. T,.. ",^°; *°-"'°"°'^ I'"! going away off to the Phoul-a- rhooka. "Where is that?" "Miles away from here." "Are you going alone?" "I'm going with some one," she answered, with her clear, musical laugh; "but I won't tell you who" "I have not asked," I said, provoked a little by her cool- ness. I assure you, dear child, I have no wish to force your confidence." "It's some one we don't talk much about," she said, «o3 "Very likely I shall," I assented; "but first I want to see the old castle and the woman and child who live there." " It's a good bit of a walk," said the landlord ; " but the weather is fine, so I suppose you won't mind that" " No, I won't mind it," I declared—" not in the least, and Winifred is coming for me in a day or two." "And I hope she won't be a Will-o'-the-wisp to you, ma'am, and leave you in some bog or another." He spoke with coisiderable asperity, and but that he was just then called away I should have questioned him further; for I judged from his manner that he had suffered from some of the pranks of my new acquaintance. I smiled to myself as I wondered if the girl had been leading him a dance over mountain and moor, or what was the nature of the particular trick she had played upon the stony-visaged landlord. AT THE CASTLE. CHAPTER II. AT THE CASTLE. It was a lovely May morning when the landlord of the inn came to tell me that Wayward Winifred was waiting. "Why do they call her by that name?" I asked of him. " Oh, then, sure, ma'am, it's just because of her whimsical ways ! You might as well try to stick a pin through the down of a thistle or take a feather from a swallow on the wing, as to know what the crathur will be doin' next." He looked all round as if he feared that the walls might have ears ; and, seeming in a more communicative mood than before, he con- tinued his narrative: "There's them that says," he whis- pered, coming close to me, "that all's not right with her; and it's as well you should know it before you go oflF to the castle with her. She knows too much for one of her years, and she's that wild and whimsical, there's no stoppin' her whichever way she goes. And she keeps queer company sometimes." " But who were her parents ? " " Well, you asked me that before, ma'am, but it's a long story. Some will have it that she's not of mortal stock at all. But, to be sure, that's the old people, with their queer consates," he added, somewhat shamefacedly. " Who takes care of her ? " " Who ? Weil, as for that, she mostly takes care of her- self," replied the landlord, with a gesture expressive of the hopelessness of the situation. " But she can't live alone. She has, I believe, a grand- mother." /-," I said: "quite a romance, and fits in well with your lovely country here and the remains of TINIFRED ASKS QUESTIONS. aj that grand old castle. But who is this curious companion Winifred goes about with and does not care to name?" " There's more than her that won't name him," said the landlord ; " though I think it's Granny Meehan that does be cautionin' the colleen. She's not afeard of man nor beast nor spirit, and if she doesn't name him it's on account of the ould woman." "But who is he?" " Now, ma'am dear," said the landlord, " I have been dis- coursin' to you already of things that mebbe shouldn't pa.ss my lips, and I'd be entirely obliged if you wouldn't ask me to have part nor parcel with them that's unlucky, nor so much as to name them." With this I had to be content, and I strolled out to that world-famous Glen of the Dargle, and sat down beside the stream on grass that was green and soft as velvet. Above me on all sides rose the hills, the trees, in their shaded green, still sparkling with dew; the waterfall dashing over the stones into the dark stream below, and the tree-bridge overhanging that terrible ravine. I might not at first have perceived that this bridge was tenanted had not a clear voice suddenly broken the stillness, thrilling out some quaint melody, which was Irish in its wild, mournful character, and yet had a tinge of • drollery. I did not recognize it, however, nor could I have called it by name. I looked up hastily, well knowing that the graceful figure and charming, childish face of Winifred would meet my view. Once again, as on a former occasion I hesitated to speak for fear of startling her ; but she addressed me presently, bringing her song to a sudden stop. •'Good morning!" she said. " 'Tis lovely weather." " Lovely indeed," I answered, looking up at her and reflect- mg what a strange little creature she was. talking down to a6 WINIFRED ASKS QUESTIONS. me as calmly from that high and perilous perch as though she sat on a rocking-chair at a fireside. " My dear child," I said, involuntarily, " you make me dizzy." "Dizzy?" repeated the girl. "Being up so high and over that deep ravine," I called back; for the noise of the waterfall forced me to raise my voice in order to be heard. " The dear old Dargle ! " she exclaimed, looking lovingly down at the stream. "1 sit here, as I told you, almost every day. But I'll come down immediately if it makes you dizzy." She carried out her promise so swiftly and so recklessly that it fairly took away my breath. She stood a momer or two on the green height, and then ran down to me, her face shining with the glow of the morning, full of life and health and the very joy of being alive. She was soon at my side and threw herself near me on the grass. " Do you like Ireland just as well as America? " she asked me after a pause. 'reland is very beautiful," I replied. Her face flushed and her eye lighted as she nodded two or three times, but did not speak. It was as though some one very dear to her had been praised. " I was told once," she said, " that streets in America are paved with gold. But — perhaps it isn't true." She said the last words wistfully, as though reluctant to part with an illu- sion. "And I suppose," she went on, "there are no trees there with golden leaves nor birds with silver wings?" " No," I said ; " there are no streets paved with gold, and no goMen trees nor birds with silver wings. But there are many beautiful things — glorious mountains, vast forests, broad rivers, splendid cities." WINIFRED ASKS QUESTIONS. gf " I should like to hear of them some time," she said, " if you will be kind enough to tell me." " Oh, I shall tell you anything you want to hear," I replied ; " for, as we agreed to be friends, one friend must try to give pleasure to another." " Yes, that is true," she assented ; " and because of that I will show you my castle, though I don't like showing it to strangers." I looked at her with an interest which was enhanced by the story I had heard that morning — pathetic, romantic, and altogether unusual. "You have always lived there?" I asked. " No," she said, briefly. " I remember to have lived at another place, but that is very long ago and does not matter." It was evident that she did not wish to continue the subject. " I shall have to leave you," she said, all at once ; " for, listen ! I hear the tinkle of a bell, and I am afraid that our cow has got out." "Do you take care of the cow?" I asked involuntarily; for the circumstance somviiow seemed su-prising and out of keeping with the child's appearance. "Oh, Moira does generally!" she replied carelessly. " She, you know, is our little maid-of-all-work. Sometimes I do myself, though; for I love poor Cusha, and I like to pat her silky back and play with her long ears. She hasn't any horns. But she wouldn't hurt me if she had ; for, you see, she knows me, and puts down her head for me to pet, and lows when she sees me coming. She is a very wise cow. I wish she could talk." " T wonder what her conversation would be like?" I said, laughing. * WINIFRED ASKS QUESTIONS. her*hlL'°' ^*"' "^ -"-**'" I -'•■enteHn, into an/»f 'fi'^u*'"' f*"* *•" ^""^ «^**" ^'°^^' »"d *« grass and the fields, where she ha. lived; and about the hills for shes been up here a great many years. She was bom before I was and she looks at everything with her big brown eye. as .f she were thinking about them. She might be able to tel .f there were any fairies or things of that kind ; for she's out sometimes in the moonlight, or at dusk and in the early mommg. too, when people say they pass by " " "r°" ■"""ft believe all the people tell you." I answered, though I was half sorry for the suggestion when I saw how her face cbuded over. "Their tales might be like the golden streets and the silver birds." She arose slowly, and seemed as if about to turn away • then she added, half to herself: " I wonder if she knows anything about what he is trying to find out, what he has found out?" "Who?" I asked hastily. ;* Some one," she said, evasively. " Oh, the bell is tinkling agajn. Cusha might get lost. Good-by! And come soon to the castle. I will show you every bit of it and tell you true thmgs about it." She said the last words loftily, as though to let me know that all her talk was not of the unreal, the fictitious, the poetic. I sat a few minutes longer musing over her and her T^; ^ . " '^^"" *° ''^^' ^'^^' «« an offset, a trans- atlantic fashion paper which had reached me by mail that morning. A SINGULAR FIGURE. CHAPTER IV. A SINGULAR FIGURE. I WAS presently tempted to think that my landlord was right when he spoke of the " queer company " which Wini- fred sometimes kept. For, as I was rambling about one even- ing under the white blossoms of the hawthorn, I suddenly beheld her high up on a mountain pass. This time she was without her blue cloak, but wore a shawl of vivid scarlet, the comer of which she had wound about her head. Contrasting with the emerald green of the grass and the folage all about her, she seemed more than ever like a mountain sprite who had suddenly sprung from the ground. I was about to advance and address her, when I perceived that she was not alone. Beside her, upon the greensward, stood one of the wildest and most singular figures it has ever been my fortune to see. He was tall, and would have been of commanding presence but for a slight stoop in his shoul- ders. His hair, worn long, was dishevelled and unkempt, surmounted by a high-peaked, sugar-loaf hat, the like of which I had nevjr seen before. His breeches were of corduroy, such as might be worn by any peasant in the vicinity; only that this particular pair was of a peculiarly bright green vivid enough to throw even the grass of the Emerald Isle into the shade. A waistcoat of red increased the impression JB A SWCUI.AR HGVRE. of color. He might have been some gigantic tropical plant, 80 gorgeous and so varied were these commingling hu«s. Over all he wore a garment, neither coat nor cloak, with wide, hanging sleeves. His countenance was as singular as his cos- tume; his eyes keen, yet half-furtive, half-deprecating in their expression; his chin cloaii-shaven, showing the hollow, cav- ernous cheeks with fearful distinctness. His nose, long and slightly hooked, seemed as if pointing toward the ground, upon which just then hi* eyes were fixed. He was discoursing to the child ; and, as I came nearer, I thought he was using the Irish tongue, or at least many Gaelic words. Once he pointed upward to the sky with a wild gesture; again he bent down to the earth, illustratin^T some weird tale he was telling; whilst expressions of anger, of cunning, of malice or of joy swept over his face, each being reflected in the mobile countenance of Winifred, who stood by. She seamed to follow every word he said with eager interest. In a pause of the narrative he took oflF his hat and made a courtly bow to the child, who held herself erecc before him. Resuming his ialk, he pointed more than once in the direc- tion of the castle, so that I fancied he was dwelling upon the fortunes of the race who had once abode there and of the chiefs and heroes who had made it famous. Once, however, I caught the name of Malachy, which might have been that of any peasant in the neighborhood ; and again the word " La- genian." Then the old man relapsed into silence, sighing profoundly; whilst above his head the dark leaves waved softly and the projecting branches almost touched his hat. Winifred finally broke the silence— I heard her clear, child- ish voice distinctly : " Ever since we went to the Waterfalls that day I have been wanting to talk to you of the Phoul-a-Phooka." A SINGVLAR FIGUKF.. .„ "But I have told you. Miss Winifred," the man replied, with some impatience, "all that I know. The Phooka is a fierce beast, with fire streaming from his eyes and nostrils, coal-black and gig^antic of size. That is how the legend describes him; and if any unlucky wayfarer meets him he is compelled to mount and ride. The place which I took you to see is called after him. You kno^^ how Iwely it is, how wild, how solitary, and how well suited to the work I have in hand. I made discoveries there, Winifred — indeed, I did ! " Here his voice dropped to a whisper, and Winifred put two or three eager questions to him. " But you didn't tell me when we were there." she said. "It was better not. We have had listeners," the man responded. "I was thinking," Winifred went on, changing the sub- ject abruptly, " of that story of the tailor. You know, if the Phoul-a-Phooka had ridden down that precipice we saw, with him upon his back, why, the tailor couldn't have told what happened; for he would have been killed." "There's no saying, there's no saying!" replied the stranger, absently. "There are mysteries, my girl; but the legend declares that it was the garment which the tailor carried that caused the beast to throw him off." "Are legends true?" the girl asked. "Who knows?" answered the old man, with the same dreamy air. "They hold a kernel of truth, every one of them." "The lady says many things are not true," Winifred observed. "The lady! What lady?" demanded the other almost fiercely, with a light of cunning gleaming from his black pyes. 32 A SINGULAR FIGURE. " The lady from America." " Oh, from America did you say ? " exclaimed the man, in a hushed and trembling voice, bending low and looking about him with a terror and anxiety which were almost gro- tesque. " Don't say that word, Miss V.'^inifred ! Don't now, my beautiful white flower of the mountain ! " The incident reminded me that Granny Meehan at the castle had also shown, on the occasion of my visit, a certain alann at the mention of America; and I wondered what mystery enveloped this singular child and those who were her guard- ians. Winifred had perceived the man's consternation ; look- ing intently at her singfular companion, she asked: "Why, are you afraid of people from America?" Standing thus before the old man, she put the question with the point-blank frankness of childhood. " No, no, no ! " came the answer, hurriedly and with the same tone of tremulous eagerness,—" at least, child, it is not the kind of fear you think." "Why do you shiver, then, and look like that?" " Because, O Winifred mavourneen, say it is not for you she's come ! " "For me!" echoed Winifred in astonishment; then she burst into one of her merriest peals of laughter, seizing a handful of leaves and throwing them at him. " Why do you think that, you dear, old Niall?" "I suppose I'm getting old and full of fears," the man said. " The winter of life is like the winter of the years. It has its chills and frosts, its larger share of darkness. But what if one should come and take you away before we are ready — ^before the work we have to do is done?" "No one shall take me away unless I like!" Winifred cried out, throwing back her small head proudly. A S .\CULAR Fii URE. 33 "Wilful I know ycii a'e as a mountain torrent," Niall answered witVi a smile ; " but there are some who might take you away against your will and with none to say them nay." "I wish you would not talk so!" Winifred said petu- lantly, tearing to pieces with her slender, delicate fingers a daisy which she had picked up from the grass. She threw the stalk away impatiently. " There I " she cried. " By your foolish talk you have made me destroy one of my own little daisies; and I always think of them as little children playing in the long g^ss, hiding from one another, letting the wind blow them about, and loving the sun, as all children do." The strange man gazed thoughtfully at her as she spoke. " The same old fancies ! " he muttered ; " the same turn of mind! But I think the country people are right: she's too wise. She has an old head on young shoulders; too old a head for a child." It was Winifred's turn to stare at Niall. " Why are you talking to yourself like that ? " she asked. "It isn't polite." But the old man, who had been suddenly seized with a new idea, clasped his hands as if in desperate anxiety, and bent toward the child, crying: "You didn't tell her, daughter of the O'Bymes — you didn't tell her? Oh, say you didn't! For that would mean ruin— utter, blank ruin." Winifred looked at him with a flash of scorn that darkened her blue eyes into black, — a look of lofty indignation which struck me forcibly. " So that's all you know of me, Niall," she cried, " after the years that we've walked the glen together, and up the passes of the Croghans and down by the streams ! You think i 'i 34 A SINGULAR FIGURE. I could betray what I know to the first stranger that crosses my path ! " The man was struck dumb by the passionate cadence in the young voice, which went on reproaching, upbraiding, as some spirit of the mountain might have done. " Oh, you're a nice companion for me when you could say such a thing — you that taught me the secret of the stars, and how they shine down, down just on the spot where that which we seek lies hidden, and after showing me its gleam in the shining waters ! " ' " Miss Winifred," cried the old man, " forgive me ! " And he bent one knee before her. " I was thinking of the ordinary child, with its love of telling news; and not of the young lady, with the old blood in her veins and a mind of uncom- mon acuteness." " I don't want you to kneel to me," she said gravely, in her princess-like manner. " You're old and I'm young, and you should not kneel. Neither should I have spoken to you as I did. But you must not doubt me — ^you must not believe I could betray your secret." "Then you forgive me?" said the old man. "And, to show you how I do trust you, I'm going to give you another present, mavoumeen. Oh, the like of it you never saw!" He drew from his pocket as he spoke some object care- fully wrapped up in a handkerchief; but as he unwound the wrapping I distinctly saw the gleam of gold, and, to my astonishment, a very beautiful gold bracelet, apparently highly wrought. The old man displayed it upon a leaf which made a charming background. Winifred clapped her hands and fairly danced with joy, her eyes shining and her face glowing. " Oh, is that for me, you dear, good Nial! ? " she exdaimecl. A SINGULAR FIGURE. ^j For tlie third time in my hearing she called the man by his name. " It is for you, child of my heart, my beautiful little lady ! " said the man, gratified by her enthusiasm. " It is the most beautiful, far the most beautiful, you have given me yet." " It is a rare gem of art, of faultless carving and of the purest gold," said Niall, triumphantly. "Where did you get it, pray?" asked the child. The answer I did not hear, for the man stooped low and spoke m a whisper. I feared that, being discovered, I should find myself in an awkward predicament; so I thought only of beating a hasty retreat. In so doing I stumbled and fell. Fortunately, it was upon soft moss— the kindly breast of Mother Nature. Winifred's keen eyes saw what had occurred, and she ran mstantly to my assistance. I assured her that I was not hurt and, on rising, looked about for her strange companion. He had disappeared as completely as if the grassy sward had opened and swallowed him. The child did not say a word about his having been there; and, for some unexplained reason, I felt that I could not ask any questions. There was about her more than ever on this occasion that air of pride and reserve which was sometimes so noticeable. As soon, however, as she saw that I was unhurt she left me m a rather more unceremonious fashion than usual. She feared, perhaps, that I might refer to her conversation with the man whom she had called Niall. I watched her walking away more thoughtful than usual, her step scarcely touching deltir'"' '° ''^''* ^''' '^^' ^""^ ^ '"^^^"^'' ^t her singular When I reached the inn I took the landlord into my con- i 36 A SINGULAR F. jURE. fidence, to the extent of telling him that I had seen Winifred in company with a peculiar-looking man, and that he had seemed disturbed when she spoke of the lady from America. As I had overheard a chance conversation, I felt bound, of course, to say nothing of the bracelet, or of certain other allusions in the old man's discourse which had puzzled me. " Some do be sayin' that he has the Evil E\e," remarked the landlord, referring to Niall; "and, though meself doesn't hold much with them ould notions, there may be somethin' in what tho;y say, after all. For the colleen bringin' you into the discoorse mebbe turned his ill-will upon you and caused, p'raps, the fall you had." I smiled at this, assuring him that the fall had a very natural caupa, my foot having caught in the root of a tree. But I could see that he was still unconvinced and regarded Niall as a more dangerous individual than ever. And, find- ing it useless to argue, I retired to my room to think over the events of the morning. A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. S7 CHAPTER V. A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. It was not so very long after this occurrence that led on by the beauty of a moonlight night, I wandered somewhat farther than usual from the inn. The soft radiance of the full moon was streaming down ever that exquisite landscape I stood and gazed at a tiny stream which lay sparkling and shimmermg with magical brilliancy; and as I did so I saw commg through the dark masses of foliage on a mountain '^J'w'-'/T ^'' ^'''"'^ ^ ^^ ^^°'^ ^^^n i" "company w.th Wmifred. The man's outline seemed larger and more gaunt than before. I presume this was due to the uncertain flickenng light of the moon through the trees An impulse urged me to conceal myself, l" slipped into the shadow and watched Niall approach, with a curiosity which was full of awe. His head was up in the air, so that oret^dTH . T"" ""?'"""'' °' °'^ ^^° ''''' *« *tars and pretended to discover m them the se.rets of the future It was evident that he was making some calculation; fo; he stopped from time to time, counting rapidly on his fingers. knelt down. He peered into the clear depths so keenly that ^seemed as f he were counting the pebh-s on the bo'ttom so tht T .' '"""''"'' *° '''"'^^"' ''«' -l^'t^ unintelligibly, so that I caught not a word. At one point, where the nVule was sha,low. he felt with both hands very carefully forTme oTp^bSr '" '^"•^ """""^"^ '°^" ^^^" handfu'ls of^ir; 38 A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. Suddenly he threw up his arms with a strange, triumphant exultation; and, rushing in among the trees, he brought out something which seemed like a crock. He placed i: beside the stream ; and then, as I still watched and waited, his jubila- tion gave place to caution. He began to look all about him, stooping and shading his eyes with his hand so that he might better penetrate the gloom, while he turned his head in every direction. I wondered what he would do if he should discover me. The idea was, to say the least, uncomfortable at such a time a.id in such a place. All around darkness save for the light of the moon ; everywhere the intense stillness and soli- tude of a rustic neighborhood, in which all the world sleeps save those "who steal a few hours from the night." I was alone with this singular being, whose wild, grotesque appear- ance was enough to frighten any one; and once I thought I saw his burning eyes fixed upon me in my hiding-place. I scarce dared to breathe, fearing that every moment he would pounce upon me and drag me forth. But it was soon evident that he did not see me. His face lost its watchful look, and he advanced once more toward the moon-whitened stream where he had left his crock. He cast a hasty glance upward and I heard gealach—tht Gaelic word for the moon —pass his lips, coupled with that of Winifred; and then he began to take up what seemed like mud from the bed of the stream, filling the crock rapidly. When this was full, he seized the vessel and disappeared at a fearful rate, as it seemed to me, up the steep path by which he had previously descended. I was conscious of a great relief when I saw him vanish in a turn of the road; for there had been something uncanny even in the huge shadow which he cast behind him, and which brought out the weird- Bess of his figure and of his garments, as well as of his won- A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. 39 derful, sugar-loafed hat. I was afraid to come out from my hiding-place for soi.ie time, lest he might be looking down upon me from some dark place above. I went home, with a firm determination to discover, if possible, who was this singular person, what were his pur- suits, and whence he had come. I felt that on Winifred's account, at least, I should like to know more of her ill-chosen companion. I was certain that the landlord, though a natural gossip once his tongue was unloosed, would relapse into taci- turnity if I strove to make him throw light upon this mys- terious subject. My only hope lay in Granny Meehan. She seemed a reasonable and conscientious woman, certainly devoted to the girl. Therefore I would appeal to her to dis- cover if Niall were worthy of her confidence, if his dreamy and unsettled condition of mind made him a suitable com- panion for Winifred, and if such companionship would not disgust her with the realities of life, prevent her from acquir- ing a solid education and the training which befitted the sta- tion to which I believed her to belong. I had become deeply interested in the girl, though I had not as yet formed the project, which later developed itself, of taking her with me to America and putting her in one of the pelebrated convent schools there. Her condition even then seemed to me a sad and perilous one: her only guardian apparently a blind woman, who, despite her devoted affec- tion, had neither the power nor, perhaps, the will to thwart Winifred in anything. The girl's nature seemed, on the other hand, so rich in promise, so full of an inherent nobility, purity, and poetry, that I said to myself, sighing: " No other land under the sun could produce such a daugh- ter—one who in such surroundings gleams as a pearl amongst dark waters." 40 A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. I paid my second visit to the castle, therefore, on the very day after my moonlight glimpse of the mysterious Niall. It was a bright morning, flower-scented and balmy, with that peculiar balminess, that never-to-be-forgotten fragrance of the Irish atmosphere in the May time of the year. I stood still to listen to a wild thrush above me as I neared the castle, and the thrilling sweetness of its notes filled me with something of its own glee. Winifred was in the old courtyard feeding some chickens, gray and speckled and white, with crumbs of oaten bread and a bowlful of grain. She was laughing gaily at their antics and talking to the fowls by name : " No, Aileen Mor I You're too greedy : you're swallow- ing everything. Gray Mary, you haven't got anything. Here's a bit for you. No, no, bantam Mike, you can't have any more ; let the hens eat something ! " The large speckled fowl that Winifred had first addressed stalked majestically to and fro, snatching from its weaker brethren every available morsel; while the little ones ran in and ouf, struggling and fighting in the most unseemly man- ner over the food Winifred let fall. The child, on seeing me, nodded gaily. " See," she said, "how they fight for their food! They're ' worse even than children ! " Then she added in her pretty, inquiring way, with the soft modulation peculiar to the dis- trict: "I suppose, now, there are a great many fowls in America ? " " Oh, yes ! " I replied—" fowls of every sort I think you will have to come to America some time and see for your- self." A flush passed over her face, making it rosy red; then she said, with the curiously imperious manner which I had so often before noticed : A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. 4» "I am going there some time: I hai'e to go." She turned once more to the chickens, silently this time; and her manner, as p ain!y as possible, forbade me to ques- tion her. No child had ever impressed me in this way before. It was not that she was unchildlike nor what might be called old-fashioned; but she had that about her which was partly the effect, no doubt, of the peculiar deference with which she was treated by the blind woman and by Niall the wan- derer. "I suppose I may see Granny?" I remarked; and she answered : " Oh, yes ! She will be very glad. She is always in there near the hearth." I was glad that Winifred showed no disposition at the moment to abandon her occupation of feeding the fowls ; for I wanted to have at least a few words with good Mrs. Meehan on the subject of Winifred's association with the grotesque per- sonage whom local tradition seemed to invest with unusual if not unholy powers. I passed through the stone passage, and, entering the square room, found the blind woman, as before m statuesque attitude near the hearth, where on this occasion no fire was burning, its place being filled by an enormous bunch of clover, placed there by Winifred. The blind woman recognized me the moment I spoke. "You're heartily welcome, ma'am!" said she, smiling- and we went on to exchange a few commonplaces about the weather and so forth. It was a still day without, and we heard every once in a while the voice nf Winifred calling out her commands to the fowls; and presently she was in conversation with some one w'-.om Mrs. Meehan explained to be Moira, thei little maid-of-all-work. I I if' 4* A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. " Sure, then. Miss Winifred, we might go the night with Barney to bring home some of the sods of peat. Barney will be havin' the cart out, an' we may as well have the drive " Moira said. ' " Yes, I think I will go," said Winifred, " after the May prayers at the chapel. In, going, when tea's over, to pick a great posy for the Blessed Virgin's altar. But it will be moonlight and we can go after." "To be sure, we can. miss," assented Moira; adding the information that "Barney got a power of fine fish the day an he sold it all at Powersccur*, barrin' one big trout that's for yourself. Miss Winifred. An' the gentry over there gave him two shillin's, but he's puttin' them by to take him to Ameriky. "Every one has a craze for America," said Winifred's clear voice. " Even / am going there some day." " Musha, then, an' I hope you'll take me with you I " cried Moira, coaxingly; " for what would I be doin' at all at all without yourself?" ' " We'll see when the time comes," declared Winifred " I might take you-that depends. But you'd better not say any- thing about it; for perhaps if people got talking we mightn't go at all. "I'll be as secret as-as the priest himself in the confes- sional! promised Moira. "An' that's secret enough. But I can't help wonderin' what it would be like out there?" "It's a splendid place they say, with mountains and rivers, began Winifred. "Sure an' we have enough of them ourselves, with no disrespect to them that tould you," said Moira. "In America they are diflFerent," said Winifred, grandly "And, then, there are great forests—" A SECOND VISIT TO THE CASTLE. Ai Moira scratched her head dubiously. " With deer and Indians in them." "I'm afeard of Indians," commented Moira promptly. " I read a terrible story about them once in a book that lather Owep gave me." "Oh, well, we shan't be very near them if we go!" explained Winifred. "And it would be very fine to see them at a distance." " I'd rather not see them at all, if it's the same to you, miss," declared the determined Moira. " The deer, then, and the buffaloes and all the wild ani- mals, and grand cities, with shops full of toys and dresses and beautiful things." "Oh, it's the cities I'd like to be seein', with shops!" cried Moira. "We'll keep away from the hills and streams, Miss Winifred asthore, havin' them galore in our own coun- try. An' we'll keep away from the forests, for fear it's the wild Indians we'd be comin' across." Her tone was coaxing, with that wheedling note in it pecu- liar to her race. "Oh, it's to the cities I must go! " said Winifred. " But I don't know what a city is like, Moira. I can't make a picture of it to my eye. It is a big place, crowded with people, all hurrying by in a stream; and the shops—" "I seen a shop once!" exclaimed Moira. "There was things in the window. It was a thread-an'-needle shop I think." " There are all kinds in big cities," said Winifred ; " and I can't make pictures of them either. But once I remember —I just seem to remember— a strange place. Perhaps it was the street of a city, with shining windows on either side. A gentleman had me by the hand; and presently he put me ♦• A SECOND yiSiT TO THE CASTLE. before him on . horse and we galloped away, and I never •aw those things again." I heard these artless confidences of the young girl in the pauses of my own discourse with the blind woman, who heard them, too, and sometimes interrupted our talk with- "D'ye hear that now, ma'am?" or, "The Lord love her, poor innocent ! *^ But though I smiled and paused for an instant at such moments, I did not allow myself to be turned away from he mam object of my visit, and at last I burst boldly into the subject which was occupying my mind. THE SCHOOLMASTER. CHAPTER VI. THE SCHOOLMASTER. When I mentioned the strange apparition which I hart seen with Winifred on one of those mountam passes over- looking the Glen of the Dargle, I saw that Granny Meehan was troubled and that she strove to avoid the subject. " Winifred seems very intelligent," I remarked. "That she does," the old woman assented cordially. " Times there be when I'm afeard she knows too much." "Too much?" I inquired. Granny Meehan nodded as she added: " Some says that it serves me right for lettin' her go to school so long to the mad schoolmaster." Her voice sank almost to a whisper as she said the last words. "The mad schoolmaster!" I repeated, feeling that here was no doubt the clue for which I had been so long seeking. "Whist, ma'am dear! Don't speak that name so loud, —don't, for the love of God!" she interposed eagerly. "Why, Mrs. Meehan," I said warmly, "you are too sensible and too religious a woman to believe all the nonsense that is talked hereabouts." The old woman shook her head and hesitated a moment. " I'm not sayin' that I believe this, that or the other thing," she declared, almost dogge 'S.T f"^ '"' ^°'"'^- "er tone, running over and „g h! tft ' ''' '''"''' agamst the wrinlcled one of her nurse .Thr".^ ''^^"^ she said, "what the bog will Z iZ \u I "^' ^'^"""y'' ■ down upon it making fn \ i ""'^ ^''^ "^"o" shining after a Thile we sh7,-u^ Zfo "'f'^ ^'^=''°^^^ ^ ^^^^^ whip up his roan ho e andlinr ""^ "'' '"' ^^™^^ -" of ghosts and fairies.'' "^ ' ''°"''' ^'''^^""^ ^^ fear tall as a wSlowf ^'""^ ""''■ ''^^"' straight and S6 THE OLD CASTLE. " I told you I was going to America," she said coldly ; " but I suppose people have fancies out there just as well as we have, only of a diflFerent kind." There was a touch of shrewdness in this remark which amused me. " Well, I suppose you're right," I said. " But such things should be fought against everywhere — or, at least, kept in their proper place." " Fought against I " cried Winifred, with sudden warmth. "And what would the world 'be without fancies ? Just as dull as the bog without the moon." I felt that in a measure she was right, but I said nothing ; and she presently added, in her ordinary tone: " I think we had better go now to look at the castle. Another day I might not be able to show it to you." I rose at once to accompany her ; and then she added, with a half-petulant, half-playful air: " I suppose you will only care to see the bare walls. And that won't be much; for it's the fancies that give them beauty." " Forgive me, Winifred ! " I said. "And show me the old walls with your own light upon them — clothed with the tapes- try of your own fancy." Her face brightened and she regarded me with a winsome smile, saying: " Come, then, and I'll tell you everything ; and you may think what you like and say what you like. I won't get cross any more. And if you talk about what you do in America, I will just say in my own mind : ' Oh, I suppose they have the bog without the moonlight out there; and if they are satisfied, it doesn't matter I ' " "She is indeed too old for her years," I thought; "but THE OLD CASTLE. Winifred reflected. " Barney would not object, I thinfc " .h- a .. . >t may be best to ask him w T , ' '''^"'"^- " ""» and I know MoiA wouTd n^' s7J '"' "'"'"'"' "'*" ^-•• P^^haps you had woumT' ''^ '"' """^ "' '-' '^^'^^ "- -^.1 .hat I - Z i^rt;.;:.^ ^'""^•"^ "^'^'^ '^ -•««• And here -.^rio^ar^iUMtr rj; "• '°"^ ^*-« ^^-^^^ left Granny M^In Lh . I*^ *' '°°'" ^"ere we had and grew.^ore^^;, "o^;? *^^^^^ *"- ^^ -»-est grew that we dared not emer »„h , ''*'* ''""*' ^"'"O"*- «> Here owk and bats hZZ^l T"' ''^"'^^'''^ ''^'^y- m. with bated b^l' tt" S ' Jltj ?;,'' ^^^^'^ ^'^ time at midnight or knights with crnkSl f I'"' °"'^" came to halls into which stream J I ^Th ^^'" ^' nimous roofs. * * °* heaven from "We have games of hide-and-seek in .^ , rooms." said Winifred, laughing -^Oh .°^ ^""^ Moira and me tearing ;bout her^"," ' "°" °"^^' *° ^« r!f SB THB OLD CASTLE. We mounted at last to the donjon and looked down upon the moat, which was grass-Krown ; and upon the sally-ports in the walls and the battlements, time-stained and covered in places with ivy, the growth of centuries. " They used to give battle in those days," said Winifred. "Wasn't it fine to mount the flag on this tower and say to invaders that you would die before you gave up the castle ? " Her cheek glowed, and she tossed back the curls which were tumbling about her foreheadi "And then the trumpets would be sounding down below, and the horses of the knights neigh- ing, their lances shining, their banners waving. Oh, I wish I had lived at that time I " Her words had called up a vivid picture from the past, and for a moment I stood and let my eyes wander out far over the hills. But Winifred called to me, and, taking my hand, led me down the winding stairs again. After that we went in and out of a succession of apartments, bewilder- ing in their number and size ; all bare, lofty, stone-walled and stone-paved. Here and there a faded tapestry ctill lingered, or a banner fluttered in the breeze which stole in through many a crack and cranny. At each pause which we made my gfuide was able to tell me some entrancing story, some bit of legendar)- lore which had all the charm of reality. " If you know about the Red Branch Knights," said Wini- fred, " you must have heard of Cuchullin." " He is the Lancelot of Irish romance," I assented. " Well, I don't know anything about Lancelot," replied Winifred. " It doesn't matter for the moment," I said. " Lancelot was a knight of great valor, always doing noble deeds." " So was Cuchullin ! " cried Winifred, eagerly. " Oh, I. could tell you wonderful things he did, even as a boy!" —•I, THE OLD CASTLE. "Tellmeone.atanyrate.-lplcade,!. for the great Kine ConJir ^"^ ^'^'"K » ^'^^ smith hfd let o t a Z oL" 7" I'V""'' ""•^'"^>- ^•''^• Him that Cchuni: trcS The^^bo?" '°^^" '° "^" battle to the hound and slew Wm WK ' ."""' ""'' «^"^^' out that his hound was dead hJ . " '^' '""*'' ^°""'> the dog had tended hrSo^ I'j h^d?Vh7j?' '^^'"■^^ to watch the cattle an,i 7 ? ^ '^>' ^^^n oflFered strength CO d tUd ^k!"^'" *''' \ ''°""'' °^ ^1-1 Cu-Culann. or the doe of ^he 1"'*^ *'''" '^ ^" '=^"^'' dogs and .en in de^L^ herile "bu^I" ^^ •^"' very brave boy; and oh it is /fi ^ " ^'"' ^^ ^''^ » ^ "And to :. it wtlus' r ^oy'irCt in^^T^^^^ ' " he grew up to be as good and brave a J„'" " ' ""'"" stopped abruptly; and'::;LT T^ rr:;7'"'^-" her voice. ** ""t" awe in " Perh.„c r ? . ^ >'°" ''"°«' "-''o Finn was? " I repHed '^^ '^ '^ *'*= ^^'"'^ '^ '''^ P'"^«' o^ the Sc^h." "Perhaps so," said Winifred, indifferentlv ■ "h . t . - know anything about Fingal. This Finn f ^ ^ * called the Fianna Eirrinn H ''"^P;"" f°"ndcd an order haired, the fleet and v„„g ".Xf^^'^''^ ^°''^"- Jived on the Hill of W" ^ ' "^ *^'« '=°"'«^. who «o THE OLD CASTLE. It was quaint to hear Winifred telling these legend!^ or bits of ancient history in exactly the same language in which some older person had told them to her. I asked her to explain what kind of an order it was that this legendary hero had founded; and she told me it was a military order of knights who had sworn to defend the kingdom against foreign foes. She added that Finn possessed the gifts of poetry, of healing, and of second-sight — the latter from a fairy into whose palace he had succeeded in thrusting one hand. " It is really wonderful hpw you can remember all these old stories ! " " Niall has been telling them to me ever since I was a little child," replied Winifred; "and I remember a great many more. In that hall downstairs which you see from this gallery, the harper sang to a great company about the mines in these hills and the golden treasures buried in the earth — " She stopped abruptly, as if frightened, looking at me intently. But at the time her words conveyed very little to my mind except the poetic idea. " In that same great hall down there," said Winifred, " used to be set up ' the caldron of hospitality.' Every one that came was fed. Princes, nobles, minstrels, servants, pil- grims, beggars — each had a place at the big tables which used to be there." She paused and looked down, as if she could see the brilliant scene before her. " In the middle of the room there," she cried, " the chief Conal was warned by the spirit who watches over the castle that he was to die that day. He was very strong and brave and beautiful, and he didn't fear death a bit. He went to meet it; and in a battle, beside King Brian, he was killed by a Dane." We passed on, pausing at a great chamber, with windows ivy-hung, giving out upon that exquisite scenery which has THE OLD CASTLE. "f " famous the name of Wicklow. nills, whencr I looked out 6i the : over with a golden"h7zr """ "" ""■"^' '^''^""^ ">- '""niined "■^^^^- ^"■^«^^'' Winifred remarked. ^ "A., good ci^:Scsr27 JtJ ".r °"vr'"- Americans." ' ^ **'"' «ven if they are " Of course this is a lewnd " w -t j Father Owen-my dear VX >. "^ ^''"* °"; "and the legends told of'tll sain'^^;'" °"'=r*°'' ""^ *^* "« -" ::isHou,d„ketoVe::t"rr::;:^:^---^^^ Once St. Bridget wa« nn , ■ Pinions, and stopped to ask hoi! r^T ^'^ *°'"* ~n,- away with his hi^rfor i„ oM r ' ""' '''' "'''''■ "«= -- had a harper. Bur*; Zl 1 '""'^ ^"^^ '^^''"n brought in their guests to he ha^ T '* ''°'"^' ''"'' ^^^^ for them. While^hey were at 1..'"''''' ''"* '^ '^^q-'et at the han,s and aske^thTsl to 'v T ^"'^ '""''^ "^ replied: 'Alas- honored i; l^^t"" ""' ""''=• ^"'^^ harper, and neither my brother Z .r !' ^"^^^ ^'* «"'• But if you will bless our fin' "'''"^ '""' ^'^" '« "^ic Bridget then touctd the r fi„ ^"f' ''' *° ^'^'^^ y--' and when the bro^J s s^ dowft^ tr'h ^^ ^ °^ "^^ -"' n'usic as was never heard IS iVn T '^'' P'^'^^'^ ""^h and he stood spellbounTai the " *' *"** *='''^^ '^^ ■« were bnn^ng'^romTVa'r^ T« -"^jf ^^? "^^ ^ much, for thev harf „. , . "s*- He wondered very St. Bridgett'u'dtr; ?r. '^'°"=- ""* -"- ''^ - This old castle is full of beautiful legends" T k Yes." said Winifred. "Niall ,J. u . °^"'^''".<1, I .n.;Z.""" ^"^ '™'"'' " '" P""'" «•'« cke.,.- fii WINIFRED'S THEASURES. right casket should win her. Each suitor had to guess. The first of those caskets was gold — " " Oh, you knew before I " interrupted the girl. "Knew what?" " I don't understand how you could have guessed so quickly." " But I have guessed nothing," I said. " I only mentioned that the first casket was of gold." " Oh, I thought you meant to tell irse in that way that you knew what was in my box!" Winifred explained. I stared and she suddenly witlidrew the cover. My eyes were almost dazzled. "There is gold in my box, — real pure gold," said the young girl. And gold there was, amazing both in quality and quantity. Winifred saw my astonishment, with innocent triumph. " Look at that ! " she said, detaching from the mass of shining m-^l a crown, which she held up for my inspection. While I looked she drew forth several other articles, all of peculiar make but of dainty and delicate design, some more richly wrought than others. There wvre collars, biwches, rings, bracelets, — ^thin bracelets, such as were worn in the olden days by kings and warriors. " My dear," I said, " this is wonderful— like some Irish edition of the 'Arabian Nights.' I feel as if I had got into the cave of the Forty Thieves or some such place. Where on earth did thoae things come from?" " I can't answer questions," Winifred said; "but I wanted you to see them, they are so beautiful and so very oH. Ocs»- sionally I take them out to play with tiiem." " Costly playthings ! " I rrummred. "And since they arc so old, how did they come to be so bright?" WINIFREiys TREASURES. ^ Winifred grew red as she explained: Somebody polishes them with stuff to make them bright but you mustn't ask who." *^ *' "But. my dear child. I ought to tell you that I know The flush faded from the girl's face. leaving it very pale ^ Ah. must have betrayed his secret, then I" she cried He trusted me and I was false! " "Yon have not done so intentionally. I was in the wood one^day when you were given a bracelet-" fr^rf .JT- °'^^"'^*- ''«'^ause you never spoke of it," Wini- fred sa.d. .n such real distress that I was oniranxious'toTl- "You need not be afraid. Since you trust me so far as 1 snau Keep the rest of the secret." "That is different," observed Winifred "He toM ^ over and sit near me." * ^ ^°°' She did so. her dark curis almost resting on my Ian She shook her head. "No; Tf^i""' *° '^' ^"•^^*^°"^'" ''he exclaimed. hcTstlytlfe by? "^ ^°" ^"" *^* *- °™~ are Wimfr«i sprang to her feet, her face crimson as upon 66 WINIFREffS TREASURES. that day when I had made the blunder about Granny's sight. " For shame I " she cried—" for ihame I How could you think of such a thing? Niall, who is so good and who is giving his whole life for one purpose ! " I did feel unaccountably ashamed of myself. " You must remember that I do not know Niall," I argued. " Do you think evil of people without even knowing them ? " Winifred cried impetuously. " If that's the way they do in America, I don't want to go there, and I won't go there." " It is the way of the world, as you will find when you are older," I replied somewhat sharply ; for I was vexed at being put in the wrong by this child. Having been treated with deference by all about her since her infancy, she knew little of the respect due to those who were older; and only such religious training as she had received from Father Owen, with an innate sense of propriety and a natural courtesy, prevented her from being that most objectionable of beings — a spoiled, selfish child. I saw that Winifred was already ashamed of her vehe- mence, and I pointed to the stool at my feet " Sit down again, little one," I said, " and let me finish what I have to say; for I think it is my duty to speak out." She obeyed in silence, and after a brief pause I went on: " This is how it all appears to me, or would appear to any one of experience. The man Niall seems poor, leads a strange, solitary life, and yet he gives you articles of great value. There is, to say the least of it, a mystery as to how he pro- cures them." Winifred said not a word, but sat still with downcast eyes. "And, since I am upon the subject," I added, " I may as WINIFREDS TREASURES. (^ wdl tell you that he is not, in my opinion, a suitable com- pamon for you." "Not a suitable companion!" the girl repeated, raising her eyes to my face in astonishment. " Niall, who has taught me nearly everything I know! Why, if it had not been for him I should have been as ignorant as Moira. I love him as if he were my father." •^He has taught you a great deal that is wild and vision- ary, I argued. " You know nothing of the realities of life You are content to lead this wandering, aimless existence! when hfe has real duties, and, as you must find, real cares and sorrows." This reproach seemed to touch her; for, with one of those strange flashes of intuition, she seemed at once to catch my meaning. "But how can Niall help that?" she cried. "He has been very kind to me. He told Granny to teach me my pray- ers, and took me to Father Owen himself, so that I could go to confession and make my first communion; and he spends hs whole hfe working for me. What should I do without h! Wind " °° °"' "'" """^ **"*' °'** ^^^J'' ^^ *>>« c TT: T *°'"'=*'"» «> P«*etic in the way all this was said that, almost mvoluntarily, the tears came into my eyes I b^n to realize that the, man had done and was doing lTlT.t ? **' ''*''' °^ "•"' disregarded treasures I formed the resolve, m spite of all difficulties, to take the child with me to America. She might return later to be the guardian spint of this old home and to repay Niall and good Granny Meehan for the devotedness with which they had watched over her childhood. But she must first acquire that 68 WINIFRED'S TREASURES. knowledge of the world, the real world of her own day, in which she was now so deficient. There was little reason to doubt from her appearance that she was indeed, as Granny Meehan had said, of a fine old stock. Therefore she must be educated as a lady. I should try, if possible, to solve the mystery concerning her parents ; and then I should take her with me to the great country beyond the seas, where the wildest dreams are occasionally realized; and where, at least, there is opportunity for all things. I knew, however, that this would mean diplomacy. If I were to broach the subject to her just then, she would probably refuse to come. I must first win her; and I must gain the confidence of Niall, if that were at all possible. He would understand far better than this child of nature the advantages of a journey to the New World and of a good education there. " I wish you knew Niall ! " Winifred said, with a sudden- ness which startled me,— it was so like the echo of my own thoughts. "I wish so too!" I replied fervently. " But it is very hard. He does not like strangers ; and he seems to dislike people from America most of all." "That is very unfortunate!" I said, laughing. "Yes," assented Winifred. "Still, he might like some of them very well — if he knew them." She said this with the utmost simplicity. I did not tell her that I was going to seek Niall's acquaintance; for I feared she might warn him and he might disappear, as was his wont from time to time, or take other means of prevenv ing me from carrying out my purpose. I told her, instead, that I must be going; that I had had a most delightful day and was charmed with her castle and her legends. JVmiFRBiys TREASURES. 69 "How grand it must have been when it was a real castle," she said; "and when there was an abbey near by, with a church, and the monks singing! It was one of the race who founded that abbey, in thanksgiving for having been saved from great danger." "Ah, those were the days of faith!" I exclaimed. "And whatever evil the people did they repaired it nobly by pen- ance and by the great monuments they built up." As we turned to leave the room I asked Winifred: '•Are you going to leave all these valuable things here?" Why, of course!" she answered in surprise. " Can't you ever lock them up? " Winifred burst out laughing. ''Lock them up!" she said. "Why should I do that?" ' To save them from being stolen." "As if anything was ever stolen here! I can assure you there isn t a robber in the whole countryside." "Why, that is as wonderful as your treasures!" I exclaimed, as we went in to where Granny Meehan sat as usual, placidly by the fire, a great cat purring and rubbing Its furty sides against her gown. The animal fixed on me that glance of grave scrutiny with which these feline creatures appear to read one's whole history, past, present and to come • after which she arched her back and lay down near the hearth Wmifred walked down with me a piece of the way after I had said farewell to Granny Meehan, who had heard my glowing praises of the castle with flushed cheeks, down which stole a tear or two of pride. When we were parting. Wini- fred remarked wistfully: "I think, perhaps, Niall and I are diflFerent from anv other people. But it's no use trying to change us: we shall always be the same." T> A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. CHAPTER IX. A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. It was a lovely night when I set out with the merrymakers to the bog in search of peat Barney was full of drollery, a typical Irish lad such as I had not seen in Wicklow before ; and Moira, though at first fulfilling Winifred's predictions by sitting silently with her heels kicking together where they hung out of the cart, and her head hanging down, after a while awoke to the spirit of fun and frolic that was abroad. "Ah, then, Danny avick, will you move on I " cried Barney to the horse. " Is it standin' still you'd be, yon Tory, and Miss Winifred in the cart and the strange lady from Amer- ica?" The horse seemed moved by this adjuration, as well as by a touch of the whip, and trotted along the shining, silent road. "I should enjoy a run with Moira on this road!" said Winifred. "Get down, then, and have your run," I answered. " Barney and I will easily keep you in sight." " You will not mind if I leave you for a little while ? " asked Winifred. "No, indeed, dear. Barney and I will entertain each other." Barney pulled up the horse. "Be still, you spalpeen," he cried, "and let Miss Wni- f red down ! " A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. 7, The horse, nothing loath, stood still. Winifred leaped lighUy to the ground, followed more clumsily by Moira. "Ah, then, Moira," exclaimed her brother, "will you be all night gettin' out of the cart?" Moira made no answe.. Her red cheeks were aglow with delight at the prospect of escaping for a time from my embar- rassmg company and having a run along the grass-bordered road. Winifred stopped a moment or two to pet the horse. " Poor Danny ! " she said. " Barney is always calling you names. But you don't mind; do you, Danny?" The horse seemed to answer that he did not in the least, rubbing his nose against the child's arm in a gratified way.' Then Winifred gave the word, and together the two girls were off, their happy voices coming back to us as we drove leisurely along in the soft, balmy air. They stopped now and agam to pick flowers from the hedge or to seek out daisies and wild violets in the fresh grass; while Barney kept up a series of droll remarks,— sometimes addressed to the horse, sometimes to me. " I hear you're thinking of taking a trip to America, Bar- ney," I remarked. " True for you, ma'am— between now and Doomsday. I'm afeard it will be that long before I get the passage money together." " Why should you be so anxious to leave this beautiful country ? " I said. "Why?" exclaimed Barney, casting a shrewd glance at me. " Oh, then, sure it's meself that's had enough of beauty without profit I want to go where I'll get paid for my work and be able to hold up my head with a dacent hat upon it "' I 7» A MOOSLICHT EXPEDITION. As he ipoke he took off and surveyed his own head-cover- ing, which was of the kind described but too accurately as a caubeen. I could not help laughing at the gleam of humor which shot out of his eyes — good eyes they were, too. " Oh, you villain of the world, is it straight into the hedge you want to drive the lady from America? What'U she be thinkin' of you at all for an unmannerly beast?" The animal, being unable to answer these reproaches, shook out his mane again, and resumed his jog-trot till he came up with the two girls, who, out of breath from their exertions, were glad to jump into the cart. And so we drove on till we came at last to the bog. It was a strange, wild scene, with the moon shining over it in broad patches of silver, showing the green turf here and the black ground there, with mounds of earth arising ghost-like, and clamps of turf left drying for use, and the clusters of trees, frag- ments of old-time forests. We all got down from the cart, whence Barney produced a slane, or turf-spade. He wanted to cut and leave to dry a bemum of sods, and so set to work without delay. He cut around till the sods were of sufficient depth; then he dug them up, and, turning them over, he left them to dry. He explained to me that they had afterward to be " footed "— that is, made into parcels,— and then put into rickles, which are turf-sods piled upon each other to a certain height ; and lastly into clamps, which are tall stacks. Moira took a turn at the spade, her face growing redder with the exertion. Winifred ran over to her. "Let me have a turn," she said; "you know I like to dig." And dig Winifred did, in spite of the protestations of Barney and Moira. The former said to me: w Ing^ the ,, 'ually A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. wh«tl.„ hr«,gh the tree, beyant a. to «op Mu. Wimfred wden shes set on anything I" He watched her with a comical lo. k ,. t.ie p.n slane into the earth, cutting with gr :^ p^x ■ r, -nn raising two or three sods. "D'ye see that now?" cried the rutic. «vh , of admiration and amusement. "Oh but you're the wonder of the- .v.r),i Mi-s Winifred ashore!" cried Moira. "When it w.. . T , .oul.t do io raise the sod meself I " th.l.'l?'^ ?'" ''""■'^ themselves in removing some of ?nt r r'"" '* "^^^^ •" *' '="^- ™' ''-•=' Wini- rinr?""*' !"*" 'I**" '°°' ^°"^ »"<' 2''™«y' There's a fairy !. ir f.""^ *' " ''""^' «•»"* it in the moonlight" The blessm' of God between us and harm I " cried the akrmed boy and girl in a breath. « I, it dandn' in a fairv ring you'd be doin'?" ""^ "cZT'tfTr'^ rr'"'* *'•"'" *« "'<• imperiously. Come!-the lady and I are waiting for you •' sho!t"^ *i''' '!'"'^""' ^ ^ ^' ^^"^''■■d "* o"«, to show them that a fairy ring was no more to me than a p^tch of earth where the grass was softer and greener, and which was now whitened by the moon. And dance we did. Though Barney and Moira were afraid of the fairies, they were still more afraid of displeasing Winifred. I stopped at last, hold- ing my sides with merriment a-d begging of Winifred to let me rest She threw herself, in a very spirit of mischief on top of a mound. This proceeding evoked exclamations of horror from Moira and Barney. 74 A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. " To lie upon a rath ! " groaned Moira. " It's bewitched you'll be and tumin' into something' before our eyes." "Or spirited away underground!" added Barney; "or laid under a spell that you'd ever and always be a child." " I'd like that," remarked Winifred, settling herself more comfortably upon the mound. " I don't want to grow up or be old ever." She gazed up at the moon, seeming to see in its far-shin- ing kingdom some country of perpetual youth. " She'd like it 1 The Lord save us ! " cried Barney. " It's wishin' for a fairy spell she is. Come away. Miss Winifred dear, — come away, if you're a Christian at all, and not a fairy as some says." Moira uttered an exclamation, and, darting over to Bar- ney, dealt him a sounding slap on the ear. " How dare you talk that way to Miss Winifred ! " she cried. "And how dare you slap Barney for repeating what fool- ish people say I " broke in Winifred. " I'm ashamed of you, Moira ! " She stood up as she spoke, confronting both the culprits. Barney's face was still red from the slap, as well as from a sense of the enormity he had committed in repeating to Miss Winifred what he supposed had been kept carefully from her. Moira's lip quivered at her young mistress's reproof, and she seemed on the point of crying; but Winifred spoke with exceeding gentleness. " I'm sorry I was so hasty," she said ; " but, you see, Bar- ney spoke only for my good, and you should have had patience with him." "And I ask your pardon for the words I said," Barney began, in confusion. A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. 75 "You needn't, Barney," said Winifred. "You only told me what j'ou hear every day." Then, turning to me, she added: "So you won't be surprised when I do anything strange. For, you see, I'm only a fairy, after all; and a mischievous one at times." Her face was all sparkling with smiles, and the very spirit of mischief looked out oi her eyes. " I'll be laying spells on you to keep you here." " I may be weaving a counter one to take you away," I ventured. She looked a little startled, but went on in the same play- ful tone, as she turned back again to the bewildered boy and girt: " I'll be enchanting the pair of you, so that you will be standing stock-still just where you are for a hundred years, staring before you." At this they both took to their heels with a scream, Wini- fred in pursuit. "And I'll turn Danny into a dragon and send him flying home with the turf." There were muffled exclamations of terror from the flying pair. " I think I'll make you into a goose, Barney, with a long neck, thrusting yourself into everybody's business; and Moira into a pool where you can swim." " Och, och ! but the child is temptin' Providence ! " cried Moira, coming to a stand at some distance off. " Here in this place of all others ; and close by the rath where the gentle- folks is listenin' to every word, and she makin' game of them to their faces ! " " Mebbe she is a fairy, after all ! " muttered Barney, under his breath : for he feared a repetition of Moira's prompt chas- tisement. But this time indeed he was beyond the reach of fS A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. her arm, and Moira herself was in a less warlike mood. A sudden shadow, too, fell over the moon, so that we were in darkness. It was a cloud of intense blackness, which fell like a pall on the shining disc. " See what comes of meddlin' with them you know ! " cried Barney, while even Winifred was sobered; and the three crept toward the cart, Barney and Moira shivering with fright Barney whipped up the unconscious horse, who had much relished his stay upon the bog, and was only urged into activity by the prospect of going home. " Go now, then, Danny avick !" Barney whispered. " It's not bein' turned into a quare beast of some kind you'd wish to be. Get us away from here before the good people comes up out of the rath; for there's no tellin' what they'd do to us." " Hear how he talks to the horse ! " said Winifred, who was now seated again beside me, her curls dancing with the jolting of the cart. "As if Danny knew anything about the good people!" "Oh, doesn't he, then. Miss Winifred!" cried Barney. " It's meself has seen him all or atremble from me whisperin' in his ear concemin' them." " You just imagine it, Barney," said Winifred. "And is it / imagine it?" exclaimed Barney, aggrieved; while Moira sat in terrified silence, peering from side to side into the darkness as if she expected to see the avenging good people waiting for us along the road. We were nearly at the castle gate before Barney resumed anything of his former spirits and ventured on a joke or two. But Winifred was tht merriest of the merry, and kept me laughing immoderately all alone the moonlit way, as wc jolted and jogged. She insisted tiiat the cart wheels sang a song, and made up rhymes "i^ii^, A MOONLIGHT EXPEDITION. yj to the musical sounds which she pretended she could hear so plainly. I often look back to that evening with peculiar pleasure. Winifred was at her best: most childlike, most natural, thor- oughly enjoying every moment of the beautiful summer night ; so that the doubt came over me whether it was better, after all, to remove her from this idyllic life amongst the Irish hills. The sober common-sense, however, of next morning confirmed me in my previous opinion, and I took the first step toward the realization of that design by seeking an inter- view with the schoolmaster. H^^ mu^,^^i^,:-r A VISIT TO THE SCHOOLMASTER. CHAPTER X. A VISIT TO THE SCHOOLMASTER. I SET out, with Barney as my guide; but Barney had stoutly declared that he would go only a part of the way, as he did not want to trust himself anywhere in the neighbor- hood of the schoolhouse. " Sure I went to school there for the length of a whole winter," he said ; " and the master drove the lamin' into my head. He was a kind man, except when the anger rose on him. But I was afeard of him, and at long last I ran away and hid, and wouldn't go next or nigh him any more." " You were very foolish," I remarked. " He could have given you an education and prepared you to go to America, if such is your intention." But Barney was not to be moved in his opinion, and went ©n beside me in dogged silenor till we came to a turn in the »o«d. where he left me. refusing to go a step further. " Yoo ca«'t miss the road now. ma'am," he declared " Jtwt push ^ong the way you're goin' till you come to the next turn and then yoaTl have the schoolhouse foremmt I thanked him and walud on in the path directed, die coo! mountain aoV famw^ my cheeks, which were heated by the walk, ft was an enchanting scene, and I stopped more than OBce befc'e reaiehin|^ that turn in the road described b>' Barney There, Weltered to some extent by an overha. f^ng crag, stood tiie canifl of the " mad schoolinaster," in one of ^m^gmm^wmt^/fi^^j^mi'jmm' A VISIT TO I HE SCHOOLMASTER. j^ the loveliest, a? it wiM> «ie of the wildest, spots in all that beautiful region I hesitated bu< an instant ; then, stepping forward, knocked at the door, f opened it, after I had knocked several times without receiving any answer, and entered the cheerless schoolroom. It was quite undisturbed, as though this remark- able man still expected scholars. The rude seats were there, the cracked slates, the table which had served as the master's desk ; a map or two still hung upon the wall. A heap of ashes was on the hearth ; above it, hanging from a hook, the iden- tical iron pot in which Niall, it was said, had been seen to boil the stones. There was something weird in the scene, and I felt a chill creeping over me. It required all my common- sense to throw off the impression that the rustic opinion of the occupant of the cottage might be, after all, correct. As I looked around me and waited, the blue sky without became suddenly overclouded. I stepped to the window. A glorious sight met my eyes, but I knew that it meant noth- ing less than a mountain storm; and here was I in such a place, at a considerable distance from home. Mass after ma; s of inky-black clouds swept over the mountain, driven by the wind, obscuring the pale blue and gold which had been so lately predominant. The wind, too, began to rise, blowing in gusts which swept over and around the cabin, but merci- fully left it imharmed, because of the protection afforded by the high rock. But it rattled the windows and whistled and blew, and finally brought the rain down in a fearful tor- rent. Flashes of lightning leaped from crag to crag, uniting them by one vast chain. Each was followed by a roar of thunder, re-echoed through the hills. It was an awhi! scene, and I treiiiblcd with an unknown fear, especially when I felt rather tlian saw that some one So A VISIT TO THE SCHOOLMASTER. was close behind me. I turned slowly widi that fascination which one feels to behold a dreaded object; and there, quite near me indeed, stood the schoolmaster. I suppose his com- ing must have been unnoticed in the roar of the tempest. I could not otherwise account for his ptesence. The strange cloak, or outer garment, which he wore seemed perfectly dry ; and I wondered how he could have come in from such rain apparently without getting wet. The smile upon his lips was certainly a mocking one; and as I faced him thus I felt afraid with the same cold, sickly fear. His eyes had in them a gleam which I did not like — of cunning, almost of ferocity. " You have come," he said, without any previous saluta- tion, " to pry into a mystery ; and I tell you you shall not do it. Rather than that you should succeed in the attempt I would hide you away in one of those hills, from which you should never escape." I strove to speak, but my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth; and I could only ga;'.e into those strange, gleaming eyes of his, from which I was afraid to remove my own. " You have come from America," he said ; " perhaps it is to get her. And that you shall never do till my plans are completed." " To get whom ? " I faltered out " Whomf " he thundered in a terrible voice, which set me trembling more Aan erer. " You know whom. You are trying to win Winifred from me — ^the child of my heart, beautiful as the mountain stream, and wayward as the breeze that stirs its surface." lEs face changed and softened and his very voice sunk to one of peci'liar sweetness as he spoke of the child. But ir. an instant again he had resumed his former wildness and harshness of tone and demeanor. A VISIT TO THE SCHOOLMASTER. ' You are trying to win the child from me," he 8i went on ; "to destroy my influence over vTvi , ^„ njyijvv my plans, DUl yoB shall not do it— I lay you shall not do it! " He gla«d i«o my face a. h, spoke, with an expression which only too closely resembled that of a wild beast. Words rose to my lips. I hardly knew what I said. "But are you not a Christian-you are a God-fearing man? ° It was a strange question, and he answered it with a sneer tearful to see. "God-f«tring? I used to be so when I knelt, a gossoon, at my mothers knee; and when, a stripling, I led the village d.«r^ But so I am not now. I hav- only o.e god, and that He brought out the words with a fearful power, as though he hurled them against something. His voice actually rose above the storm, and he- threw back his head as though in defiance of the very heavens hithtrtot::' ' ""* ' ''^' ^'* ""^' •=°"^'*^ *- ' ^'^ "If aU that is true," I said, "surely you will see yourself tnat you are no companion for Winifred." "No companion for my little lady? "he repeated in sur- prise, with that same softening of his face and tone I had the rock guards the little flower which grows in it. crevice as the gardener guards a cherished plant, as the miner guards' st i^ T '^"'' *'' ^* ''''^ ^^ '"t° which sne will have to =■?-- Wh- i^-^ --, . , "•" ^^"^' ^ >*"«:' Owen mmselt has scarce doae more for her on the sco« of religion. I tell her tales A VISIT TO 7> £ SCHOOLMASTER. of the saints and holy people who sleep in the soil of Ire- land; but all the while I am a sinner — a black sinner — with but one god, whom I worship with all my might, and for whom I slave day and night" "You can not be what you say if '-i Lave done all that for Winifred," I ventured. " I am wiiat I say ! " he cried, turning on me with a snarl. "And so you shall find if you attempt to meddle with me; for I have a secret, and if you were to discover that — " he paused — " I believe I would kill you ! " My fear was growing every instant, till I felt ftat I must faint away with the force of it; but I stammered out: " I don't want to meddle with you or to discover your secret; I want to find out if you are a safe companion for Winifred, and if you will help me in a plan I have in view." "A plan ? " he said wildly. " I knew it was so. A plan to take Winifred away, to undo all my work, to thwart the plans which I have had in my mind for years! Beware how you make the attempt — beware, I tell you I " A sudden inspiraticm, perhaps from above, came to me, and I said as steadily as possible: " It would be far better than making all these idle threats to confide in me and tell me as moch or as little of your plans as you please. I am a stranger; I have no object in inter- fering in the affair, except that I am deeply interested in Winifred, and would do anything pos.s child to him. But it must be through me that this restoration is effected; and I must at the same time offer him the means of repairing the old castle and taking up again the hfe of a country gentleman." ''Have you any reason to think he is living?" I asked Oh, I do not know!" Niall answered mournfully For many years he ,„t remittances and inquired for the child, saying that he .ould one day claim her. Lately both money and letters have ceased. A rumor reached me-I scarcely know how-that Roderick had married a second wife. Even if that be true, he must have changed indeed If he can forget his own child. I am haunted forever by t fear that he may, after all, be dead; or that, living, he ..t one day claim Winifred and take her away from Ire- land forever. And that I will never permit" coni ^t ''^^ "^'^"^ ""^ ^"°*'''' °"*'''^; »>«* it did not come He went on, m a caH and composed tone of voice: I must confess that when I heard you were here-" You fancied, perhaps, that I was the second wife'" I said, smihng. ^ "What I fancied matters little I" he cried almost here on such a mission, you should return disappointed." 90 THE SCHOOLMASTER'S TALE. " Now, I may as well admit," I said deliberateh', " that I have had thoughts of carrying Winifred away." He started. " Not as the result of a preconcerted plan," I hastened to add ; " for I never heard of Winifred nor of the castle till I came here, and I could not even now tell you the name of her father. I have heard him spoken of merely as Roderick." " Roderick O'Byrne," said Niall, fixing his keen eyes upon my face. It was my turn to start and to color violently, with the sudden recollection. ■• " So you do, perhaps, know Mr. Roderick O'Byrne, after all ? " said the schoolmaster, dryly ; and I saw that his former suspicions were revived. " Know him? Why, yes. Bit as the father of Winifred — ^no. "And where, may I ask, have you met him ? " "In New York city." He bent eagerly forward. "Tell me — oh, tell me how long ago was that?" " Within the last six months." "Then he is still aHve?" " He was when I sailed from New York," I assented. Tears which he could not repress forced themselves from the old man's eyes and flowed down his cheeks. They were tears of joy and relief. " O Roderick ! " he murmured ; " dear Roderick, son of my heart, you are upon the green earth still, and I feared you had left it for evermore ! " " Moreover," I went on, " you are altogether wrong in supposing he is married again." THE SCHOOLMASTEHS TALE. 91 "What's that you say?" he cried joyfully. "Living and still a widower ? " " Living and still a widower." " You are sure of that ? " " Quite sure." Niall muttered some exclamation in Irish, the meaning of which I did not know ; then he turned upon me with a beaming smile. " You are as the dawn that heralds a bright day, as the sun that peeps from out a dark cloud, as a flower thrusting its head through the snow ! " I sat watching the schoolmaster with real gratification at the pleasure I had given him. Then he asked : "He never spoke to you of Winifred?" " Never." " Nor of Wicklow ? " " Nor of Wicklow." " He has forgotten Ireland ! " cried the old man bitterly. " He has become Americanized, as they all do." "On the contrary," I observed. "I heard him .-peak once of Ireland, and in a way I shall never forget." He looked at me with sudden keenness, even suspicion; and I smiled. " I know what you are smiling at ! " Niall cried, with one of those quick flashes of intelligence which reminded me of Winifild. "Do you?" I said, laughing outright. "Well, then, I may as well tell you I was smiling at the suspicion I saw in your eyes— smiling at the contrast between my gray hairs and wrinkles and Roderick O'Byrne as I saw him last." "Yet Roderick is no boy," argued Niall. "Roderick is close to forty." 9* THE SCHOOLMASTERS TALE. " He has the secret of perpetual youth." I said, warming at the remembrance. "Winifred has it too; she will never grow old. But now my heart is more than ever in your plans, and I should like to possess your entire confidence,— to know for instance, how the wealth is to be obtained with which to restore the ancient castle." "That," said Niall, impressively, "is the secret which hitherto I have shared with no one save Winifred, and which I am about to impart to you. But remember your promise IS as solemn, as binding as an oath." "I remember," I said; "and I tell you once more that no W..H of your secret shall ever be repeated by me to any one without your express permission. Take my word for it " Niall stood up and looked all about him, examined the door and the window, went outside and walked around the cabin, tried the chinks in the walls; and when he was quite convinced that no living thing was in the vicinity, he drew a stool near, and, laying his sugar-loaf hat upon the floor began to pour into my ears a tale which seer-id almost magical. His appearance changed, too, as Tie went on with his narrative. His eyes, alight with enthusiasm, presently took on an expression merely of greed. The craving for gold was written on every line of his face. It was so plain a lesson agamst avarice that involuntarily I shuddered He tossed his hair from his forehead, while Vis futures worked convulsively; and it was only when he left tilt part of the subject which related to mere gold, and rose once more to the plan he had in view of restoring the old castle, that he brightened up again. Then I saw in him one of those mysterious resemblances which run through a race: a like- ness to Roderick-gay, handsome, and comparatively youne- a likeness to Winifred herself. THE SCHOOLMASTERS TALE. „ I had a curious feeling of unreality as I sat there and listened. The oI•- -'^'"^'■- ;;Pray wha, do they teach at those convent schools?" They teach the.r pupils to be Christian la.lies - I answered warmly. ' * He was silent ajrain for a moment or two, then I,e went on : I have grounded her in ail her studies, and if she con see her again. Even if I r,r, . . "'^''* "^^"^ r; pt;. ' '"• "°~ "■"""- •« —<■ "p«. ..i But he might refuse." likeVdrelm of "'' """^ °^" ^"'^ P'^' -"ich seemed ' mu'i^gs ""'""• ^"* ^'^"'^ -'- "--^e in on my " ''°"" ' '^* '"'^ ^'^'"' ^° -th you. it is on condition that 98 THE SCHOOLMASTER'S SECRET. she does not see Roderick until I give my consent ; and should I want her back here in the meantime, she must come." " She is not to see her father?" " No, no ! She must go direct to the school, and Roderick must not know of her presence there." " It seems hard ! " I murmured. " Hard! But does he deserve better?" said Niall. " For whatever cause, he has left Winifred to my care and that of Mrs. Meehan all these years." "That is true,'' I responded ; "and I accept the conditions." " It will be the saddest moment of my life when I see my little lady depart," Niall exclaimec| ; and already his face was drawn and haggard and his voice husky at the prospect. " Rut should my dream be realized, she will acquire the manner, the accomplishments, the graces which our Wicklow hills can not furnish. You are right; she must go." I was at once touched and astonished at his ready com- pliance with my wishes. I had feared it might be a tedious task to overcome his objections. But the clear mind of the man had at once perceived the advantages of my plan. " You see, I am putting entire trust in you. I am con- fiding Winifred to you. I have already told you my secret." " You shall never have cause to regret either," I cried warmly. "And as for the conditions, they shall be put down in writing, and Winifred shall be restored to you when and where you desire." " What will these hills be like without her ! " he exclaimed, rising and going to the window. There was again that wildness in tone and manner as of a mind which had become somewhat unsettled by the strange, wandering life he had led, vvith its fever of suspense and excitement. THE SCHOOLMASTERS SECRET. „ " What will the greensward be Hke, child of my heart, when your foot no more shall press it? What will the hills be like when your eyes— asthore machree !— shall not look upon them? And the Glen of the Dargle shall have lost its charm when you are not there, its spirit ! " He tossed his anns above his head and rushed wildly from the cabin. I waited for a time ; but as he did not return, I slowly followed the homeward path, content with what I had accomplished for one day, but wondering much at the strange revelations which Niall had made. Before I reached home I suddenly met Winifred. Her face was clouded, and at first she scarcely noticed me. "What is the matter with Niall?" she asked. "I met him and he would not look at me. I called his name, but he ran away and would not speak." " He will tell you all in good time," I answered soothingly. " It is you ! " she said, looking at me keenly, with a glance like that of her kinsman. " You have been vexing him : say- ing something that he did not like." "We must all have things said to us that we do not like, when it is for our good," I remarked gravely. " I wish you had never com.e here ! I wish you would go away!" Winifred exclaimed, stamping her little foot till it stuck in the soft earth. " See, how useless is ill-temper! " I said; for I was rather annoyed by her petulance. " You have spoiled your pretty shoe. And as for going away, when I go, you will go too." She turned pale, then trembled and stammered out a ques- tion or two: " I — go — with you ? Where ? " "All the way to America." 100 THE SCHOOLMASTER'S SECRET. " To America ! " said Winifred, in an amazement which seemed blended with fear or emotion of some sort. " Yes ; over the great sea," I went on, " where you will see many new and beautiful things." " But I don't want to see them ! " she replied, with an energy that startled me. " That is not a nice way to put it, dear," I said gently. " I hope, indeed, you will be a very good girl and give me as little trouble as possible. You will have to leave your wil- ful ways in the mountains with the sprites." " Niall will never allow it ! " she cried, with childish triumph. " Niall has just said ' Yes.' So I give you a month to prepare," I declared firmly. I had determined to exert my authority from that moment forward, as it was necessary that I should. " Niall has said ' Yes ' I " she repeated, drawing a sharp breath and speaking as one in a dream. Her lip quivered ; two tears shone in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. Turn- ing on me instead, with a curious tone of command, she asked : " Who are you ? " "A friend." . "An enemy, I think I " said Winifred, and with that she turned sharply away and was soon hidden in the brushwood. But I heard her only a few moments afterward, sobbing aloud and calling, as Niall had done, on Nature: " I can't leave the hills and the streams and the valleys ! I can't leave Wicklow and the Dargle and the castle, and dear Granny and Moira and Barney and Niall ! Oh, it would break my heart ! " She sobbed again for a few moments ; then her voice rang out defiantly: THE SCHOOLMASTER'S SECRET. ,o, over' tot ""h" '° ^t'u""' "^°'""^ *° *^ '" -i" '^e child over to my .deas as I had done her uncle. I foresaw many outside the door I began to wonder if my idea was, after all. a m.staken one. The air was very fresh and pur ate th storm ; the verdure of that Emerald Isle, so fondfy remem b red by .ts ex.led sons and daughters, was rich and gloX d rke t"'"t'' "' T ''"^ ""^ '"'™"^^'' "" ^ ^°'^'n haze^ toTr^u ^"'■'''' "'" '^' ^"'"'"'t- I -t and listened to a thrush smg.ng in the lilac bush near which I had seen Wm.fred s.ttmg on the morning of our visit to the caMe t.U a strange peace stole over me and I lost all my fear laa TIVO yiSITS. CHAPTER XIII. TWO VISITS. My next duty was to obtain Granny Meehan's consent to Winifred's departure for America. I found her sitting beside the hearth in her accustomed place, with the cat at her feet. Winifred was absent, and in the outer court was the pleasant sunshine falling over solitude. Only the fowls, so variously named by Winifred, disported themselves before the window. Mrs. Meehan greeted me cheerfully and cordially, and I saw that no shadow cf future events had fallen upon her yet. Our conversation at first was on the usual topics — the fine weather, the prospect of good crops. Then, as it were of a sudden, I remarked: " Well, Mrs. Meehan, I have seen the schoolmaster." Granny started, and stared at me in silence for a few moments. " Where, then, ma'am dear?" she asked uneasily. " In his own house." " In the cabin up beyant there? " she cried in amazement. " Tell me was it up tnere ? " "Yes, in the cabin amongst the hills, on the day of the storm," I answered very calmly. "The Lord be good to us, ma'am! And what took you to that fearsome place — in such weather, too? Couldn't you have got shelter anywhere else? " TtVO VISITS. 103 She was quite pale at the thought. "I went purposely, Mrs. Meehan; for I had made up my mind to ask him for Winifred." " To ask him for Winifred ! " she echoed in astonishment. Then her manner showed something of oflFence. " It was in my charge the colleen was left," she declared; "and 'tis I, and not Niall of the hill, that has the say about her." " But I was sure of your consent already," said I, quietly. "And what made you sure of it, axin' your pardon for the question ? " "Your mtelligence, your love for the girl, and your fear of Niall's influence, over her." She seemed mollified, and I went on : " Your intelligence will show you it is for the best, your love for Winifred will make you wish the best for her, while your fear of Niall — " " Speak lower, ma'am : he may be in hearin' ! " she said anxiously. "He's that strange he does be appearin' when least you expect." "Well, in any case, I knew you would not oppose her going with me to America." "To America, is it?" cried the woman, br^ ig up as fiercely almost as Niall himself. " Oh, then. ho., am I to know that you're playin' me no tricks— that you haven't been sent to take her away from us ? " " Mrs. Meehan," I said gravely, " I gave you my word as a lady that I knew nothing of her till I came here." " I ax your pardon! " she said humbly. " But, O ma'am dear, think of America, over the big ocean, and me sit in' here alone among the hills, powerless to go to her if sh. needs me! ' ' She will be taken good care of," I said. " I shall put 104 TWO VISITS. her in a convent, where she will be thoroughly educated and prepared for the part she has to play in life." " And will she be goin' away from the old land forever ? " she asked, clasping her feeble hand over her heirt. " By no means. It is my hope and wish that she come back here." " But him you call the schoolmaster will never allow it I " she cried, with something of the same triumph which had ap- peared in Winifred's face. " The fchoolmaster has already given his consent," I said quietly. " Given his consent ! " repeated the old woman, flushing and paling; and then a great wonder seemed to overcome every other feeling. " You saw him in the cabin 'mongst the hills and you got his consent ! But weren't you afeared, ma'am, to go there by yourself ? " " I was somewhat afraid at first," I admitted ; " but I felt that for the child's sake it had to be done." "And you'll take her away from me?" the old woman cried piteously. How can you, ma'am ? " " Don't you see yourself how much the best thing it is for her?" I urged. "You are afraid of Niall's influence over her; she can not grow up as she is, roaming the hills, with no companions of her own age or rank." She was silent a long time, and I thought she was praying. " You are right, ma'am dear," she said tranquilly ; " it is for the best, and it seems to be God's holy will. But when must it be? " " We shall sail from here in August, I think," I answered. "And then I can place her in a convent near New York for the opening term of the school year. If she stays there even two or three years, it will make a great diflference. And then TWO VISITS. , she will come back to take her place at the castle, if it can be made habitable; or, at all events, in the neighborhood " But Miss Winifred's father is in the United States of America? said the old woman, tremulously. to uZT ^' " '" ^"^ "^°*- ^ ''""^ '"'" """^ ''"^* ^P°'<«^" The old woman's face flushed with a joyful, eager flush. You know my boy, the pulse of my heart-Roderick?" Yes I answered. " I know him. I may say, well." A look of trouble suddenly replaced the brightness of Granny Meehan's face. Winif^en" 'T *°° *''' '' ^°^'"''' ^**^ ""'' «y- °" Miss Winifred, well never see her more here in the old land." There was something indescribably mournful in her tone. s, ^Tf *^' •'"'" '^' ^'="* °"'- "''"d who can say that his new wife will give her a mother's .e or a mother's care?" »c or a "He has no new wife!" I said-"no wife at all- and perhaps, among us, we can win him back to the o.d world- to Ireland, to Wicklow." "'iw^*^' '^"•.T^"'^ machreel » cried the old woman, - that he has no wife at all. Oh, then, sure there's hope fo.^ him comin' back I " ^ .oil^'"! "k ""''! '* » ~"*»'«°n ot his consent to Winifred's going, I observed, "that Roderick shall not see his child t":; ^^aT" '" ''''^'' ^" ^^^ ^"^"^ *"' '»■•= °'«' -" SZ "The old rap!" cried Granny, with sudden ire " 'Tis ^yin ! And hasn t he been a father to the little one, with all his queer ways and his strayin' about the hills when other were in their beds?" ^ 106 TWO yisns. " He is altogether devoted to her," I said ; " and has a right to make what request he pleases." " True for you, ma'am — true for you," said Granny. "And my old heart's so full with all you've told me that it seems as if the world was turned the wrong way round. Oh, what a desolate spot this will be when Miss Winifred's gone out of it!" " Only for a time ; and then, if all goes as we hope, think what happiness is in store for every one ! " " I'll try to think of it, ma'am, — indeed and I will," said Granny. "And, sittin' here in the dark alone, I'll be prayin', mornin', noon and night, that all may turn for the best." " Your prayers will help more than anything else can," I declared ; " be sure of that, and keep up your heart. But now I think I'll call upon the priest — Father Owen, I be- lieve?" "Yes: Father Owen Farley." " Very well. I shall see him and tell him all about the matter. He may be a help to us, too." I bade the old woman good-morning and went on my way, feeling that I had quite overcome the opposition of those interested in the girl. I had only to fear now some wilfulness on the part of Winifred herself, and I counted on Father Owen to help me in that direction. I had already discovered that she had a strong, lively faith, the robust piety so com- mon among the children of Ireland, and the respect for priests which seems to come by instinct. I had heard her speak of Father Owen with a reverence beautiful to see in one so young. As I went on my way to the chapel, the sun, which had been under a cloud, suddenly burst out from a sky of tender, dappled gray. There was a smell of the woods in the air. nyo yis/TS. ,f^ which a morning shower had brought forth; and a robin was singing as I approached Father Owens residence. The songster sat on the bough of a tree, his red breast swelling with the melody he sent forth. His bright eye catching sight of me caused him to trill out more bravely than ever, as if to say : " See how this little Irish robin can sing ! Did you ever hear a finer song than that ? " I think it was at the same thought Father Owen was laughing as I drew near. He stood in his little garden, a fine, v( nerable figure, with snow-white hair, worn rather long on his neck. He was about the medium height, thin to emaciation, with wonderfully bright eyes and the smile of a child. He turned at my approach. I introduced myself. " You will know me best, Father," I observed, " as the lady from America." "The lady from America?" he said. " I'm glad to meet you. Of course I've seen you in church and at the holy table. This is a real pleasure, though. Come -'nto my little house now, and let me hear something of your wonderful country beyond the sea." I followed, charmed with his courtesy. " I was listening to that rogue of a robin," he said, as he led me in; " and I think he knew very well he had an auditor. Birds, I suppose, have their vanity, like the rest of us." " The same thought occurred to me, Father," I answered. " He did swell out his little throat so. and sent his eye wan- dering about in search of applause." " There's a deal of human nature in birds," said the priest, laughing at the quaint conceit; "and in the lower animals' as well — every cat and dog among them." We chatted on from one subject to another, till at last I introduced that which had brought me. Ml TIVO yiSITS. " Father," I began, " I want to talk to you specially about Winifred, the orphan of the castle." "Winifred!" he said, his face lighting up. 'A iovabic, charming child, but a bit wayward ; pure and bright in spirit as yonder mountain stream, but just as little to be re- strained." " I thought I would like to hear your opinion of a plan I have formed with regard to her." He bowed his head, with an inimitable courtesy in the gesture, as if to signify his willingness to hear, and fixed his dark eyes upon me. " My idea is to take her to America and place her for a few years in a convent." "America," he said thoughtfully, "is very far off; and if she has to live in Ireland, might it not be better to select a convent nearer home ? " Then J went more into details: told him of Roderick and of the possibility of bringing father and child together. His opposition— if opposition it could be called— vanished at once, and he cordially entered into the idea. " Granny Meehan will certainly consent if we all think it best for the child," he said; " but what of that extraordinary being in the mountains up yonder? What of Niall?" " He has consented." " You amaze me I " cried the priest, holding up both hands in astonishment. "Surely it takes you Americans to ac- complish anything." Then he added after a pause: " Did he mention his relationship to Winifred, which is a secret from all about here?" " He did." " He is a most singular character — a noble one, warped by circumstances," continued the priest, thoughtfully. "A TICO VISITS. 109 visionary, a dreamer. Poor Niall! he was a fine lad when I knew him first." •' You knew him when he was young, then ? " I inquired. "Yes, I knew h" n well. An ardent enthusiastic bov, brave and hopeful a..d devout. Now-but ^ve need not ted the Dev.l's Glen, with its wondrous falls, its turb- ulen streams, .ts mountain heights, reached by a path of tangled bloom. I had seen the " sweet Vale of Avoc^ - and Avonmore. and Glendalough. with its seven ruined churches; and St. Kevms Bed, and all the other delights of Wicklow the garden of Ireland. vv.cklow. On most of these expeditions I had been accompanied by Wm.fred, w.th Barney and Moira. If we were driving Barney acted as driver and guide at once; if we were on foot, he earned the luncheon basket. Very often we set out when the dew was still on the grass and the morning-^ had scarcely faded from the sky. R J"' *r.7'' °"' """'^ 'P°* *° ^ ^'^'^^-l' -"d this time Barney and Mo.ra were not to be of the party Winifred hTn persuaded Nial. to take us to the Phou.lpLk!, "a^d show treasure! \7T:T ""^ " "''"'' ""' '^'^P* '"''''- l^- neof L; ? '' *°"'''' *° *'"'' ^'^'* -'^h a curious blend- Z V T o '""°"''- ^'"" ^^ ^ ^^"'''''^ '" his moods, and Father Owen agreed with me in thinking that at times h.s mmd was unsettled and his temper dangerous. Still I determined to take the risk. ii8 THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. One warm day in July Winifred and I set out in company with Niall — not, indeed, that he gave us much of his society. When we were in the car he drove in gloomy silence; when we were afoot he walked on ahead, wrapped ir his cloak, with an air of gloomy preoccupation, his sugar-loaf hat serving as a sign-post which we were to follow. When we came up at last to this celebrated spot, my breath was fairly taken away by its wild and mournful grandeur. Waterfall after waterfall came down from a height of two hundred feet, over great, rocky precipices, being spanned by a single arched bridge of Gothic (design. On one side of the falls are tasteful grounds, with shaded walks and seats for the convenience of visitors ; on the other, all is wild and barren — rock rising above rock, crag above crag, in a morose solitude. It was toward this solitude that Niall led us, the noije of the waterfalls completely drowning our voices. We strode on by devious paths, turning more and more away from the water and upward by a steep ascent, till we found ourselves in surroundings shunned by the common folk, and wild, gloomy and forbidding enough to justify all that popular superstition said of this region. Once we paused to take breath, and I looked down from an eminence on the waters rushing madly to the tranquil glen below ; and then I turned my gaze from the Gothic bridge, the wck of man, to the mountain crag, the work of the Creator. Suddenly Niall turned an abrupt angle, Winifred and I creeping after him. I was full of fear; but Winifred was fearless and smiling, holding my hand and encouraging me as though I had been a child. We stopped before a tangled mass of vines and brushwood. Niall pushed them aside, dis- closing a small, dark entrance in the rocks, through which he THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. 1,9 passed, signing for us to follow him. This we did, Winifred whispering : " It's the cavern. I was here once before— that time I told you I was going to the Phoul-a-Phooka." We bent our heads as we saw Niall do, for the entrance was very low; and we advanced some paces along a kind of passageway cut in the rock either by the hand of Nature or by some long-forgotten outlaw of the hills. A .surprise awaited us, such as is common enough in underground places; for we emerged all at once from the dark into a large and tolerably well-lighted apartment. The rugged walls of rock moss-covered in places, were dry; the floor was neatly boarded over, and a fire was ready for lighting in a corner. Above it, a cranny in the wall permitted the smoke to escape. In a little alcove apart from the principal cave were a bod, a few chairs, and a table. " Niall lives here for weeks at a time," explained Winifred. Niall had set a match to the fire; for, warm as the weather was outside, there was a chilliness within as of a vault. Presently the sods blazed up, the flames leaping and glowmg about the stooping figure of the old man, who seemed hke some strange magician. We seated ourselves on the rough, deal chairs, near a table of similar material that oc- cupied the middle of the cave; and Niall opened a curiously contrived cupboard and brought forth some plates and cups and saucers. Winifred, opening our luncheon basket, took out and spread upon the table its simple contents— cold meat home-made bread, a pat of fresh butter, and a jar of apple jelly, which the landlord had specially recommended. Niall then abruptly left the cavern, and returned in a few mmutes with a pitcher of goat's milk; but how or where he had obtained it he did not explain. 130 THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. " I think he keeps some goats out there on the rocks," said Winifred in a low voice to me, " so that he can drink the milk when he is living here." Our walk had given us an appetite; the coolness of the place, despite the fire, was refreshing. Winifred was in high spirits, making a jest of everything and thoroughly enjoying the simple repast. I, forgetting my late fears, was also dis- posed to be merry. NiaH alone maintained a moody silence, eating but little, and drinking only sparingly of the goat's milk. When the meal was over, ^inifred fetched some water from a mountain spring, and we washed the dishes in a rude earthen vessel and restored them to their places in the cup- board built against tlie rock. When this was done, Niall said abruptly : " I will show you now what you have come here to sei. — the treasure which the earth has yielded up to me. Some of these things are from the tombs of kings or warriors; some buried at the time, perhaps, of the Danish invasion. They are all, I believe, of value, greater or less." When he had thus spoken he began to creep around the cavern with a furtive, stealthy movement, examining every chink and cranny, as though unseen eyes were watching him. At last he approached a certain comer, withdrawing again, and looking all around him with eager, troubled eyes. Then he touched what seemed to be a secret spring, and before us was another dark passage. This dark passage had been made by some former oc- cupant of the cave, who stood, perhaps, in danger of his life. We entered, and at the end of it was a second and mud-, smaller cavern, the darkness of which was relieved by the gleam of shining metal. I stood still and drew my breath hard. Was I dreaming, or had I gone back to the world of THE CAVE Iff THE MOUNTAINS. ,« the Arabian Night.? This could not be Ireland, and Niall a prosa.c, end-of-thc-century Irishman! He mus surel/^ a i^^rrnd th'''';T;u^*'''= ^^"" ^^^"^ ^-^ ^^^^^^ amp and the ch.ld bes.de him, in her delicate, aerial love- mr, ;r '''"' ^""^'"^ ''' ''---' ^' ^"^ --" - Niall. putting aside his gloom, suddenly brightened into enthusiasm, wh.ch lighted up his face as with the fire of of the beaufful lad.es in shining satin robes, who had worn Its o7 rr"'^-*''' "^"'* °^ ''^°-'^-- ^he breast- PU es of thm burn,shed gold, the crowns, the bracelets, the collars, some studded with precious gems. And there w tfp from th W '^ "'^"'"^^ '°'" *'^^ ^^^ -'^'^h '- had dug The time seemed to pass as in a dream. We were never .^d hstenmg. Niall of dwelling upon the glories of h ^e sure-house. The old man had spent hours and day pohshmg those articles with chemicals, with whose use he was wel. acquainted, an^ some of which gave out a strLt pungent odor; for it had been no small Lr to clean way the rust perhaps of ages. ^ fullv ^rZ '"' ^ "'T'* ""^ °^ *''^"''" Niall said moum- -t .s hard hard; but I add a little each time to the pile of com^ When the day comes I shall sell them all^lP " He motioned us to go out again into the first 'cavern- ink ir ^"^ *' ''""'' '^ ^•'°^'^" ^'-^ 'he treasurlaTd' sank once more mto a listless .nood, seated at the table his head buned m his hands. Winifred, who had listened w^h CT tsa THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. «>pen-mouthed delight to Niall's tales of the past, and had been as much interested in seeing the treasures as though she saw them for the first time, now sat thoughtfully beside me. gazing into the fire. Presently she grow tired of inaction, and, springing to her feet, began to dance about the cavern — a graceful, charming figure in that rocky setting. And as she danced she chanted a weird song in the Irish tongue, which Nial! had taught her. Gradually Niall raised his head. The air or the words of the song seemed to have a strange effect upon him— to rouse him, as it were, from his lethargy. He fixed his eyes upon Winifred, watching her every movement with a fierce eagerness. Then his eyes turned upon me, and there was the fire almost of insanity lighting them. As he gazed he rose from his chair, coming toward me with a slow, gliding step, while I sat paralyzed with terror. "Why should I not kill you," he said, in a deep, low tone, like the growling of some mountain torrent, " and bury you here in the hills ? You have brought the curse upon nie. Like the carrion bird, your coming has heralded evil. My heart is burning within me because of the sorrow that con- sumes it. You have charmed the child from me to take her away to the unknown land." " But remember," I managed to say, " that it is with your consent, an ' that I have promised to bring her back again when you will." " Promised ! " lie repeated fiercely. "As if you could con- trol events — govern the wilful mind of a child and force her to remember ! " There was a deadly calmness in his voice, more fearful than the wildest outburst of anger ; and I trembled so violently that I could almost hear my teeth chattering. THE CAfE IN THF. MOUNTAINS. „j tr Jh^"' A "If '"'''■ "^°" "' "'''"■'' °f ">•=• I «" "-« y°" tremble. And you may well; for Niall, in hi, wrath, is tor- nble as the mountain torrent in its course." I fixed my eyes upon him as upon a wild beast whose fury 1 was stnvmgr to tame. Every moment I feared that he might sprmg upon me. when the voice of Winifred su.ldenlv broke the spell. It was evident she had not at first perceived what was going on. » l^TVl ,'.*)! "^'^ i'"P«ri°"sIy- "What are you saving to the lady? Why are you trying to frighten her ' " ' She interposed her slender figure between us as she spoke. Nialls eyes sought the ground in a crestfallen manner, and he muttered: " Forgive me, my little lady ! " " I won't forgive you if you act like that any more, Niall • " she declared. " You know how the old chieftains and kiuR, you are always talking about treated their guests. And isn't the lady your guest here in your own cavern, Niall?" Niall murmured: "I forgot, I forgot! Tis all my poor head. At times I can Amk only of one thing-that she is taking you awav " w •V"1 '*" ^°" '^''° '"''"* ""^ *° «^° f"-- "ly own good." Wmifred said gravely. Niall turned away with a groan. " I am willing to go." Winifred went on. " because Father Owen said I should. He knows what is best. He told me it was God sent the lady here." Niall broke into an uncontrollable fury, which caused even Ymifred to step back. "What care I for Father Owen or the ladv?" he ex claimed. ' ' Her face was pale; I think it was the first time she had 1*4 THE CAVE IN THE VOUNTAINS. ever been afraid of Niall. But she faced the old man bravely ; though his face, working with passion, his streaming hair and huge frame made him look like a veritalte Cyclops. " Be still, Niall," she cried, " or the Udy and I will go away out of your cave this minute, and be very sorry that we came here." She put her small hand on his arm, and the touch seemed to calm him. " Forgive me I " he murmured once more, in the helpless, bewildered tone of a little child ;' and, sinking again into one of the chairs near the table, he buried his face in his hands and so remained for some moments. We did not disturb him by so much as a word; but I, relieved somewhat from my late suspense, though dreading a new acc.bs >; fury, and eager to be gone, let my eyes rove round that singular place. The rugged face of the rock above our heads and all around was lit by the crackling flames of the turf which burned so brightly. I was startled from my thoughts by the voice of Niall; but this time it was soft ar-' low as that of Winifred herself. Suddenly rising from his chair, he made me i low bow and offered a humble apology for his late rudeness. After that he was the same amiable and courteous gentleman he so often appeared, and as pleasant as possible, talking a great deal and telling us many interesting things. " In this cave," he said, " during the penal times more than one priest took refuge. Mass was said here, and the people flocked from far and near to attend it. Here in the troubles of '98 it is said that the patriot O'Byme took refuge. This may be the precise cavern in which he dwelt, or it may not; but it gives the place an interest — a sad interest." He paused and looked around him for an instant. " I shall love this cave better than ever now," said Wini- THE CAVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. uj fred; "and I shall often think of it when I am far awav in the New World—" Her voice broke a little. " Think of it. my child ! " cried Niall. " 01. 'o think of it when you are far beyond the ocean I Think of whatever will make you love Ireland and make you remember." The tears coursed down his cheeks and there was aneuish m his voice. "Don't cry. Niall!" said Winifred. " I shall always re- member you and your cave and dear old Granny and Wicklow and Ireland." She said the words as solemnly as if they were a vow and they had a weird sound there in that hole in the rocks' which had sheltered many a noble and saintly soul ;• There .spoke my o«n iadyl" cried Niall. triumphantlv. Nothing shall ever make me forget," added Winifred. I, for my part," I broke in. "shall do my best to help you to remember; and so I solemnly promise here on this holy ground, where Mass has been said and where martyrs have trod." ' It was near evening when we left that wonderful spot, and. deafened once more by the noise of the Phoul-a-Phooka retraced our steps in silence. laS IN THE CAPITAL CHAPTER XVI. IN THE CAPITAL. The Aug^ust morning which was to see our departure dawned at last. The leave-taking with old Granny Meehan was very pathetic. The poor woman, with her deep resigna- tion, her confidence in God's providence, was a striking il- lustration of the best virtues of her race. Calmly she bade us farewell, praying many a prayer, invoking many a blessing on the beloved head of her little charge. We left her sitting at her accustomed scat near the hearth, with Tabby purring against her and the pleasant sunshine flooding the apartment. Winifred had been up early, as she said, to bid "good-by !" to every stick and stone. She called each fowl in the court- yard by name, as she had done on that other morning when I saw her feeding them; and her tears fell silently as she bent over them. When the moment came to say the last farewell, Winifred seized Brown Peter, the cat, in her arms; and the animal blinked knowingly, and purred and rubbed its head against her soft cheek. Then Winifred threw her arms once more around Granny's neck, and that part of the leave-taking was over. Barney and Moira set up a howl and folic wed us down as far as the inn, where the jaunting-car with the -uggage was waiting for us. Niall I did not see at all. He had taken leave of Winifred the evening before, and then, with a wild gesture of despair, had fied to the hills. He left for me a letter of instructions, m THE CAPITAL. ,„ ra.Jling a h!'7' """* °"*' '^'"^ ^^^**"^ ^ ^''''^' t° «f°" about .n the hghted streets. She had never been in a city before, and must have been interested in so much that was novel. But she said little: she had not yet recovered her natural buoyancy The following morning, however, we set out specially for Mght-seeing. We went for a walk in the Phoenix Park and from a vantage-point near the magazine looked down on the entire city with its splendid bridges, its domes and spires. We saw the Nelson Pillar and the Wellington Monument and we roamed at will along the verdant banks of the beautiful Liffey. We saw u.e Viceregal Lodge and the Corinthian Pillar and the Royal Hospital of Kilmainham. Then of course, we had to see the churches. It would be tedious in- deed to set down here all that we did see. We were walking along Westmoreland Street one after- noon, just as the sun w:.s setting. There had been a heavy shower, which had relieved the sultriness of an August day, and the ground was damp ; but the trees were a brighter green and sent forth a sweeter fragrance for the rain. Win^^red said suddenly: 132 IX THE CAPITAL " I remember this place very well-Dublin. I mean. I was here long ago, when I was little." "Yes' I suppose one's memory do^s go back very far, I observed thoughtfully. " But can you recall, for instance, where you lived?" She shook her head. " It was in a big house," she answered, " with a good many stairs in it and a lot of people. Some of them may have been servants. And I remember a lady in a yellow dress. Perhaps she was my mother." She stopped abruptly, as though the subject were pamful; then resumed: " Since I came to this place, I remember a good many things. The lady in the yellow dress was standing one evening in a great big room, and she had a flower in her hair. Oh, she was very beautiful! A gentleman came in. He was tall and dark." " With very bright eyes ? " I put in eagerly. " Yes, they were bright," she assented ; " at least I think so I remember the lady better than the gentleman. They were talking, and I couldn't understand much of what they said- but I am almost sure the gentleman was angry, for his face got very red. Then the lady laughed, and the gentle- man went away quickly and shut the door hard. The lady laughed again and said to me: 'I hope you haven't your father's temper, child. Poor Roderick! he does flare up so quick. He is just raving now because I don't want to go to •;ome outlandish place in the hills.' " The child stopped, but the little drama of the past which she had evoked told me a great deal. Niall had blamed Roderick for not bringing his wife to the castle; but the wife-a somewhat hard and cold beauty, as old Granny m THE CAPITAL. ,^^ Meehan had once described her_wov,Id not come. Roderick And I wonder how he could be an^rv with her" the cMd cont.n„ed, "she was so pretty and haVon Ichriov:^^ I ui!d"*' " "' *'' °"'^ ''''"^' '"'» fi- dress still less." Winifred turned on me with flashing eyes as though T n.y father was angry with her " ^ ' ' ^ "" '""^ "Yet your father has a noble heart," I declared She smiled as if pleased. .^ ^'^ W day I may see Hin,," she said; "but my mother that'w[nif:::rhirra/fafh" "^''' ™^'- -^ «^- from the subj ct Tust h!l "' *""""'' "'"' "'*°^^*''- had a distant vtw of L W Z" '"'::" *° ' P°'"* "''-- -«= attention to llm Shi T I "'■ ' '^^"^'^ ^'"'^^^'^'^ and I think aftT; that t^^^ "' *''" "'*'' tear-dimmed eyes, the landscape ' ' *"" ^^^^ ""'^ *"*-"' '" *e rest of "My own hills!" she said •' nu t abroad on them now and ff R ' '™"'''' '^ ^''^" '» «34 IN THE CAPITAL. She can not go out on the hills nor sec alone — all alone, their beauty." I tried to divert her thoughts, but for the time being it was useless. That was our last day in Dublin. Early on the morrow we were to set out for Liverpool, whence we were to sail for the Land of the Free. ARRIVAL IN HEW YORK. m CHAPTER XVII. ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. Our voyage to America was a very pleasant one. The weather was excellent. The warm glow of midsummer was over everythmg, and the cool ocean breezes were most grate- ful as we sat at evening on the deck and watched the stars burn above our heads in the sky, which always seems so vast when one is on the face of the water. After the first two or three days, neither of us was seasick, and Winifred took to the sea at once. She loved the salt air, the cool spray blow- ing in her face as she stood upon the deck, her hair flying about her and her face aglow. Often she spoke of the dear land she had left and of her dear ones, while her eyes filled with teais and her voice trembled with emotion One afternoon, as we watched the sun glinting on the waves, Wmifred said: "Just now that same sun is lighting all the hills! That was what made people call them, in the Irish tongue, the hills of ' the gilt spurs.' " " That is a pretty name," I observed ; " and well describes how they look at this hour of a fine evening." "I wish I could see them now," said Winifred; and then she fell silent, as if in thought. She was very shy of the strangers on board the steamer and rarely exchanged a word with any of them except at tajle; though many of them noticed her and spoke with ad- miration of her charming face and her graceful ways 136 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. v\ It was a lovely, calm morning when we steamed into New York Bay. We both were up early and on deck; and I pointed out to Winifred Staten Island, lying green and garden-like on the water's breast; and Governor's Island, with its forts; and Bedloe's Island, with its huge Liberty statue, the goddess standing with colossal torch at the en- trance to the New World. At last there was New York itself, the Empire City, the great metropolis; and over it rested a haze, whence emerged the steeple of Old Trinity, the Custom House, and the tops of various high buildings, which filled Winifred with wonder; she had never seen anything like these " sky-scrapei.';' as they are called. She talked of them even after we had Unded, and as we drove up Broadway to the hotel were I had my quarters. This great thoroughfare seemed to bewilder her altogether. "The people!" she cried— " all the people! Why, they are thicker together than trees in a wood," and she simply stopped her ears against the noise. " It seems as if there was a thunderstorm going on all the time!" she exclaimed. She was much amused also at the swift, gliding motion of the cable-cars, unlike anything she had yet seen. " Isn't it all wonderful ! " she would cry. " Oh, if Niall could see this ! " " He has seen just as wonderful sights and far more so," I reminded her. " You know how much he has travelled." "Well, if Barney and Moira and the other people from home could see this place, they'd think they were dreaming. I'm not quite sure that I won't wake up — only," she added, with one of her droll looks, " I couldn't be asleep in such a noise." We had reached the corner of Twenty-third Streeet, and I saw Madison Square and the Fifth Avenue Hotel arising on ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK on foot. The ca^riaee^' . ., "'"^ ""'^'"P*^'' »° "-' insunt. and in Tha fn '„t I "' "' "'"' *° """P ^^ - the street Roder aC/ hI f "^ ''^ ^''^ "^"^"'^ °^ or anxiety of son.e sort ^ 'ieh ^h^lT d" 7''' '' "^"^ bright character. He was Si„. ,u^ uT "' "'"''"''y while he waited a favorlT ^ '"""frhtfuliy before him. . Sudden, hivt^Lr;: waTthJ^ -tt :^HaThei„t:rv:rcof T-^^^^ - the child, who was ha„ Jlv '?'"""^ ''^^^ ^^'^"^'-d -St have been^ Le tULTeT^"' "' ^^^^^''^ ^* Fortunately, he was so ,h«!,w !• '^'^°''"^ in her. my comer of the vehicle an^ -.A"' ^" "' P°«'»"« '" nioment the caXe stent „ "^' »'^^thlessly. till next bound by the ^ZZtT^X, '""^ *^°' "^ "^'"^^'^ great vortex. "'^'^•'''' ^"« I«"-t«>d in the n^X diSir"S,f,r^^^^^^^^^^ y--^^^ Had not glanced in cognized n,e. and I should 1 Z ''°"" "'^"■*^'"^ ''''^^ ^«- -eeting with all'„'af„ ' f'aT.wtS T'""*^' ^^ °"^ "-* not tell him that his daughter was 1^' ■ "^"^ ' ~""' refuse to It .m see or corurte'"wiri7"^ ^" *^- for thLgnrrd' Lr '"^^'''^^"' •"^« *° ^^^-'^^ Bublin. tL iL^u^lfTNe: S r;""^'''' ""^^"^ ■" ferent affair. The servicer I^t "'""' '1"'*'^ ^ 'l"- 138 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. which played sweet strains during all the meal, were dream- like, almost, to this child of the hills. The elevator seemed to her as something very amusing. She would like to have gone up and down in it several times. She had a charming little room adjoining mine, all done in gray and pink, and an . outlook upon the gay street. She could scarcely tear herself away from the window in the few days that elapsed before I had decided upon a school for her and made some simple preparations. Indeed, I found it rather difficult to decide upon ,a school for the child, not because there were no good ones, but for the opposite reason that there were so many. But to one thing I made up my mind : she must be out of town. The presence of her father in New York made that a necessity. Yet, on the other hand, I could not send her too far away, as I wanted to see her often, mark her progress and \.\^e effect of austere school-life on one who had been accustomeu to a free, wild existence on the beautiful Wicklow hills. It was this circumstance which finally determined my choice. I must be in easy distance of the child, so great was my responsibility. I took her to her new home one evening just as the shadows were deepening and New York lay like a great map traced out in lights. They gleamed and glowed through the gathering darkness, and through the smoke clouds which arose from the countless factories. I felt a curious sense of desolation, and I was certain that Winifred would suffer from this when she found herself enclosed in an unfamiliar building, to become a mere atom, as it were, in a multitude. The child was grave and quiet, but did not seem to shrink at all from school-life. In fact, she had rather entered into the prospect of going there with the enthusiasm of her age, and had begun to plan out the details of her new existence. ARRIVAL IS NEll- yqrk. ,_^ She told me after that she had experienced an awful sense o ionehness when going to bed in a strange donnitorv. with .ts rows of curtained beds, amongst so many whom she had never seen before. During the night prayers and the fina hymn she had cried all the time. These sensations are common enough to all who go into new scenes for the first time; but for some week! aC Wm.fred s arnval at the convent she reminded me of nothing o much as a b rd in a cage. I am sure the or.linary I t,e restramts of school-life must have been intolerable to one brought up, as she had been, unrestrained upon the hilll I the austere convent parlor, with her black dress and h r curls festened back from her face with a ribbon, sh 1 , ^ a sp,„t of her former self. She told me. in her quaint speech at she only lived from one visit of mine to another. uSy he was pale, sad and listless. The spirit of mischief seemed th parlor tdd me that she was docile to her teachers and very diligent m her studies. WiJiJrei '*"?T *''''' '^'*"'P^ ^ ^■■" ^^ home sooner," Wm.fred explamed to me as we sat hand in hand in the conier of the parlor. " My heart aches to see Ireland again C^a^rSlrrone " "'^ ^^ '^^ ^ -" ^^ When I rose to go that day I told her that I was eoin^ :!: -~n. if possible, for her to come down an^d f^ " To r J.. day with you in the big city down there t4f> ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. she cried. "Oh, it will be lovely! We can see so many things and we can talk about home." That seemed to be indeed her greatest pleasure. The )ier- mission was granted, with even better terms than I had ex- pected ; for she was to come down on the following Tuesday morning and remain with me till the day after. " It is a privilege we do not often grant," the nun said, smiling. " But in this child's case we think it is really es- sential. The change from a widely different life was so very sudden." " So you are to come on Tuesday, and this is Sunday," I told Winifred. Her eyes fairly sparkled with delight, as she danced along by my side with something of her old gaiety. "There is only one day between. To-morrow I shall study very hard, and say all my lessons and practise for my singing lesson on Thursday, and do everything well." I smiled. " Father Owen would say you should do that every day," I reminded her. "You remember how he pointed out that the robin did his work in storm or sunshine." " Oh, but 'tis much easier to work in sunshine! " Winifred cried out. " I suppose it is," laughed I ; " but that is no reason why you shouldn't try to do what is harder." " I do try," Winifred said earnestly. " I get up the moment the bell rings in the morning— though I don't find that as hard as some of the girls do, for I was often out on the hills at sunrise. Then I'm one of the first in the chapel; and in class I study my lessons and I hardly ever talk. At recreation I don't feel much like playing yet, but perhaps I shall after a while — when I know some of the gfirls better." ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. M» How do you like your com- "Yes, I am sure you will, iwnions?" I asked. " I think a good many of them are nice. But it takes me "And your teachers?" I inquired come from so far away and have no mother! I like mv mus>c teacher best, though. I wish you knew her" ' I must make her acquaintance some time," I remarked ■ I want to know all your friends." remarked , "The French teacher is the crosw-• - Our hostess" liked Tstr 1^7' I T^""' ''''''^' especially from the br!nfa„t £ ,170^^: Tf"' ''"' had all returned fn m^ ^ "-oaericic u Byrne. After wc friendly, but I knew th.t T ^'^ ^'^^^^ f'een for him i„s hen as a inTr*'*' ':' '^ ^'"'='^' ='«-*- very sj, in ^ rever^Td t^^" k" '"' '"'^"''- ^^^ -Mn.uiri„gas;ot;:rtr;,;:-;;r:inr^ 146 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. though I observed that he never once mentioned any person or persons in the neighborhood. It was evident for some reason that he did not wish to bring Niall into the discourse, and I was just as anxious at the time to avoid that part of the subject. Suddenly Roderick said: " I was struck very much the other day by a face which I saw just for a moment." My heart stood still. I knew what was coming, and I almost dreaded it. But, happily,, he did not associate the in- cident with me. " It was that of a child," he said, somewhat gravely. " It was a beautiful face, I suppose; but it was not that which specially attracted my attention. I only caught a glimpse — the merest glimpse — of it, but it brought back the past to me as in a flash." "Strange!" I commented meciianically ; for I scarce knew what to ssy. "Yes, it was very strange," went on Roderick. " I was standing at the comer of Twenty-third Street, waiting to cross, and it must be owned that I was thinking of anything else than Ireland and my past life there. You know what a crowd there is at that particular place. Suddenly a carriage stood still an instant, delayed by the traffic; and out of it looked that exquisite child-face, full of wonder, of curiosity, and, I thought, of sadness." I concealed my emotion by an effort; and had he not been so occupied with his subject be might have perceived at once that the story had an unusual interest for me. "Would you believe," he said, "that New York faded from before me, and instead I saw the Dargle, the glen and the river, with all their lovely surroundings — yes, I saw them ^ff UNEXPECTED MEETING. ,„ as distinctly as I see you now? The Dargle and^ther places about there, he concluded, after a brief pause. I wondered if he were thinking of the castle. "By the way," he a..ked of a sudden, " were you in that part of Ireland at all— I mean Wicklow?" "Oh, yes!" I said, trying to speak indifferently "I saw most of the show places there." "Did you meet any people thereabouts?" he innuire-I speaKmg very slowly and playing with a paper-knife which he had taken up from a neighboring davenport. It was my turn to htsitate a moment before I replied- called """^^ **" '"'"''' ^"''*' ^"^^^ °'^'"' '"' •"= i*' popularly "Father Owen Farley!" exclaimed Roderick, apparently ZZ\"T^^." '"''^'" ''""' °^ enthusiayn; "the dearest, the best, the kindest of men! " "You know him, then?" I asked. The glow faded from his face almost at once "I was brought up in that part of the country," he said ma reserved way. as if anxious to drop the subject; "so that of course I knew him when I was a boy " "Well, he certainly is all you say of him," I declared cordially; "he charmed me from the very first" rJ'^? ''!, ^T ^ unusually attractive way with him," Roderick sa.d-"or used to have long ago." And then he dismissed the subject and began to talk of verted to that one topic which seemed to be occupying his thoughts. Waking out of a reverie, he suddenly exclaled; out on *"■'/ '"'"'^'""■^ P^'"*^'' '""^ I "hould try to put on .vory, just from memory, that exquisite child-face" Perhaps you will see her again," I ventured 148 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. " I never expect to," he said decisively. " New York is not Ireland. People are swallowed up here as in a quick- sand." " Life has many surprises," I observed tentatively. He looked at mc keenly for an instant ; then he resumed his indifferent air and continued to play with the paper-knife. "You will think me altogether a dreamer," remarked Roderick, " to be so impressed by a passing face." I do not know what impelled me to say then : " Perhaps there was some special reason. Possibly she may have reminded you of some one whom you once knew." He started; the paper-knife fell from his hands, and he was long in picking it up. But the flash of his dark eyes in that brief moment recalled Niall. The incident was not with- out its value. I saw my way clear before me. I should gradually try to revive his interest in the past: to forge a chain which should lead him inevitably back to the castle of his ancestors, to Winifred and to his eccentric but devoted kinsman. And at the same time I might chance to discover his motive for so long neglecting his only child. When Roderick raised his head again, and replaced the paper-knife, with a hand which trembled somewhat, upon the davenport, he said, in a tone of studied carelessness : " Don't let us talk of this any more. It does seem very absurd. I am half ashamed of having told you anything about it. And there is the professor going to the piano." During the music Roderick lay back in his chair, and as he listened to the dreamy, soothing sound of the " Songs without Words," I knew that his mind was running on the sweet child-face which hid so impressed him, and on the train of associations which that chance meeting had con- jured up. I had no further conversation with him on that AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. oc^s,on. and very soon after I took my leave and went home to ponder over the situation, which I found n,ost inter- tell!d J. *'*"'? .^^ -f I *«^« holding the thread of a tangled ske,n, wh.ch must sooner or later straighten itself out. I lay awake half the nigh, picturing to m elf rI denck's dehght when he should discover thaf the swee tchUd fece was that of his own Winifred; and his sorrow Id perhaps remorse, for the past, when he had neglected "^r I wondered where and when the disclosure should Tke Ice and how it would be brought about. I also retolveS o ■nterest Winifred in her father. I could see that'htd ,ng much more to .he memory of her mother, and seemed to remember Roderick only as the dark genrteman who bad got angry w>th the beautiful lady and slammed the dJr I rose early next morning, for I wanted to go down town fTeT"ir w" " ^''""'^ ^''^' *° ""^^ -1, z a P*L' T ""' ""'='' ' ^''""^ ''^ ^- Winifred a fact t^Tl T'*'""* ^°' ''^■" ^°'"'"^'- ^°r. besides the fact that I was really attached to the child and took a sincere pleasure m her society. I felt a new interest in her sin" late conversation with her father ^ I looked out the window. There was a drizzling fog The shops opposite looked dreary and uninviting, and the people who were hastening down Broadway had all the T m-rable appearance, looking spectra, fn the fog My hT.^ sank. If ,t were the same kind of weather on A-T the first place, she would not be allowed to come- and in th. Sr^r"""^ "^.-^ ««'^ P'-- rbri^g^ng I dressed and went out. The streeU were glazed over ISO AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. with a thin coat of frost, which made the walking treacherous and unsafe. The snowfall of two or three days before had entirely disappeared. I picked my way along, making one more in the processioN of spectres, till I reached the nearest elevated station, which was in the square at Thirty-third Street, near the Herald building. I was soon flying through the air, and in the twinkling of an eye was almost in the heart of the business portion of the great " down-town." Warehouses arose on all sides: from some came a frag^nt odor telling of coffee and spices ; from others flashed visions of delicate china, rich bronzes, and beautiful glassware. And finally I was set down within a block or so of my destination. I picked my way carefully along the narrow lane-like street, and emerged just opposite old St. Peter's, the mother- church of New York. Its somber walls looked gray and dis- mal in that dreary fog ; but within it was warm and cheerful, and imposing in a massive, old-fashioned way. I prayed earnestly for the success of all our scheming — that is, Niall's and mine; and, above all, for the happy reunion of father and daughter. After that I went out ag^in to purchase my statue. I was now in the region -"f the Catholic publishers, which is full of many memories ui other days and the various phases of Catholic life in New York. There much has been done for the Catholic cause; much has been discussed, much has been attempted, and many attempts have failed. It is historic ground. I bought my statue and hurried home, glad to be housed on that chilly and disagreeable day. I had a few other preparations to make, on the chance that the weather would clear up; but I resolved to leave them till the morn- ing, when they might be easily accomplished by the aid of the telephone. msiFRBD GOES SIGHT-SEEING «S« CHAPTER XrX. WINIFRED GOES SIGHT-SEEING. The next morning I woke earlier than usual; and getting up at once, looked out of the window. Every trace' of the fog had vanished, and there was the sun leaping and dancing as merrily as if it were midsummer instead of De- cember. I hurried off to Mass, and got back again, to take a hasty breakfast and sit down in my room to wait for Wini- fred. It was about ten o'clock when, with my eyes glued to the wmdow I saw her little face looking out of the carriage which I had sent for her. I ran down to the ladies' entrance to bnng her in. She looked brighter and better than I had seen he since she left Ireland. She wore her black school costume, but her hair was no longer brushed painfully down to comparative smoothness: it broke out into the same saucy curls I knew of old. She darted out of the carriage and in at the open door, throwing herself into my arms again r""' ^ """'" '*" '"''*" "^''^ '° ^'"'' *° ''' y°" "I began to be afraid yesterday," I observed, "that we were both going to be disappointed." "Oh, so was I ! " said Winifred. " I went to the window he first thing, to be sure that the sun was shining and the fog gone away." ^ e couldn't the time you got up.' been much sun at tij iSa WINIFRED GOES SIGHT-SEEING. " Oh, it was there ! And I saw there wasn't any fog and that it was going to be a fine day." I brought her up to my room and installed her in a chair to rest while I got on my things, " For of course we must go out as soon as we can," I declared. " It will never do to miss a moment of such a perfect day, and it will be all too short." A shade seemed to pass over Winifred's sensitive face at the words. But I called her att«;ntion to the street below; for Broadway on a sunshiny morning is a very pleasant and cheerful sight, and to Winifred it was all new; so that it was certain the constant panorama of human beings, all jost- ling one another, eager, excited, apparently in a fearful hurry, would keep her fully occupied while I completed my toilet. Once the child called me to the wiadow to see a Chinaman. She had never seen one before, and she went oflf into a peal of laughter at the odd sight. This particular John was dressed in a pale blue silk shirt over his baggy black trousers. His pigtail was long and luxuriant, denoting rank. " What is he ? " cried Winifred. " You have such funny people in America. I don't think there are any like him in all Ireland." " Not in Wicklow, at any rate," I answered. " Indeed, I don't know what they would think of him there. He looks as if he had just stepped oflf a tea-caddy, straight from China." " Oh, he is a Chinese, then I I never saw one before ex- cept in pictures." The next thing that attracted her attention was one of the great vans, drawn by enormous dray-horses. "Look at their big legs and feet!" laughed Winifred — "as big as a tree almost! Oh, I wish Barney and Moira could see them ! " WINIFRFD GOES SIGHTSEEING. '5.1 who^Hr"'""' ^T"""' '""• "'"""'"'' hcr-<,pecially of tho« co«J;;i;:r ^^"'^"'' ^^^ •"' "-' -- - -•^ At last I wa. rea.ly. and we passed down the stairway Just across the way was a florisfs, and I told Winifred we mo°: ntT °"' ""* "'' *''^^^- ^' "''^ '° -'' » ^-ab* den etrC/"*\'"' ""^"'^ "rriages-which forn,ed a dense mass between the two sidewalks. "wli^n."""'"^ '^^ '*"** "P ''"' '" ""thing." I said « t" ^*r't' . '"'**"**• °' "■=" *>"= City Hall Park." Ihis ,s bad enough!" cried Winifred. "You feel as If some of the horses must step on you " However we got safely across, with the aid of a tall pohceman who piloted us through the crowd, putting up^n a.Uhontat.ve hand to stop a hor«. here, or sig^in'g^ f drive; ^ere to g,ve place. We entered the florist^, hop. It wa .ke gomg from winter to a lovely spring day. The f ra^ance from the many flowers was exquisite but almost overpoTZ Masses of roses of carnations, of chrysanthemums 1^7Z. m the rarest profusion; flowering plants, palms, costly exofc^s skS The hH ^ ""' '™P'"' ^"-^^ -'^- SoXn sk,es. The s.ght of the violets brought the tears to Winifred " eyes: they remmded her of her home beyond the sea B„ when she heard the price of them she wasLaJd ' Why, we get them for nothine in the no™i as we want-doming on the spring •' he wh^I"^" Tl &>ve so much money for them " '^''''^'^- Don t She persisted so much in the idea that it would be fearful .','1 III 154 WINIFRED GOES SIGHTSEEING. to waste money on flowers which might be had at home for nothing, that I bought her roses instead. I made her select a bunch for herself from the mass. She was charmed with their variety of color, varying from the pale yellow of the tea-rose to the deepest crimson. We recrossed the street, and I made her go back to the hotel with the roses, so that they might keep fresh in water. When she came down again to where I was waiting on the sidewalk, I said: "Now there is going to be a, circus procession on Fifth Avenue. It is just about time for it; so we will go round the comer and see it." " What is a circus procession ? " she inquired gravely. " You shall see for yourself in a few minutes," I answered briefly. We went across Twenty-ninth Street to Fifth Avenue, and stationed ourselves on a high brownstone stoop, which, fortunately for us, was not yet crowded. All along the streets people were waiting in serried rows. Small boys were mounted on trees, calling out jeering exclamations to those below ; fruit venders and venders of peanuts elbowed their way about, or stood on comers with furnaces aglow for the roasting of chestnuts. It was a busy, animated scene ; while the cheerful laughter and the shrill, gleeful voices of the children added to the general mirth. Presently the arrival of the procession was announced by the small boys and the blowing of a bugle by a man on horseback. The first to appear was a train of magnificent horses, some with Arab riders, some controlled by wonder- fully dexterous women. Next in order was a beautiful lady, clad in a gorgeous, bespangled costume, seated in a gilt chariot and driving with the utmost skill six snow-white horses. WINIFRED GOES SIGHT-SEEING. 155 "A gold carriage!" whispered Winifred, awestricken. " Oh, if Barney and Moira could only see that ! " "All is not gold that glitters," I replied promptly. " But the white horses are certainly beautiful." " Oh, what are these ? " she asked. I looked. It was the camels that had attracted the child's attention. Their appearance so astonished and amused her that she went off into peals of merry laughter, which caused many a responsive smile around us. "What funny things you have in America!" she ex- claimed. "Just see how these things walk and the queer men on their backs." "The animals are called camels," I said; "and their drivers are supposed to be Arabs from the desert." " Oh, I have studied about the camels and the deserts ! " Winifred said, and she looked at them with new interest. Her astonishment reached its climax when she saw the elephants. "What are they at all?" she cried, gazing at their enorm- ous bulk with startled eyes, as they slowly plodded on. Her glance wandered from their trunks to their great legs and huge sides. I told her what they were, and I think her studies had supplied her with some information about them and the ivory which is obtained from their tusks. She was charmed with the monkeys. "I'm sure they're little old men," she said— "just like those Niall used to tell about, who were shut up in the hills." She was never tired of watching their antics, and onlv regretted when they were out of sight. Two or three of them were mounted on tiny ponies; and, to Winifred's great glee, one tumbled ignotmniousiy off and had to be picked up out of the mud by an attendant. IS6 WINIFRED GOES SIGHTSEEING. "What's coming now?" she cried, as one of the vans containing a lion hove into sight. The great beast lay tranquil and unmoved, gazing at the passers-by with that air of nobility which always belongs to his species. His appearance seemed to fascinate my companion and she gazed at him very earnestly. " That is a lion," I remarked. "Oh, the king of the forest!" put in Winifred. "He looks like a king." " A very fierce one at times," I replied. " But that next is a tiger — a far more cruel and treacherous beast." " I don't like him," said Winifred, decisively ; " although he is something like a big, big cat, only for the stripes on his back." The leopards next passed by, fidgeting up and down the cage, with their spotted coats glittering in the sun. Hyenas, wolves, foxes, jackals, passed in quick succession, giving place at last to a giraffe. I pointed this animal out to Winifred. " He has a long, long neck," she observed ; " he looks as if he had stretched it out so far that, he couldn't get it back ag^n." The doings of the clown, I think, puzzled more than thejf amused Winifred. " Is he a man or another kind of animal ? " she asked me gravely. She was not at all sure what kind of being he was, or why 'he should be so dressed up and act in such a manner. I told her that it was to amuse people. " But he isn't half so funny as the monkeys," she declared, contemptuously. " Why, you never told me that there were such wonderful things in America ! " "I'm sure I never thought ©f k," I replied, latighing. " But I am glad you have seen the circus. It is quite an WINIFRED GOES SIGHTSEEING. ,57 edtication in nahtral history. Now you will know an elephant from a giraflFe. a lion from a tiger, a camel from a zebra, and a monkey from a fox. But, dear, we must hurry on and see what sight-seeing we can do. I declare it is almost noon already." Presently, indeed, we heard the shrill sound of many whistles and the ringing of more than one bell. Winifred put her hands to her ears. "What a noise!" she cried; and she laughed merrily as she did so, her feet fairiy dancing over the pavement in the pleasant sunlight of that winter day. And so we pursued our way up Fifth Avenue, with its rows of imposing brownstone houses, toward the cathedral, which was our destination ■58 ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. CHAPTER XX. ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. Coming to the cathedral, where it stands on the corner of Fiftieth Street and Fifth Avenue, we stopped to observe its proportions, at once noble and, graceful, its white marble facade and tall spires being one of the ornaments of the Empire City. Entering the edifice, we knelt a while in prayer before we began to examine all its beauties in detail. The rich glow of the beautiful stained windows was a revelation to the child, and the stories which they tell of saints and martyrs appealed lo her strongly. She watched their varied tints failing upon the marble altars with a visible delight. " 1 must write a letter about this to Father Owen," she said as we came out again upon the dignified bustle of Fifth Avenue, so unlike the activity of Broadway, but still notice- able after the quiet of the great temple. " It is all so grand in there ! " she said — "grand as our own mountains and beau- tiful as the Dargle. It reminded me of heaven. Perhaps heaven is something like that." I smiled and did not contradict her; for the calm and repose of a great cathedral is very far removed indeed from earth. " Of course there are several other churches I want you to see," I observed ; " but perhaps that one will do aow. As we had breakfast late, and are not in a particular Imrry for our luncheon, I think we will take a trip in an elevated car first." ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. 159 Winifred, of course, consented eagerly; and, havinR pro- cured the child a cup of hot bouillon at a druRpist's as a preventive against hunger, we climbed up the great iron stairs of the elevated station at Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue, and were soon seated in the car. It seemed very wonderful to Winifred that we should be flying through the air at such a rate of speed ; but she was delighted with the swift motion and had no thought of fear. She keept looking in with eager curiosity at the houses or the shops as we passed by their second- or third-story windows, and down at the pigmy-like people on the sidewalk, making continual exclamations of wonder or interest. We got out at the Battery; and before taking the East Side car up town I let Winifred take a run in Battery Park, so that she might have a glimpse of the bay and the huge ferry-boats landing their loads of passengers, and the funnels of tiie steamers or the masts of tall vessels in the offing. "Across all that water," she cried, stretching out her arms with a pretty and graceful gesture, " is my horn- -my dear hills, the Dargle, and the people that I love I " She sniflFed tlie salt air as. though it were wine; and ran about in the alleys, gazing longingly at the green grass, while I sat upon a bench and waited. At last I reminded her that time was flying, and that she would be a very hungry little girl by the time we made our trip up the East Side of the city and got down again to luncheon. We were soon seated in a Third Avenue elevated car and passed up Chatham Square and the Bowery— that great thoroughfare, where such curious people congregate; where 'he very shops have a diflFerent air, and the oyster-saloons and other places of refreshment seem to revel in stran-e sign- boards and queerly-worded advertisements. The Jews are ite ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. there in large numbers, as also Syrians, Chinese, and other Orientals, so that it has a strange and foreign air. It all amused and interested Winifred, and she called my attention every now and ag^in to some grotesque figrure on the sign-boards or to some poster on the wall. I pointed out to the child Stuyvesant Park and Union Square Park as a rest to the eyes tired with so much sight-seeing. Then we jogged up the uninteresting and uninviting Third Avenue till finally we were in the vicinity of Harlem Bridge and away up in the open country, past Harlert' and Mott Haven, and well up toward High Bridge itself. At last I called a halt, and we alighted and began the descent again. I resolved to take the little girl to luncheon at the Waldorf as a special treat, so that she might see modem luxury, so far as hotels are concerned, at its height. We sat in the Empire dining-room, with the imperial eagle of the great Napoleon on our chair-backs and a large bunch of fragrant pink roses on the table before us. Our soup was brought in small silver bowls, which reminded Winifred of Niall's treasures. She much enjoyed the very choice and daintily served luncheon which I ordered for her, particularly the sweet course and the dessert. An orchestra was playing all the time of luncheon, changing briskly from g^ave to gay ; and its strains helped to make the whole scene dreamlike and unreal to the child of Nature, accustomed only to the glory of the hills. Other wonders awaited her: the cafi, with its ever-blos- soming trees, and tfie goldfish swimming in its ponds; the onyx stairway, and the Louis Quinze salon, with its inlaid cabinets, its brocaded furniture, and above all its gilt pikno. This last object seemed to cap the climax of splendor in Wini- fred's eyes. I think, indeed, that very modem hotel seemed ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETIXG. i6i to her a page from the Arabian Nights— some AlaHdins palace which the genii had built up. She was very pleased, too, with the private dining-room upstairs, where the turning on of the electric light showed such a display of china of all sorts. When we were tired of exploring, and had, in fact, seen all that was really worth the trouble or tt-at was open to the public, I sat down at a table in the Turkish parlor to write a note, bidding Winifred rest a while. She coiled herself up in one of the great armchairs, keeping so still that I almost thought she had gone to sleep. The rugs in that room are very soft and the draperies ample, and sound is very much deadened, so that I did not perceive any one coming in. Looking up suddenly from my writing, I was surprised to see Roderick O'Byrne. I grew pale and red by turns; my heart sank within me and I could not meet his glance. I thought of Niall, his anger, his threats, my own promises. Yet what was I to do in such a situation? Unconscious, of course, of the tumult he had raised in my mind, Roderick came directly toward me, making a few in- different remarks on the weather, the last political event, the hotel. Finally he asked, abruptly: "By the way, do I remember aright, that you said you were in Wicklow during your recent trip to Ireland ? " "Yes— no!" I cried, confused. "Oh, yes, of course I was there I " He looked at me in some surprise; then he asked again: " Of course you saw the Sugar Loaf Mountains, as the Sassenach call them, but which we Celts loved to name the Gilt Spurs?" "Of course," I assented, more uneasily than ever; for I heard a movement in the chair. tta ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. "The Dargle goes without saying," he continued. Another rustle in the chair. " But I am not going to put you through a catechism on Irish k>cal scenery," Roderick said, with a laugh ; " I am almost sure you told me that you knew Father Owen Farley." " Oh, my dear, dear Father Owen ! " cried Winifred from the depth of her chair. The mention of that beloved name had aroused her from the spell of shyness, or some other cause, which had hitherto kept her silent. Roderick turned quickly, and, at the same moment Wini- fred stood up and faced him. There they were together, father and daughter, as any one could see at a glance. " Do you know Father Owen, sir ? " the child asked ; and at her voice Roderick started. He did not answer her question, but, gazing at her intently, asked instead : "Who are you, child?" Something in the question abashed or oflFended Winifred ; for she drew her little figure to its highest and replied not a word. Roderick smiled involuntarily at the movement; and I, stepping forward, interposed myself between the father and daughter and drew the child away. " Come ! " I said : " we are in a hurry." And, with a bow and a few muttered words of farewell, I hastened out of the room ; and, rushing from the hotel as if a plague had suddenly broken out there, I almost ran with the wondering Winifred to Broadway, where we took a cable car as the safest and speediest means of leaving that vicinity behind us. I had left the note which I was writing on the table; but, fortunately, I had sealed and stamped it, intending to put it in the mail-box in the hall. I was sure it would be posted, and gave myself no further concern about it. ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. 163 I knew Roderick would come to me sooner or later for an explanation of that strange scene — tiie presence there of the child and my own singular conduct. His impetuous nature would give him no rest till he had cleared up that mystery. But at least the child should be safe back in the convent before I saw him ; and I could then refuse to answer any questions, or take any course I thought proper, without fear of interference on the part of Winifred. " We shall go on up to the Park," I said to the child ; for I had some fear that Roderick might come straight to my hotel. Winifred made no answer, and we took the car to Fifty- ninth Street, where we got out and were soon strolling through the broad alleys, thronged with carriages ; or the quieter foot- paths of that splendid Central Park, justly the pride of New Yorkers. " Why are you afraid of that gentleman ? " Winifred asked me in her abrupt fashion as I led her by a secluded path to show her a statue of Auld Lang Syne which had always appealed to me. " I am not afraid of him, dear." " But why are you trembling, and why did you run away ? " she asked again. " Because it was time for us to go. I still have much to show you." " I like that gentleman," she said. " Do you ? " I cried impulsively. " I am so glad I Go on liking him just as much as ever you can." She did not seem so much surprised at this statement and at my apparent inconsistency as a grown person would have been ; but she went on : " Only I thought it was rather rude of him to question me like that." Il K4 ASOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. " He did not mean it for rudeness." " No, I suppose not." the child said slowly. " I'm sorry you took me away so quickly. I would like to have talked to him. He reminded me of Niall." " Of Niall 1 " I repeated in amazement. "Yes," she answered. "Of course he hasn't gray hair and he doesn't wear the same kind of clothes that Niall does, but it's his face." I remembered how the same jthought had on one occasion occurred to me. " Then I think he knew my dear Father Owen," the child continued. " I wonder how he knew him ? Father Owen never came to America." " Perhaps he heard of him," I suggested; for I was not anxious that her curiosity in the subject should be too keenly aroused. I tried to divert her mind by showing her various monuments and busts of celebrated people as we went, and at last we stood before the stone group of Auld Lang Syne. It is so natural, so easy, so lifelike that one would think it represented three old men, boon companions, whom we had known. The very buttons on their surtouts, the smile upon their faces, are to the life. Winifred stood by, smiling re- sponsively, while I recited to her the familiar lines of that homely ballad which has found an echo in every land. We could not see everything in the Park that day, espe- cially as we began to feel tired. So, living the rest for a future occasion, we returned home again and had a rest be- fore dinner. The gaily-lighted dining-room, the well-dressed guests, were a new source of pleasure to Winifred; but every once in a while her thoughts reverted to the dark gentleman. I was haunted by a fear that he would come that very evening for an explanation, and I did not linger either in the hotel ANOTHER UNEXPECTED MEETING. ,6, parlor, or the corridor. But the evening wore away and theri ZTf T °?rK ^ '°°' ^'"'^«' °"* '" »''°« her a chocolM *! u* "' ^'"^''*' *'"" »« '"y '« '^ 'took of chocolates and other sweet, for her to take back with her on the morrow. Next day faithful to promise. I brouglrt her back to .hoc, .where I left her somewhat depressed and despondent, as the returnmg pup.I is apt to be for a day or two Then I^ set myself to await Roderick's visit with what heart I M A MYSTERY SOLVED. CHAPTER XXI. A MYSTERY SOLVED. When Winifred had returned to the convent, I waited patiently for Roderick's coming, which I knew could not be long delayed. Indeed, before the week was out his card was brought to me where I sat at my sitting-room fire. I glanced up at him as he entered the room. His face was grave, even stem in its expression, reminding me forcibly of Niall. After the ordinary salutations had been exchanged, he stood before me silent a moment ; then he said, with an abruptness quite foreign to his manner: " I think you will agree with me that this is no time for commonplaces. I have come to know the meaning of this mystery." " Mystery! " I repeated vaguely; for, with all my planning and thinking what I should say when he came, I was still hopelessly at a loss, and resolved to be guided by the event. " Yes, mystery," he declared emphatically. " I saw in your company the very child of whom I told you I had had a glimpse and whom I was so eager to see again." " But how could I know that the child with me was the one who had attracted your attention?" " Well, in the first place," he answered, looking at me keenly, " I gave you a tolerably accurate description of the girl in question. The type is not a very common one, and might, I think be easily recognized." A itrSTERY SOLVED. i«7 He paused ; and I remaining silent, he went on again : "I hope you will not consider it rude if I say that I think you did know it was • t child I was in search of." "And why?" I a l.H sti'l with a mere helpless idea of gaining time. "Because of uir immr iii 1 >ur course of action the other day in tho i);.r!,,r „: tl v^ | i.jrf. I saw at once that, for some reasoi or aiv Ji- . y.i wx-t e disturbed at my presence there. When the pir' -j.. k ■ and thus attracted my attention, you were distressed atKl \/h It 1 was in the act of addressing her you seized her b;, I,.- hand and fled from the hotel." (An irrepressible smile came over his face at the recollection.) " You left in such haste that you forgot the letter you had been writing. However, I posted that for you. And you went along Thirty-third Street, I should be afraid to say at what rate of speed. Did you suppose I was going to pursue you and forcibly wrest away the child ? " I could not help laughing in sympathy at the drollery which shone out through the anxiety of his face, like sunshine from a cloud. " Well, not exactly," I observed ; " but, truth to tell, I had no desire to hold any conversation with you just then. And, besides, I was in a hurry." "Oh, you were in a hurry — there was no possible doubt about that!" he assented, still laughing. "Will you not sit down?" I inquired. "You look so very unsociable standir.g, and the night is cold enough to make this fire agreeable." He took the chair I indicated, but he did not turn from the subject. " May I ask," he resumed, " if the child whom I saw on that occasion is here with you ? " ilSB A MYSTERY SOLVED. X " She is not," I responded briefly, elated that I could do so truthfully. "Where is she?" " That I can not tell." "Can not tell !" he repeated musingly. "Surely that is a very strange answer. Perhaps, at least, you will tell me who she is ?" " I am not at liberty to tell that either," I replied firmly. " Mystery on mystery ! " he cried, with an impatient ges- ttire. " What in the name of cor^mon-sense— if you will for- give my bluntness — is the purpose of this mystification?" " The mystification arises," I declared, " from the fact that I am solemnly pledged to keep both her identity and her where- abouts a secret." " From whom? " The question was a shrewd one. I hesiUted how to answer it ; but at last I said : " From all inquirers." "Are there likely to be many?" he asked, quizzically. " That I can not say." Roderick lay back in his chair and pondered, keeping his eyes fixed upon my face. "Under ordinary circumstances," he said, after a pause, " I should, of course, respect your desire for secrecy and say no more about the matter. But there are reasons which make the identity of this child of vital interest to me." I could not answer: there was now nothing I could say without revealing the secret I was pledged to keep. " You will pardon me for saying further that I strongly suspect / am the person toward whom you are pledged to maintain this secrecy." " You ! " I repeated. " Why, surely you are in a singula' mood to-night, full of fancies and suspicions ! " A MYSTERY SOLVED. I<9 " For which I have good and sufficient reasons. Are yours equally so for maintaining this secrecy?" " I believe that they are," I replied gravely. He rose and paced the floor a while. Then he sat down again, and drew his chair nearer mine, as if impelled by some sudden resolve. '' Since you will not give mc your confidence—" he began. "Since I can not,' I corrected quietly. Well, since you can not or will not, I shall give you mine instead, and open for your inspection a page of my life which I fancied was closed forever." He paused, and an expression so sad and troubled crossed his face that, in my deep pity, I almost regretted mv promise to Niall. "I was brought up," he went on, "in the neighborhood of the Dargle. That beautiful glen and stream were alike famihar to me. I inhabited an old family mansion, which to say the least, stood sadly in need of repair. I was under the guardianship of a kinsman who, though eccentric, was of sterling worth." There was a touch of emotion in his voice, as he thus referred to Niall, which pleased me. " When I was about twenty-three we had a serious dif- ference of opinion, which arose in part from my marriage For at that time I married a ver- beautiful girl, who lived only a few years, and left one cKlId— a girl." He hurried over this part of the story, which seemed deeply painful to him. " It is always unpleasant to go into family affairs, but my relations with my wife's family were such that I removed the child from their influence and took her back to the old dwel- hng. There I placed her in charge of an old woman who ijo A MYSTERY SOLVED. had been my nurse. I refused to accept any of my wife's money, even for the maintenance of the child; and, my own circumstances being not of the best, I came to America. I had but one object in view — to make money, that I might return, claim my child and restore the old dwelling of my fathers to something of its former state." Again there was a long, troubled pause; and I did not interrupt him by so much as a word, nor did I give any sign that some of his story was already familiar to me. When he resumed it was in a different tone. His face was drawn and haggard, his voice tremulous: " For some time I sent the half-yearly remittance faith- fully to my little Winifred, and I was happy in so doing. Then I received a letter— from whom precisely I know not, though I believe it purported to be from a priest. It was written in the third person and it simply informed me that my child was dead." "Dead!" I exclaimed— "dead ! How cruel!— how— " I was about to say untrue, but I checked myself in time. Roderick glanced quickly toward me but said nothing. " It was indeed a cruel blow," he resumed at last ; " and after that I gave up all desire to see Ireland again. I drifted on here, doing whatever good I could and working still, but with little personal hope or interest to cheer me in my labors." His weary, despondent tone went to my heart, which was beating just then with exultation; for I was truly rejoiced to know that Winifred's father was worthy of her, that poor Niall's dreams might one day oome true— at leuM in .so far as seeing the reunion of father «nd rhild, with Roderick's return to the home of his youth. I resolved to write to Niall without delay, tell him of wlwt I had discovered and obtain his permission to reveal all to Roderick, fn the meantime. A ^fYSTERY SOLVED. however, I must, of course, be true to my promise and give Roderick no hint of the knowledge I possessed. " And you never found out from whom that letter came ? '" I inquired. " Never : there was no means of finding out. Father Owen was at that time absent in Rome. I presumed it was from the priest who had replaced him. I wrote to him ; the letter followed him to a distant parish in a remote part of Ireland, whither he had already returned. He had never written to me, he replied, and had no knowledge of the matter at all. I wrote to Granny Meehan, the woman who had charge of Winifred. She never answered. I suppose on the death of the child she had wandered away. I then sent a letter to Niall, the eccentric kinsman to whom I before referred. He, I suppose, was either dead or away on some of his wander- ings." " Your story ^s indeed a sad one," I put in, grieved that I could do nothing to dispel his sorrow. I could not let him know that Granny Meehan was still faithful to her post, that Niall was .still dreaming and planning for his welfare and for the restoration of the old place ; and that, best of all, Winifred was still living and such a child as might de- '.Ight a father's heart — in fact, that she was the child who liad so deeply interested him already. Whether he suspected that such was the case or merely saw in her some chance re- semblance I cou'd not yet tell. " You may well say it is a sad story," Roderick answered " To me it seems all the more so that since the receipt of that letter which daslicd all my hopes Fortune has siniltd upon me. Everything I touch seem;; to turn to money. The novel, rejected before, has since been accepted, and has run through several editions ; articles from my pen are in demand I7» A MYSTERY SOLVED. by leading magazines; all my speculations have turned out well, and my insurance business has prospered. It is the old, old story of Fortune coming too late." I sat still, joyful, yet amazed ; thinking within myself : " How wonderful are the ways of Providence ! Niall's dream of restoring the old place shall certainly be realized now. Father and child, reunited, shall dwell amongst those lovely scenes: while the faithful hearts of Niall and Granny Meehan shall be filled with joy. How seldom does life work out events so happily ! " " Would vou like to see the old place again ? " I asked. " What use now ? " he cried. " Some day I may take the journey to see if Niall be still amongst the living ; but I shrink from that as yet." We sat silent after that for some moments, I afraid to break the spell lest I should in any way betray the knowledge which so filled my heart. But presently Roderick roused him- self with the remark : " That child whom I first saw in the carriage on Broadway, «m1 whom I next saw in yoor company, has awakened a strange train of thought in my mind. I iMve even dared to hope that J have been the victim of a trick and that my child still Kve». Her voice, when she spoke in the Waldorf parlor the other day, seemed as an echo of my vanidied youth. It was tfie voice of my wife ; and when the child rose from the chair and confronted me, for an instant I believed that the grave bad given up its dead. It «ra» my wife herself as I saw Hct first, many years before our marndge." " Resemblances Me very delusive," I said larady. " But was this resemblance delusive - " he askeA. leaning forward and lookmfif me m the lace. "How can I answer? I never saw yo«r •*■,'' I replied. .' «^- 5^^«5B!»^;^ A mrSTERY SOLVED. 173 If wai an fvasion, and perhaps he saw it; but he only •ijfhed deeply. ■ I had expected better things of you." he went on; " for we are old enough friends that I might have looked to you f " asked Winifred, imperiously, as soon as we entered onr rms at the hotel. " Ifs a sham.-I tell you it's a shame! " And she stamped her little foot on the carpet. "Winifred!" I said severely. "You must be careful I" •' I don-t care! " she cried. " I won't be g.xi,l anv murr. It was very impolite to run away from that gentlemar; and I wanted to talk to him, because I think 1 knew him once, or perhaps only dreamul about him." I saw now that the denouement was coming nearer and nearer. The matter was indeed being taken out of mv hands. 1 determmed, however, that I would be true to Niall; ami that if some news did not soon come from Ireland, I should remove the child from New York and go with her, perhaps to Canada. I rejoiced that the holidays were over an.u are o r^ . Do you think so? " she asked eaRerly. Oh. I sl,all hkc that! But are you perfectly sure of .t? .•I am almost sure of it." I replied: and ^m, U m k ,H.r that the bell was about to riuR for the departure of lit^r'! hurried away, for fear she might begm to quesfon "*■■ ir/ thafl had many lonely days of anxious waiting as the i n ter sp.a drearily away, Kebrt.ary and then March irew their slow lengths along, and my letters -r- >' -. answered. April was ushered in. more changeable than ever "I ngs of sunshine being followed by afternoons of ra n. Tnd day" "* '''--^ ""''^"""^^ '"' ^'"^ ' ""olly'Twas sitting in my room at the hotel, em- broSeHn 1 «le. and disconsolately watching the U.ong on Broadway when there came a knock at my door. A bell-boy ItereawUh two letters upon a salver. My heart gave a " at hrob as I seized them, recognizing on both the nsh ^p^t;': Broadway, with its throng of ^^>^^X before me: and I held the two letters m my hand-readm^ th addles . now on one, now on the other, and puttmg off he r^ome" of opening them: for I felt a cunous dread. SupporNiall should hold me to my promise or sternly com- Id me to bring Winifred forthwith back to rdan w. h- out even revealing her identity to Roderick? At 'a^* ^ ™ the seal of one of the letters with a hand that trembled I had "control a nervous agitation, which almost prevented ^e from seeing the characters before me. as w.th a pale face. I began to read. LliTIIMS .11 r.lST. I'ji CHAF^TER XXIV. LETTERS AT LAST. TiiF. letter I had opened was. I knew, from Niall. I rc- menbered the .strange, crabU-d charactets, almost resenibliii^r Arabic, in which he had written my letter of instruction. " The hills of Wicklow- he began, " arc streaming with sunlight. Their spurs art Jl golden, and the streams are rushing in great gladness, for they are full of joy. They have beon freed from the bondage of wiiter. " There is joy in the hills. It is sou: ig in my ^ars and m my heart. Words I dare not spea;., daughter of the stranger! I can not put on paper the thoughts that are burn- ing in my brain. You have found him, the beloved wanderer; and you have discovered that his heart has never wandered' from us. I knew before now that he was not to blame; and of that I shall tell you some day, but not now. " Had I wings, I would fly to Roderick and to mv beautiful httle lady. I love him, I love her. My heart has been soared by her absence. Until your letter came, the hills spoke a strange, new language, and I have heard no human speech When your letter reached the village, I was up at mv cabin m the hills, unconscious of good or evil, burning with fever. The good Samaritan found me out; who he is you can guess. It was long, long before my senses came back; and he would not read me your letter until I had grown strong. When I heard its contents, I feared even then that my brain would ,gj LETTERS AT LAST. turn. For two days I roamed the mountains I fled to my casern of the Phoul-a-Phooka for greater solitude. I could not speak of my joy-I dared not think of .t. "Xnd now, O daughter of the stranger, heaven-sent from that land afar! bring her back to my heart, lest it break with the joy of this knowledge, and with sorrow that the Tea still divides me from her, and that other equally beloved. Si what matters education now ! Let the beaut.f ul grow as he flowers grow, as the trees shoot up, clothed m beauty. 'Come now in all haste; and tell Roderick that on my knees I implore him to come too, that I may reveal all. B.d him hasten to Niall, the forlorn." ^ . ., . . „,m^u He broke off abruptly, with some words m Irish, wh.ch, of course, I did not understand. My own head was swim- ming; a great joy surged up in my heart, and I could almost have echL Niall's wild rhapsody. When should I see poor Roderick and tell him-what? I had not yet made up my mind as to how I should fulfil that delightful task. However, I would write to him that very day and bid him come to hear the elad news. . . , I took up the other letter, which was, I doubted not, from Father Owen. Of course he could add nothing to my great happiness; still, it would be of the deepest interest to hear every detail relating to this matter of paramount >n;PO™- The letter was just as characteristic as Nialls had been and I seemed to see the priest's genial face lighted up with pleasure, as he wrote, and to hear his kindly voice. " Laus Deo! " began the letter. " What words of joy or praise can I find to express my own sentiments and those of the faithful hearts whose long years of waiting have been at last rewarded! I took your letter to Mrs. Meehan, and I had to use diplomacv-though that was a lost art with me, so 1' LETTERS At LAST. 193 simple are my people and my duties — for fear the shock mifjlit be too great. But I don't think joy ever kills. I wish you could have seen her face — so tranquil, so trusting, illumined with the light of happiness. You can imagine the outburst of her praise rising up to the Creator, clear and strong as a lark's at morning. Barney and Moira were only restrained by my presence from cutting capers, and at last I said to them : ' Go out there now, Barney, my man, and you too, Moira, my colleen, and dance a jig in the courtyard ; for I am pretty sure your legs won't keep still much longer.' " And now of poor Niall ! When your letter came I went in search of him. No one had seen him for a good while, and it was supposed he had gone off on some of his wander- ings. None of the people would venture near his cabin, so I took my stick in my hand, and went there with the letter. I found the poor fellow in a sad plight — alone, burning with fever, delirious, and going over all kinds of queer scenes in his raving : now crying for 'gold, gold, gold !' or giving heart- piercing cries for Winifred. Again, he would be back in the past, with Roderick, a boy, at his side. " Well, there was no one to take care of the creature ; and, as it fitted in with my day's work, I took care of him myself. His gratitude, when he came to consciousness, was touching; and yet I had only followed the plainest dictates of humanity. When T thought my patient was strong enough, I read the letter to him. Bless my soul ! it was like a whirl- wind. He nearly took the breath out of me, rushing from the cabin in a kind of madness, and leaving me sitting there staring at the door by which he had gone. I did not see him for more than a week, and I assure you I was anxious. I was afraid he had lost his mind through excess of joy. "To make a long story short, when he did come back ,5^ LETTERS AT LAST. again I got hold of him entirely. Joy seems to have changed his nature as sunshine will purify a noisome spot. He is as gentle and tractable as a lamb; and better than all, his old faith and pietv have come back to him. He goes to Mass and the sacraments. The light of heaven seemed to flow m on him with your letter. His sorrow for the past was like that of a child. I told him not to be disturbed about it, but just go on asking for mercy, mercy— only that and nothing more. ' For,' said I to him, 'my poor fellow, there's the eye of God looking down; and as it sees the noxious weed and the fairest flower, so it beholds our sins ahd our waywardness as well as our virtues. If these weeds of sin are plucked, the flowers of our virtues are just as fair in His sight.' " But, O dear lady, how the old man sits and longs for the hour of reunion! He is out on the hills when their spurs are burnished gold, at the sunset hour; and he is there at the dawn waiting for the first beam to light up the Glen of the Dargle; he is out in the moonlight watching it making strange shapes out of the trees; and all the time with that one thought in his mind. He looks for gold no more, because he says his love of it was sinful ; and the only treasures he seeks for now are the faces of his loved ones. Do not keep him long waiting, I entreat. " Tell my pet, Winifred, the robin is out there now, busy as ever ; and just bursting his breast with the joy of coming spring. ' I am proud and glad to hear of her success at the convent and sorry she has to leave it so soon. Say a prayer sometimes for the old priest in far-off Ireland, who soon will be slipping away to his rest— but not, he hopes, till he lays eyes on you again, and thanks you for the happiness you have brought to him and to the little ones of his flock." I sat there for some time going over these letters, altem- LETTERS AT LAST. ,95 ately, and delighting in the pictures which their eloquent language evoked. To one thing I made up my mind; I should go back to Ireland and be present at the joyful meet ing. Indeed, my eye brightened, my cheek glowed at the thought of seeing again those lovely scenes, and of the pleasant reunion of hearts at which I was to be present. But it was my turn to write a letter, or at least a very brief note, asking Roderick to come to me as soon as possible. That being Saturday, I thought I should have to wait till Monday for his visit. Sunday passed in a feverish state of agitation. I was going out to supper in the evening, at the very same house where I had before met Roderick, but it was unlikely he would be there again. What was my surprise to see his tall figure standing near the fire talking to our hostess I He saluted me gravely. I thought he looked thin and worn ; but at first he did not come near me : and I feared he had resolved to avoid me. As we were all making a move for supper, I managed to whisper: " I wrote you a note yesterday. Please promise to comply with the request I make you in it." He turned sharply: " You wrote to me? " he queried. " Yes," I answered. " May I ask about what? " Though the words were curt, Roderick's tone was genial and his face smiling. " Merely asking you to come to see me to-morrow even- ing — but your partner is waiting, you must go." He turned to the young girl beside him, with an apology for his momentary inattention. If his mind was inclined to wander from her to the subject of my approaching communi- jgg LETTERS AT LAST. cation, he was too courteous and too accomplished a man of L world to let her perceive it. I was ahnos sor^ ^ad spoken, lest it should spoil his supper. Several t""« ^ ^'^ hClo;king at me; but I only smiled and went on talkmg Tny partner, a brilliant lawyer with a great reputat.on for wit. Very soon after supper Roderick came over to me. with his usual ah lost boyish eagerness. , , •, "What do you want to say to me?" he demanded, sn-.d- '"'..'lwC:-know I want ,o say anything?" I retorted. * 'c'otse I know, and I am going to hear what it is. too!" he cried, seating himself beside me. "Now, Roderick," I said, "if I were a charmmg young lady, such as that one you have just left. I could never res> that face and that voice. But as matters are you 11 ,ust Le to wait till 1 make up my mind to tell you; for spectacled eyes see without glamor, and gray ha.rs give us "^"nriaughed and his face took on a brighter look I fancy that he knew by my tone I had good news to tell. -I won't go to see you on Monday night." he declared. " unless you give me a hint.' _ " Well, I will give you a hint, and then yo-' needn t come to see me." " That is unkind." . "No; it would only be giving you trouble for nothmg. •I he substance of what I have to say to you is this: that you must take a trip to Ireland very soon." "Alone?" " Yes, alone." "And when I get there?" LETTERS AT LAST. «97 'You'll be glad you went." He pondered deeply, for some moments. "Isn't this very like a fool's errand?" he inquired. "Which is the fool, he who goes or she who sends?" I replied, mischievously. "Can you ask?" he laughed. "A man is nearly always a fool when he does a woman's errand." "But, seriously, you will go?" He tiiought a little longer. "I will," he answered, "if you will only promise me one thing." "What is that?" j' That there will be an end of all this mystification." " I promise you that, most solemnly," I answered. " Once on Irish soil, you shall know everything." "Tell me now," he said, with sudden eagerness, "how is Winifred, asthore?" There was a world of feeling in his voice, though he came out with the epithet laughingly. " Well and happy," I assured him. " Will you give her something from me? " "I'm not so sure," I said, jestingly; "for you've qi won her heart already. She talks of nothing but the 'dark gentleman.' " A glow of pleasure lit up his face. "And now, what is it you want me to give her?" He took a small box from his waistcoat pocket. It was the prettiest little ring, with a green stone in the center. " The color of hope— the color of Ireland," Roderick ob- served. "A good omen," I said, looking at the gem, where it lay sparkling in the wadding. 198 LETTERS AT LAST. " You will give that to Winifred from her unknown friend," Roderick said. " She will be delighted— though, you know, of course, she will not be allowed to wear it in the convent." " Ah, she is in a convent! " he exclaimed. " But in any case, let her keep it as a reminder of me." I thought as I watched him that if Winifred so closely resembled her dead mother, she was also like her father. His face was as mobile and expressive as hers, allowing always for the mask which the years are sure to put over every human countenance. " You fancy there is a resemblance in this girl to your dead wife?" " I know there is a resemblance to Winifred's dead mother," he answered. I was silent though I had little reason for concealment henceforth. " How cruel you have been all this time," he exclaimed, as he watched me ; "I think it comes natural to your sex." " Don't revile our stx for the faults of your own," I answered. "But tell me more about your dead wife." His face changed and softened. Then a look came over it— a look of tender remembrance, which did him credit. " She was very beautiful," he began, " at least I thought so. I met her when she was only fifteen. She was the image of what Winifred is now, only her beauty was more pro- nounced, and she had a haughtier air. I never forgot her from that moment. When she was eighteen, we were mar- ried. She was only twenty-four when she died, but I re- member her still as vividly — " He .stopped, as though the subje'- were too painful, and then resumed, half dreamily: LETTERS AT LAST. ,„ "I am going to tell you now what will lend an added value to that little trinket I have given you for Winifred." He paused again, and drew a deep breath, looking at me hard. " It belonged to— to my wife, when she was a child of Winifred's age. Winifred will prize it, because it was- her mother's." I stood up, and Roderick, rising also, confronted me. " Can you deny it ? " he asked defiantly. I was silent. " Pray what is the object of further secrecy? " he pleaded. " Tell me, is not Winifred my child, the child of my dead wife?" I bowed my head in assent. Concealment was neither useful nor desirable any longer. The look of triumph, of exaltation, of joy, which swept over his face was good to see. "But you will wait?" I pleaded, in my return. " Yoi. will go to Ireland, as agreed, and your child shall be all your own entirely and forever?" " I will wait," he answered quietly, " though it is hard." And then we shook hands and parted. I felt that I must hurry away: for I could not go on talking of commonplace subjects, either to Roderick or to any of the others. As I took leave of our hostess she said, laughingly: " You and Mr. O'Byrne were quite melodramatic, stand- mg over there a few moments ago." I laughed, but I did not give her any information. When I got home I wrote to Niall, telling him that in a month or two at furthest I would bring Winifred back, but that I wanted to show her a little of the American continent before takmg her home. On my next visit to the convent, I did not say a word to the child-I was afraid it would unsettle her •I If 200 LETTERS AT LAST. for her schcx)l-work, but I informed her teachers that it would be necessary to withdraw her before tlie expiration of the term. After the trip which I intended to take with her to Niagara and a few other points of interest, I determined to cross the ocean once more and bring Winifred safely back to Niall. I should let Roderick sail by the Cunard line, while 'we would take passage by the White Star line, so that our arrival would be almost simultaneous. I presented Winifred with her ring, though at the time I did not tell her it had been her mother's. She was more than delighted, as I had foreseen, and put it at once upon her finger. She was vexed, and indulged in one of her childish outbursts of petulance, when I explained to her that wearing it was against the rules. She had to be content with keeping it where she could look at it, very often. She sent a very pretty message to Roderick. " Tell him," she said, " I remember him when the birds sing, when the organ plays, when the sun shines— whenever there is happiness in my heart" HOME AGAIN. CHAPTER XXV. HOME AGAIN. The next few weeks were full of the bustle of preparation. When I told Winifred she was to leave the convent before the end of the term, and, after a few weeks of travel to return to Ireland, she seemed fairly dazed at the unexpected news. " Her education, of course, will have to be continued," I thought; "but hardly in an American convent." One May morning Winifred took leave of her teaci.ers and school friends, and we set out direct for Niagara When we reached the Falls, she was for a time wholly lost in wonder The stupendous mass of falling water seemed to produce upon the little girl a curious impression of bewilderment "Oh, it is grand, grand!" she said. "This America is a wonderful place." Winifred and I had, as it were, a surfeit of beauty; and so by the afternoon our exclamations of wonder and delight became exhausted, and we could only look out upon the lovely and varied panorama in silence. But we were roused to ex- citement as the afternoon sun began to take a downward slope and we neared the far-famed Rapids. The passengers braced themselves as if for certain danger (though in reality there IS comparatively little) as the steamer rushed into the great V 1 , r. ,oa HOME AGAIN. masses of foaming water with a lurch and a bound that sent a tingle to every nerve. Onward she dashed, the speed seem- ing to become more terrific as we descended the river in the direction of Montreal. It is a thrilling, though delightful, experience. As for Winifred, she seemed to enjoy the situa- tion thoroughly. Not a shade of alarm crossed her face, while many of the older passengers were visibly agitated. From the steamer's deck wc took a last glimpse of the city, lying golden in the sunset, with the figure of Our Udy of Good Help on the tower of Bbnsecours church, stretching wide its arms in benediction over the great river which Cartier discovered. At dawn we were nearing Quebec, and rushed out of our cabins for a first sight of the Gibraltar of America. We flew past Levis, Sillery, and, rounding Cape Diamond, sud- denly beheld the ancient walls, the colossal rock crowned by the citadel, with Lower Town, squalid if picturesque, at its feet. Landing, Winifred and I took a caUche to the Chateau Frontenac, where we breakfasted. Recrossing the American borders, we made a short trip through the White Mountain region, exulting in those glor- ious scenes. At New York we rested a day or two in our old quarters, and did a good deal of shopping; for had we not Granny and Niall and Father Owen to think of, not to speak of Barney and Moira, the landlord of the inn, and other Wicklow notables? No one was to be forgotten. After this we went into Pennsylvania, one of the most wonderful of all the States, and crossed the far-famed Horse- shoe bend in the Alleghanies. Winifred looked fearlessly down into the vast chasm and saw with composure the end of our train on the other side of the ravine, it was a sight upon which few could look unmoved. We saw something of the HOME AGAIN. M3 wonders of the mining and coal districts, and the beauty of the Delaware and Lehigh. We continued our breathHss journey to Wa <" DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS, GOPPINES. i 00; as copies, 17 so DIGNITY AND DUTIES OP THE PRIEST; or, Selva, a Collection of Mil'«- riJfor Eccles^stical Retreats. By St. .N phonsus db l-lGUORr j«1. . .5 DIgSiTY, AUTHORITY, DUTIES OF PARENTS ECCLESIASTICAL AND CIVIL POWERS. By Rev. M. Muller. C.SS.R. twi, i 40 DIVINE GRACE. A Series of Instructions arranged according to the BjJt'™" tStechism. Edited by Rev. Edmund J. Wirth, Ph.D., D^. »kI, i so DIVINE OFFICE; Explanations of the Psalms and Canticles. By St. Alphoksus db Liouori. ' EPISTLES AND GOSPELS. ° " EUCHARIST AND PENANCE. Rev. M. Mullbr, C.SS.R. <«■ ■ ■" EUCHARISTIC CHRIST. Reflections land Considerations on the BleMM sac- rament. Rev. A. Tbsnibrb. ""• ' °° EUCHARISTIC GEMS. A Thought About the Most Blessed Sacrament tor Every Day in the Year. By Rev. L. C. C0E1.BNBIBR. o 75 EXPLANATION OF COMMANDMENTS. ILLUSTRATED. i 00 FXPLANATION OF THE APOSTLES' CREED. ILLUSTRATED. i 00 IxP^NAfloS OF THE BALTIMORE CATECHISM OF CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. Rev. Th. L. Kinkbad. "«• ' °° EXPLANATION OF THE COMMANDMENTS, Precepts of the Churchy. Rev M. Mullbr, C.SS.R. . „ ,_. „ ', . EXPLANATION OF THE GOSPELS and of CathoUc Worship. Rev. L. A. Laubbrt. . -o Paper, o 30; 'S copies. J J„ EXPLANATION 'opThE HOLY SACRAMENTS. ILLUSTRATED. .00 EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS. Rev^ M V COCHBM EXPLANATION OF THE OUR FATHER AND THE HAIL MAJIY EXpIa'nATIOn" O?- THE PRAYERS AND CEREMONIES OF THE MARS ILLUSTRATED. Rev. D. I. Lanslots, O.S.B. i « EXPLANATION OF THE SALVE REGINA. LlouORI. o 75 EXTREME UNCTION ^*^- ° J^° 100 copies, _ _ .. »»•• r* eo t> FIRST AND GREATEST COMMANDMENT. By Rev. M. Mullbr.^SS.R o 50 o so 45 1 a.S Meditatiuns. o 75 o go ' FIRST COMMUNICANTS MANUAL. 100 copies, ' FLOWERS OP THE PASSION. Thoughts of St. Paul of the Cross." By Rev. Louis Th. d» Jisus-Aoonisant. v- .«. u, FOLLOWING OP CHRIST. Thomas a Kihpis. With Reflections. Without Resections, Edition de luxe, *'°"p.,t*®J THINGS. THE: Death, Judgment. Heaven, HeU Father M. v. CftCHBM. Cloth, GARLAND OP PRAYER. With Nuptial Mass. Leather. "^^'m?,\'r CONFESSION MADE EASY. Rev. A. KoNmos. C.SS.R Flexible, o 15; 100 copies, ^.^cf.xs. GENERAL PRINCIPLES OP THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Ve.heykk. O.S.B. GLORIES OF DIVINE GRACE. Dr. M. J. Sch..b.m. ",'' ° II GLORIES OP MARY. St. A^phonsus ds Liouor,. 2 vols., «,' , ' Popular cd. i vol., ' "**• ' 5o GOD THE TEACHER OF MANKIND. MiJLLBR. ,vols. Per set w< 0' lo GOPPINE'S^ DEVOUT INSTRUCTIONS. ,40 Illustrations. ,'0 ^^ofny lit'*°^- "** '=™™'' '" "" Sanctification and Happing of Third Series, Fourth Series, " S° Fifth Series, " ■" GRACE AND THE SACRAMENTS. By Rev. M. MUllbr, C.SS.R. net ° !, its DS l^o^u^oa?" ^AI-VATION AND OP PERFECTION. St. ALraoN '^'^^rVv. i"s, §.5. "^hj^ut ?-^-B.Tov-si!^ — S' : i """"n Sa^tll™ ''"'^ CHRIST-CHILD, a Collection of Poem, for th. Yo^Z GUIDE TO CONFESSION AND COMMUNION. ° !° HANDBOOK OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. By R*v. W. Wiwbrs, S J HARMONY OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. Rev. H. J. H.us,,. Z' I 1°, "^"-SITJ^iJ^rS l?ur "* •'"'^•^ATORy. Prayers and Devotions in «^''^!^.^h^liSSsVi^v^>a^Rro.'>b^£rR^,S'sl.'^• ^ '""I'.^LoJIS^^f^^c^M^u'ricY'"" ""• =«'"="- "' "■' ""'^ «- B^ HISTORY OF THE MASS. By Rev. J. O'Bri.n. „, ° f° HOLY EUCHARIST. By St. Alphonsus db Liouori. The Sacriflce thf Sacrament, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ. Nov^a to the ffily ciho« HOLY MASS. By Rev. M. Mullbr, C.SS.R. ?!'' ' " HOLY MASS. BySt.Al.PHOMsusD«LlouoRl. «i , . HOW TO COMPORT THE SICK. Rev. Jos. A. Krbbs, C.SS.R. «rt'. o, "°^r™of^^ ™^ '"^'°''- «>' » Dominican Father. Pap^'o .0; ILLUSTRATED PRAYER-BOOK FOR CHILDREN. f °! IMITATION OP CHRIST. See "Following of Christ " "•'l^lTJ*KB?,^G.\'^r™L^^^^° ^"*°'^ -A''^- Transited by M„. A. Plain Edition, Edition de luxe, <* SO ''"^■J^.'SS.f^li^n^ '*'='^° «^*''^- «^ «•- "• A.no™t,S.J. Entij; IMMACULATE CONCEPTION, THE. B- Rev. A. A. Lambino. LL.D. o 3J INCARNATION, BIRTH. AND INFANLV OP JESUS CHRIST; or. tho Mysteries of Faith. By St. Alphonsus ob Liguori. net i as INDULGENCES, A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO. Rev. P. M. BnHAD, O.M.I. IN HEAVF-N WE KNOW OUR OWN. By Pbre Blot, S.J. o 60 INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THF. CATHOLIC FATHER. Right Rev. Dr. A. Eocir. o (, j INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR THE CATHOLIC MOTHER Right Rev. Dr. A. Egorr. o 40 INSTRUCTIONS AND PRAYERS FOR CATHOLIC YOUTH. o 63 INSTRUCTIONS FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. By Rev. Dr. J. Schmitt. n£t, o 50 INSTRUCTIONS ON THE COMMANDMENTS OP GOD and the SacramenU of the Church. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori. Paper, o 35; 35 copies, , ^, Cloth, o 40: 3S copies, 6 00 INTERIOPs. OP JESUS AND MARY. Grou. 3 vols.. «,( ,00 INTRODUCTION TO A DEVOUT LIFE. By St. Francis dr Salks. Cloth, 55 LLTTER,> OP ST. ALPHONSUS DE LIGUORI. 4 vols., each vol. net i 35 LETTERS OF ST. ALPHONSUS LIGUORI and General Alphabetical Inden to St. Alphonsus' Works. LITTLE ALTAR BOYS MANUAL. LITTLE BOOK OF SUPERIORS. LITTLE CHILD OF MARY. A Small Prayer-book. LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY. Lasancb. LITTLE M.VNUAL OP ST. JOSEPH. Lings. LITTLE MONTH OF MAY. By Ella McHahoh. Flexible, LITTLE MONTH OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. LITTLE OFFICE OP THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. LITTLE PICTORIAL LIVES OP THE SAINTS. New cheap edition LIVES OP THE SAINTS. With Reflections for Every Day of the Year Large size, ^ .^ LIVING CHURCH OF THE LIVING GOD. Coppens. o.io- per 100 6 00 MANUAL OP TH,! HOLY EUCHARIST. Conferences on the Blessed Sacra- ment and Euchanstic Devotions. By Rev. F. X. Lasanck. o 7« MANUAL OF THIS HOLY FAMILY. „ ^l MANUAL OP THE HOLY NAME. MANUAL OP THE SACRED HEART, NEW. MANUAL OP THE SODALITY OP THE BLESSED VIRGIN. MANUAL OP ST. ANTHONY. LITTLE. Lasancb. MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY, NEW. MANUAL OF ST. JOSEPH, LITTLE. Linos. MAR.^ COROLLA. Poems by Father Ec^unb of the Heart of Mary C P doth, 1 3« MASS DEVOTIONS AND READINGS ON THE MASS. By Rev. F. X. Lasancr. MAY DEVOTIONS, NEW. Rev. Auoustinb Wirth, O.S.i!. w( i 00 MEANS OF GRACE. By Rev. Richard Brbnnan. LL.D. ' 3 ,0 MEDITATIONS FOR ALL THE DAYS OF THE YEAR. By Rev. H Hamo.v S.S. 5 vols.. _ „, , „„• MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. Baxter. net i 3. MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN THE YEAR. Rev. B. VBRCRivssB S.J. 3 vols., ^, , • MEDITATIONS FOR RETREATS. St. Francis de Sales. Qoth >>«l o 71 MEDITATIONS ON THE FOUR LAST THINGS. Father M. v. Cochbh. o 75 net, I 35 o »S net o 60 o 35 o as o 35 o 35 o 35 o.os; per 100, a 50 o 50 o so o so o 'S o 60 METHOD OP CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. SPIRAGOS. S. G. Mbssher. MEDITATIONS ON THE LAST WORDS FROM THE CROSS. Father Chahi.es Pbrraud. net, o 50 MEDITATIONS ON THE LIFE, THE TEACHINGS, AND THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIS""". Ilg-Clarm. a vols., iKl, 3 50 MEDITATIONS ON THE MONTH OP OUR LADY. o 75 MEDITATIONS ON THE PASSION OP OUR LORD. o 40 Edited by Right Rev. net, I 50 MIDDLE AGES, THE: Sketches and Fragments. By Very Rev. Thomas J. SflAHAN, S.T.D., J.U.L. tiel, 2 00 MISCELLANY. Historical Sketch of the CoiiKrt>gation of the Must Holy Re- deemer. Rules and Constitutions of the OmKrcgation of the Most Hnly Redeemer. Instruction"- on the Religious State. By St. Alphonsts db LiGUORl. ncl, t 2S MISSION BOOK FOR THE MARRIED. Very Rev. F. Girardbv. C.SS.R. o so MISSION BOOK FOR THE SINGLE. Very Rev. P. Girardbv, C.SS.R. o 50 MISSION BOOK OF THE REDEMPTORIST FATHERS. A Manual of In structions and Prayers to Preserve the Fruits of the Mission. Drawn chiefly from the Works of St. Alphonsus Liguori. o 50 MOMENTS BEFORE THE TABERNACLE. Rev. Matthbw Russbll, S.J. lui, o 40 MONTH, NEW, OF THE HOLY ANGELS. St. Francis db Sai.es. o 25 MONTH, NEW. OF THE SACRED HEART. St. Francis de Sales. o jj MONTH OF MAY; a Series of Meditations on the Mysteries of the Life of the Blessed Virgin. By P. Debussi, S.J. o 50 MONTH OF THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. The Little "Golden Sands." o ».« MORAL BRIEFS. By the Rev. John H. Stapleton. w(, i 25 MOST HOLY SACRf .lENT. Rev. Dr. Jos. Keller. o 7S MY FIRST COMMUNION, the Happiest Day of My Life. Brennan. o js MY LITTLE PRAYER-BOOK. Illustrated. , 012 NEW MAY DEVOTIONS. WlRTH. net, i 00 NEW MONTH OF THE HOLY ANGELS. NEW MONTH OP THE SACRED HEART NEW SUNDAY-SCHOOL COMPANION. NEW TESTAMENT. Cheap Edition. 32mo, flexible cloth, 32mo, lambskin, limp, roun^ comers, gilt edges, NEW TESTAMENT. Illustrated Edition. i6mo, printed in two colors, with 100 full-page iltustrationa i6mo, American Seal, limp, solid gold edges, NEW TESTAMENT. India Paper Edition. American Seal, limp, round comerSj gilt edges, Persian Calf, limp, round comers, gilt edges, Morocco, limp, round comers, gola edges, gold toll inside, NEW TESTAMENT. Large Print Edition. 1 2mo, large, 1 2mo, American Seal, limp, gold edges, NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES. By Right Rev. j»;gr. Thomas J. Conaty, D.D. 1 2mo, OFFICE, COMPLETE. OF HOLY WEEK. ON THE ROAD TO ROME Oy W. Richards. OUR FAVORITE DC I'D TIONS. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings. OUR FAVORITE NOVENAS. Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings. OUR LADY OF GOOD COUNSEL IN GENAZZANO. Mgi. Geo. D.I>. 25 JJ IS net, net. 15 70 net. net. 60 1 »5 net, net. net, QO 1 10 I 25 net, net. 75 1 SO NATY, D.D. 60 net. 50 so 75 75 P. Dillon, OUR MONTHLY DEVOTIONS. By Very Rtv. Dean A. A. Linos. i i] OUR OWN WILL AND HOW TO DETECT IT IN OUR ACTIONS. Rev. John Allbn D.D. ntt, o 7S PARACLETE, THE. Devotions to the Holy Ghost. o 60 PARADISE ON EARTH OPENED TO ALL : A Religious Vocation the Surest Way in Life. By Kev. Antonio Natalb, S.J. ntt, o 40 PARISH PRIEST ON DUTY THE. A Pmctical Manual for Pastors, Curates, and Theoloffical Stf dents Preparing for the Mission. (The Sacraments.) By Rev. H. J. HEUSBR, Professor of Theology at Overbrook Seminary. fwl, o 60 PASSION AND DEATH OP JESUS CHRIST. By St. Aiphonsub db Liodoki. net, I a5 PASSION PLOWLT(S. Poems by Father Eduund of the Heart of Mary, C.P. I >5 PEARLS PROM FABHR. Brunowb. o so PEARLS OF PRAYER. o 35 PEOPLE'S MISSION BOOK, THE. Paper, o.io; per 100, « 00 PEPPER AND SALT, SPIRITUAL. Stano. Paper, o.jo; as copies, 4 50 Cloth, o 'to; as copies, 9 00 PERFECT RELIGIOUS, THE. Db La Mottb. Cloth, Ml, i 00 PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. New Edition, with ReAertions for Every Day ia the Year. a $0 PIOUS PREPARATION FOR FIRST HOLY COMMUNION. Rev. F. X. Lasancb. Cloth. o 75 POCKET MANUAL- A Vest-pocket Prayer-book in very large type. o aj POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS ON MARRIAGE. Very Rev. P. Giraroev, CSS. R. Paper, 0.35; as copies. .i 75 Cloth, 0.40; as copies, b 00 POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS ON PRAYER. By Very Rev. Fbrbboi. Girardbv, C.SS.R. Paper o.as; as copies, 3 7S Cioth, 0.40; as copies, 6 00 POPULAR INSTRUCTIONS TO PARENTS on the Bringing up of Children. By Very Rev. F. Girarobv. C.SS.R. Paper, o.as; 3$ copies, 3 75 Cloth, 0.40; as copies, 6 00 PRAYER-BOOK FOR RELIGIOUS. A Complete Manual of Prayers and De- votions for the Use of the Members of all Religious Communiti-.:s. By Rev. F. X. Lasancb. net, i 50 PREACHING. Vol. XV. St. Alphonsus db Liouori. The Exercises of the Missions. Various Counsels. Instructions on the Commandments and Sacraments. tut, 1 as PREPARATION FOR DEATH. St. Alphonsus ub Liguori. Considerations on the Eternal Truths. Maxir.is of Eternity. Rule of Life. net, 1 as PRODIGAL SON; or, the Sinner'^ Rettxm to God. net, t 00 REASONABLENESS OP CATHOLIC CEREMONIES AND PRACTICES. R<^v. J. J. BuRKB. o 3S RELIGIOUS STATE, THE. With a Treatise on the Vocation to the Priesthood. By St. Alphonsus db Liouori. o 50 REVELATIONS OF THE SACRED HEART to Blessed Maigaret Mary. Bou- GAUD. Cloth, net, i 50 ROSARY, THE CROWN OF MARY. By a Dominican Father. o 10 Per 100, 5 00 ROSARY. THE: Scenes and The ughts. By Rev. F. P. Garbschb, S.J. o 50 ROSARY, THE MOST HOLY. Meditations. Crambb. o 50 SACRAMENTALS OF THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. Rev. A. A. Lamb- ing, D.D. Paper, c. 30; as copies, 4 5° Qoth, 0.60; as copies, 9 00 SACRAMENTALS— Prayer, etc. By Rev. M. MiitlER, C.SS.R. net, 1 00 S.^CRED HEART, THE. Rev. Dr. Joseph Keller. o 75 SACRBD HEART BOOS, THE. By Rev. F. X. LataKCl. o 7i 6 '*'^5iK^l^r/sr'^ WORTHILY CELEBRATED. THE. By Rev. SECRET np SANCTITY. St. Francis d. Sales. « , ! '° '"TA^Tf°C^O^N^II¥fo=S.TJ«Rfv''yVA'l5..°''"'^^ °^ ™'' '""AC"- ^^^iajMA™?"^® "^ CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. Fmm the French by M°arv SHORT VISITS TO THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. Lasanc ""' ° 5, '"^U^u^fi. BiSii^gSrm?"EnXS' '•""^™- °' '"^ '^■=^- *""- ^f f^oS SOCIALISM AND CHRISTIANITY. By the Right Rev. W.ll.am Stang. ^"'^cllTilBm S^I '"'1°.';?^?' ^l"'! I'"'' Z"?^"??" Apnl'a''i"n- By Victor i*mo"teth. R«™«1 and Enlarged by Victor P. Gbttslmann. S.J. SODALISTS' VADE MECUM. "^' ' '° SONGS AND SONNETS. By Maurice Francis Eoak. , L ®''' G*Mil«"R.™°° °^ CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. Edited by Rt. Rev. S. SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE THE. and the Life of Sacrifice in the Reliaio^'st'ate" ^'''"on"*'' '^'*""^® ^°^ HUNGRY LITTLE SOULS. Marv E. ^ck*,°i^ SPIRITUAL DESPONDENCY AND TEMPTATIONS. By Rev. P. J MicheI" S.J. Translated from the French by Rev. F. P. Gareschb. S.J net ' ti *'"' Wan";. c1!r '^^® ^°^ * ^'^ °*YS' RETREAT. Very Rev.R. v. SPIRITUAL PEPPER AND SALT. SlAHO. ""' ' °° Paper, o 30; 35 copies. Cloth, 0.60; 15 copies, ST. ANTHONY, LITTLE MANUAL OF. ST. ANTHONY. Rev. Dr. Jos. Keller. STATIONS OF THE CROSS. Illustiated. STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNICANTS. Rev. J. A. Keller D D STRIVING AFTER PERFECTION. Rev. Joseph Bavma S J ,«( , »» '"%^a^r^r.Jf4c^p^^!'^«^'^'^'*°=- R-EpWARo'LtvLOR. ""• °° Cloth, 0.40; as copies, ^ ^^ THOUGHTS^AND COUNSELS for the Considemtion of CathoUc Young M^. THOUGHTS FOR ALL TIMES. Mgr. Vaoohah. ""' 1 ^ TRAVELLER'S DAILY COMPANION. ° ^ Per 100, ° OS TRUE POLITENESS. Abbe Francis Dehom. ^ I 1° TRUE SPOUSE OF JESUS CHRIST. By St. Alphonsos de Liouori. I'vols The same, one-volume edition, JfJ' ' '" ^"".§5e^rJ,rdaVHgel«^B?^e^v°BToTE„8S.B^-'-' --"• ^^"T, VEST-POCKET GEMS OP DEVO~ION • ""o?!I.^^S?h™?o?tF-B^ViL*?B%^Ny;Sp1v^=.?„^;-^^^^^ VISITS. SHORT, TO CHS BLESSED SACRAMENT. Lasance. ' o ' "''■TlvTspiftS^.."' ™« "I-^SED SACRAMENT. By th. Author ,1 O $9 7 4 50 9 00 o 60 o 75 o 50 o 50 vi>;iT« -in ll.'miS IN TIIK TAHI'.kNACU'.. ll.mni unci Hall Hoiirn of Adw*- ^"^'tlm'l"f.^,i; he BloSK™™.. With a Nov_cn. to the^Holy Ohu.t .nd llevotionB for Maw. Ho y Communion etc. Rev. r. A. Laianci. ■ "3 VISITC TO THE M^V HOLY SACRAMENT and to the Bl«.cd V.^n Mary. By St. Al.PlloNSU» DE UOUORl. . „ . ,u Sjiritual Treatises. St. A1.PHON8US de LlouOEI. «"■ ' « WAY OP THE CROSS. Paper, 0.05; 100 copies. ■_„ b„ WHAT THE CHURCH TEACHES. An Answer to Earnest Inqmrci.. By ^^R^y. Edwin DRuav. Miasionary Priest. Paper, 0.30; as cop«.. 4 so Cloth, 0.60; as copiei, JUVENILES, ADVENTURES OP A CASKET. ADVENTURES OP A FRENCH CAPTAIN. AN ADVENTURE WITH THE APACHES. By Gaeriel Ferry. ANTHONY A Tale of the Time of Charles II. of England. ARMORER OF SOLINGEN. By William Hbrchbnbacm. AS TRUE AS GOLD. Mannix. BERKLEYS, THE. WlouT. BERTHA; or. Consequences of a Fault. BEST FOOT FORWARD. By Father FlHM. BETTER PART. BISTOURI. By A. Melandri. BLACK LADY AND ROBIN RED BREAST. By Canon Schmid. BLANCHE DE MARSILLY. BLISSYLVANIA POST-OFFICE. By Marion Ames Taooart. BOB OLINK. Waooaman. BOYS IN THE BLOCK. By Maurice F. Eoam. BRIC-A-BRAC DEALER. BUNT AND BILL. Clara Mulholland. BUZZER'S CHRISTMAS. By Mary T. Waogaman. BY BRANSCOME RIVER. By Makioh Ames Taooart. CAKE AND THE EASTER EGGS. By Canon Schmid. CANARY BIRD. By Canon Schmid. CAPTAIN ROUGEMONT. CARROLL DARE. By Marv T. Waooaman. CASSILDA; or, the Moorish Princess. CATHOLIC HOME LIBRARY. .0 vols.,each, n» P..W Pink o 8. CLAUDE LIGHTPOOT; or, How the I'n.blem wa.?olv«L By Father F.NH. o 85 rOLLEGE BOY, A. By Anthony Yorke. Cloth, = °s CONVERSATION ON HOME EDUCATION. <> 45 COPUS, REV., J.E.,^.J.: p S] HARRY fetS^li. o 85 SHADOWS LIFTED. , g, ST. CUTHBERTS. ! TOMPLTNG'S SUCCESS. By Clara Molholland. ,.„,.. „ KpSeS of THE P.\R1S COMMUNE. An Account of th. Rebgiou. Per«. i:THELRED PRESTON, or the Adventures of a Newcomer. By Father F«N. EVERY-DAY GIRL. AN. By Mary C. Crowlbt. ' *J FATAL DIAMONDS. By B. C. Donnelly. » o «5 o 4S o *i o 4S o 40 o 45 04s o 4S ess « 4S o 4! o IS o 4S o 4S o 45 o as o 45 045 o >s o 45 e M o 40 45 1 95 o 45 o 45 llluitnted. FINN. REV. P. I. S.J- rilS FIRST ANti LAST APPEARANCE THE BEST FOOT FORWARD. THAT FOOTB i.L GAME. BTHELRED 1-itESTON. CLAUDE LTr.HTI OOT. HARRY DfB. TOM PLAYPAIR. PERCY WY»m Many Lands. By A. Fowl.r LITTLE MISSY. By Mary T. Waggaiian. LOYAL BLUE AND ROYAL SCARLET. By Marion A. Taooart MADCAP SET AT ST. ANNE'S. By Marion J. Brunowb. MARCELLE. A True Story. MARY TRACY'S FORTUNE. Sadlirr, MASTER FRIDOLIN. By Emmy Gibhrl. MILLY AVELING. By Sara Trainbr Smith. Cloth. MOSTLY BOYS. By Father Finn. MYSTERIOUS DOORWAY. By Anna T. Sadlibr. MY STRANGE FRIEND. By Father Finn. NAN NOBODY. By Mary T. Waggaman. OLD CHARLMONTS SEED-BED. By Sara Trainbr Smith. OLD ROBBER'S CASTLE. By Canon Schmid. OLIVt AND THE LITTLE CAKES. OUR BOYS' AND GIRLS' LIBRARY. 14 vols., each, OUR YOUNG FOLKS' LIBRARY. 10 vols., each OVERSEER OP MAHLBOURG. By Canon Schmid. 9 I «o olj o S5 • !' e as e S] « *S e tj • »J o 45 O 45 o >s ' 45 o 45 • 45 e 45 ots 45 • 45 1 00 o J5 o 45 o 75 o 40 o 8s Cloth, o 85 45 1 00 85 75 o 45 o 85 o 45 o 4) o 4S O 3V O 4., O A- o as o 4S o as o 45 O 25 I'ANCHO AND PANCHITA. By Ma»v K. M*«ni«. I'AULINE AKCIIER. By Anna T. Saulihii. PERCY WYNN, of, Making * Boy i>( Him. By P«ther Pimm IMCKLE AND PEPPER. By Ella Ukaine Uo«.mv. PLAYWATER plot, the. By Ma»» T. Waouamam. I'RIEST OF AUVRIGNY. OUEENS PAGE. By Kathammi Ttnam Himuon. RECRUIT TOMMY COLLINS. BoMMTilL. RICHARD; or, Devotion to tlw Stuarti. UOSE BUSH. By Canon Schuid. SEA-GULLS' ROCK. By J. dAMDUV. '"'*CAVE^'BY-'¥hE BEECH FORK. _„„ THE SHERIFF OP THF, BEECH FORK. THE RACE FOR COPPER ISLAND. STRONG-ARM OP AVALON. By Ma«t T. Waooamam. SUMMER AT WOODVILLE. By Anna T. Sadlim. TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. F. Dl Cahila, TALES AND LEGENDS SERIES. 3 vols., each, TALISMAN, THE. By Anna T. 8adlie«. TAMING OF POLLY. By Ella Lohaini Do>»r. THAT FOOTBALL GAME; .:i.i What Came of It. By Father FlNM. THREE GIRLS AND EsPr' l.iLLY ONE. By Marion A. Taqoaet. THREE LITTLE KINGS. By Emmy Gibhel. TOM PLAYFAIR; or. Malting a Start. By Father Finn. TOM'S LUCKPOT. By Maey T. Waooamam. TREASURE OF NUGGET MOUNTAIN. By M. A. Taooart. TWO LITTLE GIRLS. By LiUAM Mace. Vli-LAGE STEEPLE, THE. WAGER OF GERALD OROURKE. THE. Pinn-Thiele. WINNETOU, THE APACHE KNIGHT. By Maeion Ames Taooaet. WRONGFULLY ACCUSED. By William Hiechenbacm. YOUNG COLOR GUARD, THE. By Maey G. Bohebteel. M<, o 40 o 45 o is o Is o 60 • 4S o 41 • 45 • 4J o 15 o 45 O 8s o as o 85 o 85 45 o 75 o 75 o 60 o »S o 8s o 45 o is o 8s o 45 o 8s o 45 o 45 o 35 o 85 o 40 o 45 NOVELS AND STORIES. ■ BUT THY LOVE AND THY GRACE." Rev. F J. Finn, S.J. i 00 CIRCUS RIDER'S DAUGHTER, THE. A Novel. By P. v. Beacebl. i is CONNOR D'ARCY'S STRUGGLES. A NoveL By Mr.. W. M. Bbrtholds. CORINNE'S 'VOW. Waooamam. ■ '5 DION AND THE SIBYLS. A Classic Novel. By Miles Keon. Cloth. i 2$ KABIOLA; or. The Church of the Catacombs. By Cardinal Wiseman. Popular Illustrated Edition. ..,""' FABIOLA'S SISTERS. A Companion Volume to Cardinal Wiseman's "Pab- ;„i- ■• Hw a r ri.ABEB. t *5 < S5 I as I JS I S5 I ss I ss I ss s 00 iola." By A. C. Claeke. FATAL BEACON, THE. A Novel. By P. v. Beaceel. HEARTS OP GOLD. A Novel. By I. Edhor. HEIRESS OP CRONENSTEIN. THE. By the Countess Habh-Hahm. HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER. Katharine Tynan Hinrsom. IDOLS; or. The Secrets of the Rue Chaussee d'Antin. Da Naveey. IN THE DAYS OF KING HAL. By Marion Ames Taooart. " KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS." A Novel. By J. Harrison. LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER. A Novel. By Josephime Maeie. 1 •s I IS « •> 1 "5 > >S 1 00 By Anma LINKED LIVES. A Nov.1. By L«ly OiKTausa DouoiA.. , ,« MAKCELLA GRACE. A Novol. By Rou Mvlhollano. lUiutraud Edition. MISS ERIN. A Nov.!. By M. E. F.ahcii. ! !| MONKS PARDON, THE. A HUtoriciU Nov.1 ol th. Tim. of PhiUp IV J spMn.' By Raoul Di Navht. •^•"-h «v. oi MR. BILLY BUTTONS. A Nuv.1. By Waltu Licur OUTLAW OP CAMARGUE, THE. \ Nov.1. By A. 01 Uhotni PASSING SHADOWS. A Nov.l. By Anthohv Yo«i PERE MONNIERS WARD. A Novel. By Waltih Lichy PILKINOTON HEIR. THE. A Nov.1. By Amma T. Saolih PRODIGALS DAUGHTER. THE. By Lilia HAaDlH BuQO. «ED^ WN OP ST. LYPHAR, THE. A Rommnc. of L. Vrad.!.. ROMANCE OF A PLAYWRIGHT. By Vt.. HaHai Da Boamaa. I 2 ■^"HSoVRMiTf °J ■^f'.'^ REPRESENTATIVE AMERICAN CATHOLIC NOVELISTS. Complct. btuncB. with Bii>Kniphiei, Portreiti ttc. , ,o '^"Sm'?*?^'"'.'^ °f 7">P REPRESENTATIVE FRENCH CATHOLIC NOV- ELISTS. Complete Stones, with Bioaraphics. Portraitt etc . ,o """E'uSTS.^'ln.XtH^ REPRESENTATIVE GERMAN CATHOLIC NOV- *°"cATHoi?cV'iKVft?<5'*?-'''*^,*PI*'f'V^a''»'SH AND ENGLIs'h Cloth NOVELISTS. Complet. Ston.s, BiographiM, Portrait., .t" '""ByV,AcI"K.o't'.''°°°"' '^"^- ^"^ ""■" '"''"'' °' ^•'' •** Ch»ra^ter° THAT MANS DAUGHTER. By HaNav M. Ross. ! " TRANSPLANTING OF TESSIE. THE. By MAav T. Waooaman o (to TRUE STORY OP MASTER GERARD. THE. By Anna T. SADLiaa. , „ UNRAVELING OF A TANGLE. THE. A Nov.1. By MAaiON A. TAUOAar . j, VOCATION OF EDWARD CONWAY. A Novel. By MAuaica F Boan i >i WOMAN OP FORTUNE, A. By Christian RaiD. ' , ,, WORLD WELL LOST. By EsTHaa RoaaarsoN. o i$ LIVES AND HISTORIES. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OP ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA. Edited by R«v. F. F X U L^ONOK. Qoth, il** f BIBLE STORIES FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. Paper, o lo; doth ' o !o CHURCH HISTORY. BusmotR. ' ° " "'^IwlSpN*''",'^ ECCLESIASTICA quam Hinoria, seriam Solidamqu. Operam Navantibus, Accommodavit Guil. Stano, D.D. ntlim HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Bauaca. a vol.. «(' , oo HISTORY OP THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. By John Gilmarv SHaA. LL.D. "■^TRPt^ANn THE PROTESTANT REFORMATION IN ENGLAND AND IRELAND. By Wu. CoBBaTT. Qoth, »/ " " LETTERS OF ST, ALPHONSUS LIGUORI. By Rev. EuoaNa Grihw c'sS R Centenary Edition, s vols., each, MiVi LIFE AND LIFE-WORK OF MOTHER THEODORE GUERIN Found^ of the Sisters of Providence at St.-Mary-of-the-Woods, Vi»o County, InSna! LIFE OF CHRIST. Illustrated. By Father M. v. CoCHau. "*'!!< LIFE OF PR. FRANCIS POILVACHE. C.SS.R. Paper. »« o lo LIFE OF MOST REV. JOHN HUGHES. Brann. «,' „ „ "''ly?L"°B^y«Al?a"RS?A?x°''S?th:"»"''"'" "' "" "^ "" "'■ '^^^ ''l LIFB OF SISTBK ANNP. KATIIERINE EMMERICH, of tht Onl«r u( St. Aucua- tine. By Rev. Thomas Wbubmh, O.S.A. met, i 50 LIFE OF ST. ANTHONY. Wakd. llluMntcd. o )] ),1FB OF ST. CATHARINE OF SIENNA. By BoWAao L. AfHI, M.O. I so LIFE OF ST. CUARB OF MONTBPALCO. Loch, Q.8.A. ml, • 75 LIFB OF MLLB. LB ORAS. ««, 1 as LIFB OP ST. CHANTAL. Bouoavd, 1 voU. aX. 4 m LIFB OP THE BLB88BD VIRGIN. lUuMnWd. By Rav. B. RoMKM, O.8.B. I 't LITTLE LIVES OP SAINTS FOR CHILDREN. Bi>thold. 111. Cloth, o >] LITTLE PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. New, cheap edition, too LIVES OF THE SAINTS, Wilh Rcflecticii. and Prayera for Every Day. 1 jo OUR LADY OF GOOD COlJ.NSBL IN GENAZZANO. A Hutory of that An- cient Sanctuary. By Ann! R. Bbnnbtt-Gladbtons. o 75 OUTLINES OF JEWISH HISTORY, Prom Abraham to Our Lord. Rev. P. B. GlciOT. S.S. ntt, 1 so OUTLINES OP NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. By Rev. F. E. GlooT, S.S. Cloth. ft#f, I 50 PICTORIAL LIVES OP THE SAINTS. Cloth, 1 50 REMINISCENCES OP RT. REV. EDGAR P. WADHAMS, D.D., First Bishop of OgdensburK. By Rev. C. A. Walworth. nrt, 1 00 ST, ANTHONY, THE SAINT OP THE WHOLE WORLD. Rev. Tmomai P. Wabd. Cloth, o 75 STORY OP JESUS. IllustraUd. o 6a STORY OP THE DIVINE CHILD. By Very Rev. Dean A. A. Linos. o is VICTORIES OP THE MARTYRS. By St. Aiphonsus db Liouoki. m(, i ss VISIT TO EUROPE AND THE HOLY LAND. By Rev. H. Faibbahu, 15s THEOLOGY, LITURGY, SERMONS, SCIENCE, AND PHILOSOPHY. ABRIDGED SERMONS, for All Sundays of the Year, By St. ALmoHstra oi LiouoRl. Centenary Edition. Griuu, C.SS.R. tut, i a$ BLESSED SACRAMENT, SERMONS ON THE. Especially for the Forty Hours' Adoration. By Rev. J. B. Schburbr, D.D. Edited by Rev. P. X. Lasancb. ntt, I so BREVE COMPENDIUM THEOLOOIAE DOGMATICAE ET MORALIS una cum aliquibus Notiunibus Theologiae Canonicae Liturgiae, Paatoralia et Mysticae, ac Philosophiae Christianae. Bbbthibb. ntt, a 50 CHILDREN OP MARY, SERMONS FOR THE. Prom the Italian of Rev. P. Callbrio. Edited by Rev. R. F. Clarkb, S.J. . Mtt, 1 50 CHILDREN'S MASSES, SERMONS FOR. PRAsaiNBTTl-Lwoa. tut. i so CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS: A Defense of the Catholic Faith. By Rev. W. Dbvivibr S.J. Edited by the Rt. Rev. S. G. Mbsshbr, O.D., D.C.L., Bishop of Green Bay. tut, i 75 CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. A Treatise on the Human Soul, By Rev. J. T. ORlscol.l., S.T.L. tut, I 50 CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY: God. Driscoll, tut, i as CHRIST IN TYPE AND PROPHECY. Rev. A. J. Maas, S.J., Professor of Oriental Languages in Woodstock College, a vols., net, 4 00 CHURCH ANNOUNCEMENT BOOK. tut, o is CHURCH TREASURER'S PEW. Collection and Receipt Book. lul. i oo COMPENDIUM JURIS CANONICI, ad usum Cleri et Seminariurum hujus Re- gionis accommodatum. tut, a 00 COMPENDIUM JURIS REGULARIUM. Edidit P. Augustinus Bachobbm, O.S,B, tiet, a so la I COMPBNpiUII 8ACRA8 LITUROIAB JUXTA KITUM ROMANUM UNA cum Appmd'.ce dc jure Eitl«M»tlc.. I'.rticul«ri in Amnica Piiedenu 8>iit. vinenM icnpul P. iNKOctNTlui Wapilhohst. O.S.F. Bditio hiU cniuf .Lillor. »»( 1 le COMPENDIUM THBOLOOIAE DOOMATICAB BT MORAUS. Bmt«ii>! CONP388IONAL, THE. By th* Riaht Rav. A. Ro»oot. D.D. Zm' ', m UE PHILOSOPHIA MORALI PRABLECT10NE8 qow in Coll«ia 0«>r>ioi»- UUno Soc. Jtiu. Anno ia(«-w Habuit P. Nicoiim RuiK)TBdiUo"uK! ECCLESIASTICAL DICTIONARY. By Rev. JoHM Thiik. Z'i ', To ^'-'^Vl^LllTsT^.at'PklS;!^^''"*- ByR.v.S.B.S-,THD.D. ' tUl, t to Het, 1 50 Ml, i S3 ENCYCLICAL LETTERS OK POPE LEO XIII.. THE GREAT. TraniUted fn.ni .pprovcd «,urceit With Pr.t.>.L. l,y R.v. John J. WvKK, SI. «" * 00 FUNERAL SERMONS. By Rev. Auii. Wirtm, O.S.B. > vol.. ml > oo GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OP HOLY SCRIPTURES By Rev. PkANCii E. Oc.ioT, S.S. Cloth. ov,i»iri^mi». GOD KNOWABLB AND KNOWN. GOOD CHRISTIAN. THE. Rev. i • 30 By Rev. Mauhici RoNAVNt, S.J. ml, I 15 . J. Allen. D.D. 1 vcili. ml, < 00 "'TnIVeVe-ai c^Asi.c^„''%';L^v.T^ro^?.iN"' ■"»' ^i^";";? HUNOLT'S SERMONS. 11 vuU., 11,1 '„ 00 HUNOLTS SHORT SERMONS, s vol.., „,,' ,„ „„ INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OP THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 'cio.,t. INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OP THE OLD TESTAMENT, "vol. L JESUS LIVING IN THE PRIEST. Millit-Btini. Zt' I II '^'TojN"JcJSfN,!?§."°.''vir ™= •'°"''- «— Tr«,.>..ed_byRev LENTEN SER.MONS. Edited by AnotHTlNB Wl«Tli. O.S.B. LIBER STATUS ANIMARUM: or. P«riA Cen.u. Book Htl, 0.3S; half leather, "°"lCAL'''lURispifuDE5?F''^?„''^^'' PRACTICE, THE BASIS OPMEli: 'CAL JURlbPRUDENCE. By Rev. Charlm Coppins, S.J, Protf«.,r of Medical Jun.prudence in the^ohn A. Crewhton Medical ColUge, Omaha. Neb.; Author of Text-book, in Meuphy«c., Ethics, etc. ml i so NATURAL LAW AND LEGAL PRACTICE. Holaind, S.J. ml 1 7. NEVy AND OLD SERMONS A Repertory of Catholic Pulpit Eloquence.' Ed- ited by Rev. Auou.tini Wirth, O.S.B. 8 vol... Htl 1 00 OUTLINES OF DOGMATIC THEOLOGY. By Rev. Sylvi.te. Jos. h'untir b.J. J vol... ,„, • OUTLINES OP JEWISH HISTORY, from Abraham to Our Lord. By Rev Francis E. Oioot, S,S. ^J , ,0 OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT HISTORY. GloOT. Cloth «(' 1 .0 PASTORAL THEOLOGY. By Rev. Wm. Stano, D.D. ml i co PENANCE, SERMONS ON. By Rev, Francis Hunolt, S.J. Translated by Rev. John Allim. a vols.. ml < 00 PENITENT CHRISTIAN, THE. Sermons. By Rev. F. Hunolt. by Rev. John Allbn, D.D. a vols., PEW-RENT RECEIPT BOJK. PHILOSOPHIA, DE, MORALI. Russo. POLITICAL AND MORAL ESSAYS. Rickabv, S.J. PRAXIS SYNODALIS. "' brandae. s 00 ml, a 00 Pcclin Edilicn. Manuale Synodi Diocesanae 13 Translated ntt. 5 00 i*tt, I 00 fut, » 00 ntt, I so Provincialis Cele- ntt, o 60 REGISTRUM BAPTISMORUM. ««. J S« REGISTRUM MATRIMONIORUM. «<• 3 "> RELATION OF EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY TO PHILOSOPHY. Mgr DK MIRCIER. , _ • " BiTllAIE COMPENDIOSUH mt Oido Adminiitnndi qujedam Sacratnenu edito dwumptas. "^' "^ tOSARY, SERMONS ON THE MOST HOLY. PmiHOfc r*' '^° SACRED HEART. SIX SERMONS ON DEVOTION TO THE. By Rev. l>^ E. BlBRlAUU. »». o uu BAMrrUARY BOYS' ILLUSTRATED MANUAL. Embrmcing the. Ceremo- nS^of the ln^eri^>r Ministers at Low Mao. H«h Mao. SolemnHigh Mw y«5|r.,,Asirg^s, Benediction of the BtoaKd aci«m«t and Al-oluUon for tlie Dead. By Rev. J. A. McCallbn, S.S. SERMON MANUSCRIPT BOOK. SERMONS, ABRIDGED, FOR SUNDAYS. Liouomi. SERMONS FOR CHILDREN OF MARY. Callbwo. SERMONS FOR CHILDREN'S MASSES. Fkassinbtti-Limob. mt, o 50 ntt, 2 00 ntt, I 15 tut, I 50 SERMONS FOR THE SUNDAYS AND CHIgP FESTIVALS OF THE ECCLE- SIASTICAL YEAR^ With Two CourKS of Lenten Sermona and a Tnduum fori; Forty Ho„5: By Rev. J. POTTO..H.., S.J. a vola. ~<. 2 50 SERMONS FROM THE LATINS. BaxtbR. >«. » ■» SERMONS, FUNERAL. Wirth. J vola., ■«<, 1 00 .SERMONS, HUNOLTS. n vols.. 11^, »5 00 SERMONS, HUNOLTS SHORT. 5 volf. "J^, '" °° BERMONS. LENTEN. WliTH. "«• ' " SERMONS, NEW AND OLD. WlRTH. 8 vol.., «1, 16 00 SERMONS ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART. BlMBAUyj^ ^ ^^ SERMONS ON OUR LORD. THE BLESSED VIRGIN, AND THE SAINTS HUNOLT. 2 vols., • SERMONS ON PENANCE. HusoiT. 1 vols., o". 5 00 SERMONS ON THE BLESSED SACRAMENT. Schbo««»-Lasakc«. «!, i 50 SERMONS ON THE CHRISTIAN VIRTUES. By Rev. F. Humolt, S.J. Tians- Uted by Rev. John Allbn. 2 vols., , _ „ „ „ „ ' ' <5FRMONS ON THE DIFFERENT STATES OF LIFE. By Rev. P. Hhnolt, ^^•^S J Translated by Rev. JoH» Allbh. 2 voU. «<, 5 00 SERMONS ON THE POUR LAST THINGS. HVKOI.T. a vols., «/(, s 00 SERMONS ON THE ROSARY. Famoa. »«. ■ «■ SFRMONS ON THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS. By Rev. F. HUMOLT, S.J. 1 ®^ vo° T^^Sd by Rev. John Allbn, D.D. ««. 5 00 SERMONS ON THE STATES OF LIFE. Hunoit. 2 vols., mt, j 00 SHORT SERMONS. By Rev. P. HuKOLT, S.J. 5 vols., 10 00 SHORT SERMONS FOR LOW MASSES. ScHOBPPB, S.J. »«. ■ 25 SOCIALISM EXPOSED AND REFUTED. Cathreim. ««, > 00 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OP THE OLD TESTAMENT. SPECIAL INj^KUlJUi^ ^^^ gy ^^ Pramci. E. OIOOT, S.S. ml, i 50 evUflPSIS THEOLOGIAE DOGMATICAE AD MENTEM S. THOMAE ^^''aOUINATIS hJ^Siia moribu. acconnnodata, aurtore Ad. Tahou.JBv.^S.S. SYNOE^Ts THEOLOGIAE MORALIS ET PASTORALIS. . voU. Takoob- RBY ' THEOLOGU DOGMATICA SPECIALIS. Tahqoirbt. s vola.. ml. j 50 THEOLOGIA PUNDAMBNTALIS. Tanqw«««». "^. ' 75 VIEWS OF DANTE. By E. L. Rivard, C.S.V. »». • « 14 o 7S Sub- 2 OO MISCELLANEOUS. A -GENTLEMAN. By M. F. Egan. LL.D. A LADY. Manners and Sijcial Usages. By Lblia Hakdin Buoo. BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE. The Popular Catholic Family Magazine. schption per year. BONE RULES; or, Skeleton of English Grammar. By Rev. J. B. Tabb, A.M. o 50 CANTATA CATHOLICA. By B. H. P. Hbllbbusch. net, a 00 CATHOLIC HOME ANNUAL. Stories by Best Writers. o as CORRECT THINGS FOR CATHOLICS, THE. By Lblia Hardin Buoo. o 75 ELOCUTION CLASS. A Simplification of the Laws and Principles "f Expres- sion. By Elbanor O'Ghady. net, o sc EVE OP THE REFORMATION. THE. An Historical Essay on the Religious. Literary, and Social Condition of Christendom, with Special Reference to Germany and England, from the Beginning of the Latt»r Half of the Fifteenth Century to the Outbreak of the ReUgious Revolt. By the Rev. Wm. Stano. Paper, «**. o « GUIDE FOR SACRISTANS and Others Having Charge of the Altar and Sanc- tuary. By a Member of an Altar Society. ••*, o 75 HYMN-BOOK OF SUNDAY-SCHOOL COMPANION. o 35 HOW TO GET ON. By Rev. Bbrnard Fbbnbv. i 00 LITTLE FOLKS' ANNUAL, o.io; per 100, 7 5© READINGS AND RECITATIONS FOR JUNIORS. O'Grady. net. o 5° SELECT RECITATIONS FOR CATHOLIC SCHOOLS AND ACADEMIES. By Elbanor O'Grady. i 00 STATISTICS CONCERNING EDUCATION IN THE PHILIPPINES. HiooBS. o 10 SURSUM CORDA. Hymns. Cloth, 0.35; per 100, is 00 Paper, o.is; per 100, 10 00 SURSUM CORDA. With English and German Text. o 45 PRAYER-BOOKS. , . . . ^. Benziger Brothers publish the most complete line of prayer-books m thii country, embracing Praybr-books for Childrbn. Praybr-books for First Cohmunicants. Praybr-books for Special Dbvotions. Praybr-books for Gbnbral Usb. Catalogue will be sent free on application. SCHOOL BOOKS. ..... ^ ...... ^ Benxiger Brothers' school text-books are considered to be the fincat publulwa. They embrace _ „. . . « . Nbw Cbntury Catholic Rbadbrs. Illuatrations m Cok>n. Catholic Natural Readers. Catbchisus. History. Grahuars. Spellers. Elocution, Cmartb. A Home Library for $i Down. Original Am*rican Slorits /or the Voung, by tht Very Beit Catholic Author t. e\r\ COPYRIGHTED BOOKS and a YEARS SUBSCRIPTION lo ^^ BENZIGER'S liIAGAZINE (in iltelf a library of good readint). Regular Price of Books. »iI.7ol Regular Price, Regular Price of Benziger'i Magazine, 2.00 / Special Ifet Price, S'o.oo. S'-oo Doum. S'.oo a Iftnth. You get the faooln at once, and have the u^ of them, while making eaiy pajrmenta. Senduianlyti.oo, andwe wilHorwanl the booki at once, ti.oo entitles you to immediate poMcMion. No further payment need be made for a month. Aftemnl you pay $t.oo a month. THIS IS THE EASY WAY TO GET A LIBRARY. And m m m bv Umtan tin Bui Books that can be Haeed in Ike kandt of Callulic Yonik AT ANY PRICE. ANOTHER EASY WAY OF GETTING BOOKS. Bach year we publiah four New NoTcb by the best CathoHc authors. Theee ■OTels are intarsstinc beyond the ordinary: not nligious. but Catholic in tone and feeling. We ask you to five u< a Standing Order for these noyels. The price is li.ij a volume postpaid. The ts.oo is not to be paid at one time, but (t.ss each time a volume ia published. As a Special Inducement for giving us a standing order for these novels, we wiU give you ft»r a subscription to Bensiger's Hagasine. This Hagasine is recog- nised as the best and handsomest Catholic nugasine published. The regular price of the Hagasine is $j.oo a year. Thus for ts.oo a yeai^paid li.sj at a time— you will get four good books and receive in addition free a year's subscription to Bensiger's llsgasine. The Usgasine will be continued from year to year, as long as the standing order for the novels is in force, which will be till countermanded. Send $i.s5 for the first novel and get your name placed on the aubacription Hat of Bensiger's Hagasine. BENZIGER BROTHERS, Kiw YoiK: CmcuncAn: CmcAOO: 36 and 38 Barclay Street. 343 Main Street, an and 113 Madison Street Smail size r,pro.{Hciit fi./Myes „ffH;ir,„g in Brnzi/i^r's Mas'tzh. nj. interestin>r, ; .siin,s<;Riiic TO BEMZlOEfTS mmKiMt Tlie l>cpulur Catholic rdmlly Monthlg. WITH COLORED AUT SUPPLEMENT, SUITABLE FOR FRAMING, IN EVERY OTHER ISSUE, SUBSCRIPTION, $2.IK) n VEHR. WHAT BENZIGERS MAGAZINE FURNISHES IN A SINGLE YEAR : Six Art Pictures In colors, suitable for framing, siie 8 x ij inches Fifty complete stories, equal to a txjok selling at$i,2s. Three complete n(»vels, equal to three books sei]in(r at Si.jc; each X . , , 8uo Illustrations, IncluJInB many full -paee reproJuciions of eel ■1-nteJ iviinlinos Twenty articles on travel and aJventure, equal To a b,«k of i>o paces "''""""' '"* ■" I' """"^s. Iwenty articles on our country, historic events, etc, equal loa N«ik of ,;o pairfs Iwemy articles on pahillnR, music, sculpture, etc. equal toa Nxikof jv. pases A ..ir ' ""f'^S paws of games anj amusements for the voung. An unsurpasseJ Woman s Depanment. with many helpful sugKestions. Current Events : Important happenings JescriheJ witli pen anj pictures 1 welve prize competitions. In whicii valu.lhle priies are oflerej. Bemlgir; jfagaziHe it recmimemiij by bS ArcMisluifs ami n,;i,<,/.s ,,/ Hi,- l-„;i,;/ .v„/„. BOOKS FOR THE CATHOLIC FAMILY AT POPULAR PRICES. POPULAR INSTRUCTION'S ON PRAYER. By Very Rev. Ferrool CHrardey, C.SS.R. Paper, $u.35; cloth. $0.40. POPULAR INSTRUIITIONS TO PARENTS ON THE HRINOING UP OF CHILDREN. By Very Rev. Ferreul(;irariley. O.SS.R. samo. Paper, S. jinio. Paper, tu.ig ; cloth, fo.40. THE CHRISTIAN MOPHER. The Education of Her Children .-ind Her Prnver. 3jmo. Paper, $«».35 , I'lo' l«>..io. CATHOLIC BELir.:^ ''y V'ery Rev, I'ai di Bruno, ifiino. Paper. $■) ^5 i clolh, $.,.^0. WHAT THE CHURl H TE.\CHES. An Answer to Earnest I'lrjuircrs. By Kcv. E. llrury. i6in(.. Paper. ^, ,(.>; clnth. fo.co. SPIRITUAL PEPPER .\Nn SALT, for Catholics and Non-Catholics. By Rt Rev. W. Slang. D.I). i6ino. Paper, $030 ; cloth, $0.60. CATHOLIC CEREMONIES AND EXPLANATION OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL YE.XR. By the Abbii Durand. With Illustrations. i6ino. Paper. »o. 30; cloth, fo.'xi. THE SACRAMENTALS OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. By Rev. A. A. Lambing, With illustrations. i6mo. Paper, $0.30 ; cloth, ♦>.6o. EXPLANATION OF THE GOSPELS AND OF CATHOLIC WORSHIP. By Rev. L. A. I^ambertaml Kev. R. Brennan. With illustrations, u.mo. Papor, $0.30; cloth, $c. CATHOLIC PRACTIc-E AT CHURCH AND AT HOME. The Parishioner's Liltl.- Rule Book. By Rev. A. L. A. Klauder. With illustrations. 161110. Paper, Jo.jo; cloth, $.. to. ILLUSTRATED EXPL.ANATION OF THE CREED. By Rev. H. Rolfus. With Numerous Examples from Scripture, the Holy Fathers, elc. With many full-pasfe illustrations, .jino, cloth, $1.00. ILLUSTRATED EXPLANATION OF THE HOLY SACRAMENTS. With Numerous Ex- amples fron: Scripture, the Holy Fathers, etc. Illustrated. i6mo, cloth, $1.00. ILIUSTRVTED EXPLANATION OF THE COMMANDMENTS. By Rev. H. Rolfus. Wilh Numerous Examples from Scripture, the Holy Fathers, etc. Illustrated. i6mo, cloth. $i..To. COFFINE'S DEVOUT IN.STRUCTION.S ON THE EPLSTLES ,\ND (lOsPELS. Illustrated Edition. Preface by Cardinal llibbons. 140 illu-tratioiis. 7„i pages. Svo, cloth. *i...o. LIVES OF THE SAINTS. Wilh Reflections for Every Day. Numetous full-pase illustra- tions. 4^ pages. 8vo, cloth, |i. 50. PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. With nearly 4"i> illustrations. 600 pages. 8vo, cloth, ^3.50. For anh by ail CiMolic boi>ksttlirn, or ^-nt lioxlliald 01 remipt of price hij tlie piMMrri, BENZIGER BROTHERS, Nkw Yokk : ,-33 BafolHV Street. CiNCINN.^TI : 343 Main Stmet. Cnic.\r.n : II Madtsiun Stp «